#i dropped a plate on my wrist and it’s hurts

[sangoqueenkoko]

so…

is it just me or do other people get scared of searching for a type of fic? especially if it’s a reader insert as if said person will know

because im a massive simp rn and i am DESPERATE to find smth but scared at the same time

im a wuss

[luvyeni]

🥀 … ( reaction ) it’s not over ! ୨୧ 一 스트레이키즈 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ trying to breakup with them but they don’t let you  ヾ

yandere!스트레이키즈・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・yandere ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・THIS IS A DARK GENERE manipulation , mentions of murder, language wc ・ 1.5k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. can i request yandere stray kids' reaction to you breaking up with them, at least trying to? if i can request something else as well, a general headcanon to the type of yanderes they each would be.

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 you asked for two things so i tried to combine them to , i hope you don’t mind !

﹙ 𐙚 : bangchan ﹚ .ᐟ

chan is a manipulative yandere; he knows how to flip a situation and make you seem like you’re in the wrong. “you want to leave?” he asks with disappointment leaking in his voice. “did i do something wrong?” he sounds hurt. “i just don’t think we’re gonna work out anymore , you’re too controlling.” he tries not to get mad, “controlling? is me wanting to protect you too controlling?” you cant answer him. “my friends don’t even want to hang out with me because you’re always there.” he complain. “i can’t even go out with out you.” chan is smart though, he knows how to gaslight you. “what happens when you go out? when you went clubbing and that guy tried to take advantage of you , your friends are just jealous , do they have boyfriend who want better for them? no.” he said. “I do this because I love you.” he said , you start to feel bad. “if you want to leave then i can’t stop you but just know everything i did for you.” by then you already feel like shit , how could you do this to him? you couldn’t leave him when he cared so much for you. “i-im sorry.” you held your head down in shame. “it’s my fault for listening to my friends.” you don’t even notice his menacing smile, cause he knew he had you once again.

“it okay , but you know i can’t just let this be.”

﹙ 𐙚 : lee know ﹚ .ᐟ

lee know is a unpredictable yandere; one minute he’s calm, the next minute he’s lashing out , throwing things and breaking them. “leave? sure you can go out for a few hours , be home by 9:30 — no leave for good.” he stops petting the cat , looking up at you. his gaze alone is enough to scare you into submission , but you stand your ground. “i want to leave for good.” he doesn’t say anything just stands up. “no.” he walks away. “no? you can’t stop me from leaving , let’s just end this before things get worse.” he’s calm and level headed , until you piss him off which is what this conversation was doing. “did you not hear what the fuck i said!” he shouted , slamming the plate down into the sink , shattering it. “minho I can’t do this!” you shouted back , but he grabs your shirt , pushing you against the wall. “you don’t get it do you? you aren’t leaving.” he says threateningly. “i will kill you before letting you go.” and you know he’s serious. “i-im sorry.”

“that’s better , now go feed the cats while i clean the mess you made up.”

﹙ 𐙚 : changbin ﹚ .ᐟ

you can’t leave him; you want to but he made it so you can’t. changbin will make it so you’re so dependent on him before you decide to end the relationship that you it’s too late when you want to call it quits. “where will you go?” he asks. “you don’t have a job, when’s the last time you paid a bill?” he’s so relaxed about the situation. “i can get one and i can pay my own bills.” you respond. “you’d forget to feed yourself if i didn’t cook for you, or buy you food don’t be stupid.” if that doesn’t work he’ll just scare you into staying; he won’t ever hit you… that being said he might not hit you but he will use physical strength to scare you ( think about that one video of him holding seungmin by his arms and wrist ). “please let me- listen here.” he squeezed the back of your neck. “ch-changbin please, do-don’t hurt me.”

“i wont hurt you , but you need to drop this shit and drop it now.”

﹙ 𐙚 : hyunjin ﹚ .ᐟ

hyune is confusing ; he doesn’t really see what he does is wrong; so what he doesn’t let you out? what’s the reason for you to go out there when he’s inside here. “i can’t do this anymore.” he’s just sitting there painting as usual , not really listening because you’re being ridiculous. “are you listening.” he turns to you. “are you done?” and you’re just in shock. “good , go sit down.” doesn’t truly believe you’d leave. “hyunjin i said im leaving, i can’t stand being in here anymore.” that’s when he drops his paintbrush. “i said go sit down.” when you walk towards the door is when he fully gets up. he’s not violent — unless he needs to be, so he will rough you up , grabbing you by your shirt , throwing you on the bed. “why can’t you just fucking listen?” he curses. “there’s nothing out there for you , you can’t get any better then here.” he says , throwing your bag of clothes in the closet. “if you get up again , throwing you to bed will be the least of your problems.”

“now sit there and be good, like i said the first time , i won’t tell you again.”

﹙ 𐙚 : jisung ﹚ .ᐟ

jisung is a unhinged manipulative yandere; and his entire life is revolves around you. you’re the reason he breathes every morning. so if you aren’t there, what’s the point? “jisung we have to end this, this isn’t safe for either of us.” you held a bag in your hand full of your stuff. “look at your arms and legs they’re all cut up.” he stared at you with tears in his eyes. “i did it to show you how much i love you, why don’t you understand i love you so much im willingly to kill myself for you.” you stopped him. “that’s the problem ji , you’re not well. he’ll cry — very loudly , cries likes he’s been stabbed because in his head he might as well have been. “no! you said you love me! if you leave me i’ll kill myself , i really will.” he goes immediately to the knife he’s hidden because you threw the rest out. “jisung where did you get that?” he doesn’t answer , just puts it to his throat.

“the moment you step out the door i’ll do it.”

﹙ 𐙚 : felix ﹚ .ᐟ

his obsession with you is too strong for him to let you go; even if his heart is telling him to, his brain is louder , he’s basically fighting himself and his brain is winning. “felix please let me go!” your legs were now tied to the bed , one arm connected to the bedpost as he tried to feed you. “im not hungry i want to leave!” you shouted , which made him flinch. “i-i can’t.” he says. “i know it’s wrong , you should be out there living life , but i just can’t.” he can’t let you leave him , he needs you. “I need you with me okay , i can’t breathe without you dove.” puts drugs in your food to keep you docile , he doesn’t want to hurt you , he’s probably the less dangerous one towards you at least. “im sorry please just drink some water.” you give in not thinking its drugged — until you involuntarily start to drift off. “fe-felix.” you can hear the sadness in his voice , he genuinely feel’s guilty. “im sorry, im so sorry.”

“i just love you so much i can’t let you go.”

﹙ 𐙚 : seungmin ﹚ .ᐟ

i have said this before; seungmin knows you’ll leave regardless if he forces you to stay or doesn’t ; not matter if he threatens you, hits you, whatever. so he lets you go, that’s fine go — but not without a cost , guess you finally decided you no longer wanted your friend alive… otherwise you wouldn't have made the stupid decision of leaving him. “what did you do?” you dropped your phone upon entering his house. he has lured you there calling you from your friends phone… the friend who was currently bleeding on the ground; beaten mercilessly. “why the fuck did you have a male friend anyway if not to be a whore , should’ve killed him months ago. literally doesn’t care if you’re crying. “don’t cry now , this is your fault.” he said. “told you , I won’t ever hurt you.” he said the knife bloody , pointed at you.

“but everyone else is free game , these are just flesh bags to me, they mean more to you than me.”

﹙ 𐙚 : jeongin ﹚ .ᐟ

jeongin is a yandere who likes to play games; you want to break up? go ahead and leave. when you do , he’ll actually leave you alone for a while , let you live your life, even let you get a new boyfriend. but that’s just cause he wants you to think he’s gone; give you that high; before the low. everything is so good — then suddenly you lose your job, so you have no income; then your boyfriend suddenly breaks up with you no warning. it’s like everything went to shit , and who is there to pick up all your broken pieces? well jeongin is there with open arms, ready for you to step right into them, but not without consequences. see that job you lost? jeongin called in a favor and got you fired. that boyfriend? well let’s just say jeongin sent a few photos of the both of you together and it was the end of that. “you see how i did all that.” he tells you after you sobbed in his arms after he told you what he did.

“i can make this much worse , don’t ever think of leaving me again.”

©️LUVYENI

[pseudowho]

Operation: Babymaker-- Benchpress

When it comes to trying for a baby, Nanami Kento always works overtime. And the reader had better be ready.

💜 💛 Part 1 LINK HERE: A Trip to the Tailors

💜 💛 Part 3 LINK HERE: Ditch the Party...again

💜 💛 Part 4 LINK HERE: Wet Dreams

💜 💛 Part 5 LINK HERE: Honeytrap/Maid Café

💜 💛 Part 6 LINK HERE: Grapple

Interrupt Kento's workout? Get ready to be manhandled 💛

Warnings: 18+ throughout, breeding kink, fertility/infertility discussion, manhandling, full nelson 💛

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"How strong are you, Kento? Really?"

In just his checked pyjama trousers, Nanami Kento still cut an imposing figure. Even though his waist was thick with muscle (though not with heavily defined decorative abs-- just subtle planes under freckled skin), his chest and shoulders broadened out dramatically, his arms thick and veiny, his hands bold and angular.

Kento paused, his coffee halfway to his lips, holding his book open with one hand, before answering; "Strong enough, I should think. Why?"

Just modest, you thought. You looked him slowly up and down, your filthy imagination whirring. You smiled, tucking your legs up under you on the sofa, cupping your tea between two hands.

"No reason."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You couldn't help yourself from watching.

"One."

A home gym was a blessing for Kento, who neither worked out for enjoyment nor vanity, but purely for the demands of his job.

"Two."

He was away from home enough. And people at the gym stared so much, that Kento's workouts used to feel cloying, claustrophobic, skin prickling with the eyes of thirsty or envious fellow gym-goers.

"Three."

As he pulled himself up again, feeling everything in his body clench with exertion, he did, however, feel one pair of eyes on him.

"Four...why are you hiding in the shadows, hmm?"

You jumped, biting your bottom lip between your teeth. Your mind had been spirited away by thoughts too obscene to say out loud. Thoughts of being restrained. Thoughts of being grappled into submission, pinned, gasping. Thoughts made so easy to have about the man who you knew would never hurt you.

Stepping out from behind the doorframe, your coy demeanour made Kento huff, a short puff of air from his nose, and you watched blatantly as he finished his set. In snug shorts set halfway up his thighs, and a loose drop-sleeved tank top, you reasoned you couldn't be expected to take your eyes off him either.

Kento continued, walking over to the narrow Benchpress bench, beginning to place weights on the bars, one, after another, after another and you felt yourself filled with wicked intent.

"You can't lift that," you scoffed. Kento's jaw clenched, a small smile gracing his lips, as he continued shifting plates. Your words rolled off him, water off a duck's back. The ungoadable man.

"If you think you're going to interrupt me," Kento toned, smooth and reasonable, "you're wrong. I always get my workout done in 45 minutes, and..." he crooked his wrist, checking the time, "...I won't be late for anything."

Kento laid himself back on the narrow seat, no bench left at all on either side of his hips, the wings of his shoulders gaping out over the bench's confines. As the soft fabric of his shorts stretched over his thick thighs, settling over the prominent bulge of his groin, you gulped. Your mouth watered. And as Kento began to lift, with short ragged grunts rumbling from his chest, it all became too much to resist.

Kento's eyes were fixed upwards, hyper focused, feeling the impossibly deep ache of lifting something just about too heavy for him to lift. He barely noticed the flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye-- you, languidly undressing down to your underwear, eyes fixed on Kento's thighs.

Kento jolted as he felt you settle, warm and blushing, straddling his spread thigh. He almost fumbled his lift, and coughed in alarm to see you sat, almost naked, pressing your core against his tensed muscles.

"Won't be late for anything? Even me? Even when I want your baby so badly, Kento," you purred, your hands coming up to remove your bra, dropping it onto Kento's twitching abs as your breasts slipped free. Kento felt a bead of sweat drop down his temple, and he growled at you in warning, frustrated to feel his composure wobble.

"Shit...you little-- got to keep to time--" Kento's arms shook as he completed the lift, resting the bar for a moment as he panted, and you rocked your hips against his thigh, pleasure immediately churning through you. Kento's jaw twitched, fists clenching and unclenching, determined to maintain his schedule, but feeling his body betray him, his cock twitching to life in his gym shorts.

Straight after, Kento reassured himself, fighting the urge to throw you over his shoulder, throw you onto the bed, and pound his cum into you until you begged for mercy, nearly done, keep to time, keep to time.

Kento's watch beeped, and he bolted to action, gripping the bar again, beginning another set of lifts-- anything to distract himself from you slipping your underwear to the side as you continued to rock your pussy, now wet and puffy, against his bare thigh. You sighed and keened, two hands planted for support on his hips, the palm of your hand brushing temptingly against his aching cock.

Kento groaned, unsure if it was from the painful stretch of the lift or from your desperate attention to his thigh, heat spreading across his shoulders and chest. His cock was throbbing now, uncomfortably tight in his shorts, pressed down at an awkward angle.

You watched Kento shift and twitch as you humped his thigh, and shivered with a sweet little moan as his muscles fluttered under your clit. Kento felt his throat go dry when your hands drifted lazily to pinch and roll your own nipples. He could feel you getting closer to orgasm, and it drove him mad that he wasn't filling your belly with his seed at the same time.

Leaning forwards, still panting, furiously rutting against Kento's thigh, drips of your arousal now running down the sides, you ghosted your hands over the outline of his cock. Kento gasped mid-lift, almost dropping the bar onto himself.

"Fuck--" he gasped, snapping your name. He hopped one hand centrally on the bars, and clapped his other hand over yours pressed to his erection, "--wait a few minutes or I swear, you're going to kill me--" Kento's words caught in his chest, his other hand darting up to stabilise the tilting bar, as you lowered his shorts, his cock springing free against his clenching abs.

With a lip-biting, devious smile, you waited until Kento had begun another lift, still stubbornly refusing to stop his workout, before grasping his cock, and laying a long, flat-tongued lick to the underside from ball to tip.

Kento cursed like a sailor, his elbows buckling, the bars lilting sideways with a metallic smash into the dock. Spitting curses at you, coming out of him in a series of growling chastisements, Kento coughed again, a spurt of pre-cum salting your tongue as you giggled around his needy cockhead.

Kento fumbled, lost in your wet little mouth sucking him in. He struggled to lift the bars again to place them in their dock, as your thighs cramped and trembled, approaching your orgasm.

His hands splayed above him like a surprised kitten, his chin to his chest as he stared down at you in fury and alarm, Kento groaned. His head snapped back to press to the bench, then back to his chest to watch your nose graze his honey-blonde hair again.

As he moved a hand down to tangle in your hair, colours popping in his eyes in ecstasy, you released his cock with a wet suck, mouth falling open as you came on his thigh. With one hand still gripping Kento by the cock, he bit into the back of his knuckles to stop himself from emptying into your hand.

Kento still glared at you in barely-restrained fury, for having nearly ended his life through means of a deadly benchpress, and opened his mouth to bark at you. His orgasm still threatened at the edge of a precipice.

"Not only am I now late," he growled, "you almost killed me-- I don't know which one is worse, I--"

When you moved up his body, straddling his hips and rolling your slick heat along his cock, Kento gripped the bars above him again for sanity, spitting feathers at you again, infuriatingly flustered.

"Thought if you were that strong," you panted, cheeks flushed and euphoric, "you could do both at once." Kento huffed at you again like an angry bull and, as if to prove a point, rolled the bar in his palms, shifting his shoulders, brick-like and tense, ready to begin another lift.

For a second time, as Kento moved into another benchpress, you raised yourself above his weeping cock, and sunk down onto his length, your wet walls plump and stretchy and inviting him to bottom out in one slick movement.

Kento moaned, his hips lifting you clear of the bench for a second as he brought the bar down to his chest, twitching and heaving with exertion and twisted pleasure. You stayed flush, rocking backwards and forwards, revelling in the fullness of him inside you, not pulling him out of you for a second.

Kento thought he had died and seen heaven when, the moment he pushed upwards to lift the weights off his chest, you leaned forwards and whispered up to him; "Hey, Kento-- I'm ovulating."

Kento came with a hoarse, wounded cry, everything pushing out of his body at once as he completed the lift, and his cum spurted up into you with mind-blowing force. Groaning a series of short, agonised groans, his cock still jumping and gushing, he slopped the bar back into the dock. You continued to rock his seed into you, eyes closed and a satisfied little smile on your face. Kento saw red.

You felt yourself being instantly grappled. Kento lifted your thighs up towards you enough that he could spin to you face the other way, his cock still plugging his cum inside you. Lifting you against him, locking your arms behind your head and your knees beside them, Kento dropped you both to the gym mat, completely restraining you in a full-nelson.

You squeaked, trying to squirm. It was absolutely futile, and you felt Kento's hot breath in your ear.

"Not that strong, hmm?" He hummed, low and threatening, "Strong enough to open your pickle jars for years though, apparently." You started to laugh, and cut off abruptly as Kento squeezed you tighter, chuckling as you squeaked again. His chuckle stretched into a groan, low and lusty, at the feeling of your pussy throbbing around his length, which had barely softened, and was rapidly hardening again.

Grappling you with his back to the floor, Kento shunted his cock up into you, satisfied at you crying out and pressing back against him; "Not that strong?" Kento planted a harsh kiss to your temple, and bucked up into you again, satisfied to feel you melt, helpless in his hold. Kento felt a lick of pride run through him as he continued to hammer upwards into you, the air filled with the squelch of his cock in your cum-filled cunt.

"Punched men through concrete-- haaah, shit-- crushed Curses under brick walls," Kento listed, grunting and ruthless as he slammed into you now, feeling his tip bully into your cervix, "and look at you now-- more origami than woman-- and you will take every-- fucking-- bit-- of --it--" Kento snapped his hips back to punctuate each word, and you mewled pitifully at him, tears streaking into your hair.

Kento laughed, feeling himself peaking again, licking your tears away with mock-gentle shushes, captivated by the way your tits bounced every time he rutted up into you.

"So-ooo-- good-- Kentooo-ooo," you squeaked out around his thrusts, a thick hot pleasure roiling in your womb as you begged him, "h--harder--please." Kento snorted, his hands gripping your thighs harder, lifting you off him to slap you back down in time with him pressing up into you. You shuddered, marshmallow-soft, twitching in pleasure as your second orgasm washed through your belly, ready to gulp Kento into you.

Kento was awash with the closeness of you, the delicious hot wet suck of your walls around his cock, the thought of you round and full and growing, because of him. Keeping you restrained with one thick forearm holding your thighs and arms back, his other hand drifted to your belly, pressing lightly, feeling the jolt as his cock rammed against your cervix.

Feeling your pussy squeeze and flutter around him, Kento's grip never faltered as he gasped, husky and satisfied, feeling his cock spurt inside you again, rolling you from side to side as he thrust lazily up into you, careful to not allow any of his seed to slip free. He lay with you in his arms for a few moments hand massaging your belly, willing his cum to soak up inside you.

With one final slow groan, Kento pulled out of you, pressing your thighs together on exit, and releasing you from the trap of his arms. Though you had planned to fall asleep, there and then, on the gym mats, Kento had other ideas.

You felt yourself being scooped up, held upside down against Kento by the waist, and he walked you to his pull-up bar across the room. You were appalled to feel him drape your legs over it, and as he let go of you, you were forced to hang upside down by the backs of your knees, a child on the monkey-bars.

"Kento!" You squeaked, appalled, cupping your breasts in your hands as he dusted off his hands and moved to settle himself again for benchpressing, "You-- how dare you-- you can't just hang me up like wet laundry!"

Kento hummed smilingly to himself as he checked his watch, reaching up to grip the bars again;

"Well darling, I've got a workout to finish. And you've got a baby to make. Isn't that what all this nonsense was about?"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Up next: Ditch the Party Part 2 and more surprises

[charliemwrites]

Okay so the poll results were for an OC captain, though it was close enough that I still hesitate to name him in the canon of the fic.

I’m also going to be taking my time fleshing out his character because it’s been a while since I made an OC. So please be patient while I add tidbits here and there to build his character.

Content: safe/sane/consensual sex, descriptions of scars, mentions of past torture

Nikto beats you and Nova twice out of three rounds — but that’s no surprise. The man moves like a machine. Even against two opponents he controls the battlefield like a chess master. Neither you nor Nova take it to heart, especially since he always gives you both advice at the end, helping you to improve.

He’s a great partner, a great teammate; you’re sure to show him your appreciation after sparring with a kiss to his nose-plate. His hands spasm on yours as he helps you unwind your wraps, gloved thumb sweeping over your bare palm.

“You did good today,” he says, voice rough and accent thick. He must be pissed about earlier still, when Ghost and Soap threw your matches with them.

“So did you,” you reply, squeezing his hand in return.

“Stay with me tonight?” He asks.

You damn near melt. Nikto has an open invitation to your room, but his is a sacred place, only for him unless otherwise specified. That he’s asking you to come to his tonight…

“Absolutely,” you reply, squeezing his hand. “I just need to see the captain first. Okay?”

He grunts in understanding, eyes flicking to the door the 141 left through earlier. He mutters something in Russian — some insult about goats and mothers you think.

“Yeah, exactly,” you reply, voice dropping with simmering irritation.

A good spar with him and Nova has helped ground you a bit, but it hasn’t helped the anger. You don’t spar any of your team with anger; they don’t deserve.

Luckily, you and your captain worked something out a while ago when you’re feeling a bit… aggressive.

“Cap?” You call, still holding Nikto’s hand. “Could I stop by for a nightcap later?”

His eyes flash, a sinful twist to the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, babygirl. I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

Over his shoulder, you see Nova arch her eyebrows and Keegan grin wicked into his water bottle. Gossip fiends.

“Showers. Now,” the cap says, slapping them both on the ass. “Double time. I need to have a word with Price still.”

—

Long after the sun has gone down, you’re standing outside your captain’s door. Take a breath. Remind yourself of your mantra. He wants you, always will, and he’s going to take care of you.

Then loosen your shoulders, unboxing all the frustration and aggression you set aside earlier. Feel it burn through you, make your hands twitch in and out of fists.

One more inhale, and then you shove the door open.

“There you are,” he rumbles. “C’mere.”

You flash your teeth, “No.”

He tilts head back and forth, cracking his neck. “Alright then.”

There’s no real fight. You’re not looking to get away or actually hurt him. And he’s not looking to actually make you submit. That’s not the point of this game.

He strides across the room and shoves you back, pins your shoulder to the wall. You grip at his forearm, nails scraping, and squirming as the hot, hard length of his body squishes you flat.

“Settle,” he orders.

“Fuck you,” you snarl back, nipping his lip.

He growls, tangling a hand in your hair and tipping your head back. Leaves a searing trail of kisses down your throat, bites a bruise into your collarbone. You wriggle and fuss all the while, safely held still and supported by his hands and body.

“Brat,” he rasps in your ear.

“I’m not,” you snap.

“Oh, yes you are, babygirl,” he replies, a mean smirk on his flushed face. “But that’s alright, I like you bad.”

He pulls you from the wall, bullies you onto the bed. You try to grab at him, get him under you. He doesn’t indulge like he normally would. Pins you on your back so that you can keep fighting, yanking at your wrists in his firm grip, pushing your hips up to grind into his as if trying to flip you both.

He slots his hips between your thighs, positions just his knees under your ass so that your back is arched, shoulders on the mattress. Limits your mobility, but that doesn’t stop you from kicking at air, making half-angry, half-desperate noises in the back of your throat.

“Gonna say please like a good girl?” He teases.

“No,” you hiss back.

He has the audacity to chuckle, which just riles you up more. (It’s supposed to). You curse as he works a hand beneath your shirt, palms at your bare breasts and pinches your nipples until they ache. You gasp like a pornstar, surprised and turned on.

“Pretty noise,” he coos. “Do it again.”

When he twists, you mewl, face immediately burning up as you renew your “efforts” to get away. All it does is make the treatment rougher than if you just laid still and took it, but that’s what you want, what feels good. A little edge to the pleasure as adrenaline and energy electrify you from head to toe.

He grinds against you, cotton of your loose shorts sticking against your soaked cunt. Christ you were turned on before you even barged in. Now you’re fucking throbbing for it.

“Gimme,” you grit out, rocking against him. Gears successfully shifted from physically taking control to just ordering him around.

“Give you what, brat?” He goads, slapping your pussy. The thin fabric muffles the sting, but it sends a white-hot ache through you that makes your eyes roll. “My cock? You think you deserve it?”

Another slap. You cry out, notice the sly look on his face when he notices that you’ve soaked through your shorts.

“Yes,” you reply, all confidence and reckless arrogance.

He yanks his underwear down to mid thigh, thick cock springing up to smack lewdly against his toned stomach. Precum smears over the pale scars there, sticks in the trail of groomed hair there.

“Yeah?” He growls. “Alright then.”

He yanks the crotch of your shorts aside (you hear stitches pop) and then he’s plunging into you. It’s too much all at once and you cry as much, knees squeezing around his tattooed ribs.

“Fuck.” His voice is shredded, so rough and low you feel it more than hear it. He lets your wrists go to grip at your ass, grinding deeper. Can feel the fat head of his cock bullying at your cervix, his favorite passtime while you adjust to the thick base of him.

“How does that feel, babygirl?” He murmurs in your ear. “You needed daddy’s cock, huh? Needed it to set you right again?”

You whimper out a curse at him, gripping at his biceps. He croons mockingly, thumb slipping between your bodies to press at your clit. Not rubbing or grinding, but just pressing. Just the right amount to make you sweat and pant, start trying to squirm to get any friction at all.

He lets you — could stop you if he wanted, or pull away entirely — but he likes winding you up like this. Likes seeing all that vicious energy turned to seeking pleasure from him.

“Fucking move,” you try to snarl, but your voice breaks midway through and comes out more pleading than you’d like.

“What was that, babydoll? Are you talking to me?” He teases, rolling his hips.

Your mouth falls open, a moan ripping from your chest, deep and needy.

“Daddy, move,” you cry, voice going up in pitch.

“There’s my brat.”

He pushes one of your knees up against your chest and slams into you. You scream and he doesn’t even try to cover your mouth, whispering filth as he tilts your hips for the best angle with his other hand. Fucks into you deep and rough, grinning at the obscenely wet noises every time he plunges into you.

Can practically feel him fucking your cervix open to get just that little bit deeper. Licks his lips when he sees the little bump in your stomach. You give as good as you get, squeezing down tight, bouncing to meet him, nails scoring lines down his back and shoulders.

“Gonna ask daddy to make you cum?” He goads.

“Earn it,” you reply.

He laughs and pulls out, flips you onto your stomach while you’re still dizzy with emptiness. Hikes your hips up and sinks into you like coming home. Your knees almost give out but that’s fine by him, he’s plenty strong enough to hold you up all on his own, using you like a noisy little toy for his own benefit.

“Fuuuuck,” you whine, feeling overwhelmed, pleasured tears gathering in your eyes. Then, in a whisper, “Daddy…”

“Feel like being good yet?” He asks. A large, rough hand circles that back of your neck and pins you face down to the mattress.

“N-no,” you whine, fight gone out of you now that you’re getting exactly what you want.

Fuck it feels so, so good. Every inch bullying you wide open and loose, so wet you’re dripping down your own thighs, wetting his ball as they slap against you. You feel split open and pinned, unable to do anything but take it, tortured stupid on ecstasy. He licks a stripe up your back before pressing you down prone, ankles locked around yours to keep you open and accessible.

“S’alright, doll, don’t need to be good to be mine.”

He’s barely pulling out halfway before ramming home now. You can barely get a breath in, the weight of him pressing whatever resistance was left right out of you.

“Daddy, daddy,” you sob. “Fuck, I wan’ it.”

“Want it, huh?”

“Mhmm,” you moan, pressing your face into your arms. Cant your hips just that little bit to get him abusing that bundle of nerves.

“Oh, right there, huh?” He coos. “Did daddy find your little sweet spot?”

A series of short, ruthless thrusts right there, making incoherent, desperate noises fall from your mouth. Before you realize it, he’s wedged a hand beneath your hips and has two fingers toying with your poor, neglected clit.

“‘M gonna… f-fuck, fuck,” you whine, writhing (or at least trying to) against him. Not sure if you’re trying to urge him on or get away. Doesn’t matter, he’s in charge, has been since the beginning. “Daddy, I wanna…”

“Whenever you want, babygirl,” he replies, voice going all warm and gooey. Your chest hitches. “Squeeze around me nice and tight. Let me feel you cum on my cock.”

Didn’t realize that was what you needed, but you fucking scream as you clench down around him, stars bursting behind your closed eyes. He fucks you through it, tapping against your g-spot again and again until you dissolve into a weak, wet whimpers.

“Daddyyyy,” you whine.

And that sets him off, flooding you with heat. He loses control for a second as his hips jerk, pounding brutally into your oversensitive, swollen pussy. Makes a few tears finally slip down, soaking into the sheets along with your drool. The sound of him groaning as he cums makes you spasm around him again, a little aftershock that milks the last of his release.

“That’s it, easy,” he groans, brushing kisses over your trembling shoulders. “Easy, doll.”

He lies over you for a few minutes, letting you feel him there. Right there with you. Breathing and recovering, holding you through the endorphin rush. When you squirm a bit, he eases off you, cock slipping out. You shiver at the feeling of his cum trickling out of you, glassy eyes fluttering.

“C’mere,” he soothes, tugging you in. Lying on his side, he hitches one of your thighs up over his hip, tucks your arms between your chests and rests his stubbly chin on your temple. You splay your fingers over his peck, over the bold, dark symbol for SpecGru. Feel his heart settling back into rhythm and sigh, snuggling in.

The hormone drop is a monster on your emotions, often leaves you shivery and lonely, a little sick in your own body. First time you did this with him ended in tears, expecting him to get up and leave. He didn’t, never has, but you both learned that as much physical contact as possible in the aftermath eases the comedown away from a total crash.

“You did so well, babygirl,” he whispers, leaving kisses everywhere he can reach without dislodging you. “Such a good girl. Even if you think you’re being bad.”

You flush, hide your face against his neck. He chuckles, honeybalm on your soul. Can feel his hand start to move, then pause as he remembers that you can’t handle that stimulation right after sex. So he just squeezes, slow and gentle, helps get you back in your body.

“I still want you,” he assures, echoing your mantra back at you. “Always will. You’re mine.”

You outline a heart shape onto his forearm, not quite able to speak yet. He recognize the feeling though and gently guides your face up to place a slow, gentle kiss to your lips.

“Love you, too, babygirl. Ready to clean up?”

You nod. He eases you up, lets you cling onto his hand as he walks you to the en suite. Fills you a glass of cool water to sip on while he gets the shower running. Turns his back while you use the restroom and wash your hands, then guides you into the hot water.

You lean into him, near boneless, as he washes you, calloused palms with soap instead of a cloth. Then sits still, hands on your hips, while you return the favor. This part is one of the most important for you, getting to freely return touch.

(Simon hardly ever let you touch, especially in the aftermath. Sure, you could scratch and grip at him during sex, but during foreplay it was all part of his dom persona that you couldn’t just touch at will. And afterwards… well. It’s not like he didn’t do aftercare. He did! But the almost formulaic warm cloth wipe down, glass of water, doze for a bit before he left was not… not ideal. Not like this.)

Your captain hums, eyes half-lidded but trained on you, while you smooth your palms over the firms planes of his muscles. Fingers tracing over tattoos and scars. Squishing and patting at the healthy layer of tissue over his stomach and thighs. Lets you nuzzle and kiss his soft cock, even though it makes his fingers twitch with oversensitivity.

Squeezes when you lace fingers together to stretch his arm out, inspecting the lines your nails carved into him.

“M’okay, baby,” he says before you can ask. “Feels good.”

You similarly assure him over the bruises on your wrists and hips, smiling and leaning up to kiss his jaw.

When the shower is over, he dries you off, playfully ruffling your hair just to kiss the pout off your lips. He dresses you in one of his shirts and a spare pair of your own joggers, found in his duffel.

You sit with him for a while longer still, enjoying how he lets himself relax once he knows you’re taken care of. He lies with his head on your chest, your fingers fluffing his hair, while the two of you watch an episode of some stupid show Keegan got the rest of the team into.

Only when it’s over does he ask if you’re ready to go to Nikto’s. If you wanted to stay, you could. Nikto would understand. But you’re looking forward to a night with your quiet Russian while the other three have a little movie night.

At the door, you kiss your captain goodnight. Hug and kiss Keegan and Nova as you pass them in the hall headed to his room. Nova makes a point of kissing one of the bruises on your wrist, while Keegan whispers that he loves you.

You pad to the first door in the hall, where Nikto has stationed himself as the team guard dog. You tap gently at the door, a pre-determined pattern to let him know who it is.

The door cracks open, one startling blue eye peering from the darkness.

“Evening, Nik,” you coo.

A hand reaches out and gently yanks you inside. And then next thing you know, you’re wrapped up in thick arms devoid of any usual covering. You feel smothered, in a good way.

“Love,” he rasps in Russian into your hair.

You hum in return. Place your palms flat on his abdomen. The muscles clench, you pause as you realize his abs, impressive as they are, feel too defined. He needs water. Taking mental note, you draw your hands carefully around, feeling the raised bumps of wicked scars. Make sure he can track exactly where and how you’re touching until your arms are wrapped around him in a return hug.

“Smell good,” he murmurs.

“Yeah?” You giggle. “Showered just for you.”

He snorts, then scoops you up. You make a delighted noise, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carries you across the room. Of course his navigation is impeccable, even in pitch black. He lays you down on the bed, but before he can crawl up with you, you place a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re dehydrated.”

He makes an annoyed noise, sounds like he’s about to protest. You shush him with a quick peck to his chest.

“Get a glass please? I could use some water myself.”

Which has him instantly moving. You politely turn away as the bathroom light flicks on, the water runs. Can hear him chug two entire glasses before he fills it one final time. The light turns off again. The bed dips as he returns, presses the cool edge gently to your cheek.

“Thank you,” you murmur, sipping about a quarter of it to appease him before he sets aside for you on a bedside table.

And then he gets what he really wants, stripping you down and tucking you in like a nesting bird. Practically on top of you while you’re still reeling from how much skin you can feel. Even during intimacy, he tends to stay clothed or mostly clothed. But right now all you can feel is a pair of underwear against your bare ass. Everywhere else it’s miles of warm skin, uncovered muscle and texture of scars.

“This is nice,” you coo. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

You wiggle around until you’re chest to chest. Start with his hands. Kiss each smooth fingertip, prints flayed off. Then his palms, the divots from nails driving through. Flip them over to kiss his scarred knuckles, smile at the way he twitches, flexing them outward like he’s trying not to close his hand.

“Okay?” You ask.

“Yes.”

You kiss his wrists, his forearms, to his collarbone. You’ve peeked a blue-black tattoo there before. Stars and the start of something that might be religious. Spend a little extra time there, tongue peeking out. He shifts; you take it as a sign of discomfort and move on.

“Here next,” he says when you dip to go to his chest.

He guides your face up his neck, where you press long (but chaste) kisses until you bump his jaw. And realize that’s all skin too.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Can I…?”

“Yes.”

You feather your lips along his fresh-shaved jaw, the nicked scars on his chin. Then up, ignoring the wicked scar along his cheek. Breathe against his temple, feeling dizzy with the trust he’s showing you.

“I love you,” you whisper, continuing along to his nose, twice broken and poorly set each time. A line over one nostril where a piercing was ripped out. He makes a noise in his throat, think he might be having trouble speaking again. Don’t mind.

He lets you get down to his mouth, where a particularly twisted scar warps part of his upper lip away from his teeth. You think that if you saw it in the light, his canine would be visible. His lower lip is uneven too, like a misaligned seam.

You don’t pay any special attention to any of it, focused more on reacquainting yourself with how your mouth fits with his. He doesn’t lead, doesn’t rush or pull or press. But there’s tension all along his body, everywhere you touch. You don’t ask for more than a chaste kiss, and when you pull away, you tilt your forehead gently against his.

“Still okay?” You ask.

“Still okay.”

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[nereidprinc3ss]

hii! could i request something w spence where he asks uni reader to move in with him and r is kinda nervous about it please🙏🙏 love all of ur fics, and thanksss 🫶🫶🫶

yass this is super cute!!!! thank you for the request, hope i did it justice

warnings/tags: fluff!! a teensy bit suggestive at the end if u squint... i cant help myself. i'm an animal

requests are open! sfw and nsfw welcome

(a/n: this is probably an awkward spot to put this but I didn't wanna make a whole other post: THANK YOU GUYS FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT!!! i have gained over 100 followers since i last posted and have over 1k notes on both of my recent works thats literally bonkers insane crazy town ACTUALLY. i love hearing your thoughts and reactions to my work even if its just a silly little comment. so yeah. thanks and so much love to u ALL)

“So basically, I’m not allowed in the dorm except to sleep because she always has her boyfriend over, and I told her that’s literally insane—I’m paying thousands of dollars to be there just like her. If she wanted privacy she should have gotten a single. She can’t just lock me out of our shared bedroom all the time! I live there!” 

You’re stabbing violently at your food by the time you finish your verbal tirade. 

“Okay, maybe put the knife down before you hurt yourself,” Spencer suggests, readying a hand to take the implement away from you if necessary. The knife clatters against your plate as you drop it. 

“She’s driving me fucking crazy,” you mumble, rubbing your eyes until you see fireworks. “And the housing department said I don’t have grounds to transfer rooms, so I’m stuck with her for the rest of the year.” 

There’s no reply from your boyfriend, and a pang of guilt in your chest makes you look up at him again. His expression, as so often is the case, is inscrutable. 

“I’m sorry for ranting. I’m really happy to see you and I don’t mean to ruin dinner, I just—” 

“You could stay with me,” he interrupts. 

You blink. 

“Like... when she locks me out?” 

Spencer laughs self-consciously. 

“No, like... permanently.” 

For a moment you just gape at him like an idiot, trying to comprehend his offer. 

He wants you to move in... with him. Permanently. He wants to live with you. 

You realize you’ve been staring at him for far too long, and you lean back, inhaling deeply as the world launches into motion again. 

“That’s... a big step, Spence,” you breathe. His eyes scan you head to toe, and you realize he’s most definitely analyzing your body language. 

“You don’t have to say yes. It was just an offer,” he shrugs, standing up and clearing the plates from the table.  

“Wait,” you call, following him to the kitchen. “Are you upset now because I leaned away from you when you asked?” 

He turns from the counter, looking at you blankly. 

“Of course not. That would be ridiculous.” 

Oh, he totally is. 

You tentatively step forward, gently lacing your fingers through his—but unable to meet his eyes.  

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” you begin gingerly, “but I’m... I’m not done with school. We always said I would move in once I graduated.” 

“That’s an arbitrary limitation we set for ourselves. There are plenty of ways to get you from here to campus every day.” 

“But you’re not even here sometimes. I would just be alone.” 

“You would have the whole apartment to yourself. You would have my bed. You wouldn’t have to share a shower with an entire floor of college students anymore. And ultimately, we would get to spend a lot more time together.” 

You try to speak but find your throat is tight. Spending more time together is exactly what you’re afraid of. 

“What’s your real objection here?” he asks quietly, running his thumb back and forth over the underside of your wrist. You swallow, watching the motion of his hand.  

“I’m afraid, that if we move in together... you’ll stop liking me.” The words come out paper thin, barely audible. 

And he laughs. Your teary eyes dart up, surprised by the reaction—slightly hurt, even. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m not laughing at you,” Spencer says, sobering up when he sees your baleful expression. “I just can’t believe you think I’d stop liking you.” He wipes away the tears beading on your eyelashes delicately. “I’m in love with you. Neurologically that is pretty hard to undo.” 

You study his face, looking for any sign of hesitation or dishonesty. All you find is pure fondness in the curve of his lips; utter devotion in the soft set of his eyes. 

“You promise you won’t start hating me as soon as I move in?” 

“I promise.” 

You lean against his chest, craning your neck to look up at him. 

“I can be pretty annoying.” 

“I think I can handle it.” 

“I take really long showers.”  

He kisses you softly. “Me too. I’m sure we can figure out a way to conserve water.” 

Despite your reservations you smile against his lips. 

“Okay?” he asks. 

“Okay.” 

[prettypinkporkchop]

Paul lahote x female reader

Chicken Bone

Kim has been helping Emily with the kitchen while you are outside gathering wood with Sam.

"UGH, Sam, I'm tired. Don't you think this is enough for a year?" You giggle and whipe sweat off of your forehead. He laughs at you, making you glare at him. "You can stop. I don't need Paul getting upset with me for overworking you." He puts his hands on his hips, smiling at you. You hum in response and take off the work gloves Sam gave you.

You walk inside to see Emily and Kim fixing up the plates for the boys. There is enough food to feed all of the reservation but you're used to being around the pack at this point.

"WOOO HOOO!" You hear hooting and hollering from multiple men. You knew it was your imprinter and his family. You smile, and Kim rushes next to you. "Y/n, I have been thinking about this the whole time! Me and Emily have a bet. If you were to take a chicken bone away from Paul, I say he chases you. Emily says he just lets you have it." She laughs.

You burst into laughter and wrap your arm into hers. "Well then, Emily! What do you say? Kim do this to Jared too?" You look at the beauty of a woman who is pouring tea into glasses. She smirks at you two. "I think Jared would play a pity party!" Emily giggles. "I say, Jared simply wouldn't care and just pick up another chicken." You bet with Emily. "Oh goodness. This will be fun." She sighs with a grin as the boys all pile in.

Paul steps in front of you with a wide and bright smile. "I've missed you, my princess." He kisses your lips. The butterflies kick in asyou kiss him back. He pulls away and pecks your cheek and then leaves a lingering and sweet kiss on your forehead. He steps away to sit at the table next to Embry. Jared and Quil have their own conversation. Jacob, Leah, and Seth are currently at Billy's house, cleaning up for him.

After everyone finishes up, the boys do their classic thing. The dog comes out and they have to chew on a bone. You find this so funny and cute! Kim makes eye contact with you. She winks at you, mouthing, 'you first.' As Paul is chewing on the bone and laughing at Embry, you quickly grab it out of his hand and step away from him.

"Hey!" He calls out with confusion on his face. You start giggling and begin chewing on it, too. He watches you with his eyebrows furrowed. "That.. was the best bone in the whole plate." He mumbles in sadness. He sighs and sits down to pout.

Kim grabs Jared's and stands next to you. "Hey!" He gets up and she runs as he chases after her outside.

Emily is cackling while tears form in her eyes. All the men look confused. Paul is just brooding.

"We had a bet. Nobody was right." She chokes out.

So, Kim guessed Paul would chase you, but in fact, Jared chased her. And you guessed that Jared would let her have it, but he chased her! Unexpectedly, the pouts came from the hard ass, Paul Lahote.

Feeling bad, you stand behind Paul and hand him the bone. He grabs your wrist with a small amount of a grip. Not enough to hurt you but to be sure you don't move. "Y/n y/m/n, You pull this shit again, you won't be able to sit down." He growls before kissing your lips and then going back to the bone. You shiver and imagine what he is talking about.

Later that night, you get out of the shower, wrapping a towel around you. You step out of the bathroom and into your bedroom that you share with Paul. He's lying on his back with his eyes closed. You drop the towel and began digging through your drawer.

Paul's pair of warm arms pulls you into his hard body. A surprised yelp escapes your lips. "Ya know," he begins and starts leaving sloppy and wet kisses over your shoulder and neck. "Watching you chew that bone that was just in my mouth was very hot." He groans and grips harder onto your waist.

[astraystayyh]

My sun

a little something for channie's birthday, inspired by this pic he sent :') basically chan is tired and you're his sun. hurt/comfort.

chan is exhausted. you could sense it before even seeing him- from the way he quietly dropped his keys onto the kitchen table, to how he refrained from turning on any lights on his way to your bedroom; as if trying to minimize his existence, to soften the sounds he leaves on his trail so the world would finally allow him to rest.

or maybe you simply knew from the way your heart constricted in your chest as soon as you heard him open the door to your apartment. you were worried about him all week, sensing that his soul felt a bit heavier for him to carry, harder to care for due to all the work piled up on him.

you hurry to your feet, meeting him halfway at the entrance to your room. his gaze softens the moment it lands on you, with slightly puffy eyes and discheveled ginger hair- he's beautiful, even when he's utterly tired.

"hey, baby," you greet, opening your arms wide for him. he sinks into your embrace, sighing softly when his forehead presses onto your shoulder blade. you rub your hands soothingly across his back, willing the tension in his body to dissipate, to desert his bones and seep into yours. you'd do it all to lessen his load, even if it meant adding onto your own.

"did you eat?" you ask after a while, your hand smoothing down the back of his hair. he simply shakes his head against your body, a slight exhale escaping him and traversing your skin, like stones skipping across a tranquil river.

"let's eat together, hm?" you suggest, gently peeling yourself away from him. "i've made you dinner."

he manages a tired smile in reply, and the light in his eyes still seemed muted to you. but you kiss his cheek and the corners of his mouth tug upward a bit more, and it's a slight progress you'd take.

you lead him by the hand to the kitchen, settling him on the stool before heating up the meal you've made beforehand. you quickly move around, plating the food and pouring him his favorite soft drink. your hand brushes against his shoulder silently as you sit down in front of him.

you both eat in silence, his warm palm pressed against your knee. you didn't always need words to fill your home- your love spoke louder than man-made syllables.

"thank you, honey," chan whispers when he's done, a smile gracing his plump lips. it's brighter, and the light in his eyes sparkles even more when you kiss him in reply. you can't help but press your lips against his again, and again, and again, hoping that with each kiss the lights would gradually turn on within him, one by one.

"you can shower while i clean up, okay?" you beam at him, lips still tantalizing close to one another. he tilts his head upwards, placing a kiss on your nose in gratitude.

some time later, chan climbs onto your bed, the smell of his shampoo tickling your nostrils. he's wearing a black crewneck, the one you've heated up beforehand for him. you hoped that the warmth from the soft material would seep into his soul, igniting candles where the rain seems to have finally ceased.

you retrieve your moisturizer from your nightstand, before straddling chan's lap. he shifts slightly, settling his back against the headboard, allowing you to sit comfortably on his midriff. you scoop a bit of the cooling cream, before lathering it on his skin. your eyebrows are slightly knitted as you gently massage it in, you miss the way chan's eyes glimmer as he looks at you- the shinning lights are back on for you.

he grabs your wrist, halting your movement, before turning it around and placing a tender kiss on your pulse. the ghost of his breath sends shivers down your spine, and you retaliate by placing the tiniest peck on his palm, before trailing up his arm, his shoulder, then his jaw. chan giggles quietly as you pepper his entire face with kisses, making sure that no inch of skin is forgotten.

his face is dewy from the moisturizer, a pink hue tinting his cheeks from your kisses, and he looks so breathtakingly pretty as you finally curl your hand around the back of his neck, lowering his head to meet his lips in a tender kiss.

the seconds swiftly trickle into minutes, not that you'd know of as your mouths move lazily against one another, time no longer existing for the two of you. "i love you," he whispers, as you pull apart, slightly dazed. you gently cradle his cheek, thumb swiping tenderly from his temple to his under eye, "i love you too."

you turn off the light, before settling against his chest. his arms wrap around you, pulling you impossibly closer. you can feel his heart beating underneath you- a steady rhythm that would serve as backdrop to your dreams, later that night. he smells like coconut soap, and a faint whisper of his cologne that never truly leaves his clothes, even after laundry. you lightly untangle yourself from his hold, moving around until his face nestles in the crook of your neck.

"i want to hold you tonight," you whisper, fingers running through his slightly damp hair.

"thank you," he says quietly, pausing to press a kiss to your collarbones. "thank you for being my sun."

his body is snug against yours, a comforting warmth emanating from him to you. holding him feels like embracing the clouds and sinking into velvet pillows, it feels like coming home where all the lights are on, idly waiting for your return.

[bmtillerbabe]

Feel free to ignore, but Poly!141 with reader who is terrified of any tiny mistakes from a past shitty relationship? ✨

(I actually love your work!)

    I absolutely love this ask!! :D Just imagining little scenarios in my head for each one is so delicious.

Hope you enjoy, Anon!! :)

.

.

CW : References to past abuse, mostly unspecified.

NSFW

MDNI 18+ ONLY!!

.

.

.

Dropping a dish (With Ghost, Soap and Gaz) :

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

   It really hadn’t been your fault.

  This damn new brand of dish soap your boys had decided to buy you left a slick film on every piece of stoneware you owned, and when you turned just a little too sharply to put it away – it had just …. Slipped out of your hand.

  Simon had been sitting at the bar, looking up quickly at the sound of the shattering plate; and already you could hear Soap and Gaz barreling down the stairs towards the kitchen. But you weren’t paying attention to any of that – only red-faced and gasping like you were drowning, bending down to quickly start grabbing at the shards, muttering a thousand apologies over and over and over.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Oh, God, fuck, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, I just – it slipped and I’ll fix it, I’m sorry—”

  You hadn’t realized Ghost kneel down next to you in your embarrassment until you flinched – hard – when he placed his hand gently over yours.

  You looked up at him, tears welling in your eyes and your breathing still off-kilter and fast. The look in Ghost’s eyes damn near broke your heart – the worry, the concern, the care – the love – that swam so deep in them made your bottom lip quiver.

  Soap and Gaz panted softly somewhere above you.

  “Ye alright, bonnie? We heard a noise, an’ came runnin’.”

  You nodded, shaky and unsure of yourself, and before you could answer, Ghost spoke up softly as if trying not to spook you.

  “Love …. It’s fine. Iss’ justa dish. No harm done. Are you hurt?” His hand tightened softly over yours. Shaking your head, you began to pick up the pieces of the plate scattered around the tile, still bright-cheeked and muttering softly; your movements slow and shaky.

  “I----I’m f-f-fine, I just, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to b-b-break anything, I didn’t---”

  Ghost grabbed your wrist again and lifted it to his stubbled cheek, rising and pulling you with him to your feet. Then, without warning, you were pressed firmly into his broad chest, his hands snaking around your small frame to hold you close. The action alone seemed to be enough to undo you, and you broke down and sobbed quietly and softly into his big arms.

  “Shhh, shhh, shhh, it’s a’right, love. It’s a’right.” Simon cooed at you warmly, gently rubbing the back of your head. You felt him shift above you, nodding to the boys to finish helping clean the mess. Soap and Gaz didn’t need to be told twice, dutifully sweeping up the mess.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry …” You whispered softly, voice cracked and broken as you clutched at Simon’s frame.

  He pulled you back to look into your eyes, cupping your cheeks softly. His brows furrowed deeply in sympathy and his lips were pulled to the side in concern.

  “When you’d mentioned before, the …. Relationship ….” He bit out the word angrily, “… you’d had before us, I didn’t realize tha’ it ….” He paused with a sigh and pulled you close to his chest again, shaking his head. “I swear to God, if I ever find where that cunt ran off to, he’ll be wishing he was dead – cuz Hell will be better for ‘im than what I’ll be doin’.”

  You became aware of two other bodies behind you, crowding closer, cocooning you in their warmth and safety, and slowly, your shakes and sobs subsided.

  Johnny kissed the side of your head softly.

  “Aye, lass – you never have to worry about him, about any of this, ever again.”

  “We’ve got you, babydoll. Now, and always.” Gaz rubbed your arm.

  Never, in all your life, had you felt the truth in words like you did with theirs. Or had you ever remembered feeling so safe.

.

.

.

.

Missing a Text (With Price) :

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

  You heard Price’s keys jingle in the lock of the front door – but instead of the normal elation and joy filling your heart, your mind raced in panic as you jumped to your feet and ran to the kitchen to find your phone you’d left on the counter.

  “Shit! Shit, shit, shit!” You cursed yourself, opening the screen and confirming with a sinking feeling in your gut that you’d forgotten to answer Price’s text earlier, asking what you had planned for dinner, if anything.

  “Doll?” Price’s deep voice rumbled from the door as he called for you, and you felt your heart freeze as you clutched your chest; your lungs suddenly squeezed tight and unable to get any air in.

  You barely had the time to turn and face the doorway as his figure appeared, frozen in place, eyes wide with fear.

  Price’s eyes met yours, his own widening in concern as he walked towards you. “Hey, luvie, hey – what is it? What’s wrong? Is everything alright? Are you hurt?”

  “I---” You squeaked out, your breathing still tight and short. You felt light-headed. “I was doing laundry – I didn’t – I forgot – I –“ You swallowed softly, clutching the phone in your hand to your breast.

  Price quickly realized what was wrong, letting out a soft breath and relaxing his shoulders, quirking his brow in warm sympathy.

  “Luv, I know you’re busy most of the day. You’re taking care of the house – of us – it’s alright.” He smiled softly at you, cocking his head and halting in his tracks when the fear in your eyes remained. He knew the fear wasn’t towards him, no … the fear was rooted deep, inside your heart, your mind, your soul – and he knew it would take him and the men longer than just a few months to clear out the remnants of the asshole that had done this to you.

  You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing wanted to come out, and you continued to clutch your chest, wheezing softly in your panicked state.

  Price held out his hand to you, palm up – offering. “It’s alright, Luv. You didn’t do anythin’ wrong. Come back to me. Come back here. You’re not there anymore, he can’t hurt you anymore, luvie.”

  Swallowing thickly, you seemed to break out of your trance at his soft words and choked out a soft sob; running headfirst into the safety of his chest and arms. He wrapped his strong biceps around your tiny frame, shushing and cooing at you softly.

  “It’s alright, Luvie …. Shhh …. You’re okay … I’m here, you’re okay.” He kissed the top of your hair softly as your breathing steadied and your heartrate slowed. “You did nothin’ wrong, doll. Absolutely nothing.”

  After he was sure you were okay, he pulled back to look into your eyes and smiled brightly, wiping your cheek with his calloused thumb.

  “Now … what say you to a bit of ice cream with the rest of the boys, eh? Simon should be here soon from the grocer, and Gaz will be out of his meeting in the next hour ….” He leaned in close to your cheek, pecking it softly and brushing his thick mustache against the shell of your ear, whispering, “… Gives us plenty of time to have a lil bit of fun before they get home …”

  You sighed the last of the fear from your chest, smiling at one of the four loves of your life, nodding eagerly.

  Ice cream and sex sounded absolutely perfect.

.

.

.

Nightmares (with all four men) :

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

  The two California kings that were side by side in the huge, open room, served as almost a ‘nest’ of sorts for the five of you.

  What with the size of Simon alone, you’d known you were going to need a large bed – and when you’d gotten involved with all of them, you all realized quickly that one bed wouldn’t do anymore.

  Especially for all the …. Activities you liked to do together.

  It was in the center of the tiny mountain of pillows and blankets that all of you slept now – or, had been sleeping, until you awoke with a start and a sharp yell into the darkened room.

  Simon was the first to awaken, sitting bolt upright like he’d been shot; Soap next, lifting his head from where he’d been sleeping on your stomach, blinking away the sleep and looking at you with deep seated concern.

  A soft ‘click’ and Price had rolled over to turn on the lamp next to the bedside table, and all four men were sitting around or in front of you, watching you gasp softly and cry as you buried your face in your hands.

  You clutched at your side where the wound long since healed gave a phantom heartbeat of pain – the memory of that horrid night flashing clear as day into your sleeping head as if it had just happened fresh all over again.

  Gaz leaned close, cupping your cheek. “Another nightmare?” He asked softly.

  You nodded, breaking down into a quiet fit of tears when the images flashed through your head again of the day you thought you were going to die.

  Soap kissed your stomach softly, rubbing your thigh up and down, working his way to your knees, calves and ankles. Simon, from his position on your side, cuddled you closer to his chest, stroking your hair. Gaz pulled you to him for a sweet kiss to the forehead, holding your hand, rubbing his thumb in circles on the top of it.

  Price, ever the gentleman, had left the room to go and grab you some pretzels and a glass of warm milk – coming back in with a small tray of assorted snacks and drinks for the others as well.

  After he settled back onto the bed on your opposite side and tousled Soap’s mohawk, he looked at you, offering you a tissue.

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you all up …” You whispered, blowing your nose.

  Gaz chuckled softly at you, shaking his head and giving your hand a squeeze.

  “Don’t ever apologize for needin’ us, babygirl. That’s what we’re here for – each other.”  He brought your hand to his mouth to kiss each finger gently.

  Soap hummed softly, his eyes locked onto Gaz’ mouth at work; swallowing thickly with a noise in the back of his throat. Price snorted and slapped the back of the Scot’s head playfully, making him flinch.

  “Can’t even make it two minutes without thinkin’ wiv that cock, can ya?” The older man chuckled.

  Soap blushed a crimson red, grinning wickedly as he looked back at you. “Well, I dunno about you all, but I know the missus here could use a wee bit of a distraction …. And what better way to distract than with some nice, hot sex?”

  You felt more than heard Simon grunt approvingly from your side, already seeing the indent of his chubbing cock thicken through his night trousers. Leaning over to sniff your hair deeply with an approving growl, he rubbed his large hand up and down your arm.

  “Well? What do you say, luv? Down for another round?”

  ….. Suffice it to say that none of you got absolutely any sleep that night.

.

.

.

Xoxo – Hope you enjoyed!!   😊   Happy reading, and much loves!  <3

[daenysx]

hi hello gorgeous <3

Can i request a James x fem reader who calls him shortly after she leaves for work because she fell hard on a pavement and scratched her knee and elbow and hurt her wrist and he comes to get her and finds her crying on the pavement and poor thing is so worried for her and takes care of her?

(This exact thing happened to me today but only i was going to a final and i sat and cried but only difference is THAT I DO NOT HAVE JAMES POTTER Im sobbing)

hi baby, i hope you're okay!! thank you for requesting, here's our perfect fictional boyfriend for you, i hope you enjoy <333

james potter x fem!reader ♡

"jamie?"

james drops the plate he has in his hand on the counter. are you crying? you sound like you're crying and that's literally his worst nightmare.

"baby?" he says quickly. "what happened? are you okay?"

your voice sounds muffled through the phone. james hears you take a deep breath before speaking. "i fell."

"where are you?" he asks, panicking. "are you okay?"

you try to walk out of people's way as you speak to james. your unoccupied wrist hurts very much and you feel something warm in your sweater.

"i couldn't get to work." you say to him. "i'm in front of the flower shop next to the park now."

"i'm coming." he says, grabbing the car keys. "10 minutes, okay? can you wait for me?"

"yes." you say. "don't rush, i'm fine."

you don't sound fine but james is sane enough to drive carefully. he prays to traffic fairies for empty roads, he can see the florist' shop in almost 9 minutes. he sees you next thing, you're sitting on the edge of a pavement with a small tear on your jeans.

he parks the car with half a mind, rushes to your side. your eyes look puffy, cheeks blushed with adrenaline and possibly pain. you hold your wrist in your other palm, james can see a tiny bit of blood dripping from your knee.

"angel." he says, cupping your cheeks. "are you okay? does it hurt too badly?"

you don't answer, instead you put your head on james's chest and cry slowly against him. you called your boss while waiting for james and thank god she's nice enough to tell you to take the day off. james holds you, the street is not too crowded and people prefer using the other side of the pavement. you cry your embarrasment and hurting on your boyfriend as he gently tries to calm you down.

"we need to see a doctor." james says before kissing your forehead. "your knee looks bad."

"it's not actually that bad." you say, sniffing. "it's just a scratch. my wrist hurts a bit."

"angel." he says, he uses his trying-to-be-convincing voice. "please don't be stubborn. they can at least make sure nothing's wrong."

"i'm fine, jamie." you say, using your better hand to dry your tears. "i'm mostly crying because of embarrassment. can we please go home?"

you're looking at him with widened eyes and james has nothing else to say. "but if you still feel pain we will go to a hospital, okay?"

you nod obediently. james helps you stand up, he takes your bag on his shoulder. you hold his hand as he leads you to car. he makes sure you're okay before sitting on the driver' seat.

he holds your hand the entire way. your tears are almost gone, you're not hurting anywhere badly but your body feels sore. you dream of your warm bed and a cup of hot tea. james's thumb rubs the back of your hand. you look at his face, his side profile is something out of heaven. you squeeze his fingers, he gives you a perfect smile. "i'm gonna take care of you so well, you'll feel better than ever." he promises you sweetly.

"i know, jamie." you say. "thank you for picking me up."

"please, angel." he scoffs. "in what world i'm leaving my girl alone in the street when she falls?"

you bring his hand to your lips to give him a little kiss. his heartbeat fastens. he's gonna give you the nicest doctor treatment when you get home. he'll probably be stuck to your side until you get sick of him.

the smell of home has never felt better. you go to the bathroom first thing, james comes after you. "let's get you out of these clothes."

"been waiting for that, haven't you?" you tease. james deserves a few jokes, he's been worried too much.

"since the minute you left for work." he says. he helps you until you are left in your panties and your little tank top.

"baby." he whispers when he sees your knee clearly. he makes a pitiful sound. your knee is scratched and it looks a bit bloody. your wrist feels better but it's definitely gonna need ice. you show james your elbow, it has a tinier scratch too. james starts cleaning up your knee first with you sitting on the closed lid of the toilet.

"tell me if it hurts." he says. he has big hands but he knows how to use them gently. you don't make a sound when he cleans up your knee. "do you think we can use the cream we got for my hand on your scratches?" he asks. james once hit his hand on the sharp side of his locker in gym and he had to use a cream for his scar. you think it might be work for you. you nod.

he cleans up your elbow too, you're thankful none of your little scars need wrapping. james brings the cream and he applies it on your skin. you both wash your hands when james finishes up. he takes your dirty clothes from the bathroom floor before leaving.

"i think i need ice for my wrist." you say. "can you get me an ice pack, handsome?"

"of course." he says. "go to bed, sweetheart, i'll be right back."

your entire body relaxes when it hits the bed, you are careful when you settle down but still it feels so nice to be home. falling down in the street is something so suddenly happened, you think it's funny how you can remember the exact moment and the embarrassment you felt on the pavement. it's okay, though. it's normal.

your hero comes back with an ice pack. he sits on your side of bed, takes your wrist to his free hand softly. he presses the ice pack on the slight swollen skin. you let out a shaky breath.

"does it hurt?" he asks, his brows raised.

"no, just cold." you answer. you're gonna be okay.

james kisses your forehead. his hand still holds the ice pack. "are you hungry?" he asks. "can i get you anything?"

you shake your head. "i just wanna sleep, jamie. get under the blanket?" you ask with a hopeful look and a gentle voice. two things james can never resist.

he joins you under the blanket. he has to be the big spoon to hold the ice pack still on your wrist. he kisses your head affectionally. "do you feel better?" he asks. it doesn't hurt to be sure.

you nod. "i'm fine, promise."

sleep comes easily, especially when james draws shapes on your arm with his free hand. you love the occasional kisses he brushes on your head. he holds the ice on your skin until it starts melting, no matter how freezing it is against his hand. it's nothing more painful than seeing his girl cry.

[shysuccubusstuff]

feral! wuthering waves males pt. 1

Characters: Jiyan + Scar

Context: playing them a silly little prank with some aphrodisiacs wasn't your smartest moment...

Jiyan: foul language, overstimulation, oral receiving, established relationship (married), breeding kink, just a bit of degradation.

Scar: Overstimulation, oral giving, degradation, breath play (?,

Note: Just read the most ground breaking smut so I just had to-- I'm sorry if the smut is bad, I hurt my wrist a few days ago :( Credits for the dividers to anitalenia + cafekitsune.

You had already prepared everything, the cake was already set at the table, little strawberries decorating it. It had been a few days since you had last seen Jiyan, so of course you thought that adding a little... spice would help both of you relax a little. Just a few drops of the aphrodisiac were supposed to be added to the strawberries, but you had decided to add just a tiny bit more, enough to create some kind of reaction from him, you supposed.

A few minutes passed until Jiyan finally opened the door, his hair down, making him look even more handsome. As soon as he saw you his lips curved into a smile, looking as a happy puppy running to your arms. He swiftly lifted you, making you twirl a little until he let you down, his lips giving you a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Dear, you don't know how much I've missed you, the work as been exhausting because of the lack of employees." While he kept talking about his work, you you broke a piece of the cake, serving it to him while you took a little bite from the frosting. His eyes shined, happy from getting to eat his favourite cake just as he arrived home. His plate was cleared soon, not leaving even a single crumb. Your hands were sweating a little, was the dose too little for him?

Your question was answered just a few minutes ago, his eyes were flaring, his breath heavy and hot, making you feel just a bit intimidated. Jiyan quickly raised from his seat, taking one of the strawberries and shoving it down your mouth.

"Dear, you really thought I would be unable to tell? God, the cake was reeking with the smell of the aphrodisiac, were you that desperate for me? Couldn't handle a few days without my cock shoved deep into your sweet cunt?" His words were foul, somewhat making your cunt a bit too wet for the situation given. Without letting you reply, Jiyan's hands were lifting you, walking to your bedroom as fast as possible and letting you lay there. His hands caressed your skin, your sweet scent filling the room and mixing with the scent of the herbs he always carried. "Sweet girl, trying to play with a much more experienced man..." While he taunted you with his words, his hands were already over your body, losing no time on undressing you and throwing your clothes to the floor. He had already taken off his own clothes, finally being able to see his chiseled muscles, making your mouth drool as you saw his cock, standing proud, tip slightly reddened. He got on his knees, moving you to the end of the bed, your pretty pussy being presented to him, while his fingers were already toying with it, playing with your sensitive clit with his rough fingertips while entering you with his other hand. Even despite how much shame you felt, you were only able to pull from his hair as a sorry attempt of getting him just a bit far from you. Of course, despite your efforts, his mouth got even closer, using his tongue to prepare your little slit, while he kept playing with your clit, not stopping even after making you cum all over his mouth, your hands almost giving out as he didn't even budge a bit.

It took several minutes (and at least three orgasms) for him to leave your sorry cunt, clit all reddened and puffy from the overstimulation. He got up, lifting you in between his arm and sitting you on his lap, slowly entering you, your nails digging on his back. "Too big... it won't fit..." Your sweet cunt squeezing him just right, Jiyan trying his best not to shove it in with a single trust. "It won't fit..." Jiyan smiled, his hands squeezing your waist as he kept inserting his dick in your pussy, your eyes starting to water as the stretch began to sting.

"Stay put, dear, I swear it won't feel as painful, just give it a few minutes." Jiyan caressed your hair while peppering your pretty face with his kisses, trying to distract you of how he was slowly inserting his whole length inside you. He stayed there, the tip of his dick being far too close to your cervix, making you whine each time he moved a bit and hit that place with his tip. Little by little, his hips started to move, letting you cling to him while your teeth pierced his shoulder, sometimes kissing your pretty lips in a nasty way, your saliva falling to your chin as his kiss left you a bit light-headed.

As time went on, his movements got rougher, eyes rolling to the back of your skull, lips parting as you were unable to stop moaning from the overstimulation. Jiyan's eyes were glistening, happy to see his pretty wife all dumb on his cock, unable to do anything but take it. "You're so pretty baby, all pretty over my dick, you're gonna be such a good mommy, I'm gonna be the best daddy... treat both of you so good, let me make you a mommy dear..." His hips started to move faster, his dick starting to twitch inside you, your mind being completely melted, only being able to nod to his pleas as his cock ramaged your insides, tears falling down your cheeks. You were able to kiss him, his cum filling your tummy while you digged your nails on his back, thanking him between blurbs for making you a mommy.

Scar already knew just as he entered the room, your expression was a bit too calmed, while your body was as stiff as a board. You quickly raised from your seat, approaching him with a nervous expression as you tried to give him some "special recipe" you had found in the Internet. Despite that, he accepted gracefully, taking the little cookie with the shape of a heart, how could he deny you when your eyes were sparkling with anticipation? Your eyes were fixated on his expression, perhaps searching for any type of hint that the aphrodisiac was working, although you gave up soon after you realized that the recipe you had found was probably just a prank of some person with a lot of time. You were about to sit down when Scar's hands gripped your wrists, almost with a bit too much strength, causing you to quickly turn over" What the--?" Before you were able to say anything, his lips were already against yours, devouring you as if you were one of the best plates in the world, leaving you breathless as he separated for a moment.

"God, I didn't know you were so naughty, playing with aphrodisiacs and stuff... are you trying to make me fall in love even harder?" His expression showing just how much excited was he with this new way of "playing". "If I had known you were that feisty I would have done this way sooner." He chuckled, taking your face between his hands and giving you a sloppy kiss, while his leg got in between your thighs, grinding shamelessly against your clothed cunt, your head began spin a bit due to the stimulation.

"Get on your knees, I've got something for well-behaved girls." You did as you were told, your knees falling to the carpeted floor while he unzipped his pants, his cock springing out of his underwear. He took it with one hand, getting it closer to your soft lips and rubbing his tip against them, making your thighs rub in anticipation. "Someone seems eager to start, uh? Pretty little slut who gets wet just from sucking my cock." As he said that, he slowly introduced it into your mouth, the warm cavity making him lose his mind even more. The rhythm started to pace up, almost making you choke on it as he hit the back of your throat with his tip, he didn't even flinch when you started to feel as if you were choking all over his cock, it wasn't until tears were streaming down your cheeks that he finally let you go, a small string of saliva connecting his cock to your mouth. Without giving you a moment to breath, he helped you get up, swiftly undressing you in the middle of the house hall, your whole naked body being displayed. Scar smiled, playing with your pretty tits while he made fun of your flushed cheeks: "You're as red as a cherry, but you weren't that bashful when you decided to play me a little prank uh? You're only shy when you don't think with your cunt?" Scar kept taunting you, making fun of how you moaned at the tiniest touch of his hands, his lips leaving wet kisses all through your neck and chest. Several minutes had passed until he decided to end the foreplay, your cunt extremely sensitive because of his constant mocking while his fingers were playing with your clit, the other hand playing with one of your nipples. He smiled, taking his cock with one of his hands and slowly inserting it, his other hand keeping your face still so you could see yourself in the mirror. "Damn, can you see that? You're squeezing me like crazy, did you want my cock that fucking bad? Look how you're taking me in, sure you don't want to become mine? I'll keep you full all days, baby." He kept whispering those nasty taunts while his hips slammed against your ass, his tip hitting your cervix and making you lose the strength on your legs. As soon as he noticed that, he took each of your legs in his arms, lifting you with ease and allowing you to see your cunt being filled with his cock.

"This position is much better , uh? I can see all the good stuff from here, you look so pretty being fucked dumb on my cock." He smiled, moving your body up and down as if you were some fleshlight, your saliva falling down your chin as you were unable to shallow it. It took him just a few more thrusts against your sorry cunt until your brain was completely melted, your mouth blabbering some sorry excuses like "I'm sowwy! Please don't be so rough! My pussy is breaking!" Despite your pleas, Scar's trusts only increased, not slowing down even if you had already cummed all over his cock, faded rings forming all over his shaft.

When he suddenly stopped, you were almost imagining your sweet bed, but your fantasies were completely crushed the moment you noticed how he was simply changing positions, his expression looking as wicked as always, a dark glistening on his eyes as he saw your sorry face with tears running down your face and your drool falling from your chin. "You look the cutest when you're pathetic, you know?"

[blessedbyahuntress]

Blessed by a Trickster

Chapter Twelve: My Mentor Couldn't be More... Mentorish?

Prev/Next

A/N: My favorite song from the whole musical!! (I'm biased for Hermes 😊)

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 1.262k

Listen to: Wouldn't You Like

You almost tripped over yourself in your haste as you led your captain to the palace, to the witch Circe’s clutches.

Sound drifted to your ears, a melody so faint and sweet you would have missed it if Odysseus hadn’t caught your wrist. 

“What is that?” You breathed.

Your question was answered by a fit of giggles, causing you to cross your arms. He was here right now? You had four men to save; you didn’t have time to run a lap around the island!

“I must say,” Hermes said, still playing his lyre. “What a brilliant speech you gave.”

It was clear that Odysseus didn’t know who was speaking yet. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as he asked, “who goes there?”

“Just a friend, who could help you save your men.” The voice was coming from all around you now, but you knew his tricks and refused to be swayed like Odysseus was. “A foe like Circe is not to be messed with.”

You narrowed your eyes at Hermes as the curly-haired god gracefully floated down to your level. He circled around you as he continued, “you want to beat her? You’ll need the blessing of a certain god, divine intervention.”

He came to a stop right in front of you, eyes glittering with mischief. “Someone who’s not afraid to… send a message.”

“Hermes?” Odysseus asked in awe. At the same time, you sighed in exasperation, sounding more irritated with the god than blessed by his presence as you confirmed, “Hermes.”

Hermes laughed and grabbed your hands, and you could feel his restless energy against your fingertips. “Hermes…” you said, trailing off as he dragged you upward. “Don’t you dare!”

The god laughed mischievously, lyre still playing in the background. He snaked an arm around your waist, you clutching his shoulders desperately as you looked down to the ground far below. 

“Y/N!” You heard Odysseus call. 

“Be right back! I guess…” The last part you whispered as the breath was knocked out of you. 

Hermes tipped your chin up to him, tilting his own head. “Wouldn’t you like a taste of the power?” He asked. “Wouldn’t you like to use more than words?”

He made it sound like such a simple decision, but you weren’t about to give in that fast. Hermes seemed to notice this, and let out a laugh of amusement. 

Hermes released his grip on your waist and grabbed your hand instead, twirling you around as if dancing. “Deep in the night, the fight lasts for hours. You can be hurt or you can beat her.”

He let go of your hands, and you slowly began to fall, arms flailing. Your mouth was open, but no sound came out.

And then suddenly you were hanging, frozen midair. You couldn’t even close your mouth.

Hermes descended quickly, chin resting on the palms of his hands, legs kicking like a giddy girl as he gazed down at you. “Wouldn’t you like to have some of the magic? Wouldn’t you like your outcome preferred?”  

You still couldn’t move, your limbs paralyzed as the god slipped his forearms beneath your torso. You felt the spell wear off, opening and closing your mouth as you searched for a response. 

Hermes began to fly closer to the ground, still carrying you bridal-style. “Deep in the night the fight can be tragic.” He looked down at you, and for the first time you could see his eyes from underneath his helmet- they held deep sincerity despite his tone of voice. “I’ll help you conquer her.”

He dropped you back down beside Odysseus and continued, “She can turn you into an animal that’ll end up on her plate.” Hermes waved his hand and an image appeared in front of you and your captain. It showed you and Odysseus getting turned into pigs and getting served up on a platter to Circe.

“She can all but make you fall in love, like you’re on your hundredth date.” The image changed to- was that you making out with Hermes? You couldn’t tell, for the man kept changing forms. You could’ve sworn it looked like Eurylochus and Polites at one time.

Another picture breaking through with Hermes’s words. “She can conjure up a monster that'll grind you to the bones.”

“She has all the ways to haunt you,” Hermes said, baring his teeth at you in a kind of lopsided grin as he swatted at the image, causing it to disappear. “When you take her on alone.”

You turned your head away from him as he leaned in close. Hermes let you, but tugged at Odysseus’s ear. “Wouldn’t you like a taste of the power? Wouldn’t you like to use more than words? Deep in the night, the fight lasts for hours.”

With his next words, Hermes tried to punch you in the shoulder, but instead you caught his fist, making you slide a step back as you narrowed your eyes at your mentor. Hermes’s grin only stretched wider. “You can be hurt or you can beat her.”

“Wouldn’t you like to have some of the magic? Wouldn’t you like your outcome preferred? Deep in the night the fight can be tragic.” He leaned even closer. “I’ll help you conquer her.”

He used the hand that was still trapped in yours to slip something into your hand. He danced away as you glanced down at the, knobbly, hard, …root?

Hermes laughed at your confused expression. “Here in the root of this flower there lies such a power to take her on.” 

He trailed a finger down your neck, and your Adam's apple started quivering. “You must consume it, digest it, then you’ll manifest a being of your creation.” Hermes stepped away, a bit more seriousness leaking into his voice. “All you need’s imagination.” He stuck a finger in your face. “Though it’s only for a moment, ‘til you’ve beaten your opponent.” 

He hovered even higher above your head, sticking his hands out in exaggeration. “And I call this root, ‘Holy Moly’.” He burst into a fit of giggles and spiraled away.

His voice was coming from all around you again. “Wouldn't you like a taste of the power? Wouldn't you like to use more than words? Deep in the night, the fight lasts for hours. You can be hurt or you can beat her. Wouldn't you like to have some of the magic? Wouldn't you like your outcome preferred? Deep in the night, the fight can be tragic.”

He spun you around and the scene changed so quickly, you would have gotten whiplash had Hermes not done this many times during your training sessions. You reached out and steadied Odysseus as he blinked around in confusion. “I'll help you conquer her,” Hermes finished, gesturing grandly at the palace in front of you. 

You gave the god a small smile as he started to rise into the sky. 

“Hermes!” You called. When he turned back around, you said, “thank you.”

“Don’t thank me friend; you very well may die.” He laughed again at your expression.

Before you knew what he was going to do, Hermes swooped low and kissed you on the cheek. You could feel him shaking as he tried to contain his chuckling as your face turned bright red. 

He pulled away, still smiling like a mad man. “Good luck,” he said, winking at you.

And then the god vanished, the only sign that he’d ever been there being the root in your hand and your skin still tingling from where he’d kissed you.

Taglist: @barrythestrawberry041

[ilovelovewithallmyheart]

Your older brother Suguru always brought his idiotic best friend from the basketball team around after school. 

He would always get on your nerves. Not only was he loud and annoying, but he was also stupidly attractive. Whenever Satoru was around, you knew that you would not be getting any work done at home.

He somehow knew what effect he had on you. He would wink or blow you kisses when he saw you around the house, but always behind Suguru’s back. If Suguru knew that Satoru was flirting with his younger sister, he would lose his mind. 

Unfortunately for you, procrastination decided to be a real pain and you had a lengthy essay that was due tomorrow morning. 

It was time to fully lock in. The blinds were drawn, your phone was hidden from arms reach and your noise cancelling headphones were in. You were ready for battle.

You could barely hear the knock on your door. You turned around, saying “come in!”

Your older brother peeked his head through the door. “Hey sis. Just letting you know that-“

You nodded, brushing him off. He always gave you a heads up when Satoru was visiting. Satoru was always hanging out with Suguru in his room, almost every day of the week. 

It was a common occurance now, so you didn’t bat an eye when Suguru notified you of someone coming over.

For the next eight hours you were in full focus. Your noise cancelling headphones were expensive, but boy were they a good investment. You couldn’t hear Satoru’s pitchy voice, or his raucous laughter. 

It was now nearly midnight, and you were starving. You made your way to the kitchen, noise cancelling headphones playing music from your phone, when you sensed a pair of eyes staring at you from the living room.

Rather, multiple pairs of eyes. 

You failed to notice that Suguru had invited his entire basketball team over today, instead of just Satoru. 

You startled and dropped a glass cup of water, the entire thing breaking in two in what felt like the loudest possible way.

You were suddenly conscious of the comfortable form fitting shorts that you had outgrown years ago, and the tank top that dipped a little bit too low for comfort that you were wearing. It was even worse now that you were blushing beet red and bending over to scoop the glass up.

Where was your brother when you needed him? He was nowhere to be seen!

“Don’t do that.” Satoru now stood crouching in front of you, his broad shoulders covering you from his teamates veiw. “You’ll hurt yourself.” He swept the shattered glass into a dustpan and brush. After he was done, he gently held your wrists and inspected your hands. “You’re lucky you didn’t cut yourself.” His blue eyes pierced yours. Suddenly his gaze dipped downwards, onto what you were wearing. You felt the colour return to your cheeks immediately. “I-I’m fine.” You snatched your arms out of his grasp. You stood up immediately and he did too, casually trying to cover you up.

“Suguru never told me that his little sister was hot.” Naoya, the captain of the basketball team commented. “If I knew that I’d have hosted more get togethers here.” The rest of the basketball team snickered, and white hot rage turned Satoru’s blue eyes into a stormy grey. “Shut the f*ck up Naoya.” His voice was lethally low, the complete opposite of his usual pitchy keen.

Naoya whistled. “Sorry. I didn’t know she was taken.” 

Satoru glared in silence.

“I-Is she actually your girlfriend?” Naoya bursted into laughter. Condescending, rude laughter that sounded like forks scratching against plates. “So what if she is?” All the anger had dissipated from Satoru’s face. There was now a cool mask of indifference with a hint of playfulness. 

“Seriously? The school playboy Satoru Gojo is dating her?” 

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” He challenged.

You stood there, face whipping back and forth between Satoru and Naoya. “Hey Satoru!”

Your voice sounded unnaturally stiff. “Why don’t we continue watching The Office in my room? We still haven’t finished off the episode we were on!” Your voice cracked at the word ‘still’, and it looked like Satoru was fighting tremendously hard to keep himself from laughing.

“Sure thing sweetie.”

**

“Okay why the f*ck am i only now hearing from Naoya, f*cking Naoya that you’re dating my sister?”

Suguru was angry.

Murderously, terrifyingly angry.

*planning on making this a fake dating kinda thing, part 2 coming...*

[bwabys-scenarios]

Can we see a chubby!reader who maybe doesn't know that Feitan is part of the phantom troupe, so she doesn't think Feitan can carry her but then he proves her wrong (maybe with a little bit of angst because she's self conscious, and then comfort because Feitan loves that there's more of her)

Idk if that made sense

Perfect

Feitan x Chubby!Fem!Reader

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

A/N: another short one… but I like it!! Join my server !!

warnings: insecure reader, a bit of internalized misogyny

SFW: @lightshowerrr @jungtoast @nenggie @aliceattheart @atransmuter

‼️If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!‼️

You had been dating Feitan for nearly a year now, and you still knew so little about him. His whereabouts while he was out of town were a mystery to you, and you had no idea what he did for work. All you did know was that he didn’t have a normal job.

When you jokingly asked him if he was in the mafia, he scoffed. “Mafia bunch of puss- wimps. Not part of it, not by long shot.”

You were a little perturbed by his answer, but couldn’t help laughing at the way he censored himself for your sake. He seemed to see you as some kind of delicate princess, closer to a porcelain doll than human. Feitan was always extremely gentle when touching you, his hands almost hesitant when making contact with your skin.

This was something you didn’t understand. Throughout your life, people viewed you as bigger, tougher, when in reality you were quite easily hurt, both physically and mentally. The topic of your weight had been a sore subject…

But your Fei wasn’t really good with reading social cues.

“Eat good. Here, for big girl.”

You stared at your boyfriend as he used his chopsticks to drop an extra egg roll on your plate. In your mind, you know he meant nothing by it. He was friends with larger people like Uvogin who ate tons to keep up his strength and figure.

But your heart felt hurt. You pushed your plate away and huffed. “Hmph.”

He was bad about assuming things, even if you knew it Feitan wasn’t being malicious, it still hurt your feelings when he assumed random things because of your body type.

But what you didn’t know, was that Feitan wasn’t assuming anything. You were his girlfriend, he had to provide for you and make sure you ate well. In meteor city, having meat on your bones usually meant you were well taken care of, and all he wanted to do was make sure you ate.

Feitan, though… he wasn’t good at communicating that. Or communicating at all, really, so he just stared as you pushed away the food. He scoffed, slightly offended that you turned down his offer.

“Why huff? Being brat.”

You sniffled, standing up and storming off. Feitan wouldn’t let this slide, he hated seeing you upset.

The dark haired man caught your wrist, squeezing with just enough force to catch your attention. “Why act like this? Made you mad?”

You pouted, puffing out your chubby cheeks. “Mmph… it’s embarrassing. You’re thin and I’m not… aren’t girls supposed to be dainty and small? Isn’t that what you would prefer, someone you could easily pick up?”

You wiped the tears from your eyes, not daring to look back at your lover.

But you didn’t have to look, because he turned you around and began lifting you with ease. Once you were in the air, he held onto your ass, squeezing softly. You squeaked and immediately wrapped your plump thighs around his waist for support, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“See? Easy. My little bunny.”

He held you in his arms, not straining or struggling in the slightest. It was like you weighed nothing at all to him and it was… relieving.

“Can’t understand? You… are mine.”

He huffed, sitting down with you in his lap, his arms wrapped around your waist. “We clear?”

You snuggled him, burying your teary face into his neck. “Yeah…”

Feitan tried to be a bit more sensitive with you after that, and made it a point to carry you around and show you off to his friends. It was a little embarrassing… but you felt loved and beautiful.

And that was all you needed.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

I saw your requests were closed But I really couldn't help sharing one. I hope you do like the idea :)

So what about a Charles × Wolff/Hamilton reader where she is working in Health care but has a new boss recently and he passes inappropriate comments/threats etc about her and acts out of line, which keeps on escalating (As dramatic and much as you want it to) and she doesn't tell him or anyone and starts behaving irratically and is scared, but one day it was too much or he finds out about it on accident and is angry at first at her for not sharing and then is all protective and possessive and does something about it.

One shot/ Series. Honey anything to read any version of this would be just 🤌🏻

Thank you ❤️🥹

Your Safe Place || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!Wolff!reader Warnings: 18+ only, injuries, bullying, panic attack WC: 3.3k F1 Masterlist

Translations: ma (petite) louve - my (little) wolf || chérie - sweetheart || putain - fuck || je t’aime (aussi) - I love you (too) || Quel salopard - what an asshole

The second you closed the front door you could finally breathe again. Taking a moment to just settle after the day you had endured, you pressed your back to the door and closed your eyes. It was like you told your younger patients when they were feeling stressed: smell the flower, blow out the candle. Inhale through your nose, exhale out your mouth.

Peace calmed your mind as you smelt the dinner Charles had made, your plate kept warm in the oven like he did whenever your shift ran overtime. That was an almost daily occurrence, especially with the new boss. You took another breath to clear your mind before it could return to the man who was single handedly making you regret your entire career choice.

"Hey-oh," Charles caught himself before he could hug you, spotting the blood on your scrubs. "You, uh, have a little something-" You looked down where he gestured, his nose wrinkling at the sight.

"It's fine," you said as you dropped your bag to the floor and pulled the shirt off. "It's mine, not a patient."

He nodded with relief as he took it from you to put in the washing machine but then it dropped as he realised what you had said and took a closer look at you. "Ma louve, what happened?" his fingers were gentle as they guided your face up to the light and he saw the bruising around your nose. "Putain, you're hurt."

"It was an accident," you said softly as you took his hands from your face and stepped into his embrace. "Cassia just had an episode, you know how it is, she didn't know what she was doing."

He wasn't appeased by the answer as he led you to the kitchen where he sat you down before checking your dinner was still warm enough to eat. "Where was security?"

You were grateful his back was to you as he reheated the pasta, something he hated having to do since it was never as good as when it was fresh. You had grimaced, wondering the very same thing at the time. They should have been close in the ward but with the new boss, expenditure was more important than safety and the budget had been cut in half the moment he started.

"They got there as fast as they could." It wasn't a lie. They had run all the way from the maternity ward on the floor above but you had already reset your broken nose by the time they arrived. She had quickly calmed after a dose of haloperidol and been apologetic when she realised her actions while delirious. “I’m fine, Char.”

Diana sighed as she bandaged your wrist, a look of pity in her eyes as she shook her head. “Why do you stay? It’s not like you need the money, hun.”

You tested the range of movement and winced at the sharp pain, just another incident to add to the growing list. “What good does quitting do? You guys would just be another nurse down and it would put more pressure on an already crumbling system.” 

The older nurse patted your hand before standing up and putting the left over roll of gauze away. “You’re too kind, but sometimes you have to put yourself first.”

You should have taken the rest of the day off but there were rounds to finish and call bells ringing left, right and centre. It was only when you couldn’t ignore your rumbling stomach any longer that you really took a proper look at your watch and saw your shift had finished over an hour ago.

“Katrina called in sick, I need you to stay on,” Tommy said without a simple hello when he caught you alone in the staff room. 

“I can’t,” you replied as you grabbed your bag with your good hand, “it’s my dad’s birthday - we’re going out to dinner.”

“I don’t give a shit if you’re having dinner with the Crown Prince himself, we need you here.”

“Albert may actually be there,” you mused as you started to leave, but an arm blocked the doorway.

“Your yearly review is due next week, and I would hate to have to make a note of insolence, poor attitude and lack of empathy for others. We are short on staff and it’s not like you have children at home.”

That had been the only reason you took some extra shifts when you could manage it, because there were nurses like Katrina who had two young ones and they often fell ill with colds and flus from their daycare. It meant you had to become the automatic fall guy when any other member of staff couldn’t make it - but that was what the on-call nurses were for, except…

“Maybe we wouldn’t be short staffed if you didn’t get rid of the on-call contractors, or if you hired more nurses like we were promised two years ago,” you snapped without thinking, your hunger and exhaustion removing the filter that stopped you from having the temper your father did. Or, passion, as he liked to call it - a Wolff trait. 

“So this is my fault?” he scoffed. “Nurses cost money. You might not know this, but money doesn’t grow on trees.”

You rolled your eyes at the reminder that you grew up with a silver spoon in your mouth, but that didn’t mean you were the spoiled daughter everyone who didn’t know you thought you were. You had studied hard and put in the effort to become a nurse because you wanted to help people. Tommy only cared about the profit.

“Healthcare shouldn’t be about money,” you muttered as you rolled your eyes. “It should be about helping the people who need it.”

“Then ask daddy dearest to make a donation, sweetcheeks,” he mocked as he pinched your cheek like a child. “That’s the only way you’ll get your precious nurses.”

You slapped his hand away from your face and ducked out the door before he could stop you but his voice echoed along the cold sterile corridor, “I hope you like night shifts, you’re going to be on them for a very long time.”

“You wouldn't,” you turned with a gasp. Charles' timetable was erratic but unless he was out of the country for a race he would always make the effort to be home by the time your shift ended. 

“I would.” He chuckled and left in the opposite direction, pointing back to the staff room as he went. “You can leave at the midnight swap.”

Sighing with defeat and tears stinging your eyes, you grabbed your phone from the bag and sent an apologetic text to your father for missing his dinner party. 

By the time midnight arrived your feet were aching and you had nearly emptied the vending machine of snacks to stave off your hunger. It wasn’t far from the hospital to the apartment you shared with Charles but it felt like a million miles when you stepped out into the cold night.

You pulled your jacket tighter around your body and shivered as you started off, your head down and hood up. You were so focused on just putting one foot in front of the other you didn’t see the shadow join you until a hand grabbed you and you screamed with terror as you were pulled into their chest.

“Ma louve, it’s me,” Charles soothed as he pulled your hoodie back and saw the tears in your eyes. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I, I,” you stammered as you tried to unscramble the thoughts in your head.

“Shh, I’m sorry, I called out to you like three times. I shouldn’t have grabbed you, that was stupid,” he chided himself.

“No, no, I’m sorry, I was in a world of my own.” You finally took notice of your surroundings and saw the car park was almost empty and none of the cars were his Pista.  “What are you doing here? Did you walk?”

“I didn’t want you walking alone at this hour,” he said with a kiss on your forehead. “You’re shaking, ma chérie.”

“It was a long day,” you murmured as you yawned, resting your head on his shoulder as he gently rocked you. “I think I have more coffee in my system than blood right now.”

“You can’t keep this up, my love, you are going to burn out.”

You pulled out of his embrace and started down the footpath so he didn’t see the tears begin to escape. “I’m fine, Char. I can handle it.”

It was Charles' home race and you had promised him you would join him in Ferrari this year. It was one of the few races you could always attend, managing your shifts around it so you never missed it, and all week you had seen the city setting up for the pride and joy of Monaco. 

Dawn was breaking on the big day and it looked like it was going to be a stunner as the sky turned blue and you left the hospital after yet another night shift. Tommy had found a way to make your life miserable and your shifts were constantly changing just to upset your mentality and circadian rhythm. You could barely tell morning from night when it always looked the same blue hues, same cool temperatures, the only indication was which side of the city was glowing, east or west.

“Good morning, baby,” you greeted as you wrapped your arms around Charles and kissed his shoulder as you found him at the bench making breakfast, already wearing his bright red Ferrari uniform. “How did you sleep?”

“Not bad. Would have been better with you,” he said as he turned to face you, his head dipping down to indulge in a kiss. You giggled as you saw a few crumbs of toast caught in the short hairs of his beard and brushed them away. “Thank you.”

“Now you can kiss me.”

The doorbell rang and he reluctantly released you from his arms to go answer it, his finger pointing to the second plate you hadn’t noticed. “Eat, amour.”

You hummed happily as you grabbed the toast and took a bite, casting a wave to Andrea as he walked in with Charles. 

“You look half dead, Wolff,” his trainer said with a worried look.

“She just got in from a shift, and will be going to bed as soon as she has eaten, right?” Charles said pointedly while you rolled your eyes.

“Does he boss you around this much?” you asked Andrea, making him chuckle as he shook his head.

“No, but he doesn’t love me the same way.”

“Who said I love you at all?” 

“You do, every time you get a podium,” Andrea pointed out seriously.

You nearly choked on the mouthful as you tried not to laugh at the truth. Charles was very affectionate when he was celebrating, and you hoped he would have an entire night of it after today's race. Unfortunately you wouldn’t be able to share it with him since you were due back at the hospital at 7pm for another 12 hour night shift. You had tried to find someone to swap with but Tommy had made it clear there would be consequences - all because you questioned his qualifications.

You hadn’t been able to quiet any more, not when you had the imprint of a patient's dental records on your forearm from when they bit you. You started dreading going to work, somewhere that should have been a safe place, a refuge for those needing help had become the opposite for you. It was bordering on dangerous and you had to say something.

In hindsight, you shouldn’t have said it in the morning meeting in front of dozens of staff, but you had serious doubts about his ‘people skills’ and wanted to know where he got his management degree from. Suggesting it was from Hogwarts, because it must be a thing of fantasy, may have been a step too far.

You were now paying for those words.

You still stood by them.

You still hadn’t told Charles.

He would only worry, or suggest taking a sabbatical. Yes, you longed to travel with him to his races and show your support, but you didn’t feel there was any way to contribute to society with that life. Nursing gave you a sense of purpose and fulfilment that you were certain you couldn’t feel just being the driver’s girlfriend, or the principal’s daughter.

“Hey,” Charles roused you softly and you realised you were starting to fall asleep while eating. “Let’s get you to bed, ma petite louve.”

You were already closing your eyes before your head hit the pillow but you felt his lips warm your forehead. “I love you. I’ll see you in the garage,” you mumbled as sleep took over.

“Je t’aime aussi.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you swore as you scrambled out of the bed and pulled on the first outfit you could find, a pair of comfortable jeans and a Ferrari shirt with Leclerc across the back with the number 16. There were dozens of missed calls and even more text messages but do not disturb had automatically turned on and you had forgotten to stop the setting. Today of all days you wanted to be disturbed.

Out on the street you could already hear the high keening of the cars racing around the city and you dashed through the thick crowds to get to the paddock. You hadn’t even remembered to grab your pass as you left in a rush but for once you were thankful someone recognised you and let you through.

“Arthur, how is he doing?” you panted as you reached the Ferrari garage and grabbed the headset he held out.

“Not the best start, he was a little distracted I think. You should probably let him know you are here.”

You agreed and went to the desk at the back rather than the main set up on the pit wall, quietly asking them to connect your headset to Charles. They were hesitant but there was no need for a pit stop any time soon since he had fresh tires so they made the adjustments to the channels.

“Hey baby, sorry I’m late.”

“You had me worried, little wolf.”

“That sounds so strange to hear in English,” you giggled, knowing the rules of the comms meant he couldn’t speak French on them. “I just wanted to let you know I made it so you can stop worrying.”

“I’ll always worry about you,” he said and you didn’t need to see his face to know he was smiling. “I’ll see you soon.”

The final 12 laps went almost as quickly as your nails, the nervous habit ruining them under the stress of the tight street circuit and close calls. Every time his car went flying through the sharp corners around the pool you were sure you were going to see him crash and your heart could barely take it. You ripped the headset off and rushed out of the garage as a wave of nausea crashed over you.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked when he caught up to you in Charles’ driver room, a bottle from his fridge pressed to your clammy forehead. Your hands could barely keep it steady as the shook uncontrollably and you ended up letting it fall to the floor with a thud as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You couldn’t answer him as you struggled to pull air into your lungs, the screams of the crowd outside doing little to calm the panic gripping you. Dropping your head between your knees, you tried to keep from fainting but you could feel your heartbeat in your head, the throb sounding in time to the darkening pulse invading your vision until it all faded to black.

“You’re not listening, mate, she cannot come to work. She fucking passed out from exhaustion.”

“Then she should have been sleeping and not wasting her time watching some cars go around in circles. If she doesn't show up tonight, tell her not to bother showing up ever again.”

“She won’t,” Charles ended the call and slammed your phone down. “Quel salopard!”

The anger on Charles' face softened when he saw your eyes opening and he rushed across the room, his race suit still tied around his waist. “Don’t move, just lay down, ma louve. You need to rest,” he whispered as he knelt on the floor beside the couch you were lying on, his fingers brushing your cheek bone. “Arthur’s gone to get Toto.”

You couldn’t tell if minutes or days had passed and trying to think felt like trekking through a swamp of sludge in your mind. “The race?”

“4th.” He pressed his palm to your head and ran it over your hair feeling the damp heat on his skin. “You’ve sweat almost as much as me, mamour. You should have stayed home if you weren’t feeling well.”

You shook your head and it cleared some of the haze that hindered your cognitive ability. “I’m not sick, I just had…a moment. But I’m fine now.”

“A moment?” he asked with a frown. “What type of moment? And don’t tell me you are fine, you are clearly not and you haven’t been fine for months. Talk to me, please.”

The pleading, the puppy eyes, the way he dropped his head to your shoulder like he was defeated, it crested into a tsunami of emotion that broke the wall you had built between your personal life and your work life. The two worlds crashed together and the sob broke his heart as you crumbled apart in front of him.

The wave of truth crashed upon him and everything you had tried to keep from him for the past six months was lifted from your conscience as you confessed it all. You told him about the stress you were under, the bullying you had faced and the danger you were in each night with nearly no support or security.

You had been in a long sleeve when you went to bed but now you were in his shirt and he could see the latest wound marring your flesh, the impression of teeth setting to bruises.

Horror painted his features as he absorbed it all, then it turned to anger, hot rage as his clenched fists turned his knuckles white. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked with quiet restraint. “Pourquoi?”

You swallowed and shrank back into the couch as you felt that anger aimed at you. The shaking started again, a fine tremor coursing through your body until it reached your teeth and they chattered as a cold sweat broke out.

“Fuck, no, bébé, please,” Charles cursed as he unclenched his fists and reached for you only to freeze as you flinched. “Please, I would never hurt you. I’m not angry at you.”

“Yes, you are,” you whispered.

“Okay, I’m a little bit angry you didn’t tell me sooner. We are meant to share everything, no?” You nodded meekly. “But I would never hurt you, ma louve. I’m angry at myself, I should have noticed, I should have, I don’t know…I failed you.”

“I was scared. You would make me quit if you knew.”

His head lifted and confusion swum in those green eyes of his. “Why would you want to work for that asshole?”

“I like my job, I like what I do, Charles.” You looked away from the intensity of his stare. “I don’t know who I am without it.”

“Oh, chérie, you would still be the same selfless, kind, beautiful woman you are right now. That is who you are, and that will never change.” When he reached for you this time you let him take your hands and he kissed your knuckles before holding them to his chest. “I think it’s time to prove it to you.”

You sighed and gave him a small nod. “I think you might be right.”

The sound of relief he made brought a smile to your face and he returned it with a guilty one. “That’s a relief,” he admitted with a nervous chuckle, “because I think I got you fired.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

No Sugar Tonight 4

Character: Brock Rumlow

Summary: A regular customer becomes more than just a familiar face.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You look around the diner uncertainly. Brock slurps down his third coffee as you wring your hands in your lap. There’s a few bites of waffle left on your plate but you can barely stomach what you managed to get down. You don’t understand what he’s doing. 

He signals for the waitress and asks, no, tells her to get the check. He has a way of commanding everyone around him. Including you. 

His dark eyes narrow in your direction. You wonder if he can see your thoughts written on your face. You drop your gaze to the table and fidget. He sighs and wipes his mouth with a napkin. He crumples it and tosses it on his plate as he leans forward. 

“That syrup is all sugar,” he flicks the glass bottle. “You should have eggs for breakfast. Good protein.” 

You wince and look at him, “I’m sorry--” You don’t understand why he didn’t say anything before. 

“Now you know. I know you can listen. You can learn. When I tell you something, I want you to remember,” his voice is grizzly and grinding. “I don’t like to repeat myself.” 

“Uh, okay,” your brows tweak in confusion. 

The waitress returns and he pays in cash. He leaves her a tip but not a very good one. You only slide off the bench as he stands at the end and huffs. 

He keeps you ahead of him as he herds you out of the diner. You come out onto the street and dawdle just along the pavement. He comes up next to you and seizes your hand. You jolt in surprise as his callouses brush your soft skin. 

“I should go home--” 

“We’re going home,” he insists and tugs your arm. “I know you remember what I said.” 

You search the city street as panic rises up your throat, “but... I don’t know you--” 

“You know me. You need me.” He curtails your argument. “I don’t like you acting like this.” 

“I’m not...” you begin and shake your head. “I was only doing my job, sir.” 

“Not your job anymore. Things are different. How they should be.” He drags you down the sidewalk, yanking you into step as your soles scuff in reluctance. You have no choice by to keep pace. “You will have everything you need.” 

Your mouth opens and you snap it shut again. What can you say or do? He’s so much stronger than you. Besides, he already called your boss and ruined everything. 

“You’re really pretty, you shouldn’t make those face,” he says. 

You wipe the frustration from your features and put your head down. He clears his throat. 

“Stand straight. Good posture is important.” He girds again. 

You make yourself stand straight and measure your steps with his. He slows and you look around, searching for the reason. He approaches a black card and opens the passenger door. 

“In.” 

That’s it. His singular order. His hand creeps up from yours and up your arm and he nudges you. You obey. 

He shuts the door and goes around the hood. He gets in the driver seat and focus on starting the engine and pulling out into the traffic crawl. You shrink down and hug yourself. 

“Where... Can I get some of my things--” 

“Got em.” He snarls. 

You swallow the last of your resistance. You’re not sure what he means but you’ll take it as a no. You look out the windshield and watch the pedestrians and the taxis. Wait, you should scream! You should cry out for help! 

You peek over at the door and your hand trails towards the handle. The door locks with a thunk. 

“Do your seatbelt up,” he orders. 

You retract and do as he bids. He grunts and taps his fingers on the ridge steering wheel. He reaches over to clasp your wrist in his thick hand and squeezes. 

“I got a buddy on the force. Several. You wanna go for a ride to a precinct, I’ll take you there myself and we’ll see how that goes. You don’t needa be like this. I’m not hurting you, I'm helping.” He raises your arm and you whimper. You don’t know what to do. He pulls your hand close and he presses a kiss to your knuckles, a gesture both unnerving yet gentle.  

He lets you go and grips the wheel again. You rub your wrist as a tingle ripples in the back of your hand. You look ahead through the window then back at him. 

He’s a big man. Thick arms, broad shoulders, tall. His dark hair has a few strands of silver that blend into the rest and his jaw is shadowed with stubble. The cleft in his chin adds to his sinister appearance and an icy determination squares his features. 

“You can turn some music on,” he nods towards the radio. “None of that girly pop.” 

You hesitate but cautiously reach to touch the buttons on the dash. You scan through the satellite radio stations and find a song you know. The White Stripes. He hums but you can’t tell if he’s annoyed or content. You sit back and hug yourself. 

“I haven’t been mean so you don’t needa be scared,” he commands. Everything he says is an order, as if you’re his soldier. 

“Yes, sir,” you gulp. 

“Brock, baby, you can call me Brock,” he insists. 

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 8: FM Static

Bearblr Promptober Day 8: Autumn Leaves

Summary: In which Carmen has a panic attack in front of his girlfriend for the first time.

Warnings: Panic attack, swearing, trouble breathing, mentions of vomiting, written with fem reader who is a trauma surgeon (nothing gross described) in mind, she/her pronouns.

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Reblogs appreciated. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list.

GIF by @hotch-girl

08 Oct 2024

The wind sounds different through autumn leaves.

It’s high pitched, crisper. Bit like an out-of-tune radio. Less an adagio, more an allegro. The skittering sound they make as they somersault across the sidewalk has quickly become one of my favorites to pick out among street noise, so much so that I’ve begun walking home without headphones in, something my girl isn’t thrilled about because car horns and sirens will fuck up your hearing pretty bad. But it’s just for the fall, while the leaves are crunchy and tumbling around. Not like a kitchen is a quiet place to work, either.

She tucked my hair behind my ear.

“I’d love to know what you’re smiling about, sweetheart,” she said.

“Just. Sound of the leaves,” I said, gesturing to the few cartwheeling across the trail in front of us.

We were taking a walk in the park near my apartment on a Sunday morning, before it got too busy. She does this thing where she hugs my arm and intertwines our fingers while we’re out. At first, I thought it was to stop my nervous fidgeting, but she likes tracing her thumb back and forth over the inside of my wrist, over the scar on my palm, so I think it’s sort of her form of nervous fidgeting, you know?

“Yeah?”

I could hear her smiling.

“Does it help at the restaurant, sweetheart?”

“Finding sounds to focus on?”

“Mmhm.”

I took a deep breath. “I don’t know? I-I still get really wound up. I still forget to breathe. Sometimes, it feels like my stomach is turning inside out. Sometimes, it feels like I’m going to explode, but I don’t, but then I hurl after service.”

Her eyebrows crinkled together. “Oh. Oh, honey, that sounds terrible.”

I nodded, tried to say something about the leaves to keep the conversation moving, but the words got caught in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut. Wriggled my hand out of her grasp to press my palms to my cheekbones as the sights and sounds of the kitchen invaded. Doors. A dropped plate. Refire these steaks, 8 minutes behind, get the fuck back to work, call outs, chefs, keep the pace up, every second counts. My chest tightened, throat killed, head swam, and the leaves—they sounded too far away. And it was too warm, it was always too fucking warm. Pressure on my shoulders that I yielded to. Someone was talking to me, who the fuck was trying to talk to me?

“…can hear me, you’re in the park,” she murmured. “You’re not at work, sweetheart. It’s Sunday, you’re taking a walk in the park.”

Something about her voice didn’t seem real, okay? It was this ethereal, weightless thing, not because of its pitch or volume, but because of how effortlessly it flowed. It existed separate from the grimy, gritty, loud, bright, boiling world, from my dry and oily skin, from the callouses on my hands from the knives, from the jagged pain that threatened to burst through my spine. It was somewhere else. She was from somewhere else. My sky would fall on her. I was the other shoe.

This is where she leaves, right?

Cold hands clamped around my wrists. “Carmen? Carmen, baby, you’re not breathing. I need you to breathe.”

That prompted me to empty my lungs and heave for air. My heart pounded so hard, I was convinced she could see it, my head spun, I couldn’t seem to get enough air in, it was a million degrees, my teeth hurt. She pried my hands back, something rough and papery hit my fingers.

“Can you tell me what that feels like, Carmen?”

“Don’t call me that, Nat!” It hissed out between my teeth before I could stop it. A vice clamped on my throat, and then I couldn’t breathe. Fuck. Why couldn’t I breathe? Why was the world still dark? Where the fuck even was I?

Hands sized my jacket lapels and shook me. “Breathe!”

I gasped for air.

“Good. Good. Keep breathing, sweetheart.” Something dull and cold on my chest. Her hand? “You’re okay. You’re okay, I promise. You’re safe.” The papery thing touched my hand again. “Keep breathing. There you go.”

It hit me that I’d just had a panic attack in front of her, and my stomach flipped. She kept the thing pressed against my hand while also rubbing circles over my chest. I pinched it between my fingers. Tried to. My hands were trembling so bad that I couldn’t tell if I was holding it or if she was. Some kind of a ridge. Another. Another.

“Uh, ridges?” Fuck me, I sounded like I was about to cry.

It took her a second to respond. “Mmhm. Ridges. What else can you feel?”

I felt along the edges. Skittering sound of the wind blurred into my periphery. “It’s a maple leaf.”

“Mmhm.”

It snapped when I bent a lobe of the leaf. Disintegrated into nothing when I rubbed it between my fingers. I blinked my eyes open, squinted against daylight. Then realized the ground took up too much of my view. How long had I been crouched on the gravel?

“S-sorry. Sorry. Shit, um…” Where. The fuck. Are my words?

“It’s not your fault.”

“I’m-I’m-I’m getting better, I promise.”

“I believe you.” She finger-combed my hair off my forehead. “Do you want to take your jacket off for a few minutes? You’re really warm.”

Yeah. Yeah, that was a good idea. I hauled myself up, she followed, I shrugged off my jacket, cold air slammed into me like a physical thing because I was sweaty, and, as if abruptly awoken by my alarm, the rest of the world snapped into focus. Distant traffic, arguing birds, a barking dog, conversations that I couldn’t make out, solid ground, frozen spots on the backs of my shoulders, my sides, singing of a wind chime. FM static from the leaves. I needed to hold her? Don’t know what came over me, but I needed to hold her, and it took her by surprise because she made a cute little squeak when I pulled her in for a hug. She smoothed her hands over my back, pressed a kiss to my neck. Her nose was cold.

“Do you feel like talking about it?”

“No.” I responded too fast. “No, I’m-I’m gonna freak out again.”

She kissed my shoulder. Swayed me gently. “That’s okay. Maybe we try decompressing for now, hm?”

I nodded. Turned the broken leaf over and over in my fingers as she held me.

“Um, tell me a story?”

Another kiss to my shoulder. “What kind of story do you want to hear?”

“Um. I don’t know, something that makes you happy.” It still came out sounding like a question.

She drummed her fingers along my back for a few long moments while she hunted for one. “So, my mom has this dog, right?”

“Mmhm.”

“She’s a rescue, so we don’t know what breed she is, but she’s tiny. Minuscule. She’s like 8 pounds soaking wet, right?”

“Wow. Really tiny.” I watched some leaves flip around as they blew by.

“She loves the fall because, uh, my mom will rake up the leaves in the backyard into this big pile.” She wandered a cold hand into my hair, and my eyes drifted closed. Fuck, it felt good. “And she has to go barreling full speed into the pile,”—I started laughing—“like not jumping into it, she just sprints through it, and they go flying. And she’ll just do that over and over and over again, having the time of her life. And then my mom will rake them back into a pile the next day, and off she goes. It is. So fun to watch.”

“It does sound fun.” I squeezed her tighter, almost felt like we couldn’t be close enough, almost like I needed her hands on my skin. Maybe she understood, because moved her hands to either side of my neck. Stroked my throat with her thumb.

She pulled back enough to meet my gaze. “You’ll have to visit her, yeah? See Cookie running through the leaves.”

“The dog’s name is Cookie?”

“Yes. She’s teeny and she’s got sandy colored fur with some brown spots like a chocolate chip cookie. So, we named her Cookie.” She kissed my forehead. “My mom’s cool. Promise. But feel free to mull it over.”

I nodded.

Tried not to think about what meeting her mother meant for us because if I did, then it meant something horrible would follow. It always did.