#i could only sleep for like 3 hours at a time w how hot it was

[jobazzle]

it took a week but MY HOUSE FINALLY HAS POWER AGAIN AFTER THE HURRICANE OH MY GOD I AM SO HAPPY I COULD CRY

[karinasbaby]

yang jungwon — love me.

P. fem!reader x bf!jungwon (17+) | W. unprotected sex, jungwon is needy & whiny, kissing, cursing, biting, creampie, mentions of a handjob, breast play, marking, dacryphilia, biting, cockwarming, getting fucked into subspace, pussy slapping, petnames, desperate jungwon & other things i forgot | WC. 3.3k | A,N. wrote this while listening to lights on by normani so i felt n a s t y, anyways this was a request! thank u for requesting <3

in which.. jungwon gets a boner mid cuddling session.

hot.

that's the only word running in jungwon's head. well along with needy.

hot. he felt so fucking hot. and so ridiculously needy.

he felt every nerve ending in his body blazing with heat that's almost borderline painful. fingers twitching to grasp or hold onto something that will ground him before he lost his sanity. his breathing gradually becoming more irregular. the seconds he was counting in his head to get his breathing under control slowly became unusually prolonged before being forgotten completely.

all the blood that should've been pumping in his head to keep his logical side working rushed down his entire body to accumulate in his pulsing cock. he was so fucking hard right now.

and it made him feel so guilty. there was absolutely no reason for him to feel like a dog in heat when literally nothing has happened. the urge to just fuck something almost making him spiral when you're just laying besides him, curled on yourself with your back against jungwon, you're just there.

sure it could've been the way he's been pressing his hips against the curve of your ass, or it could've been the way you were too sleepy and tired to push his cold, veiny hand away when it sneaked under your sweater to cup your breast— fuck. he basically brought this onto himself.

but how could he not practically glue himself against you? you felt so warm. so nice. so cuddly. he loved you so much. needed you so close to him at all times possible. if he could he would genuinely bury himself inside of you. the attempts of him pushing himself down your sweater and poking his head out of your neckline just to kiss you for hours to remain close were nothing.

his arms wrapped around your waist to hold you as close as possible weren't doing it for him. nor was the way his nose was nuzzled into the back of your neck— nothing at the moment could satisfy him.

and he wanted more. needed more. craved so so much more so fucking badly. he felt like if he wasn't inside of you in the next five seconds he might as well explode.

but at the same time how could he? not when you complained about how tiring your day was. not when you already felt fatigued enough to basically melt in his arms when he suggested a cuddling session, fuck and he was the one to suggest it, what was he thinking?

none of that mattered anymore. not when you were on the brink of drifting onto a deep sleep. teetering on the edge of remaining conscious completely. soft, almost unnoticeable whimpers leaving your mouth when you felt so comfortable. so satisfied and comforted in the arms of your lover, clad in his hoodie after a stressful day.

completely unaware of the dilemma jungwon was going through right behind you, unaware of the fact that he was a mere few seconds away from ripping his hair out of his scalp.

well that was until you heard him whimper.

fuck if only he remained stoic. maybe he wouldn't have nudged his raging boner against your ass. the simple friction making the noise leave his throat before he could even process it or try to swallow it down. and you for sure heard him.

he could just play it off, breathing in deeply and ignoring the way his arms unconsciously tightened around you, he tried to speak— “won, are you okay?” shit.

“yeah! i'm fine just— a cramp. yeah i just got a cramp in my leg.” chuckling next to your ear he 'played it off’, trying to not catch your attention further with the way he moved his hips further away from yours. pushing his lower half away from your body in hopes of saving himself from the embarrassment and humiliation of getting hard from cuddling.

“are you sure, baby?” you questioned, clearly not buying his lame excuse. i mean come on, you knew him better than anyone there was no way a simple cramp in the leg would make yang jungwon, your unreasonably strong boyfriend whimper. not when he's suffered through an entire sore body after a long fucking session with you that lasted an entire night (and morning) and didn't even complain one bit.

a cramp in the leg? had him whimpering like a whiny boy behind you?

“yeah, doll. don't worry about it— fuck!” him blabbering on to defend himself somehow backfired instantly as you suddenly pushed your ass against him, his clothed cock coming in contact with the curve of your ass once again making him almost see stars. he cursed under his breath even more when you wiggled your hips against his. making his hardened length twitch uncontrollably in his boxers.

“you're a terrible liar.” you reached behind you, cold fingers sneaking under his shirt this time, tracing the back of your fingers against his chiseled abs. the action making him gasp in sensitivity. closing his eyes, jungwon's arms went limp around you. after neglecting his own needs for hours now he felt like his body was betraying him from the smallest sensual touch from you.

your hand then moved downwards, toying with the hem of his sweatpants, then they went lower. to palm his dick through the two thick articles of clothing. the sensation making your boyfriend behind you gulp. his eyes closing unknowingly as his hips jerked forward into your touch. “touch me, doll. please.” he breathed shakily into your ear before biting the shell of it needily.

you then pushed your hand below his sweatpants, hand squeezing around his throbbing cock to relief him quickly, you could feel the dampening spot of his precum right under your palm while jungwon nuzzled his face closer into the back of your neck. eyes closed and breathing heavy as he felt his body becoming lit ablaze with heat.

“right here, princess.” he moved his shaking hand towards your own, bringing yours inside of his boxers to finally feel your cold fingers around his raging dick. pulsing warm precum that webbed between your fingers while you squeezed and stroked him. “like this baby?” turning your head towards him to whisper the words which had him groaning your name against your skin.

it was so fun to see him so needy like this. so desperate and so turned on. you could tell there was not a singular coherent thought in his mind other than his hard cock and how wet your pretty pussy must be by now. the urge to fuck you against the mattress of your bed building up inside him further. he needed you so bad.

and though you were teasing him by brushing your fingers against his sensitive tip harshly, or with the way your hands suddenly tightened around his length before loosening, you were no different from him. but you pushed the feeling of the pooling wetness in your sticky panties to the back of your head. ignoring your need for the time being just to rile up your cute boyfriend further.

jungwon who usually was in control, so collected and loving in heated moments was whimpering behind you as you palmed his weeping cock. you weren't going to let go of this opportunity so quickly.

“feels good, baby?” you whispered, pressing your ass further against the base of his cock while your hand stroked his tip. the sensation of your movements had jungwon's eyes rolling to the back of his head. nodding along dumbly to your words as his hips jerked more into your hand.

he felt the way his climax was building up in his abdomen, the feeling making his eyebrows furrow in complete pleasure before he tried to desperately push your hand away with his own weak one. not wanting to cum if it wasn't deep inside of you.

“fuck— doll, i'm close. so close. i need to be inside of you right now.” he breathed heavily, his rough voice in making the barrier of your thoughts and need disappear almost instantly. the heat in your core and throbbing of your clit suddenly seemed so overwhelming. you wanted and needed him just as badly as he did you.

with a simple and quick nod from you, jungwon's hands quickly removed both of your clothes, pushing his sweatpants along with his boxers down his legs before discarding them carelessly onto the floor then deciding to move towards your own sleeping shorts, hooking his finger under the hem after lifting himself up to litter kisses down your neck.

once he dragged your shorts and panties down, his arms moved towards your hoodie (that was his), thankful that he decided to stay shirtless today. lifting his hoodie from your body to continue his descent of kisses down your shoulders and stomach.

on usual days, jungwon would take his time to scissor you open with his fingers deep inside of your cunt and his lips wrapped around your clit for hours. but today—he couldn't do that. not when he felt his cock twitching against his abs and the leak of precum reaching his thighs.

he needed to be buried so deep inside of you this instant.

quickly laying down behind you, his arm sneaked under you to toy with your hardened nipple while the other gently lifted your leg open, pushing his hips against yours to finally allow his rock hard cock to push against your wet folds. the feeling of his tip poking against your sopping entrance had the two of your groaning in complete euphoria.

“yeah, baby? feels good?” and there he was. your teasing boyfriend who would go to extreme, unfathomable lengths just to see you begging for his touch, in tears because of his pleasure and your mind reeling because of his actions.

and who were you to deny him of any of this? not when he has you wrapped around his finger, not when he has your body twitching in sensitivity and need right under him.

“so good. so so good. please, baby. i need you so bad.” you begged him just how he likes it. voice desperate and shaky the way you knew had him losing his mind. and he fell right under your spell when he kept thrusting his hips to allow his cock to brush against your wetness.

letting the squelching sounds of your arousals combine with your needy moans. whimpers and whispers of his name fell past your lips, your hand wrapping around his own that cupped your breast, his index finger brushing against your nipple every now and then just to make you twitch in his embrace.

you were growing so desperate under his continuous teasing. his torture that made you crave him more, and right when he began to bite along your shoulder harshly you broke. tears aligning your waterline while shaky begs and mewls escaped your throat.

not able to take it anymore. you needed him so bad. your hunger for him to be so near, so close and so deep in you in every way possible increased by the second. yearning for him to be as snug and connected to you as humanly possible.

and jungwon's resolve finally dissipated, he kissed your jaw one long, tender kiss before he angled his hips against yours, letting your walls welcome him as he pushed his cock slowly inside of you.

and gosh he was so big. no matter how many times he had fucked you, his dick always had you in awe of just how perfectly thick and long it was. his raw length stretching you out so nicely. the burn between your walls felt so delicious to you as you mewled his name loudly.

his breathes altered between needy gasps and shaky groans of your name. your tightness always making him feel on edge, if he could fill you up right now he totally would. but he couldn't ruin your experience like this. not when he was so used to making you cum atleast once before even thinking of emptying his load inside of you.

jungwon knew that you were unbelievably close already. with the way your walls were practically sucking him in so tightly. the way your chest heaved in breaths heavily, his finger tips brushing against your chest and ribs whenever you inhaled in too deeply just to control yourself. yet none of it was working. not when your boyfriend began to thrust himself in so slowly and deeply. allowing you to feel every single vein aligning his cock.

being the tease he is, he decided to push you even further towards the edge. his hand that fondled with your tit now moved down, brushing against your stomach and hip sensually before it settled between your legs, jungwon then suddenly picked up the pace. pressing his palm against your lower stomach to feel the bulge of his cock so deep inside of you.

the feeling of him so close, so deeply connected to you had both of your minds reeling. slowly losing touch with reality as the only thing your brain processed was how close jungwon was to you. both emotionally and physically. he nudged your head with his own, making you turn your face towards him and letting him press his lips against yours.

the two of you now breathing each other's air. so intimately close. drowning in the other's presence and pleasure. sinking further into the euphoria that only the two of you could provide one another. “right there— oh my god.” you whispered against his lips when his middle and ring finger lowered to rub against your pulsing clit.

“fuck— jungwon..” you whimpered his name so sweetly, grinding your hips against his when he began to roll his length inside of you so deliciously, barely pulling two inches out before pressing himself deep into your welcoming cunt again. allowing the head of his cock to kiss your cervix with every thrust. "so good, doll. doing so good for me." his lips brushed against yours with every word.

skin on skin, sweat rolling down between both of your bodies as you connected and pleasured each other so sensually. your bodies becoming one, moving in sync with the purpose of chasing your high desperately. jungwon's tongue brushed against your cheek, licking up the tears you didn't even notice rolled down your eyes as your head was getting foggy with the mind numbing sensation of the tightening coil in your abdomen.

right on the brink of your orgasm with the way jungwon began to slowly pick up the pace, his fingers restless as they abused your clit. pushing you further and further on edge just so you can fall and he can capture you.

“i'm s-so close.” you sobbed against his mouth, eyes closing as the ecstasy just kept on building up and up and up. jungwon nodded to encourage you to cum, to finally unravel in his arms so he can please you more.

“yeah, baby? gonna cum for me?” breathing out heavily, his lips littering wet kisses around your jaw, he mindlessly kissed and sucked along your skin. leaving marks he couldn't even put a name on as he slowly ascended into complete intoxication on you.

minds disoriented, bodies on fire as your hearts beat in sync to chase relief. “gonna cream around my cock like a good girl, doll?”he smiled against your skin, moving his lips towards yours to quieten your sobs as you began to teeter on the edge, completely helpless as jungwon's fingers remained circling your clit, hips still pistoning against yours as the soaking wet sounds of your arousal echoed in the room.

a mix of your wetness combined with his settled in your inner thighs, making the noises sound all the more nasty as his balls smacked loudly against your entrance with every thrust. the pressure building up in your abdomen increasing intensely. in a pace you couldn't even process it but jungwon noticed of course, with the incessant tightening of your walls he quickly kissed you. shushing your sobs as he pressed himself so deep into you.

“go ahead, angel. make a mess for me.” those were the last words you heard before your ears began to ring. your body jerking and shaking between jungwon's arms as he fucked you through your orgasm, his hand that was rubbing against your clit switched to landing slaps against your wet pussy. the sensations of his tip pressed against cervix, the slaps sending jolts of electricity throughout your body while he continued to bite on your lower lip were so fucking overwhelming.

he was everywhere. you felt him everywhere, taking over your body, your soul, your mind and senses all at the same time. driving you into absolute insanity as he tightened his hold on you when you tried to push him away, slowly beginning to feel the dizzying pleasure of being intoxicated. completely high on elation and pleasure.

“j-jungwon— p-please stop-”you stuttered against him, eyes rolling into the back of your head when jungwon only kept increasing his pace, seemingly chasing his own high now. desperation evident in all of his movements as he started to act and move on pure instinct. dazed and completely out of it as he wanted nothing more than the tight coil in his abdomen to snap. his climax to finally wash over him and for him to fill you up with his seed entirely.

“i can't— fuck. i need to fill you up so badly, doll. i need you.” he whimpered against your neck, thrusts turning sloppy and uncoordinated as his cock twitched uncontrollably in your wet walls that milked and sucked him for all his worth. your fingers tightened around the sheets as you felt intense waves of pleasure cascade down your body, unable to differentiate in whether you're cumming again or you're being overstimulated. everything felt so good. everything felt too good. too overwhelming.

broken sobs and choked whispers of his name were all what your throat could produce right now. being fucked into a subspace that made you felt like you were floating and drifting through cloud nine. you felt so unbelievably good with the way jungwon kept his tip pressed so harshly against your bruised cervix, goosebumps aligning your skin as you finally felt jungwon reach the edge of his pleasure before diving in.

a broken chain of fuckfuckfuck made its way past the echoing sound of your heartbeat in your ear. you could process the way he filled you up so well. painting your walls white with his warm load, keeping himself pressed so close to you as his shaky hands tried to keep your twitching leg open, both of you reaching such an unbelievable level of delirium that left your heads aching in pleasure.

jungwon's swollen lips returned to pressing against your shoulder, his hand gently and carefully lowering your leg before wrapping around your waist. he looked over at you, taking in the heavenly sight of your fucked out expression. a sheen layer of sweat making you glow so brightly in his eyes.

his body was so fatigued after reaching the peak of his euphoria, the pleasure and satisfaction running through both of your veins as you laid in each other's embrace to catch your breaths. your eyes remained closed, still feeling the throbbing of his cock inside of you that made you moan his name out breathlessly.

“you alright, doll?” he chuckled softly, hand lifting up to tenderly caress your cheek, cooing when you moved your face closer to his touch, “mhm” you quietly hummed in reassurance, the waves of slumber descending down onto your quickly as you held him close to you.

your boyfriend quickly shifted your positions, turning you around gently after pulling out, he smiled endearingly when you whined at the loss of his length in you, quickly peppering you with kisses as he pushed your face into the crook of his neck just how he knew you liked it. he swiftly pushed himself back inside of you, holding you close when you murmured in satisfaction and content again, eyes shut tightly as you began to slowly drift off to a deep sleep.

“sleep well, doll.” with one final kiss to your head, you both fell into a much needed sleep.

a,note. reposted cuz i love nia ♡ + this wasn’t proofread !

[luvtak]

fade into you, lmh x reader

genre/tw est. relationship! suggestive, pure sugar cane fluff (like high fructose corn syrup fluff), minho only knows how to talk with his hands </3, gn!reader!! minho calls you kitty and honey <3!! seriously cavity inducing fluff be warned !! mostly unedited…

w/c 848

omg i haven’t posted a fic in so long nor have i written anything in months :(( but i’m finally a lot more settled after a busy drama filled couple of months! I hope you love this fic as much as i loved writing it. I’m not kidding when i say i wrote this in an hour on my phones notes app, don’t be afraid to tell me how you feel hehe 🩵

It’s cold outside your sleeping bag, frigid morning fog seeping into the once cozy tent. You shiver at Minho’s nose pressing into your neck, his face as cold as a dog who’s been outside too long. 

You’re not sure why you let your boyfriend convince you to camp in the middle of autumn… less sure why he insisted it was just the two of you, but you could never refuse Minho when he asked you so nicely— hands easing sighs while his mouth asked the question; the only thing you could say was yes, over and over. 

Unfortunately, the ecstasy of being asked was not akin to the actual experience.

Insistent rain stormed down from the second you arrived to the last minute before your eyes closed, Minho in all his excitement forgot the cooler and was forced to drive all the way back—leaving you to shiver in the tent alone. No, it was not the romantic getaway your boyfriend promised, but being here now—warm despite the wilderness’s wishes—you think it could be.

“Are you still cold, honey?” Minho asks, his voice just a whisper amongst the whistling trees. 

With your eyes still closed, you can only imagine what he looks like… Soft with sleep, his eyelashes cascading shadows across the slopes of his skin, beautiful like hypnos after creating dreams. You can feel his breath against your neck and his hands clutching at your waist, so safe despite how strong he is. 

“No, min, I’m just right” you say, and you can feel his laugh, rumbling through him, feel his smile against your skin. 

You wish he knew how much you cherish him… how much you treasure these little moments with him. How you’ll think about this moment every time he’s away from you; rolling the memory around your tongue like it’s a piece of candy. 

Sometimes, you’re sure you can see a cord running from you to him, wrapping around the two of you like cling wrap—like every moment you’ve ever had was crafted by the fates, your story weaved by the gods themselves. 

“Just right huh?” he says, before he’s lifting his head to look at you, eyes open and beautiful. “Well goldilocks, look how pretty you are this morning.” His smile is mischievous and if you didn’t know better you may think he was joking, but his tone gives him away: too quiet to be anything but the truth. 

“Minho!” you cry, embarrassed by compliments this early, “lay back down, I need you to keep me warm.” He smiles down at you, knowing you well enough to see that you’re flustered, it’s always too easy; one compliment, and your skin is hot, his kiss lasts a second too long and you’re pulling away shaking. 

Minho doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of making your blood rush, enjoying the chase even when he has you. 

When his skin gets closer to yours again, chest to chest/heart to heart, you find yourself breathing his air like you share one pair of lungs. He’s so close to you, searing your skin even as the sleeping bag pulls awkwardly around your legs, letting cool air settle around your figure. 

His lips are so close to yours, one breath away from a kiss, so close you can feel his words flow into your open mouth. 

“Are you warm now, kitty?”  he asks, his eyes boring into yours before flitting down to look at your skin; miles and miles of it under his hands, valleys of skin that are his as much as yours.

“I’m warm, Minho, are you?” Just a whisper.

“just right.” A smirk. 

One breath, two breaths, three, and then he’s kissing you. Lips urging gasps to flow out of you, hands grasping at his tension filled spine. You’ve shared many kisses, sweet and sultry, frantic and lust filled, but something about this hunger is foreign to you. 

His kiss is filled with wanting yes, but it’s almost like he’s trying to tell you something but forgot the words. His hands on your thighs urging you to listen, please please please understand, they say, clutching at the muscle like he’s afraid you’ll never know. 

But you do, and so do your lips and your hands and you try your hardest to speak his language; responding to every bite with a nip of your own, gasping when his hands ask, kissing away the sleep still in his eyes. You know what he’s saying, I love you, I’m sorry you’re cold, I’m sorry I made you come on this rain coated trip, I love you I'm sorry, I love you I love you.” 

Your boy, always so embarrassed to tell you how he feels, but never afraid to show you. 

When you pull apart, hands locked together still, eyes gleaming with an inside joke, a shared confession; you can see he wants to say something, see he’s trying to build the courage to split his heart open. Instead he flits his eyes up to the sky and smiles. 

Look honey, the suns coming out” 

And you understand. 

© LUVTAK 2024

[unearthly-doting]

finding their soulmate: genshin edition.

a/n: i haven't made a post here in a hot second and i honestly apologize about that lol. the motivation to write just hasn't been there but!! here's a small lil genshin post for now. i just spun a wheel to pick who i write but if u want me to write for some of the others then just lmk!!

includes: xiao, kaeya, kujou sara, albedo, tartaglia, and ayato.

warnings: mdni, yandere content, not edited, gn reader, kidnapping, forced relationships, arranged marriage, manipulation, reader injury in both kujou sara's, albedo's and tartaglia's parts, childe stabs you :peace sign:, canon is a very vague concept in my writing more often than not btw, this is kinda cringey </3, the yandere content in albedo's part is actually very mild bc i was restraining myself bc there was a lot i wanted to do w it.

XIAO — never really cared much about finding his soulmate. His entire existence was dedicated to protecting Liyue, even if the nation no longer needed his protection. Besides, with how long he's been around, he just assumed his soulmate was long dead and that he'd never meet them. Though, a small part of him wondered... what was his soulmate like?

And, almost as if the universe had been listening, he ends up meeting you. His soulmate. It wasn't a classic, romantic meeting. He didn't save your life or anything like that. You were just a traveler who decided to stay at the inn.

He didn't think much of you until his eyes met yours and suddenly color was flooding into his world. It made him dizzy, and it stunned him into absolute silence because all he could so was stare at you with wide eyes.

You were clearly going through it as well, because obviously. You just met your fucking soulmate on a damn business trip. What the hell were you supposed to do now? It would be awkward to just... ignore what had happened, right? I mean, he's staring right at you and this was all just very overwhelming.

It was an awkward first meeting, that's for sure.

But during your time at the inn, whenever you were free from work, you spent it with Xiao. He was closed off, clearly keeping his guard up and not letting you get too close. You didn't know the reasons, but you didn't expect him to tell you his entire life story just because you two were apparently bound by the universe.

Honestly, you just assumed he didn't want to be with his soulmate. This didn't upset you. It wouldn't work out, anyway. You're only staying for a few weeks before heading home.

But archons, did Xiao want you. Behind his typical, distant behavior, Xiao was taking note of everything about you. Your interests, your habits, your sleep schedule, your favorite foods and desserts... everything you told him or subconsciously revealed, Xiao was tucking it away in his mind.

He wanted you. He wanted you to stay here, in Liyue, with him. Where you belong. But he didn't know how to express that. He's never been in love before, and it's not like he'll just suddenly become an expert at romance after meeting you.

When it was time for you to leave, he was crushed. He needed you to stay. He needed you by his side. Letters wouldn't be enough to fill the emptiness in your wake if you left. You had to stay.

You will stay.

And when you wake up to find yourself no longer in the inn, and instead in some small home deep within the mountains of Liyue, you're distraught.

Xiao looks genuinely guilty, robbing you of your freedom but... you understand, don't you? You have to understand. He just couldn't let you go. You're his soulmate, you were destined to be with him! You'll love it here, he'll make sure of it.

Just stay.

KAEYA — had always wondered what his soulmate was like ever since he was a child. He would spend hours just staring at the small crescent moon forever stained on his wrist, wondering if and when he'll meet the person with a matching mark.

Of course, as he got older he spent less time thinking about such things, though he did always hold out hope that he might be able to one day meet his soulmate. Little did he know, he's met his soulmate already. Multiple times.

You took over Sara's shifts at the Good Hunter whenever she had other things she needed to focus on, so Kaeya has spoken with you on numerous occasions, he's just never realized you were his soulmate because you keep your wrists covered. He's not one to judge, his wrists aren't visible either.

Him finding out was an accident. You had been handing him his order when your sleeves rolled up a bit, and his gaze just so happened to look at your wrists and he saw the very same crescent moon that was on his.

And for a moment, he froze. He just stared. Long enough that you were starting to feel a little uncomfortable. But before you could awkwardly send him on his way, he was showing you the crescent moon on his wrist as well and thus began your love story.

Or... well... it's what Kaeya had hoped for, but you didn't seem interested in soulmates at all. You didn't want the universe to decide who you were meant to be with, you wanted to make that decision yourself, so you had, to put it simply, bluntly rejected him.

And he gets it! It hurts, sure. He spent his entire life dreaming of this day, and it's not turning out the way he had hoped, but... you guys can be friends, at least, right? No strings attached?

For a while, Kaeya was fine with that. You and he had a really strong friendship. He cared about you, and you cared about him. Though your feelings were platonic, he was holding on to the hope that maybe one day, you'll realize you two were meant to be together.

But it was starting to seem as though that day might never come, because almost a year into your friendship with him, you had told Kaeya that you were thinking about entering the dating scene. He was... not too pleased about that, honestly. It was pretty obvious too, the way his entire mood soured the moment you brought the topic up.

He didn't stand by idly while this happened. Any person he saw you chatting up with romantic intentions would suddenly avoid you like the plague the next time you saw them. Any blind dates would end with you being ghosted. Hell, even some of your friends, the ones who were helping you get dates, were starting to avoid you too. It was so confusing.

But not Kaeya. No, Kaeya was always by your side.

Whenever you needed him, he was there. He always seemed to be able to make time for you. He listened to you vent your frustrations out, never once judging you or telling you that you were being dramatic. He was the only constant in your life these days.

Of course, you were completely oblivious to the fact that he was the cause of all of this. It's not that hard to blackmail people, he's learned. But they didn't deserve you anyway, seeing how easily they gave up on you the moment he approached them.

Maybe... maybe dating Kaeya wouldn't be so bad... I mean, you're the one deciding this, right? The universe isn't having any play in it. This is your decision. Isn't it?

KUJOU SARA — never cared about her soulmate. She knew she had one, you were in every dream she had. She found it to be more of a nuisance than anything else.

Her entire life was dedicated to her training, and to the Raiden Shogun. She neither had the time, nor the interest in searching for her soulmate. Besides, it didn't seem as if you resided in Inazuma. Your clothing was similar what people in Fontaine wear, and Fontaine was far away from Inazuma.

She was confident that she wouldn't be meeting you any time soon, so she never gave you any thought when she was awake. She never made any plans on what she would do if she did, by any chance, meet you. It didn't matter.

And she can't help but regret that, now that you're standing in front of her. If she had known that meeting her soulmate would make her feel like this, as if everything in the world suddenly made sense, then... well... she doesn't know what she would've done, to be honest.

No matter, Sara had no time to entertain you. Your stay in Inazuma was only temporary, so she saw no point in trying to form a bond with you. You, however, seemed to have different plans. She was used to seeing you in her dreams every night, but she was not used to seeing you in her waking moments.

Whenever she wasn't preoccupied with something, you were there to offer her company. It was annoying, and she's sent you away more than once, but that didn't seem to deter you. If anything, you seemed to become more determined each time she brushed you off.

At some point, she had given up on avoiding you. It was easier to just let you stick around. And, the more time she spent with you, the more attached she was becoming. It wasn't smart, she knew that, but could you blame her? You're so... irrevocably you.

Her fondness for you didn't go unnoticed.

Many people in Inazuma treated you with the same respect they treated Sara. You were her soulmate, after all. Should someone insult you, they would in turn be insulting her. Nobody wanted to get on her bad side.

There were, however, a few bad apples.

It should come as no surprise that a target was placed on your back the moment people took notice of Sara's attachment to you. She didn't think she'd have to worry much, because no one would be idiotic enough to actually try and harm you under her watch, but she should've known better.

It happened a few days before you were set to leave Inazuma to return home. A disturbance was going on within the city so Sara wasn't with you when you went on your daily walk just outside of it. It was supposed to be safe, but it wasn't.

Some vagrants had got the jump on you, and you nearly lost your life. You were lucky enough to have been found by some bystanders, but Sara was less than pleased when she heard about this. She had never taken pleasure in killing anyone before, but there was a deep-rooted sense of satisfaction deep within her chest when she watched the lives of those who hurt you fade away.

And as she sat by your side, waiting for you to wake up, she came to a decision. You can't be alone. If you are, you'll get hurt, and she won't be able to protect you. She can't let you leave Inazuma. She knows you'll more than likely hate her for making this decision for you, but if it means she can keep you safe, keep you alive and by her side, then... that hatred is something she'll be willing to bear.

ALBEDO — doesn't have a soulmate. At least, he's not supposed to. He's an artificial being, so it wouldn't make sense for him to have a soulmate. Of course, he does find the concept of soulmates to be intriguing. Who, or what, decides who people are destined to be with? It's a question he hopes to find an answer to.

So he wasn't surprised when he found you passed out in the snow, deep within Dragonspine. He's seen this countless times before, travelers who don't take precautions before trying to brave the deadly cold that comes with being here. He assumed he would just nurse you back to health and you would go on your merry way.

That changed, however, when he was cleaning your wounds and he saw his name inked on your skin, right on your collarbone. In his handwriting, at that. It confused him, because... that would mean that he's your soulmate. But he can't be. And yet, it didn't come off when he tried wiping it off. It was a part of your skin.

This left him with many questions, though none of them got answered when you woke up. You couldn't remember much about yourself, other than your name and a few other details. You didn't even know why you were in Dragonspine, or where you were from. You did hit your head pretty badly, judging from the headwound, so that would explain the amnesia, though he's not sure if it was going to be something temporary or not.

You both decided it would be best to just have you stay here until you were able to recover some of your memories and although Albedo wasn't eager to make friends with you, he was grateful for the company. He was incredibly patient with you too, answering any questions you may have had ranging from a multitude of different topics.

And in return, you helped out as much as you could without overexerting yourself and making your injuries worse. You'd make sure to keep his little lab tidy when he was away. You'd help out with some of his experiments too, if he knew you wouldn't get hurt doing so.

All while trying to figure out how he could possibly be your soulmate. He checked over himself. Four times. Your name was nowhere on his body. So why? Why was his name on yours? As much as he hates to admit it, he thinks he may never get an answer to this mystery.

Though... that's not such a bad thing, he thinks. He finds himself enjoying your company more and more with each passing day, the whole soulmate thing rarely even crossed his mind. At least, until you had asked him why his name was permanently etched into your skin. It was fairly easy to explain everything to you, though he was unable to answer a few of your questions, sadly. Soulmates were still a mystery, after all.

And when you asked if you could write your name on him so you two could match, he found himself unable to say no. He found himself unable to speak at all, actually, as you wrote your name on his shoulder. You even added a little heart next to it.

But no, Albedo was too busy coming to terms with the feelings he has for you. They weren't new. He's been aware of them for a week or so now, he just never gave it much thought until now. Now, with you so close to him, it was simply impossible to ignore.

And once you pull away, you smile at him and say, "There! Now I'm your soulmate too, right?" And oh.

Oh.

There was no way Albedo was going to let you leave Dragonspine now.

TARTAGLIA — feels a little bad for his soulmate, whoever they are. They can feel his pain, and he can feel theirs. So... they probably hate his guts, considering he's not the most careful person in the world. He pushes himself to his limits and beyond, and his soulmate has no doubt felt every single second of it.

Don't get him wrong, he would love to meet his soulmate. It's been a dream of his since he was a child, always eager to hear the story of how his mom and dad found out they were soulmates. Even as he grew older, the desire never went away. It was just... buried.

And his soulmate just so happened to be you, the significant other of a man who owed the Northland Bank a lot of money. He doesn't normally partake in debt collections, but he didn't have anything better to do so he decided to take this one on. He was going to use you as an example to your husband, though the moment his blade stabbed you, he froze.

He felt the pain. He stabbed you, and he could feel it. Oh fuck, he just stabbed his soulmate. That's definitely not the picturesque first meeting he was hoping for. Probably wouldn't be a good idea to tell his family this either...

Stabbing aside, he was utterly delighted. You, on the other hand, were terrified. Not only did this man just fucking stab you, his expression went from bored to something akin to crazed glee. He stared at you with a hunger that made you want to shy away from his gaze.

He doesn't care that you're already in a relationship with someone else. Not anymore, you're not. You're his, destined by the stars or however the story goes. And if your lover tries to get you back, he'll just kill them. Easy as that. Absolutely nothing will get in the way of him having you.

And he likes that you fight back against him. He especially loves it when you manage to escape. Hell, sometimes he'll even let you go just so he can chase you down again. It sends a thrill through him like no other when he catches you, and you stare at him teary-eyed and out of breath.

You're always so scared that he'll hurt you, but he would never do such a thing. He treats you like you're royalty, spoiling you with a seemingly endless amount of gifts. You're not quite sure how he knows what you like, and you're too hesitant to ask.

Honestly... he'd probably let you stab him. Y'know, he stabbed you, so it's only fair that you get to stab him in turn, right?

You think not. You're very hesitant, staring at him as though he were insane for even proposing such an idea. A part of him was disappointed. He wanted one of the many scars on his body to be from you. But a much larger part can't help but go soft at the sight of you shaking your head, sternly refusing to hurt him.

If he wasn't obsessed with you before, he certainly was now. You're too good. Too kind. He's holding you captive (lovingly, of course) and you refuse to hurt him? You don't even want to pinch him? How adorable.

Why, if he didn't know any better, he'd think that you might care about him.

He was nothing if not stubborn, of course. You might not care about him now, but you will in the future. He'll make sure of it.

After all, he's spent his whole life waiting for you.

AYATO — never had the time to think of his soulmate. He was blessed (or cursed, depending on who you ask) with the ability to see the red strings that tied people together. When he was younger, before having to take on the duties of the Kamisato name, he would always stare at the one tied to his pinkie.

He even has the habit of twirling the red string around his finger whenever he gets stressed. Only behind closed doors, of course. It would probably appear strange to others if they saw.

Meeting his soulmate was something he had always planned out in his head as a child, and when he finally did meet you, it was so... simple. There was nothing magical about it, you had just bumped into him one day when he was out in the city and that's what started all of this.

For you, it was a forgettable encounter, one that would never cross your mind again. For him, it was everything he had been waiting for. Thoma thought it was a bit strange, but he dutifully gathered information about you when Ayato asked it of him. He needed to know everything there was to know about you.

He already knew what he was going to do when he met his soulmate, the only thing left was to actually do it. And you were definitely shocked when Kamisato Ayato himself showed up at your home and asked you to marry him.

You said no, obviously, because why the hell would you agree to marry someone you didn't know? Ayato had planned for this, of course. That's why he had Thoma learn everything about you, so the moment you declined his offer, he just smiled and made a comment about your family. It was very obvious what he was implying.

And even if you aren't close with your family, you can't live with blood on your hands. You were pretty much forced into accepting Ayato's marriage proposal. He was pleased with this outcome, promising to take care of everything himself.

Marrying him meant that you would, unfortunately, have to leave your home and instead live at the Kamisato Estate. Everyone was under the impression that this marriage was one of love and not coercion. You highly doubt that anyone would believe you if you told them the truth, and you were too concerned about what the consequences would be if you did.

Everyone at the estate was nice to you, at least, though the only people allowed to actually get close to you were Ayaka and Thoma.

And when the wedding was over, it was time for your honeymoon. You were not excited about that, but it seemed Celestia itself was on your side during that time because he was too busy to spend time with you.

If he wasn't threatening the lives of your family, you would have made numerous escape attempts by now. Still, you've made it very clear that you hate his guts.

Your hatred is something he detests, though he can't fault you for it. He understands that what he's forced you into is wrong, but in his mind, it was something that had to be done. He's sure that given enough time and space, you'll grow to understand why he did what he did.

And even though you scorn his existence, Ayato looks at you as if you've placed the stars in the sky.

Your strings are forever tied together, so there's no getting out of this. He doesn't plan on ever letting you go. He'd be a terrible husband if he didn't keep you close, wouldn't he?

[alastorss]

HIIII so i had an idea for like a reader that's crushing on alastor, and angel dust making jokes about it in front of alastor and basically what would happen once he catches on

Have a lovely day, get good sleep!!!<33 luv ur writing<33

a/n: hello sweets <3 thank you and i hope you like this!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Alastor has watched you splash your martini all over Angel's face so many times this week, he's almost certain the star is provoking you on purpose just for a free drink.

In the short time he's come to know him, he's learned that if there's one thing Angel Dust is good at—besides looking pretty on film—it's that he can be absolutely shameless.

Alastor remembers, with a twinge of disgust, that the spider had once told him he came with built in reins. That comment kept him seething for hours.

And now, poor you, having fallen into the trap of his intricate web—the Radio Demon would be laughing if he didn't actually feel slightly bad for you. He knows what it's like to be on the receiving end of those comments, after all.

You, unlike your four-armed friend, have a capacity for shame the likes of which have never been seen before. All hot cheeks and wide eyes, lips pulled into a straight, thin line—embarrassment burns in every corner of your expression.

Though, that's probably why Angel has taken such a liking to teasing you.

Here he is again, crawling over the bar to get into your face as soon as Alastor appears in the room. His voice is low and melodic, so quiet the Overlord can't quite make out the words until—

"Look, hun. Your prince charming!"

Alastor raises a brow as he takes his seat next to you at the bar, setting down his newspaper.

"What was that?" He asks, eyes flickering between you and a coy-looking Angel Dust.

"Oh, nothin'. That right, sugar?"

You look nothing but utterly defeated, martini forgotten and abandoned. "Angel..." you mutter in warning. The spider only shrugs and gives you a toothy little grin.

"Hey Smiles," Angel suddenly grabs you by the cheeks and turns your face to look in Alastor's direction. You only blink at each other in surprise. "Cute, eh?"

You quickly smack his hand away from you, swivelling around to glare. "Quit it!"

Angel puts his hands up in mock surrender. He huffs, backing off. "Okay, okay! Fine! You two are unbelievable."

With that, he stalks off to bother Husk instead. You sigh in relief, head hitting the bar counter. For a moment, you completely forget that Alastor is still sitting beside you.

"Care to explain?"

He watches as you nearly jolt out of your skin, amused at how flustered you are from a little teasing. It's rather cute.

"It's nothing!" You sputter, waving your arms around in panic.

But you can't fool Alastor. Not anymore.

It hadn't clicked before—that perhaps there was some merit behind Angel Dust's words. He had gotten so used to empty threats of sexual advances that he had ruled out the possibility that the star was being a little serious for once.

He wasn't exactly subtle, always jumping on the opportunity to make your cheeks burn whenever the Radio Demon was around.

"It didn't sound like nothing," he sings, leaning in closer to you so he can gauge your reaction.

As expected, you nearly leap away from him when he suddenly invades your personal space. He snickers.

"Not you too..." you groan.

"Why, I didn't know you had such a crush on me, darling~"

"You're the worst."

"Ah, and I suppose that's why our dear friend has been teasing you about me all this time? Because I'm the worst, and you hate me?"

He's getting entirely too close. His face is nearly touching yours.

You stare at him in bewilderment, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Finally, you manage to stammer out a weak retort.

"You should butt out of other people's business."

"It sounds like it's about to be my business, dear. You know, if you liked me so much, you could have just told me instead of Angel Dust."

"I preferred it when you were just a regular asshole, and not a cocky one!"

"Oh, how you wound me~"

"Shut up!"

~

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc @th3-st4r-gur1 @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it @dilemmaiscool @concentratedconcrete @squiword7 @clarakainda

[scarletcomalies]

may i request something??. nat having f!r in all fours, taking her w her strap. all soft, vulnerable. please? need her domestic possessive side (you can create a plot if you're up to, but that's pretty much it!!)

all of you, all of me

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word count: 1,608

Warnings: 18+ content, strap-on usage (R. Receiving), fluff.

A/N: Thanks for the request, anon! Hope you enjoy <3

After a dangerous yet successful mission, Natasha Romanoff returned home to you, her loving partner.

Your thumbs gently ran over the once smooth skin of your beloved, now stained by a few scrapes and bruises to which she gave very little importance.

The woman before you was immune to any stimuli, except your caresses, or you as a whole, for that matter. It was obvious from the way she sighed and closed her eyes as soon as you had placed your hands on her cheeks.

After each life-risking mission, the only thing she needed was to feel your touch, and she wouldn't let some silly superficial wounds to deprive her of this delight.

"Oh, baby," you cooed, tracing a path with your hands from her cheeks to her ears, ending at her red hair. It was tangled, and you could even feel the powdery texture of dirt within. "Would you like me to run you a hot bath? Or would you prefer me to bring the first aid kit? Or would you rather rest?"

"Don't 'baby' me," Natasha grumbled, pulling you closer and wrapping her hands around your waist. "I'm not fragile, I don't need to rest," her tone indicating irritation, as if it was an insult that you simply offered to give her the care she deserved after such hard work. “I just want you, okay?” She added lowly.

You hummed disapprovingly, scratching her scalp in circles to soothe her usual high-defense demeanor. She rolled her eyes slightly, and threw her head back so your hands could continue to run through her scarlet locks.

"You're like a kitten," you commented with a chuckle. "A kitten that needs a bath, a massage, and a good night's sleep."

"I don't need any of that, you know I've had worse," she protested, stubbornness shining through. And it's true, Natasha's been through worse. Much, much worse. "What I need is to get you out of these clothes in the next five minutes...—" she stated, her lips moving to kiss your neck as her hands gripped your hips, pushing you tighter against her.

"Whatever makes my love feel better," you agreed, and it was your turn to tilt your head back to give her more access to that area, to let her slowly give in to the intoxicating need for more of you.

Natasha had given you a fair share of small heart attacks whenever she returned unexpectedly from missions at the most ungodly, unpredictable hours known to human kind. The first time, you had given her a bruise on her torso when you felt an extra weight on your shared bed, thinking someone had broken in.

It took some time for you to become accustomed to the fact that an additional weight no longer signified danger, but it rather indicated the return of your partner from another successful mission.

"I want to touch you," she pleaded, mewled against your ear.

"Well, nothing's stopping you," you whispered, your voice full of desire.

"Damn right!"

One of the things that characterized your relationship with the redhead was her ability to elicit a strong physical response from you, regardless of whether you had been sleeping, or had experienced a rough day, she just had to say the word, and that was sufficient to prompt a readiness on your part to comply.

Natasha's hands exerted pressure on your shoulders, guiding your back against the matress. She observed your body from an arm's distance, her eyes tracing the outline of your skin.

"You have no fucking idea how badly I've longed for this," she murmured.

Her lips captured yours for the first time in three weeks, her tongue exploring your mouth passionately. Said kiss was deep and hungry, chanelling all the longing that had built up during her absence. Her hands desperately traced the contours of your skin beneath your shirt, roaming up and down your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

As the kiss intensified, Natasha nibbled at your bottom lip, pulling it gently between her teeth before releasing it with a soft pop, proceeding to begin a journey southward, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck. She paused at your pulse point, sucking the sensitive spot, and in consequence, eliciting a soft moan from you.

Her hands, meanwhile, had found their way to the hem of your shirt, slowly pushing it upwards. As more of your skin was exposed, the redhead's kisses followed, intending to cover every inch of your upper body with her touch.

She paused for a moment, looking up at you with a brief vulnerability.

"I've missed this," she whispered, her voice raspy with need. "And I've missed you."

With a gentle but quick maneuver, Natasha gently turned you onto your stomach, her hands caressing your back as she did so. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of your pants, slowly sliding them down your legs.

When the fabric pooled at your ankles, her hands returned to your hips. She leaned down, pressing a trail of kisses along your exposed skin, from the small of your back up to your shoulder blades.

"You're beautiful," she murmured against your skin, her breath warm and even comforting in comparison to the already present winter. "So perfect,” she added, as she lifted your hips to position you on all fours.

Natasha sat back on her heels, her eyes never daring to leave your ready body as she slowly began to undress. She started with her sweatshirt, pulling it off to reveal her toned abdomen and the simple black bra underneath. Her fingers then moved to the clasp behind, unhooking it with ease as the garment fell down.

Subsequently, she stood up, taking out of her pants, letting them pool at her feet before stepping out of them. Her underwear followed, sliding down her toned legs to join the rest of her discarded clothing on the floor.

Now fully naked, Natasha stood before you, her soft skin adorned with a few bruises and scratches. Perhaps it was wrong to admire the marks of such physical exertions such as her soul-draining missions, but there was something undeniably magnetic about the way she wore those bruises with pride.

She allowed you a moment to appreciate the sight of her, a small smirk playing on her lips at the obvious hunger you displayed shamelessly.

She then reached for a strap-on dildo from the bedside drawer, and fastened it around her hips, your all-time favorite black silicone perking up and adding to her already alluring form. And so, like a lioness eyeing her prey, she positioned herself behind you.

She started slowly, easing the toy into your hole with gentle, shallow thrusts. Your body welcomed the intrusion, already primed and prepared due to her earlier teasing.

Her hands then gripped your hips firmly as she began to thrust with more force, each movement driving the toy deeper. The room filled with the sound of your combined moans and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin.

"Mine, mine, mine," she remarked accompanied by each thrust, making you cry out in response.

They became deeper, more forceful, each movement causing waves of pleasure to drown you more and more, threatening to leave you breathless and defeated. The only sound present in the room was that rhythmic, familiar one of skin meeting skin.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" You cried out, followed by high-pitched gasps.

Your eyes were shut tight, your hands gripping the bedsheets with such force your knuckles turned white, anchoring you to reality.

Your back arched involuntarily, pushing you further onto Natasha, seeking more, always more. The clenching on your walls, and the tension on your core built to an almost unbearable level, teetering on the edge of oblivion.

Hers, hers, hers. Utterly and completely hers. With each thrust, each caress, each burning kiss, she once again branded you as her own.

“Nat! M’ gonna…” You weren't able to finish the sentence, for your body went rigid, as the pleasure of release overcame you.

Nevertheless, her hips continued to move, albeit slower and gentler as she helped you ride out your orgasm.

Her lips found the sensitive skin of your back, trailing soft kisses along your spine. This moment, this connection with you, was what she had craved during every lonely night on during her mission.

The feeling of your skin against hers, tte sound of your voice, your addictive scent that was uniquely you, it all reminded her of why she fought so hard to come back home in the first place.

As the aftershocks subsided, you collapsed onto your back, and Natasha took the opportunity to snuggle against you, the last bit of energy gone.

She had the presence of mind to be slightly embarrassed by how quickly and intensely you'd managed to affect her, excessively so, if she was being honest. But she was too drained, too satisfied to care much about it.

"Feeling better, baby?" You asked, your voice soft and filled with affection. Your fingers traced lazy patterns on her back, soothing and filled with tenderness.

Instead of a verbal response, Natasha managed a weak nod against your skin.

Her hands moved languidly, cupping your breasts in a delicate manner that contrasted with her earlier fervor. She let out a contented sigh as she settled her face more firmly between them, nuzzling against your soft skin. She could perfectly fall asleep right there and then, all spent and completely at peace.

Natasha pressed a soft kiss to your chest, right above your beating heart. It was a wordless expression of gratitude, of love, of coming home. No matter where her missions took her, no matter what dangers she faced, you would always be her sanctuary, her safe haven in a world of disaster.

[koiiiji]

sorry honey, im ovulating

tw ; minors, ageless, empty blogs DNI OR ILL BLOCK YOU!! nsfw, porn w/o plot straight under the line, kinda m!sub

Gun never ever thought that sex might be different.

he never suspect that it actually can be way different than he used to do with his one night stands. how can sex in a serious relationship differ from the sex he paid for, or with those who just clung to his shoulders in some random club? that's right, no difference! or so Gun thought before he started dating you.

many would have identified Gun as a masochist, but in bed he still preferred to keep a dominant role. although you don't seem to care much about that right now. all you were worried about right now, was another orgasm while you were jumping up and down on your boyfriend's dick.

what was the time in a row? 4? 5? you both have already lost count. blankets and pillows are scattered on the bed, and lying somewhere at the foot or at the floor, the sheets are all wet with sweat, saliva, and a mixture of his sperm and your juices.

any other time, Gun would have finished as soon as he cum, but it was different with you. of course, usually you two went through 2, in rare cases, through 3 rounds and then exhausted (lol only you) went to sleep, but that night for the first time Gun felt that he was not fucking, but being fucked. he already had you in all positions, was rough, was gentle, but you still didn't calm down. after the last orgasm, you were still caressing like a kitten, giggling, biting your lower lip and nuzzling his neck, sucking and biting the skin, whispering in his ear that you still want more. you were purring with pleasure, and Gun was getting nervous. did he lack the strength to cope with your libido? is he tired? after sex? nonsense, he would have thought, but you have already straddled his hips from above, and his cock has already showed deep into your tight, hot pussy. after so many hours of sex, you were still clutching him tightly, and then Gun thought… you are fucking him now, not him, as it usually happens. and if his eyes were pitch black, then he could have sworn that your eyes were almost glowing in the darkness of your bedroom right now. just like the succub.

it's not that he sees you as a rival now, but your smug smile, half-closed eyes in which he could almost see little hearts when his dick pounded into your sweet, sensitive spot. his hands found your hips, and squeezed with such force, that there will definitely be bruises in the morning. you just gasped in surprise, too deeply immersed in the euphoria of your own pleasure…

when you finally finished, it was Gun who was lying exhausted, arms outstretched and staring at the ceiling with an empty (as well as his balls) gaze. rising up on your elbows, you giggled, and lightly kissed him on the cheek, merrily murmuring “sorry honey, i’m ovulating, i just couldn't get enough of you” and easily flew out of bed, grabbing a towel and heading to the shower, leaving Gun alone in bed... thinking…

wait, did you just fucked him?

[cherishedhope]

Dormleaders Reacting to Their Fanbase.

Genre: Crack?? I think it's crack. Not sure. Characters involved: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, and Malleus. Synopsis: How I think they would react to having so many fans, fanfictions, etc. A/N: I made this a little short. Sorry. :( anyway enjoy!! <3 Disclaimer: This is solely for entertainment purposes only. No hate to any of the ships mentioned!! Characters could potentially be ooc. Mentions of NSFW content but there isn’t actually any in the post. NOT proofread. A/N 2: Malleus’s part was inspired by a convo I had w @moonswolfie . Go follow her. Her twst stories are just- *chefs kiss* Requests: Open!

————————————————————

— He's a bit shocked that he has a whole ass fanbase. Like-?? What?? I mean, yeah, he's well-known around the school but not for good reasons. But to know that he has thousands of people who actually enjoy are obsessed with him is pretty flattering.

— Ace and Deuce are also just as surprised if not more so. Probably even questioning the tastes of the people in our world.

— Appalled when he sees a bunch of posts dissing his mom. (does find it comforting knowing all of them are on his side and seriously questions his upbringing.)

— Turns into a tomato at an impossible rate of two seconds when he sees that a LOT of people are shipping him with Trey. A bunch of screaming and incoherent stuttering. I don’t think he has ever thought of Trey as more than a friend before. (Ace is dying in the background.) — Cater has already warned him of the nsfw tags so Riddle steers FAR FAR FAR away from it. His brain is already having trouble processing that he has people that ADORE everything about him. He can’t handle reading himself being intimate with hundreds of people. He does read a fluffy fic or two.

— I feel like he would take notes of how he acts in the fanfictions so he can apply fanfic Riddle’s actions to himself.

— Art? People make art of him? — Feels a sense of pride when he looks at the drawings people make of him. He’s flattered!

— Flustered as hell, but also super happy about it. Whenever he feels down he’ll think about all the people that like him and he starts feeling a lot better. :)

— THIS COCKY MF

— HE IS SO SMUG ABOUT IT

— Considers building an entire empire of his own with you guys as his loyal, devoted subjects. Then ultimately decides not to because that’s too much work and not enough time for sleep. (Then again, we would probably understand. You guys wouldn’t dare question HIM, right??)

— Definitely rubs it in Malleus’s face the first chance he gets.

— He is watching every single edit of himself he can find. Y’all don’t understand how big of a stroke this is to his ego. His head?? It's bigger than a hot air balloon at this point. Who wouldn’t react that way if someone made edits of them? It is a huge ego boost!

— Finally, after so long, he isn’t referred to as “Falena’s brother.” No. He is Leona Kingscholar. People like HIM. Hell, he could start an entire army with all the fans he has!

— Nothing can ruin his day.

— …..

— Physically recoils when he sees the Malleus x Leona tag. Powers off his phone and then throws it against the wall. He has never been more disgusted and disappointed in all of his life.

— he still likes you guys!! dw. Just give him a couple minutes hours and maybe he’ll get over it.

— What?

— Sorry, yeah, no, he isn’t believing any of you. There is NO way people would willingly sign up for one of his contracts and enjoy it.

— Once he finally snaps out of Denial River, he is still in disbelief. That quickly gives way to him scheming and plotting on how to use this to his advantage.

— Is a customer acting rowdy after signing one of his deals? Trying to sue him over it? Well, now he has thousands of witnesses to back him up. No one can touch him now. He is the most powerful of all!

— Someone tries to attack him? Tweels, release the hounds.

— He is UNTOUCHABLE

— He's too shy to read the fanfics. And he doesn’t wanna look at the edits of himself either. It makes him cringe inside. Not because of them being made. No, the people creating them have great talent. But the reason is because it's him. — He gets curious after a while and does take a look at one edit. JUST ONE!

— And now he's hiding out in his octopot scrolling through as many as he can find. He cries seeing all the love he gets.

— He prints out some of the fanart and hangs it up in his room.

— Whenever he feels self conscious he looks at the edits and then he’s all smiles and as confident as ever.

— FANS?? HIM??

— EEEE!!!!

— :DDDD

— NO WAY!!!!!!!!!!!!

— SCREAMING! JUMPING ALL OVER THE ROOM! SO MANY FRIENDS! KICKING HIS FEET AND GIGGLING! He wants to meet all of you!

— Feels obligated to read every fanfiction, like every fanart, watch every edit. Not because he wants to make himself feel good about it, but because he wants to see how talented you guys are! And he is not disappointed.

— Gets really sad when he realizes that he can't talk to any of you guys.

— :(

— JamiKali? What’s JamiKali? What's a ship??

— Nsfw?? What does that mean?

— It doesn’t take long for Jamil to take his phone away. He probably even puts restrictions on it so Kalim doesn’t get exposed to the more inappropriate side of his fanbase.

— He does not care.

— Flattered, sure, but not as excited as the others are. Yeah, it's surprising that people still worship the ground he walks on even in another world, but not too shocking.

— He scrolls through a bunch of fan arts and criticizes them. If it doesn't resemble him perfectly then he doesn’t care for it.

— Unironically calls you guys his “adoring” fans.

— Doesn’t even look at the fanfics. He already knows that he'll see things that aren't accurate to his character. (little does he know, a lot of people write him pretty well 😭)

— REFUSES to look at the ships. He doesn’t want to see people shipping him with Neige. He already deals with it from the fans in his world so he doesn’t want to see it in another.

— Most of his reaction to this is basically “um yeah, obviously I have a fanbase. 🙄”

— Like Azul, he also does not believe it. Him?? Why would someone as insignificant as him have a fanbase? You guys must have gotten knocked on the head or something when you were younger.

— Dies and ascends to heaven once he sees that people make fanfics/art/edits of him. HE IS EXPLODING WITH HAPPINESS. Holes himself up in his room and binges e v e r y t h i n g. He makes a collage of all his favorite fanarts and uses it as his wallpaper.

— Dies again when he finds out there are figurines of him. And plushies. And rings. And and and and.

— I think his favorite out of all of this would be the fanart. Have you guys seen Ignihyde stans?? Their art is literally gorgeous omksn

— His hair instantly transforms into pink flames when he spots the ships. Him with Azul? Him with Lilia?? Him with Silver?

— Considers each and every ship he sees. I doubt he can look the other person in the eye for a while.

— His self-esteem grows a lot bit so consider that a job well done for being an Idia stan 👍

— What is a fanbase?

— The only thing this man is going to understand is the art part of everything. He’s probably used to having his portrait done in Briar Valley, so that is the only thing his mind can figure out.

— Other than that, what is a “fan fic”? What is the point of moving pictures of him with upbeat music? A ship? Why do people keep saying he's in a ship with some random person from NRC? He is clearly on the ground by himself.

— After Lilia spends the next three hours explaining everything to clueless dragon boy, Malleus finally slightly understands what the internet is. (He still doesn’t understand ships.)

— So many new additions to the gargoyle club!! On the outside he appears calm and neutral but internally he is ecstatic and doing what humans call “running around the room screaming and crying.” There are so many humans that are interested in him droning on about gargoyles! Some even want to participate in the conversation!

— Sebek is in the background complimenting all of you for having good taste and following the young master.

— He's touched by the fact that so many humans are like Yuu and don’t find him intimidating at all and even look up to him as a father figure :) (Lilia failed to tell Malleus about what the “daddy” comments truly entail. )

— He does not care that you guys are in another world. He is gonna find a way to get into contact w y’all. He is NOT letting this many friends go to waste. 😤😤

[eternalsunrise]

call my bluff.

deadpool (wade wilson) x gn! reader

word count: 2.1k

summary! deadpool and you have an unorthodox dynamic. every time the masked man ends up in your neighborhood, he can’t seem to stay away. you’ve never seen his face or even heard his name, but the two of you are in a game of flirtation with no end in sight. as the tension is raised, both of you wonder, is there something more here?

tags! reader is a regular citizen, talk of reader wearing a skirt but i don’t think i used any pronouns? HEAVILY suggestive but no smut, alcohol mentions, i wrote this with comic deadpool in mind but could easily be ryan’s as well!!

notes! the collective d&w brainrot has caused me to open tumblr and actually complete a fic. hope u love it <3 abs

“taxi!”

the crisp night air nipped at your legs as you stepped off of the sidewalk and onto the edge of the street for the fifth time in the past fifteen minutes. you waved your hands semi erratically, jumping up and down as to try and make yourself take up more space so that the bright yellow vehicle would take notice. instead you watched as it zipped right past you, short term deja vu happening once again.

you threw your arms down in defeat and stared up at the night sky, “fuck!” you sent your frustrations up to the half of a full moon you could see, the other portion blocked by skyscrapers. how is it that this city was known to be crawling with cabs and you couldn’t even flag one of them down? were you on some kind of taxi blacklist?

whatever the reason, you decided that between your horrible luck with public transport and your dead cell phone, you might as well start the trek home.

your body buzzed with the alcohol from the evening; your night out with friends had veered into the early morning hours, and you promised them you’d be able to find your way home. blacklist or not, the city was walkable and you were tired of waiting.

so you crossed your arms over your chest, a half baked attempted at hiding from the chill of the city. you started walking in the direction of your apartment, craving the touch of warm sheets and pillowcases.

after a few minutes of sharing the air with faint car horns and the buzzing of people’s air conditioning units, you heard something else. someone else.

you weren’t naive, the city never sleeps, and there were bound to be people out just like you. however the path you chose was definitely less trafficked, and general paranoia was starting to set in. after all, you’ve been the only person for the past three blocks, only sharing the sidewalk with stray cats.

the thought that someone was behind you forced you to sober up quickly. ice cold blood replacing the warm alcohol that was coursing through your veins.

the footsteps are louder now, matching your heartbeat patting against your rib cage. you wonder why they haven’t walked past you yet. were you being followed? taking a deep breath, you reach into your bag slowly. you retrieve your small weapon of defense, ready to face off a potential threat. whoever it was, they were behind you now. you figured your best bet was fight AND flight. attack and spirit off.

you hear a wolf whistle, deep and slow, right in your ear. it’s now or never.

you whip around and shove your arm toward the nightcrawler (pervert?). you open your mouth to let out a scream and clench your eyes shut. you’re surprised when your voice is muffled by…leather?

“oh cupcake, this is adorable! where’d you get this, amazon?”

you open your eyes and are stunned to lock them with a sea of red and black. your eyes trail upwards, spying artificial whites and a mask you’ve grown familiar with. the original terror you felt starts draining from your body, and is replaced by shock and a strange sense of relief.

deadpool has one of his gloved hands locked around your wrist, long index finger just barely lifting yours off of the trigger of the object in question. a travel sized, hot pink, container of mace.

you open your mouth again to speak but find his other hand muffling your airways, his large palm covering your mouth and tip of your nose. you frantically grasp at his arm with your free hand, yanking it away from your face.

“you know sweet thing, if you wanna walk around this late by yourself, you’ll need something a little more industrial. i actually know a guy if you-“

you take in a giant gulp of air and clutch your chest, trying to slow down your heart rate, “what. the FUCK is wrong with you?” you cut off deadpool’s rambling, staring at his blank eyes.

the merc tilts his head to the side as if he was a confused golden retriever, “really? you wanna trauma dump right now? well…” he clears his throat, voice dropping an octave to portray faux sincerity, “i guess it all started in third grade…”

you groaned and rubbed your face with your free hand, the other still in control by your assaulter, “you could’ve announced yourself, you gave me a heart attack! what are you doing following me anyway?”

deadpool finally releases your hand, his own finding home on his hips, resting right above his two holsters. “well i saw you wandering around like carrie bradshaw. and i may not be your mister, but i was hoping to give you something Big.” he shrugs as if that response was as normal as discussing the weather. you shove your measly can of mace back into your bag.

shaking your head, you turn on your heels, starting to walk away. you plan to continue your trek home, confident that the anti hero would be quick to follow behind. “how hard would it be to just say you want to walk me home?”

you’ve been playing this game of back and forth flirtation for a while now, and you knew that deep…deep…deep down he was masking true concern for you.

deciding not to answer, deadpool took just a few of his large strides to end up by your side. “what are you doing walking alone looking like that anyway? admit it! you were hoping i’d show up.”

you look at him with glassy eyes. now that your guard was fully down, you started to feel the effects of those three tequila shots you took as a send off to your friends. maybe those weren’t such a good idea. the way you’re looking up at him make’s deadpool’s wade’s stomach turn, and he has to clench his fists to control himself.

suddenly he’s forgotten why he was on this side of town in the first place.

you let out a laugh full of teeth, “oh you wish! i haven’t seen you in a few days though, had to go out to fill my needs elsewhere.”

what you two have has never went beyond casual flirtation, but the idea of you being under someone else sparks a match of jealously. but wade knows better. and he knows that slight stumble as you walk, your hands pulling the skirt of your outfit down.

deadpool hisses as if you’ve hit a nerve, “ouch baby, i didn’t think i’d be third wheeling with you and jose cuervo tonight.” he spots a car driving toward the two of you and acts quickly; he places a gloved hand on your waist and moves you away from the sidewalk. he doesn’t miss a beat, you don’t even realize you’ve switched places.

you’re looking back up at him again as you walk, this time reaching up and tapping the handle of one of his sheathed katanas, “what about you killer? you been thinkin’ about me?” you’re teasing him, but a small part of you hopes he’ll give you a genuine answer that aligns with what you want to hear.

his mask creases as he raises his eyebrows and you can’t see but wade is giving you a smirk that sits on the side of his mouth, “oh you know it sweet thing. every time i’ve slid one of these bad boys in and out of a bad guy, it reminds me of what we could have.”

deadpool lets out a dramatic sigh, reminiscing on something that hasn’t even happened, “but their screams usually ruin my hard on, i think your’s would have the opposite effect.”

so much for your genuine answer.

you blame the red on your cheeks and buzzing feeling on the alcohol, pushing the thought of the real cause into a box and storing it in the back of your mind. how embarrassing to feel this way about a masked weirdo that sometimes strolls through your neighborhood. you didn’t even know his real name. hell, you’ve never seen his face!

after a little more walking and a lot more sexual tension, the two of you arrive in front of your apartment building. you turn to face your escort for the evening, flashing him a grin full of drunken glee, “well this is my stop, thank you for the company mr. pool. i’ll have to repay you somehow.” your tone teasing but borderline suggestive.

deadpool nods and taps his chin a few times, “you’re right cupcake….since you’re offering…” he trails off, his voice growing deeper as he bent down to be eye level with you. your throat hitched, a gasp getting stuck there, not expecting him to call your bluff. “i take payments in the form of cash, debit, or check!”

he taps the tip of your nose and shoots back, standing up straight.

oh right! no way this guy would ever actually take you up on your banter! and that was a good thing…right? you decided to end the night now, preventing your drunken state from dragging a masked man into your home.

you rolled your eyes and braced your hand on his broad shoulder, stepping on the tip of your toes and placing a kiss on the side of his mask, the textured material tickling your lips. “goodnight handsome.”

you leaned away from him but trailed your hand down to rest on his chest. hey! the tequila was making you brave.

deadpool, no wade—deadpool—no! wade felt like he was about to fall backwards like a cartoon cat after getting hit with a sledgehammer. it had been a long time since his suit had experienced anything that gentle, he felt this was about to go down a dangerous path.

wade stared down at you through white lenses, his gaze bouncing between your hand and your lips. back and forth like a game of table tennis.

he watched as you bit your lip and held his gaze. your cheeks flushed, eyes glossy, the street lights illuminated your face in a way he’s never seen before. he wonders if potential onlookers could see small hearts surrounding his head.

wade feels a thought go through him, as if it swept in on the early morning breeze. a thought that he felt insane (shocker) for having even for a moment.

standing there with you, he wants to be himself. he has the urge to be vulnerable; rip his mask off and be wade wilson with you. for you. in this moment he wants to be more than the merc that flirts with you. wade wants to be with you. he wants…..fuck he wants to take you inside and make sure your body leaves an imprint in the mattress that’ll be there for weeks. stop looking at him like that, his pants are getting tight.

and there’s deadpool. he imagines tiny versions of himself stabbing katanas into the hearts around his head. they let out sad whines as they deflate and fall onto the sidewalk below him. he needs to get a grip.

“sweet dreams angel face. oh! if you need me throughout the night, just scream out of your bedroom window! screams of damsels in distress are like my mating call.”

you retract your hand with a giggle that makes that stupid thought come back into deadpool’s head.

you hesitate. wanting to say something but…deciding best not to. you turn around and walk up the stairs to your door, ignoring the fire in your stomach that’s been growing after each flirtatious jab.

you hear him start to speak as soon as you put your key into the lock, and you turn around almost too eagerly. you want him to say what you’ve been wanting, craving to hear. you want him to enable that dark part of you; the part of you that wants more of him. the part of you that knows he’s wrong. that he’s got to be walking danger.

deadpool points at himself, “but babe, if you see a way less sexy guy in a suit responding to your call. one that has ugly little spider webs all over him? slam the window shut. you want nothing to do with that guy, trust me.”

your shoulders drop, an exhale released. you give him one last shake of your head, and a barely there smile, before you’re inside your home. the bubble that surrounded the two of you bursted.

the door shuts behind you but the masked man stays in place. he stares at the spot where you were just standing, thinking about all the other routes this night could’ve taken. he isn’t right for you. he should leave you alone. wade knows that. too bad deadpool’s never been a good listener.

[wormswurld]

artrick hc’s cuz i miss my boys..

⭐️ patrick:

- walks around the dorm room naked allll the time and art constantly yells at him to put some damn clothes on! (art definitely doesn’t blush and look at the ceiling when pat’s letting it all hang out and pat’s definitely not getting off on it….)

- lowkey a slob but ever since living w/ art he’s at least gotten into the habit of making his bed everyday,, typically the two of them make their beds together before they go off to practice 🙂‍↕️

- gets the gnarliest cramps in his calves after hours of practice & bitches to art abt it even though he knows he’ll ask him “have you had enough water?” the answer is always no.

- doesn’t really pay attention in most of his classes though remembers a lot of random facts abt WWII and annoys the hell out of art…as per usual…

- can fuck up a doritos locos tacos meal lmao,,especially when he’s high…my god this man turns into a fucking fein

- chronic nail biter, his oral fixation goes crazy!

- is technically supposed to wear reading glasses but he thinks they make him look stupid so he just squints like he’s getting blinded by the sun whenever he’s “studying”

- despises dark chocolate

- burps. all. the. time. it most certainly drives art insane but patrick just lies and says it’s his acid reflux lmao

- loves the movie boogie nights by paul thomas anderson… mark whalberg was one of many of his sexual awakenings

🌟 art:

- absolutely HATES tomatoes. patrick constantly makes fun of him for it but they genuinely make him gag like a cat coughing up a hairball

- is typically the last one to fall asleep out of the two of them.. sometimes when they push their beds together he’ll just admire what patrick looks like until he rolls over and decides it’s time for bed (the internalized homophobia strikes again…)

- really insecure about his feet because of how fucked up they’ve gotten cuz of tennis.. a lot of shoulder + feet injuries so he sleeps with socks on,, sometimes when he has a flare up patrick will offer to rub his feet because that’s what his bubbie used to do for him when he was sick / under the weather (art hates to admit it but he really appreciates it when patrick does this)

- drives patrick around everywhereeeeee.. patrick is his certified passenger princess & he loves to embarrass art whenever they are in the taco bell drive thru together.. one time pat asked (yelled) for 4 doritos locos tacos meals when he was high out of his mind in the passenger seat and all art could do was comply and hand over his credit card to the worker as patrick draped himself all over art whispering how much he loves him in his ear 🤭

- sun burns so easily it’s actually comical how much sunscreen he puts on just to go swimming (of course patrick finds it hilarious)

- favorite cereals are: raisin bran, rice krispies, and kix in that order. yes he’s an old man.

- constantly runs cold whereas patrick constantly runs hot..guess the nicknames fire & ice really do fit them

- LOVES dark chocolate !!!!!!! rarely eats it because he’s very strict with his diet and eating habits blah blah blah but sometimes when he decides to treat himself he’ll get a candy bar from the convenience store or vending machine

- the biggest sweetheart for his mom and grandma !!!!!!!!! really was only raised by them two so he’s such a mamas boy <3 always calls his grandma before every big tournament to hear her hype him up (patrick thinks it’s endearing)

- has the worst seasonal allergies known to man! is always sniffling whenever spring hits.. his nose gets all pink and his cheeks are always a little ruddy, and his eyes constantly water,, whenever patrick sees him like that he can’t help but think what art would look like giving him…………😵‍💫

[eyesxxyou]

❝ bleeding hearts ❞ (rough hands pt.3)

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. rival bands hobie x FTM!reader, conflicting emotions, a lot of sexual tension, bleeding, lots of kissing, masturbation, oral (reader receiving) p-in-v sex, creampie. you let things go too far. now, you deny anything ever happened. with the final days of the competition coming up, you find yourself reconsidering your feelings for Hobie Brown.

wc: 4.5k

↳ pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3

“Again. We need to go again.”

You’ve been at this for hours, practicing your songs for the battle of the bands until your voice was stripped raw of all pleasantness. Now you sounded rough, callous, a scratching against your vocal chords that left you wincing. But you needed to go further, harder, faster. You needed to go until your voice abandoned you.

It was your drummer who said something. “No, I think we should call it a night. You’re gonna lose your voice and we have a competition in a few days.” He was firm, gruff, overriding your demand to keep going with a slapdash period at the end of it. There was no room for argument, especially when all of your bandmates murmured with vague sounds of agreement.

You huff almost like a child who didn’t get his way. “Fine, whatever. You can leave. I’m gonna keep going.” You turn back to the mic, fiddling with the strings of your bass. Your fingers were skinned raw like your throat, you weren’t sure you could use it even if you wanted to. You strummed it while your band packed up, all of them telling you to get some rest. They all noticed something was terribly off about you but whenever asked, you would just grumble and turn away.

Alone, you slowly began to strum your bass and wince with pain as you hummed out the lyrics you’ve been working on. It’s been two weeks since you’ve spoken to Hobie. You’ve seen each other at the venues where the competitions were taking place but would walk right by each other as if the other didn’t even exist. Sometimes you would shoulder check, he would glare. It was as if nothing had changed from the beginning.

But your mind had been swimming with him. He lingered just as you had been trying to avoid. Every time you sat down to scratch down some lyrics, you’d always find them fading into songs about him. How much you love him, how much you hate him. Love and hate are simply the same emotions, you find yourself more and more convinced of it everyday you spend apart from him.

You only stop practicing when your fingers start to bleed onto the wire strings. You look at it, the blood seeping from your fingertips, hot and wet with your desire. You wished your heart would burst and blood would fill your throat, your lungs, your chest. And you would collapse, suffocating on the sweetness of your love.

You put bandages on your fingers and hoped the blood wouldn't seep through in the night. Collapsing onto your bed in only your underwear, you let out a weary sigh. You gazed at the cracked ceiling of your flat, your mind swirling with thoughts of Hobie against your will. You wanted to rid yourself of him, expel him from your body like vomit. You needed him out and away for fear you might decay into your affections for him.

You thought of him. His face, his hands, his cock. The baritone of his voice rang in your ears, singing out notes of pleasure for you. His hands worshiping your waist, his lips pressing kisses to your throat.

Your days usually ended like this, with your body suddenly nude of all clothing, your fingers viciously rubbing your hard t-dick. You imagined Hobie's fingers, stroking through your sweet slick, gathering it on his fingers before slipping one into you with little resistance to be had.

You let out a gasp and whimper as you slid in a second finger. Though it felt good, it didn't feel good enough. It wasn't the same, a poor replication of all you wanted. Your fingers weren't quite long enough, too short and stout to be his long, slender appendages, but they would make due as it were. After all, your days sleeping with Hobie were over and you’d have to quickly become used to your own fingers again.

You hated that you missed him even beyond the sex. It would be one thing if you missed his fingers, his tongue, the sweet stretch of his length inside you. But you missed him. You simply didn't know how to handle it. The notion that you liked him, feelings boiling to the surface against your will, it terrified you.

Your orgasm was unsatisfactory and left you feeling far worse off than before. You looked to the fingers of your other hand and found a few splotches of blood on the bandages.

The battle of the bands spanned 3 weeks. Bands from all over would compete against each other for the prize of a record deal. So far, The Mutts have beaten 3 others. As it turns out, the Mary Jane's were performing today after beating 2 others.

Your bleeding heart in your hands.

You were uninterested. Or– you were pretending to be at least. Roaming the venue packed full of bands of friend and foe, you make your way to the bar to get a drink. It was deserved you thought. You had caught sight of Hobie from across the way, talking to a guy. It could have been something innocent but he was smiling too much, his fingers fiddling with something on the guy's jacket like he used to do to you. He had moved on so quickly.

Something jagged lodged itself in your throat, anger simmered to the surface. You wanted to go over and punch him but to everyone around, that would be uncalled for. You pretended to be unphased by the sight but you weren't sure if you were doing a good job of hiding your seething anger.

Hobie glanced to his side and caught your gaze. Immediately, he retracted his hand from the stranger and his smile fell. He looked away, you did the same as your drink came. Fuck him. Who needs that kind of drama in their lives?

It was The Mary Janes’ turn to go on. You didn't bother to turn around to look at the stage as they came on. It was loud, people chanting and cheering, intermingled with sharp whistles and booming claps. You nursed your drink and kept your head low.

“One, two- One, two, three, four!” With the count, the band started playing, loud and fast and so messily chaotic it was cohesive. You expected something anti-authoritariant in nature, something you had heard from them in the past. But as Hobie began to sing, you found that the lyrics were rather lovely in nature, hidden behind gruffy, loud vocals and louder instrumentals.

The lyrics were for you. Or rather– about you. You could tell it so clearly. In a perfect world, you would have swooned and met him backstage with a passionate kiss, declaring your love for him. But all you could feel was the sinking pit opening up in your chest to swallow you whole.

“My hands rough with your love

Sweet lips like a dove

Please don’t say goodnight

To the one thing that brings me alight”

You got up from the bar, slapping down a few quid and ducking out into the crowd. You waded between clammy bodies, grimacing at the humidity and scent of fresh sweat in the air. You needed to get out of here. How could you possibly listen to the retelling of you relationship sung out before a bunch of unknowing strangers?

“To be or not to be

With sweet release we come to see

The way we stand in the debris 

Of our fallen tragedy”

His voice was beautiful. You couldn't stand it, the way the notes slithered around your throat and tightened into a choking hold. With a lump in your throat, you felt the need to sob, to scream, to tear your hair out bit by bit.

“What is this all for

And endless swirl of fresh gore

Why did we even start

When all we’d be left with is bleeding hearts”

You made your way backstage where his voice faded into vague murmurs and you found a secluded area to let your tears flow freely.

You hadn't even noticed when Hobie and his Mary Janes' finished, their end marked by unanimous cheering and whistles. If only you had known the way Hobie rushed off stage to find you. He had seen you while performing, the distressed look upon your pretty face as you frantically looked for a way out. He wondered if he had gone too far. He hadn't meant to upset you. It was intended to be an apology.

People were congratulating Hobie as he made his way by. He didn't care for them. He just wanted to find you. And he did, he found you in the corner, your shoulders trembling. He could tell instantly that you were crying and felt all the more terrible about it. “Luv–”

You stood up straight from your hunched position and whipped around to look at him. Your cheeks were glossy, tears streaking your flesh like fresh cuts. His lyrics had carved a gory wound in your chest. You quickly began to wipe your cheeks with the backs of your hands.

He never meant to hurt you, never meant to make you cry. It was just vague enough for no one but you to understand it. It was for you. It was all for you. How could you not understand that.

You sniffled and crossed your arms over your chest as if to hold yourself. You turned away from him, ready to walk off and leave it there. But he grabbed your arm before you could leave. You attempted to shake yourself free but his grip was too tight. 

He looked at you without a word, brows pinched, eyes desperate, an apology. It was as much an apology as a beg for things to return to how they used to be. A declaration that he missed you.

You were shaking, staring at him with wide eyes and trembling lips. You shoved him away from you. You didn't know how to handle feelings, tenderness, gory wounds and bleeding hearts. You did not want his heart, you told yourself. You did not want it beating in your palms, bloody and full of love. You could not kiss it the way he wanted. You could not love it the way one needed.

Can't you see that he loves you? Can't you see that he’s laying himself in the middle of the road and letting you run him over? He’s placed his wounded heart in your hands. You shook your head and left him without a word, tears like rivers down your face. Hobie watched you retreat, his heart at his feet.

Oh, how love terrified you. The messiness, the gore, the tears of it all. You had every reason to avoid it. But it had seized you so viciously, so suddenly, and left you gasping for air. A cavity in your chest where your heart should be, left somewhere in the clutter of Hobie’s houseboat.

But a part of you hopes he sleeps with it, holds it in his arms and caresses it with his hands that once protected you.

Rough hands, sweet lips, bleeding hearts.

You avoid Hobie and he avoids you. It’s a mutual thing. Your sneers at each other return from a distance. Shoulder checks and glowering glances between the love songs Hobie sings during the competition. Your minds run in a parallel, still lingering on each other in the dead of night.

And by the grace of some higher power, like a sick joke for the amusement of others, it seems as though for the final round, The Mutts and The Mary Jane's are being pitted against each other. Both bands came to life with the idea of being superior to the other in an official setting. Whoever lost would never live it down.

“We’re gonna crush them.” Your drummer twirled his stick between his fingers, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the Mary Janes passing through. You and Hobie caught each other's gaze, a silent pact to never speak of what happened between you two. It would be something of the past, a fling, a brief blip in history. No one had to know of the way your chest lunged for him.

It was the night before the final day of the competition. The night before your Mutts faced off against the Mary Janes. You had told your band to get rest while you played well into the night, scribbling down Hobie’s name into your lyric book before times than you were comfortable with, scratching them out just as fast.

You glanced at your house phone in the corner, your fingers thrumming against your guitar strings aimlessly. You knew Hobie’s number by heart, your fingers already typing out the numbers against the flat of your bass. You wanted to call, to hear his voice to ease your anxieties. How ridiculous would it be to call your competitor before your competition?

But before you could have the will to stop yourself, you had set your bass down and walked over the the phone, taking it up off the stand and punching in the specific pattern of numbers to call him. The phone rang, once, then twice, giving you just enough time to regret your decision just as Hobie picked up.

“‘Ello?”

You were silent for a long moment. You could still hang up if you wanted to…If you wanted to. But you cleared your throat of the sudden hitch of your breath and let out a shaky sigh, “Hobie?”

You could hear him cough across the line. “Luv.” His voice was tender in your ear and soothed you more than you would have liked any other time, but you needed it. Needed him. Your heart pulsed, your fingers swirled the coiled wire of the phone line. 

There was silence for a long while. The two of you listened to each other's soft breathing and found comfort in the sound of the life within you. So many words to be said, so little will to say it. Your brows pinched, you caught your bottom lip between your lips.

“I’m sorry.” You babbled out. You were sorry for everything. For being a coward, for running away, for tossing his heart right back in his face when all he wanted was to make things right with you. “I'm such a fucking coward, aren't I?” You let out a weak chuckle.

Hobie chuckled with you, the low sweet rumble of his voice making you shudder. “A lil’, but ain’t we all?” There was something oddly comforting about his words. He soothed his fingers over your cheek and told you sweetly that it was all okay. A flaw that wasn't a fault of your own.

“I'm scared.” 

“O’ what?”

You held the receiver against your face, holding it with both hands, holding it as if it were him in your arms. “Of you.” You’re terrified by him, the feelings he stirred up in your chest you weren't sure you were ready to handle. You don't know why you’re doing this, why you’re telling him this. Did you hope to hear him say he loved you and he was scared of it too?

“Would i’ make ya feel better y'know ‘m scared o’ ya too?” It was a tender admission. Two people, in rival bands, so scared to love each other, in love. What a sick joke. “But who isn' scared? I never let bein’ scared stop me.”

“Why are we doing this?”

Hobie hummed. You could almost hear him shrugging through the phone, his smile. “Why shouldn' we be doin’ this?” He was so lighthearted and sweet through the grain of the phone speaker. You kept curling the phone line around your finger, curling and uncurling, curling and uncurling. “Our bands-”

“Fuck ‘em.” Hobie scoffed. “‘M no’ gonna let ‘em get in the way of wha’ I wan’. They need t’ grow up.”

You chewed at the soft inner flesh of your cheek. “Can I come over?” You almost whisper into the phone. Your voice pleaded for him not to deny you of your request. How cruel could he be to deny a lonely, lovesick man his simple ask? You’re lucky that Hobie was not as much of a dick as you always believed him to be. He hummed. “Ya know ya can come over wheneva ya wan'.”

You said your sweet goodbyes and hung up the phone before going to put your shoes on. You left your flat in a run and caught a cab down to the docks where Hobie’s houseboat resided.

The salty wind whipped at your face as you boarded the boat, your shoes thumping against the hardwood as you made your way to the door. The nights were on from the inside, you could hear Hobie’s rummaging behind the door. He had been waiting for you.

He opened the door as soon as you knocked, standing before you in just a pair of sweatpants hanging lowly on his hips. He was beautiful and tragic and your stomach churned upon seeing him standing there before you. You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his neck without as word, pressing your lips to his. The kindness one man extends to another. 

Hobie’s hands were on your hips, dragging you so close you body pressed to his. Tender kisses shared between timid lips and wet tongues, Hobie pulled you into his home and closed the door behind you, pressing you gently to the wall with all his body. He wanted you to feel him, his desire, his need, his want, his love.

His fingers sunk into the plush of your flesh. His lips caressed yours, his tongue lapped into your mouth and teased at the sweetness of your mouth. Your desire spilled out all over each other, but you were gentle, your hands tenderly roaming. You sighed into his mouth and he swallowed it as if it were the only sustenance he'd ever need. 

You placed your hands on his arms and broke your kiss to look up at him with soft, scared eyes. You both knew, if you did this, there was no going back.

“I’ll take care o’ ya.” Hobie assured you, leaning down to kiss the corners of your sweet mouth. You caught his lips, the taste of him making you delirious.

You peeled each other's clothes off piece by piece, your fingers tracing, your eyes admiring. “Yer beautiful.” Hobie murmured dizzily between kisses against your throat. He had never complimented you like that before. It came out like he had been waiting so very long to say that. Your face was hot, you purred with satisfaction. “You’re beautiful too.”

Hobie led you over to his bed, messy as if he had just been laying in it. He had you sit at the end and asked you to lay back as he began to kneel down before you. You understood what he wanted to do. Every time before, it had been a hasty matter. Frantic, as if you were running out of time. But he had gone slow now, lowering to his knees and carefully parted your knees. He brought them up over his shoulders and with tender lips, began to kiss your inner thighs.

His breath was warm, fanning your thighs delicately. His lips traced a path along your supple flesh, fingers gripping into the meat of your legs. You fluttered where you needed him most as his breath kissed your clit. “Hobie, please–” You gasped as his tongue licked you where you were wet and open.

He was sweet. Tonguing at your open cunt gently. He dragged the tip to your hardened clit where you shuddered and moaned as he traced stars across the bud. He kissed you there like they were your lips, like they could kiss back, drooling and suckling where he knew you liked it most. 

He tasted you. Your musky sweetness, the sweat from practicing all day. He liked your tanginess. You didn't taste like something artificial. He laid broad strokes against you, spindling dulcet mewls from your trembling lips. Your fingers curled into his sheets, back arching away from his bed.

He sucked at your clit, rolling the rosebud between his lips. Long ringed fingers pressing into your thighs, keeping them from claiming down on his head. Your legs trembled with every messy lick of his languid tongue.

“Yer so good f’me.” Hobie hummed against you. You cried out. Suddenly you found yourself eternally grateful you were on a boat, completely removed from other people. You would have been embarrassed by how shamelessly you moaned for him.

Your fingers were pulling at his wicks. Suddenly feeling sappy, you wanted his lips against yours and his length filling you to the brim. You wanted to press your hand on your tummy and feel him place his love there. ‘Pour yourself into me and I will give you the same kindness,’ you wanted to say.

Hobie understood you wanted to go further by your needy tugs and began a tender path up your body with his lips. Your pelvis, navel, diaphragm, sternum. And when he reached your mouth, he had been nestled neatly between your legs with his heavy cock lying against your tummy as if to demonstrate how deep he would be once inside.

“Be gentle.” You told him, murmuring against his lips, your arms around his neck, eyes glossy and hazy. Hobie kissed you again, neat and sweet. It did not lack passion but it was contained. He did not want to scare you off with it, let it loose like a dog off a leash. You could tell he was holding back and kissed him deeper, coaxing it out with your tongue and teeth. He laid his passion out before you as if to say, ‘here is my heart, take it or leave it, but it will always be yours’.

As Hobie eased his way into your wanton opening, you gasped into his mouth and your entire body shook with the sweet stretch. Your moan was high and shrill with pain and pleasure and all the things that make them one. Hobie's hands grasped your hips to keep you still, his lips pressing to your throat blooming with roses of hickeys.

You held each other as if to hide yourselves. You felt terribly vulnerable and bare with him so snuggly inside you. It didn't help when he got up and sat on his haunches for a better angle. Your hips were raised, back arched, your body laid, splayed out for him to admire.

Hobie rolled his hips into yours and you felt him brush your cervix. It made your walls flutter. You watched him falter a bit at the feeling of your soft wetness. Yes, he was right, all your rough edges and biting words was all a plot to hide how you truly longed for — and feared — the gentleness of love.

Hobie did as told and was rather gentle with you. He had never been so before, always in a rush, always fingering you until your body did things it had never done before, never leaving you until he had thoroughly satisfied himself with your orgasms and crying. But he looked as though he struggled to be gentle, as if it was something so foreign to him. He had never been gentle before but he wanted to be for you.

Two bodies and their struggle at love-making, you rolled your hips into each other, whisper-like moans and shuddering breaths fill the space between you. Hobie thrusted into you with a slow push of his hips, groaning at the way your greedy hole welcomed him. “So good.” He murmured lowly.

You were purring with heavy, hazy eyes, gasping as you’re filled to the brim. You felt terribly close to him. Yes physically, but also emotionally. Your moans laced in with one another, mingled in the air with your humid sweat.

Everything was quite soft. Your skin stuck together due to the thin layer of sweat accumulating on your flesh. It was as if your bodies did not want to part, the feeling was too sweet. Your toes pointed and your legs shook. Hobie soothed a hand up and down your thighs. “I’s okay. Go ‘head ‘n take i’.”

“Hobie~” You sang for him. Long gone were the days of heavy petting and questioning if you’d ever have the courage to go further with each other. The torture of will you won't you ended by the sweet relief of intercourse.

You grasped at Hobie’s hands on your house and pressed your hips down until you could feel him pressing into your intestines. You pressed your hand there and felt him move in and out of you. “God!” 

“Does I'm hurt?” Hobie slowed to a paused, holding you close, ready to adjust if it did. You viciously shook your head and reached out for him. “No…come kiss me.” Your voice was bare and full of a vulnerability you would have otherwise been embarrassed by. But he had stripped you of your humiliation and left you needy and wanting for love.

Hobie was eager to do as told, his heart swelling at your neediness. He came and he kissed you and you purred some more. Lips press, tongues push, the gentle sighs and moans into each other's mouth make you giggle softly against his lips. You hook your legs around his hips and pull him in.

There's a building in your lower abdomen, the beginnings of an orgasm tightening in your tummy. “I'm close.” You whisper between kisses. Hobie’s hands caress your body, sliding between your legs to rub at your aching clit. “‘Ow romantic would i’ be if we came together?” Hobie could feel himself approaching as well.

You squeezed him tight and held his face as you kissed him hard to shut him up and to hide the fact that you did want to cum with him.

It was a gentle affair, a building of pressure, heightened moans into each other's mouths. Your felt warm on the inside, the spilling of white goo inside of you, painting you white. Your walls pulsed with the feeling of your orgasm ravishing your body. A kaleidoscope of colors hazed your vision, stars dotted your gaze as you tossed your head back against the pillow and clutched Hobie tight. Your toes pointed, back arched, body shuddered. Your world collapsed and came back together all in one breath.

Hobie struggled to keep himself from collapsing on top of your lovely body. His hands gripped the sheets beside your head. His body trembled. He pulled out swiftly because he knew if he spent any longer inside of you he may cum again and fall even deeper in love.

Heavy panting as Hobie falls on the bed beside you, uncharacteristically pulling you close. After your rendezvous, you’d usually put your clothes back on and make your own hasty exit before things can get too sappy, too emotional, but you’re long past that now.

Hobie pressed kisses to the side of your neck. “Sleep here t' night.” He almost pleaded with you but Hobie Brown would never be caught dead begging.

“So we can wish each other good luck tomorrow morning?” You ask, looking down at him as he rests his head on your chest and looks up at you. Hobie smiled a bit, chuckling.

“‘O course.”

[tyuns-world]

do you have any thoughts abt ghostface beomgyu? sounds so hot….. match so well w him…

This hatched the hugest idea ever and I rewrote this like three times till it was perfect. I may rework it again and make it an actual and better work.

Warning: stalking, mentions of blood, killing

Ghostface! Beomgyu, obsessed with the movie Scream and eager to create his own films, found that his attempts lacked the gore and realism he craved. Despite his charm and popularity, his supposed friends tormented him daily for his unusual interests but kept him around because of his wealth and connections. His home life was no better; his single dad would consistently beat him whenever he was stressed. This pushed him to figure out exactly how to make his movie real.

You were the one who saved Beomgyu from your friends' bullying with a simple, "Alright, guys, that's enough, let's get out of here." He mistook your fleeting empathy for a deeper connection. Your intervention was a rare moment of compassion amidst the cruelty, so he became obsessively attached to you.

Your kind eyes, curly hair, and sweet voice captivated him. When he devised his killer plan, he spared you, setting up cameras in your home as well as your shared friends' to gather dirt and intel, waiting for the right moment. He focused mainly on your place, intrigued by your secret love for horror films and the scantily clad way you dressed to sleep.

He wanted you in more ways than one and he was determined to have you.

Ghostface! Beomgyu began his plan, steadily taking out his targets without getting caught. With each victim, he left romantic cryptic messages for you—anonymous notes, unsettling silent phone calls—testing your loyalty and curiosity.

You were driven half-insane by the killer's interest in you, feeling both special and on edge.You always did have a thing for the masked killers in your movies.

After his latest kill, Ghostface! Beomgyu got injured and went home instead of visiting you. Blood ran down his face from a hit to the head, hair sticking to his sweaty face, his jaw clenched in anger for letting his target land a blow. In his rage, he went overboard, stabbing the victim more times than intended. He decided to put together a little gift as an apology for not seeing you immediately after his kill.

A hard knock on your door woke you up that night. The sound echoed through your quiet house like a gunshot. Heart pounding, you slipped out of bed, casting nervous glances at the clock—3:00 AM, the witching hour.

You opened the door to find a small package lying on your doorstep, wrapped in black paper with a blood-red ribbon. Trembling, you picked it up and unwrapped it carefully. Inside was a VHS tape, old and worn, with a handwritten note attached: Watch me.

Your hands shook as you inserted the tape into your parents' old VCR player. The screen flickered to life, displaying grainy footage of familiar places—your friends' homes, the places you frequented, even snippets of your own daily life.

The camera angles were voyeuristic, as if someone had been watching you for a long time.Then, the scene changed—a masked figure appeared on screen, clad in the iconic Ghostface mask, holding a knife. The figure turned to face the camera, and for a chilling moment, you could swear its eyes met yours through the screen. The perceived eye contact sent a shiver not only down your spine but somewhere else also.

A distorted voice echoed from the speakers, "Do you like scary movies, darling? Because this is just the beginning. Check your phone right about... now."

Right on cue, your phone received a message from an anonymous texter: "So, do you like scary movies?" Your heart raced, a mix of fear and excitement flooding through you. You replied cautiously, "Who is this?"

The response was instant: "Your new favorite horror movie villain."

[stargirlrchive]

── KINKTOBER DAY TWO

orgasm denial/delay w/ jake sully ─ fem!reader

NSFW ✩ MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST ✩ GENERAL MASTERLIST

jake knew he was being mean, but he couldn’t help it. the way your thighs quivered as he pressed your face further down into the pillow, it caused a deep chuckle to fall from his mouth. your cunt was so puffy, red and swollen from the constant teasing.

he had eased you open with his fingers, stuffing you full with three of his thick digits as you squealed and mewled out desperately.

right when you were about to come, he pulled them out. a choked sob of disbelief leaving your throat.

“you can only come when i let you, princess.”, he had mumbled as his tongue ran down your slick folds, parting your legs as he devoured you. purposely avoiding your clit except for the few slaps he had delivered to it.

the tip of his tongue only lightly grazing at your entrance as you tried to tangle your fingers within his hair to get him deeper. a soft growl left jake’s throat as he looked up at you from between your thighs, “behave.”

it had been hours and you so were desperate, pushing back against his cock as he bullied his length into your tight cunt. “please, fuck jake-“

you could hear him tsk quietly, followed by a sharp sting to the swell of your ass, causing you to squirm under him. “no. you talked a big game earlier about how i hadn’t fucked you like this in a while.”

his fingers gripped at your waist, keeping you in place as he delivered short, deep thrust into you. the head of his cock knocking against the spongey spot inside of you each time.

“now you’re going to take it, and be a good girl for me and stop complaining.”

your face was hot and flushed as it rested against the pillow, soft cries leaving you with each thrust. your walls had tightened up like a vice around jake’s cock and he cooed down at you. his big hands running down the length of your spine to massage your lower back. “you wanna come, baby?”

you gave him a weak nod, sniffling softly as you hid your face from him. “no, baby. use your words.”

“please, wanna come so bad-”

jake pulled you up against him, one hand flat against your chest to keep you up, while the other found its way between your thighs.

“go ahead, princess.”

his fingers pressed against your clit, rubbing in gentle circles as he continue to thrust into you. his lips pressing against your temple as he whispered soft praises.

your legs trembled against his and you were positive that if he hadn’t been holding you up, you would’ve fallen forward from the sheer force of your orgasm.

“fuck-there you go baby.”

you were a mess, all your bones felt like liquid as his thick ropes of come filled you. your eyes already heavy with sleep as jake laid you down. pressing kisses all over your back and massaging your aching muscles as he cleaned you up.

taglist: @trashfox @king-julian6201 @cyberfreaky @tojisun @justateenageslut @rilamoon @lazystorycollector @slutforjake @dreamingofpandora @yeoldedumbslut @dilfdotgov @httpsmama @punk-22 @youcraveet @moxiz @hisa-plush @alastairheir @sailorneotunemivhiru @ifellinthebong @darlingvinny @msc41ntlo @aeplern @yomamaisme ; lmk if you would like to be tagged <3

[bouncybongfairy]

Here I Come

Simon (Ghost) Riley x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: Price gathers the task force for a surprise training session in the middle of the night. Practicing what to do if you're separated from the group and avoiding capture. You're about to find out how seriously Ghost takes his training.

Word Count: 1.0k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Rough Smut, Stalking kink, Humiliation, Degradation, Piss Kink, Sex in Forest, Masochistic Ghost.

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

The task force was sluggishly walking outside, Price ordered everyone up at 1am for a training exercise. You were especially tired, only sleeping about three hours before getting up. Not to mention it was freezing, it wasn’t snowing anymore but there was a thick layer of it covering the ground. The group was silent, nobody in a chatty mood. Ghost was especially in a mood, the two of you haven't talked in a couple days. The last hook up you had was really intense, making you question the ability to maintain casual fucking without getting attached. Ever since then you’d avoided him, which was hard considering your rooms were right across from each other. You could tell he was getting frustrated with you doing this.

“Glad to see y'all aren’t incompetent and can follow simple instructions!” Price greeted everyone before continuing, “Today’s training is on avoiding capture if separated from the group. I’ll be splitting you into teams of two: one will be the assailant, the other is the evader. Your pairs will be separated by a mile of each other to avoid interference. I’ll drive each of you to your starting points and will be checking in on the assailants' progress. Load up!” he explained quickly before making matches.

When he announced you’d be paired with Ghost, your stomach flipped. You were sitting next to him, he kept glancing down at you. Anticipation burned throughout your lower stomach once you pulled up to the start point. You were given a three minute head start which was little to no help. Without a second thought, you run into the woods. Knowing how important it was to get distance. Looking back every once in a while to see if he was anywhere near you. After a while, you weren't taking it super seriously, if anything it felt like hide and go seek. Thinking you would use this time to explain why you’d been ignoring him. 

You wandered around for a while, it had started raining. Becoming inpatient to the point where you called out his name a few times. Cold and tired, you stopped and leaned your back against the tree. Giving up on your search for him, dissociating for a while. Quickly breaking out of your daze when you see a red dot on the ground, in between your feet. You gasp and immediately recognize it as the dot sight beaming from a gun. He was standing about 8 feet from you. 

“What the fuck are you doing Simon, I’ve been waiting for hours,” you say, heart racing from fear and agitation. He didn’t respond, only inched towards you moving the red light up your leg. 

“Simon! I get it, okay? This isn’t funny anymore,” you said, voice cracking which made him groan as his dick twitched. Moving the light to your sex, even though there was no physical touch you leaking onto your panties. 

“Why are you… please Si,” you plead, making him laugh. 

“Riley! Updates on the assailant?” Price asked. 

“Hasn’t been apprehended, hot on her tail though,” he tilted his head and spoke into his radio, never taking his eyes off you. It was so cold that when he spoke it looked like smoke coming out of his mask. 

“Strip.” He said.

“No.” you replied, he pulled out his knife and walked towards you. Trying your best to appear unphased but failing miserably. 

“Do I have to cut the fucking clothes off you. Strip!” He said, stabbing the knife into the tree trunk beside your head, a small lock of hair falling to the ground. It was well below freezing but you slowly started taking your gear off. Letting your vest fall to the ground, taking off most of your outer layers. Leaving yourself in your thermals. 

“What are you waiting for? A treat? Keep going,” he said, eyeing your body.

“Simon please I just-” you begin but are interrupted. 

“Shut the fuck up and do as you’re told!” he barked so loudly it made you flinch. 

You shakily take off the thermals, only in a bra and underwear. The rain had completely soaked your hair and body; you were trembling not only from the cold but because you felt so low. There was so much you had to say after not talking for a few days. Now you were paying the price of ignoring him. He stood there for a while, admiring your glistening and shivering body. Walking towards you and hovering while you cried. He lifted his hand up and pressed his finger against your mouth. You bit the glove, allowing him to pull his hand out. Reaching down, he uses his middle finger to push past your lips and feel your slick. Tracing your slit and circling his finger around your clit. You close your eyes and let your forehead fall onto his shoulder, moaning while pressing your nose into his uniform. It was the first time you’d smelt or touched him in days. Like you were getting drunk off it, willing to do anything for more. That all came to an end. He smacked your dripping cunt and grabbed your throat. 

“Do you think after avoiding me I’m gonna reward you? There really isn’t a thought behind those pretty little eyes is there? Imma’ fuck you right back into your place,” he hissed, picking you up and slamming your back into the three. The bark scraping and poking into your back, taking your breath away for a few moments before you respond.

“Is it still punishment if I crave it?” you asked, giggling as you watched his eyebrows furrow with anger. He drops you to the ground, the tree once again doing a number to your back as you slide to your knees. 

“Lick my boots clean bitch,” he snarled. 

“They look pretty clean to me, pretty boy, new recruit?” you asked, remembering how he talked shit about new soldiers whose boots looked fresh out the box. He pulled out his cock and pissed on his shoes, taking you off guard. The two of you never tried… that before and it was scaring you how much you were enjoying it. 

“Better?” he asked, using one foot to shove you under body to his other boot. 

It scared you how wild he was being, pushing limits and breaking boundaries. You shyly lick at the leather, insecure of how you looked; covered in mud and soaking wet. He moves his foot off your back and sets it on your hand. At first you thought it was an accident, that he didn’t see where his foot was going. Until you felt something warm on your back, it didn’t register that he was pissing on you until the cuts started to burn. Making you pull back, trying to get up but being unable to because your hand was pinned to the ground. You were withering and wiggling around which only prompted Ghost to apply more pressure. 

“Yeah that’s right whore, cry and squirm while trying to run. Remember this the next time you wanna act stupid,” he chuckled. 

Once he finally stops, you don't have a snarky comment to respond with. Instead you laid in the mud while you recovered and caught your breath. He gets behind you and prompts your ass up, pushing himself into your wet hole. Spreading your ass apart and spitting on his length as it pumped in and out of you. Practically screaming as his cock tore you apart. Normally he gave you a few minutes to adjust and stretch around him but he didn’t think you were deserving of such mercy. Not to mention he liked feeling your walls tightly wrapped around him. Slamming his hands down and spanking you until your cheeks were a rich red with speaks of purple in the center. It didn’t take long before both of you were cumming. Your body goes limp once you feel his warm cum pumping into you. He let his member go soft before pulling out and catching his breath. Using water from his pack to rinse your face and body before redressing you. 

“Ghost to Prince, I found y/n I believe she fell and hit her head while evading. I found she passed out, I'm gonna need medical to check for a concussion,” he explains into his radio. 

“Copy that, sending back up your way,” Price replied.

[kokonut3953]

“Go to bed, Goggles!” Insomniac!Varian X Reader

__________________________

Hi, my little marshmallows! Thank you to alchemicalwerewolf for the request! This post was SUPPOSED to go out 3 days ago, on Varian’s birthday, but it’s coming out of March 27 because I’ve been REALLY sick. Like. Im struggling here 😭😭😭…AAAANYWAYS. Let’s go!!

Y/N’s pronouns: They/them

Type: Fluff, angst

Warning: Swear words

DISCLAIMER: I’m not very knowledgeable about insomnia, I might get information wrong.

__________________________

You’re over at your boyfriend’s lab. It’s 2 am as of now and you’re *trying* to get him to go to sleep.

“C’mon, goggles. When was the last time you went to sleep? I’m asking seriously.” Y/N crosses their arms.

“Hmmm…I went to bed three days ago…that’s enough, right?”

“N-No, it’s really not…” Y/N just stares.

“It’s enough for me, sweetie! I’m not even tired!” He yawns.

“V, you’re yawning. Of course you’re tired. You can’t just ignore your needs.”

“Oh please, (nickname)! I’ll be fine, no worries! It’s all worth it for alchemy!” Varian takes a sip of the hot cocoa that Y/N made for him.

“Varian, you know I can’t let you fuck around and find out what happens with no sleep. You’re going to pass out in the daytime. That’s what always happens to me. I know you only sleep like- once a week. And you know I can’t let you do that.”

Varian lets out a small yawn. “Even so, I can almost never go to sleep. I…I just can’t. Even if I could, I can’t yet. Not while my father is still encased.” An angry look is plastered on his face.

“Varian…please, listen to me. I…no matter what you do, I will stand beside you. But I can’t see you push yourself like this. You can work on freeing your dad tomorrow, okay?” Y/N brushes Varian’s hair out of his face. “Please, goggles? Go to bed?”

“Y/N…I-I’m sorry, but I can’t listen to you. I know what’s right. I’m going to free my father, I don’t care how long it’ll take. I’ll sacrifice weeks worth of sleep before I even think of going to bed for 8 hours.”

He mixes up a chemical, before pouring it on the amber…he waits. “C’mon…c-c’mon-please…” Y/N and Varian watch closely. The chemical evaporates, not doing anything. Varian’s body tenses up, before tears roll down his face. He pounds his fist on the amber.

“FUCK! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK.” As Varian pounds his fist on the amber, he starts to bleed. Y/N drags him away.

“Goggles! You’re going mad! You’re not yourself right now!” Y/N grabs and hugs him.

“No…no…no no no nonononono…i-it’s not…why didn’t it work? I-I-It was supposed to work. It’s not right. I-It’s not…” Varian just stares at the chemical.

After hyperventilating for a bit, Varian hugs back.

“Y/N…I didn’t want to tell you this, but…I’m scared.”

“Scared?”

“Terrified. What if…what if I never see my father again? What if…he’s stuck here f-for years? The rest of my life, even?” *Varian starts shaking.

Y/N removes their headphones and puts them on Varian. “Varian, I know you’ll see your dad. I know you’ll find a way. You’re so smart. You can do it, I believe in you. But…out of good conscience, I can’t let you do this without going to bed. Please, Varian.”

Varian pauses “W-Will you cuddle me before I sleep?”

Y/N smiles, before kissing his cheek. “Of course I will. I won’t leave you.”

“Then…fine. I’ll go to bed…”

“Good.” Y/N picks up the 5’2 (A/N: I’M NOT JOKING, HE’S 5’2…GOOGLE IT.) boy and leads him to bed. They cuddle him tightly. Kissing his forehead.

Though Varian finds it extremely difficult, he starts drifting off to sleep.

Y/N and Varian fall asleep together. Varian sleeps for the first time in three days.

__________________________

Oooookay! We are done! alchemicalwolf, I hope that was good enough! I haven’t been writing fics for too long, oneshots are a bit tricky to me. I will get better with time!!!!

Soooo everyone, please give me more requests (in either the comments or my ask box) so I can write for you guys and improve my writing! Bye-bye for now, my little marshmallows!

[forwhump]

a/n; 😛 I’m back already & I brought some sad introspection w me <3 kiss kiss

tw/cw: self harm, dehumanization

living weapon whumpee, captivity, caretaking

Silas is a violent man.

There’s no way around that and there’s no kinder way to describe it. Silas is violent. He’s dangerous and bloodthirsty and horrible. He’s a monster.

He’s quick to anger and he doesn’t have a lot of impulse control. Unpredictable, they call him, as they shackle and restrain him. Just in case. He’s usually kept on a pretty short leash.

Despite, there’s a soft, almost human part of Silas hidden so low even he hadn’t known it survived. Wren found it right away. Wren domesticated it.

Silas can’t even begin to describe the way he feels for Wren. Most of it is human — most of it is so soft and so warm and there’s so much of it that it feels like it might burst clean through his skin. Some of it, still, is monster, is that violent, horrible thing; it has teeth and talons and it would kill for Wren, it would die for him. It has, both. It will again.

Wren, for whatever reason, had seen right through everything grotesque and horrible about him; Wren had seen right through to the softest, most human parts and decided there was something redeemable there.

Fuck knows why, but he had. Silas doesn’t deserve the grace, and that’s just a matter of fact. But sometimes, sometimes it kind of stokes something in his chest, something that isn’t entirely human but not entirely monster, either, and it wants him to do better. Be better. Be somebody worthy of Wren.

Sometimes it just makes him sick.

Right now, Silas can’t sleep because it’s making him sick.

It’s a bizarre, almost panicky sort of feeling that churns his stomach in time. He looks down at Wren, sprawled over his chest as he sleeps. Silas is a massive machine, and they don’t both practically fit in Wren’s bed together — Silas doesn’t fit at all, as a matter of fact, but Wren doesn’t sleep if he’s by himself, so they make it work.

Usually, Silas could lay there for hours and watch him. He might be a broken record but it bears repeating — Wren is beautiful. Wren is so beautiful Silas is both enchanted and kind of creeped out by him. Tonight, it’s their juxtaposition that makes it hard to look at him. He looks away, at Wren’s hand on his side, and it’s just as jarring; Wren’s soft, pale skin and Silas’ scabs and scarring.

Wren sees through him and he trusts him. He trusts Silas so implicitly he sleeps on his chest. But should he? And it’s making Silas sick. He tried to clean up once he’d gotten back to the unit but there’s still blood under his fingernails. He’d peeled a soldier’s face back with his teeth and he can still taste it if he focuses hard enough.

No matter how soft or warm Wren makes him feel — is there any redeeming something like that? Is there enough love in the world?

Silas is careful but Wren is small and it’s a pretty small effort to lift him up, off his chest, and onto the mattress as he slides out from under him. His hands are shaking, and he curls them into fists as he plods from Wren’s room and into the kitchen.

The water doesn’t run hot, but it runs warmer than it does in the bathroom and he turns it up as high as it will allow. He only has a washcloth, but Silas is strong and he’s stubborn. He isn’t sure how long he stands there, but he keeps his hands beneath the water and scrubs them into raw, bleeding meat. He digs too far beneath his fingernails and breaks some of them off.

Blood splatters the basin of the sink and he kind of loses himself in it. He scrubs his wrists raw, his forearms, starts raking the washcloth and his broken fingernails through the flesh of his forearm.

Blood splatters the countertop and his feet, wet and hot through his socks. He accidentally peels open a row of stitches in his elbow and the bleeding is profuse.

He’s standing in a small pool of it when Wren’s voice says, behind him, “Silas?”

It’s the middle of the night but they don’t get the privilege of darkness outside of their rooms. The lights in the kitchen are bright and fluorescent and blood glimmers on the floor, the counter, the sink, Silas’ arms, his chest, his —

He doesn’t turn but his shoulders stiffen, caught.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Wren asks his back.

“Washing my hands,” Silas says.

Wren’s footsteps cross the kitchen and Silas stiffens a little more. A small hand finds one of his arms, leaking and wet with blood, and he doesn’t turn him so much as he leads and Silas follows, despite himself.

“What the fuck?” He snaps, and Silas flinches. “What are you doing?”

“Washing —“ Silas starts and Wren snatches the washcloth out of his hands. It makes a really gross, wet sound when he throws it into the sink.

He points out of the kitchen, back into the corridor. “Go.”

“I’m —“

“Go,” he snaps.

Chastised, Silas plods back out of the kitchen, down the hall, back to Wren’s bedroom. He leaves behind him a trail of bloody footprints and he drips blood onto the concrete the whole way.

Wren follows him and swings the door shut with a sound that’s too loud for the middle of the night and a flourish that means Silas is in trouble.

Which sucks, because Silas was trying. He just wanted clean hands. He just wanted clean hands but Silas doesn’t know how to touch without drawing blood. Silas isn’t a gentle man.

He sits on the edge of Wren’s bed, and Wren doesn’t look at him as he piles washcloths and gauze onto the mattress beside him. He pins up his hair, and he still doesn’t look at Silas so Silas watches him do it and it makes his throat feel kinda tight. He’s so beautiful, the line of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbones, and Silas feels big and brutish and stupid, bleeding on his sheets.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Wren pushes his face away, irritated, before he holds out a hand, expectant. Silas holds out his arm and Wren won’t look at him, but he’s painfully gentle as he takes Silas’ hand and gently dabs clean the raw, oozing meat.

His blood is on Wren’s hands.

His filthy fuckin’ blood is on Wren’s hands.

He pulls his arm away. Wren tries to hold him still, and normally, Silas would let him. Silas would pretend like Wren actually has the strength to maneuver him, if he so desires. But he’s bleeding on Wren’s sheets and Wren’s hands and he’d woken him up to bleed; Wren, who already sleeps so little; Wren, who deserves so much more than this place and this life, who deserves so much more than anything Silas will ever be able to give him.

“Silas,” Wren says, impatient.

“I’ll do it,” he says, reaching for the washcloth.

Wren quickly holds it out of reach and says, “I’m not doing this with you right now. Put your fucking hand down.”

“No,” Silas says, and one of Wren’s eyebrows twitches.

“I swear,” Wren warns, “Silas —“

“I don’t think you should touch me,” Silas says.

It’s obviously not what Wren was expecting him to say because he stops entirely. Blinks at him. “Excuse me?”

Silas shakes his head slowly. “I’m filthy, Wren,” he says, “and I don’t think —“

“Oh my fucking god,” he says, and snorts. “Shut up.”

“What?” Silas protests. “I —“

“Zip it,” Wren says, and takes his wrist with force.

This time, Silas lets him do it. He watches Wren clean and bandage his hands, his arms, and he watches as he bleeds over Wren’s fingers, and Wren won’t look at him again.

As he smooths the last bandage over the inside of Silas’ elbow, over the reopened wound he’s so gently superglued together, he still doesn’t look at him. But he finally says, “what the fuck were you thinking?”

Silas looks away. “I had blood under my nails,” he admits, “and I didn’t wanna touch you with blood on my hands.”

With a sound like a sigh, Wren deflates. He curls his fingers around the crook of Silas’ elbow, pressing his face to his shoulder.

Silas leans his cheek against his hair and admits softly, “but I think I might just have blood on my hands, Wren. I don’t think I can help it.”

“I know,” Wren tells him softly, and lifts his head to look up at him again. He touches his cheek, achingly gently. “Silas, I know.”

Silas leans into his touch, turning his head to brush a kiss across his fingers, and he wants to say, don’t you want more for yourself than that?, but he can’t. He swallows, and his throat clicks.

“I wish I could help it,” he murmurs against his skin.

Wren brushes his fingertips across Silas’ cheekbone and murmurs, “I know.”

Silas reaches out to him slowly, and Wren doesn’t stop him from wrapping his arms around him, from pulling him into his chest, despite himself. Silas has a selfish streak he can’t deny.

“I don’t care, Silas,” Wren tells him softly, “if there’s blood on your hands.”

You should, Silas wants to say, but he doesn’t say anything. Selfishly, he holds Wren for a very long time.