#i was just marking my chests and noticed the odd one out

[blindecho6]

One does not look like the others

[moonstruckme]

It is I, person who asked about the bad car crash one. I have read the one you said! And while yes I think the car crash you described is bad I was wondering if you could do one that's... Worse-? Idk 😅 if not I totally understand lmao.

No I think I get you, thanks for requesting and hope you like it!

cw: car accident, concussion, mention of blood, I already know this is not very accurate, but I did not have it in me to do all the research when I wrote this. Sorry and hope it doesn’t hinder your reading experience </3

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Your own breaths are the loudest sound, which can’t be right. Surely there should be alarms, or screaming, or something. Up until a second ago, the screeching of tires and metal was loud enough to deafen you. 

Your car door squeaks brokenly, a sad echo of the racket from before. The air around you shifts as it comes open, and a moment later there are cold fingers pressing into your jaw. 

You make a low whining sound. “Hey,” you complain. Your lips move oddly, murmuring where you mean to speak. 

“Hi,” a voice behind you replies smoothly. “I’m Sirius, I’m with NHS. Is your neck or back hurting at all, gorgeous?” 

“No. You’re cold.” 

“Lovely. This is my friend Remus, he’s going to push on your hands.” 

A head appears in front of you, upside down and shooting an exasperated look towards the disembodied voice. You don’t understand how these people are moving around so quickly, without you noticing them coming. 

“Hello.” The other man’s—Remus’—gaze softens as he meets your eyes. “Can you tell me if you feel this?” He prods at your hand. 

“Yeah,” you breathe. Your heart is starting to move in your chest, thudding against your ribs like it wants to hurt you. 

“Alright. Can you try pushing up on my hands, please?”

You do. He nods approvingly, giving you a little smile. 

“Good girl. We’re good, Sirius.” 

The cold hands release your face, and you breathe a sigh of relief. It makes your chest ache dully. 

“Beautiful. We ready to move?” 

“Yup.” That’s a third voice, distinct from the others and somewhere you can’t see it. “We’re all set.” 

“Let me just—” Remus’ hands come up around your waist and back, his grip firm, near to bruising. “Okay, I’ve got her. We’re going to unbuckle you and lift you out, okay? Just stay nice and still for us.” 

You’re confused as to what he means, but apparently your silence is consent enough. You feel the buckle of your seatbelt click, and then you’re falling up, Remus’ hold tightening further as he stops your ascent to lift you sideways. 

It’s not until you’re out of the car that you realize you were upside down. Your head feels better, though not by much, and the sun glares at you like it’s punishing you for a wrong you don’t remember having committed. Your arm, suddenly and to your horrified surprise, is in agony. 

A pitchy scraping sound tears from your throat, what would have been a scream if you had the air for one. 

“Here we go, just—yeah—” the third voice speaks as something comes up under your back. “There we are. It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re alright.”

“We’ll get you on pain meds in just a second, doll,” Sirius promises. Someone adjusts your legs so they’re both on the cot, careful of your searing arm, and then you’re moving, the sky shifting above you until you’re looking up at a gray ceiling instead. Time is an odd, fluid thing, marked only by actions and various pains. 

“When did you get here?” you mutter, to no one in particular. 

The third voice is the one to answer you. It’s accompanied by a thick pair of glasses and a sweet face, eyes flickering between you and some equipment he’s messing with. “Just a few minutes ago.” 

“I don’t…I didn’t hear the sirens.” 

He smiles like you’re funny. “Yeah, I think you might’ve been unconscious for that part.” 

You wrack your brain. You don’t remember falling asleep. Only the screeching on the road and then being in your car. Then again, you feel half as though you could be dreaming right now. 

Something sharp bites into your hand. You whimper, the pain small but only adding to every other hurt that’s already far over your threshold. 

“I know,” Sirius shushes you, sticking something to your hand. “I know, babe, but this is going to help soon. You’ll see.” 

“So far I’ve got a concussion, open fracture of the wrist, several lacerations to the face and chest, and bruising around the knees.” Remus’ voice is an odd combination of soft and businesslike. You have a creeping sensation he’s talking about you. “Am I missing anything?” 

“Possible bruising around the chest,” Sirius says. “She was breathing funny earlier.” 

“Right. Hey, love,” Remus voice gentles as he addresses you, “I’m going to move your shirt down to see if your chest is hurt, alright? I’ll be careful, it won’t take long.” 

“Okay,” you manage weakly. 

“Thank you.” He uses both hands to stretch the collar of your shirt, tutting quietly to himself at whatever he sees. He lifts a stethoscope from around his neck, rubbing the metal on his hand for a moment before setting it to your chest. 

You don’t know what he’s listening for, but you’re distracted when the third paramedic—the one with the glasses—starts running what feels like a wet wipe over your forehead. 

“Just cleaning you up a bit,” he says brightly. “Figure we ought to have you looking your best for whoever ends up stitching you up, yeah?” 

“James.” Sirius’ tone is somewhere between chiding and joking and fond, an entanglement of meanings you quite can’t wrap your pounding head around. “Don’t talk like she’s not already stunning. You can hardly improve upon perfection.” 

“Too true,” the other boy agrees readily. 

“Take a breath in for me, please,” says Remus, seemingly ignoring the other two and seemingly also used to doing so. “Just as deep as you can.” 

You try. You do your best, and as your lungs expand the dull ache worsens and worsens until a sharp pain pierces your middle. The air whooshes out of you in a dry sob. 

The stethoscope leaves your skin, and Remus fixes your shirt collar, putting it back in place. Your chest radiates a terrible, throbbing hurt. 

“It’s okay,” James says. His finger brushes your cheek, swiping at wetness you didn’t realize was there. “Oh, honey, it’s okay.” 

“At least a couple of broken ribs,” you hear Remus mutter to the others. Somehow, impossibly, it makes the pain worsen. 

“What’s happening?” you choke out. 

“You’re in an ambulance,” James tells you kindly. “You were in a car accident, and I know you’re in a lot of pain right now, but we’re here to take care of you. We’re going to make sure you’re okay, and then get you to the hospital so they can finish fixing you up. You’ll be alright.” 

The explanation takes you a while to process, but even then your tears don’t seem to want to slow. Your chest pangs with each hitch in your breathing. Eventually Sirius starts talking you through taking slower breaths, trying to calm you down. 

Someone wipes at your face with a small square. It stings, and it comes away light red with your blood and tears. 

“I know it’s scary,” Remus murmurs, “but you’ve already done so, so well. We only have to splint your arm so it doesn’t move and clean some of your bigger cuts, and then we can go to the hospital. Can you let us do that, please? Will you be okay?” 

You take in a ragged breath. “Yeah,” you reply. 

“There we are.” James takes your head between his hands. Something about his grip reassures you. He touches his lips to your forehead, like it’s natural, like it’s nothing. “You’ve got this, sweetheart. Just need you to be brave for us a little while longer.”

[themultifanshipper]

You were expecting Max to want you all to himself this week.

Jesus Christ how wrong you were.

Part 8 of One of the Boys

Warnings: NOT PROOFREAD YET, Foursome, voyeurism, masturbation, Gay shit, like more than usual, shower sex, anal sex (mxm), oral, cum eating, a singular buttplug, none of this is safe or sane but it is 110% consentual

Also inspired by this drawing by @sweetcorn-zhou

It started in the cool down room, apparently.

Soft looks turned into lingering touches and then Max was leaning in to kiss Charles before any of them knew what was happening.

They didn't even go out to celebrate, going straight from their post race duties to Max's hotel room where they spent a long time in the shower exploring each other's bodies.

You received a text from Max that simply said “My hotel room NOW”

Bossy motherfucker, you thought, but you went anyway and knocked on the door out of politeness.

You knew he always left the door unlocked for you but it was still odd that there was no answer from inside, so you pushed the door open and marveled at the unexpected pile of limbs on the bed.

Oscar was in the middle, laying on his back while Charles and Max werre propped up on one arm, making out filthily over him, their hands teasing every piece of skin they could find.

The bed was stupidly large, and the room was stupidly luxurious, but all you could focus on was the three writhing bodies on the bed.

They obviously hadn't noticed you enter so you silently took a seat on the chair facing the bed and watched them.

Oscar was hard and leaking so Charles wrapped a hand around him and started a maddeningly slow pace.

And was that…? No…

From between Oscar's legs you could clearly see the flared base of something that was tucked up inside him.

He had a butt plug inside him. What on earth had they been doing?

Max and Charles separated and looked at the younger man under them, who was whining and throwing his head back in pleasure.

You noticed a few light marks on his neck and chest, and Max looked at them too and grinned at Charles.

The latter dipped down and started littering kisses over the marks, up Oscar's neck and Max grabbed his hair to lift his head up so that Charles could join their lips in a heated kiss, never stopping the movement of his hand on Oscar's cock.

Max leaned down and took one of Oscar's nipples into his mouth, sucking at the bud roughly, making the younger man grunt and buck his hips into Charles' grip.

Oscar panted and looked at Charles with so much lust in his eyes it almost felt like you were intruding on the moment.

Charles halted his movements and wordlessly switched places with him so naturally, it was hard to believe they hadn't planned this out beforehand.

Oscar spread Charles' thighs and was about to shimmy down the bed when Max stopped him.

“Wait, I want to prep him” he muttered and Oscar nodded, giving him the space to slot himself between the Ferrari driver's thighs and conjured a bottle of lube from god knows where.

You bit your lip, trying to be as discreet as possible while you unbuttoned your pants to get some relief as you watched the unexpected, but incredible display of male horniness unfold before your eyes.

You trailed a finger over your folds just as Max was warming up the lube between his, and rubbed one over Charles' rim, making the man sigh and relax into the bed.

He pushed his finger in down to the knuckle, and so did you.

It was exhilarating, timing your self pleasuring with Max's movements as he pumped his finger in and out to prep his friend.

Oscar was kissing him, and teasingly wrapped a hand around Charles, mirroring their postion from before.

Two fingers later and you were shaking almost as much as Charles was as he whined and panted into Oscars mouth.

When Max retracted his fingers, you did too and almost whined at the loss.

“Do you want me to fuck you while Charles rides Oscar?”

You didn't even realise Max was looking at you, being too engrossed in what was happening next to him.

He laughed and called out your name, making you jump and stare at him like a deer in headlights.

“Yes, we knew you were there” he smirked and walked over to you. “Now let's get you out of these clothes, hmm?”

You nodded and smiled as he helped you stand up and pulled your pants down.

Behind him, Charles was straddling Oscar, getting ready to sink down on him as his hands wandered across Oscar's marked up chest.

You were led over to the bed, put on your hands and knees on the edge, so that Max could stand behind you and you could both watch Charles and Oscar.

“Ready?” Max asked, and you all groaned your approval.

You watched in awe as Oscar's cock penetrated Charles at the same time as Max sank into you, and the effect was blinding.

It was like having your very own filthy porn show while getting railed.

You learned very quickly that despite Charles being a high performance athlete, his legs were completely useless as soon as his prostate got any stimulation, so Oscar grabbed his hips tight, and pounded into him from below while Charles held himself steady with his hands on Oscar's chest.

It was quite an impressive display of strength. You knew Oscar could do it, you'd seen him do his hip-thrusts in the gym, but it was still quite the sight to see him bouncing Charles on his cock as if the older man weighed nothing.

Max was also drooling at the way Charles' ass bounced on every hard thrust.

He timed his thrusts with Oscar's, hitting your g-spot dead on every time Oscar hit Charles' prostate, and there was something quite symbiotic about you all being in sync with one another, and even your moans were synchronised with Charles'.

They looked like art. Literal greek statues, all rippling muscles and strong curves as they moved together, sweat mingling as it dripped from Charles' face onto Oscar's flexing abs.

It was filthy, it was raw, and it was a show like no other as Max's cock drove into you harder and harder, chasing his own approaching orgasm.

No one was saying anything, too caught up in the moment, the only sounds in the room being grunts and pants, and the occasional whine from you or Charles when your sweet spots were hit particularly hard.

The coil was tightening in your stomach, and when it snapped your arms buckled, but Max caught you and held you up with an arm around your middle, and the other around your neck, forcing you to keep looking at the other two while you rode the waves of pleasure coursing through you.

Charles' whines were getting higher in pitch and his thighs tensed as he approached his high, while Oscar did his best to hold his own off.

The three men came almost simultaneously, Charles kicking it off with streaks of white painting Oscar's chest.  He used two fingers to scoop some of it up and shoved them into Oscar's waiting mouth.

Oscar groaned around them and came inside Charles immediately, and Max finally allowed himself to release as well, slowing to a halt as you felt his cock twitching inside you.

He put you back down on all fours and pulled out of you gently and instructed you to lay on your back.

You did so, scared that his cum would leak out onto the covers but once again, as if rehearsed, Charles and Oscar came around to kneel at the end of the bed, spreading your legs and taking turns licking stripes up your sensitive leaking cunt.

You moaned at the attention, and each of your hands went to weave into a head of hair between your legs.

“Oh my god” you gasped as one of them (impossible to tell which) added a couple of fingers to help scoop Max's cum out of you, and two pairs of eyes looked up at you lustfully while they ate you out.

It didn't take long before your thighs started shaking and tried to close around their heads but they just kept going until you had another trembling orgasm beneath them.

They licked their lips, and then licked each other's lips (jesus christ what a sight) before standing up and looking expectantly at Max, who was leaning against the frame of the door to the bathroom, smiling at the three of you.

You couldn't help but notice that all three of them were hard again.

“Who's ready for a shower?” Max asked mischievously before turning around and going to turn the water on to get it nice and hot.

The three of you followed after him and you were shocked by the size of the shower. It was a walk-in that was plenty big enough to fit the four of you, with a bench, and had plenty of jets to ensure no one would be left in the cold.

It was quite frankly ridiculous.

But you all filed in and shut the door, letting the hot steam relax your bodies after an intense day.

You predicably ended up sandwiched between Charles and Oscar as they felt you up.

They were both hard and you suggested getting on your knees for them, but they shook their heads.

“No, we want you to feel good too” they explained.

Charles made you turn around and kneel on the bench with your hands on the wall and you instinctively arched your back for him, and the other two groaned.

“Such a good girl for us” Charles muttered, lining himself up and sliding his tip through your folds just to tease you and make you wait a bit more.

Meanwhile Max had bent Oscar over the bench next to you, and was carefully pulling the plug out.

Oscar groaned at the emptiness it left behind after being full for so long, but Max quickly lined up and pushed in just an inch.

Oscar shivered and Max let his head fall onto Oscar's shoulder blades with a sigh.

“How have we never done this before?” he muttered.

“Haaaa- Ah!” is all Oscar could manage as Max pushed himself in completely.

Charles chuckled and pushed into you right after, and you let out a similar noise.

You all giggled breathlessly at the absurdity and hotness of the situation before you and Oscar were cut off with matching powerful thrusts.

Your breaths caught in your throats as you looked at each other, eyes lidded and jaws slack as you were both railed against the wall by the two similarly insatiable men behind you.

It didn't take any of you long to cum at all.

You all felt boneless afterwards, cleaning up quickly and climbing into the ginormous bed together, none of you having the strength to go back to your own hotels.

So you fell asleep like that.

You in the middle of Max and Oscar, and Charles cuddled into Max’s other side as your breathing evened out and you all passed out pretty much immediately.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Bloodlove

AN: I'm a JJAM hater but, when I saw these clips of HyunSung...I couldn't help myself. I have a million other fics I'm working on but, HyunSung will always take priority lol. Also, I do want to make more banners for my fics but, I couldn't find many pictures of the two of them with (fake) blood smeared on their faces so, we're going to have to settle for the classic three photos for this one. Can't believe it's taken me this long to post something HyunSung focused.

Synopsis: The two strange men that you've developed a bit of an...odd relationship with decide to pay you another visit. They're especially famished tonight.

General tags and warnings: Hwang Hyunjin x Han Jisung x Fem! Reader, Hyunjin and Jisung are vampires, lots of blood and biting involved, they initially enter Reader's home without her consent, acquaintances to potential lovers lol?, they're all in love/infatuated with each other your honour and not much plot.

Smut tags and warnings: dubcon if you squint since Reader does all of this after HyunSung drink a substantial amount of her blood and there's one joke about compulsion but, it's not brought up after that and there's no actual compelling that happens, lots of blood and kissing with blood, lots of biting, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unintentional temperature play because they're undead, breast and nipple play (f. receiving), HyunSung being able to smell Reader's arousal, pussy sniffing once (f. receiving), dirty talk, Reader getting teary eyed, mxm but it's only kissing in this but, it's implied HyunSung have done more, petnames, manhandling (they have super strength because, y'know, vampires), piv sex without a condom, dirty talk, clawing, creampies, lots of cum, cumplay of sorts, Reader realises in real time she might have a creampie kink, unrealistic sex because they're vampires lol, marking, bruising, brief mentions of masturbation and implied aftercare.

Word count: 5.8k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

The first thing you register is your heart thundering in your ribcage the moment you jolt out of your sleep. Bringing your shaky hand to your chest, you're not sure what startled you awake: the storm raging outside your bedroom window or whatever nightmare you were experiencing that's already rapidly fading from your memory. Your mind is having difficulty catching up to the anxiety still fresh in your veins. Remnants of sleep making everything hazy and disorientated at the edges. 

“Bad dream?” 

You nearly jump out of your skin when you finally notice the two figures who have seemingly made themselves at home on your windowsill. You nearly scream out of reflex but, your brain boots up in time to inform you that your home isn't being invaded and the two men lounging in your bedroom are not strangers. Well, they are but, not really. Half-strangers? Acquaintances? You're not sure what you'd categorise your relationship as but, it's somewhere between more than acquaintances but, definitely less than friends. 

“What are you two doing here?” You hiss, struggling to make them out in your dark room with the moon and city lights being of little help. Shooting them a deeply unamused glare while you attempt to calm your racing heart and lessen the anxiety still circulating in your system. 

“What, we can't pay our favourite girl a visit?” asks the shorter man. It may be dark but, you can see Jisung's grin clear as day. You decidedly ignore the implications of his phrasing of ‘favourite girl’ because you're already dealing with far too much right now and you doubt it's even 4 a.m. 

“I doubt you're here for just a visit,” you mumble under your breath, reaching for the water bottle you keep on your nightstand. Taking a generous sip that significantly helps you feel better and less like a mess of stress and dehydration. 

“Are you complaining? That'd be a first,” the taller man chimes in, amusement colouring his voice and heating your blood in a way you're not sure you'll ever be ready to think too much about. The awful part is, he's not wrong. Whatever this…arrangement the three of you have has gone on without any hitches for months now. You're not sure why you let them slip into your apartment and drink from you. In the few instances that you've really sat with yourself and attempted to find out why, nothing that feels valid has come up. Pity? Who pities vampires of all people? A sense of duty? What duty should you feel to strangers? A gesture of kindness? You'd like to think you're a decent person but, this is far beyond the scope of simple generosity. 

So, what is it? 

“I'm complaining because you two snuck into my room while I was asleep and scared the shit out of me. Usually you do this while I'm, you know, awake and with some kind of head's up,” you respond, setting your bottle back down and looking at the two men. Well, they're far beyond ordinary men but, the word ‘vampire’ still feels so foreign on your tongue and even in your thoughts. The two of them have always seemed deeply connected to each other from the moment they approached you that fateful Friday night. Moving towards you like a well-oiled machine, their steps in time with one another. 

“Sorry,” at least Hyunjin has the decency to sound half-sincere but, the hunger in his eyes betrays him, “We're just starving and it's been a month,” is the explanation he offers as though you three haven't been doing this for months now. What an absurd turn your life has taken. If you ever found the courage to tell Minho and Seungmin about this, you're certain your best friends would think you'd watched the Twilight movies one too many times and have certifiably lost your mind. They wouldn't be entirely wrong either. 

Shoving your heavy blanket to the side, you expose your body for them to ogle thoroughly. You don't have to look up at them to know they're burning holes into you right now. The excitement from them is palpable. It rolls off of them in waves. You still haven't quite managed to not feel on edge after all this time but, it's not fear or dread that churns in the pit of your stomach. 

“Well, I'm ready. Have it,” is all you say, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. You're sure the two of them would never harm you but, you've made it a habit to keep these…sessions as clinical as possible. Holding them at a safe distance. Which, frankly, sounds insane since they regularly invade your personal space to drink your blood. Maybe you have lost it and this is all a months long hallucination. 

Jisung startles you out of your thoughts by placing a cool hand on your thigh. Goosebumps erupt on your skin instantaneously and you resist the impulse to shudder when his molten eyes find yours, “I'm just gonna move you a little. Make both of us a little more comfortable,” and just like that you find yourself tugged to the edge of your bed as though you were the same weight as a feather. His display of strength prompts you to claw at your sheets briefly. The first time he did this, you thought it was all a ploy to get you into bed but, true to his word, he really was only interested in your blood. You tried not to let your disappointment show at the time. Now, as his fingers ghost over your thighs and he kneels between them, dragging his nose along your inner thigh, it's still so incredibly hard not to let your thoughts wander. 

Thankfully, you've grown accustomed to the pain so, you only flinch minimally when he sinks his fangs into your skin. The groan that drags itself out of the depths of his chest goes decidedly ignored by you. Hyunjin slinks his way behind you, long fingers gently tilting your head to the side for easier access. His approach is what you'd been expecting the first time. The classic vampire. In the glimpses you've gotten of the two, Hyunjin does seem like more of the idea of a vampire you've been fed since you were eleven. His hair tickles the parts of your skin it touches, providing some reprieve from the pinch his bite brings. 

You've always wondered why they do this together. Why not have their own individual moment with you? To feed from you? Maybe this just helps them save time. Maybe it's some weird vampire bylaw that you're too human to understand. It's such an odd sensation feeling your blood leave your body this way. Even now, it's dizzying and fogs up your brain. It doesn't help that they seem especially hungry tonight so, they're drinking much faster than you've grown used to. It's not unpleasant, though. Just…different. Still a touch unfamiliar. 

Surprisingly, Jisung is the first one to stop. He isn't exactly the best at showing restraint.  The handful of times Hyunjin has had to butt in by either forcibly telling him to stop or dragging him by his hair off of you speak for themselves. So, you're left a little confused when he unlatches himself from your thigh of his own freewill and looks up at you. Something horrible, animalistic and wanton simmers in the pit of your stomach when you notice the fresh blood generously smeared across his lips and parts of his cheeks. Your blood is all over his handsome face while he's staring at you from between your thighs. It was easier before. When he'd just drink your blood, heal you with his saliva and disappear with Hyunjin into the night. Having him here, looking like this is far more than you can take.  

“I can smell you, you know,” he says, a lazy drawl in his voice and you notice the drop in octave immediately. His eyes that are usually alight with hunger look different. They burn with something else entirely. A different kind of hunger that makes your heart leap into your throat and your pussy pulse. 

“Wh-What?” comes your intelligent reply, “Smell me?” you'd like to think you're trying your best with the loop you've been thrown for. 

Hyunjin chooses then to stop feeding off of you. This time, you fail spectacularly at shoving down the shudder that runs down your spine when his cool breath hits the shell of the ear. The smell of your blood drifting to your nostrils, invading your senses, “He means he can smell how aroused you are,” he whispers into your ear as if Jisung can't hear him perfectly well from where he's kneeling. 

His words shatter your brain for a few seconds. All you can do is blink while your brain attempts to make sense of what they've both said. The lack of blood isn't helping. True to fiction, you know their smelling abilities are far beyond that of any human. Sparse conversation over the time you've been doing this has clued you in enough but, it didn't occur to you that that particular ability could be used beyond smelling blood. 

“We don't want to scare you,” Hyunjin mutters gently, large hands ghosting over your waist but, not providing you with the relief of actually touching you. You wonder, briefly, whether compulsion is one of their powers too because the lull in his voice causes your lids to droop and your stomach to twist in a way that isn't wholly unpleasant. “It's just– we– you– you're something else,” he pauses for a second and you're not sure if it's to collect himself or something else entirely, “We haven't felt this way about someone in decades.” The pure yearning in his tone throws you completely. Your eyes widening as you try and process everything he's said while your blood trickles out of you. 

“We?” you ask in only what can be described as a combination of awe and confusion, glancing at the man between your thighs whose scorching gaze hasn't left you and Hyunjin for a second. Your blood is still all over his face. 

“Yes,” Jisung answers immediately and you've never heard one word carry so much weight, “Why do you think we only come to you? Why we only drink from you?” 

You thought the whole them being vampires and drinking from you thing was a lot but, this is a whole different league. Hyunjin allows himself to gently lay his hand on you in what you can only assume is a gesture meant to ease your nerves but, it does the complete opposite. “I didn't know you two only fed off of me,” you whisper, trying your best to gather your bearings. Fiddling with your sheets and avoiding looking at either of them in the hopes that you don't say or do something incredibly stupid. Well, more stupid. 

“I'm– I need to know what you two want from you,” you whisper, afraid that if you speak any louder that you'll shatter the delicate bubble the three of you are in. 

“We just want you,” Jisung answers without a second thought and you wonder just how many times the two of them have spoken about this. “In whatever way you'll let us have you,” Hyunjin adds just as quickly but, no less passionately. His grip on you tightening but, his loosens it before you can even blink. 

You blink harshly. Stars dancing behind your eyelids. You really are about to do something very, very dumb, aren't you? 

“I don't know what I want from this. From you two but, I–I um think I want to see where this goes. So, o–okay,” you whisper, still not looking at either of them. Your heart races when Hyunjin carefully grasps your face so, you have no choice but, to look at him. The hunger and lust you somewhat expected to be present in his eyes are there but, there's a quiet softness in them too that's making it really difficult for you to breathe, “We'll take it slow, okay?” He assures you, leaning down and giving you ample time to tell him no or push him away but, you don't. Because you want this. You want him. You want Jisung. You want them. 

Surprising perhaps everyone in the room, you close the distance between the two of you. You kiss him clumsily and are a little taken aback to taste your blood on his lips but, it's not off-putting. In fact, you might even like it a little. Hyunjin doesn't give you much time to ponder on that thought because he's kissing you back with so much enthusiasm, large hands making themselves at home on your waist, palming every inch of you he can. You gasp into his mouth when you feel Jisung licking at his bite marks, closing them up. Hyunjin's tongue snakes its way into your mouth just as Jisung litters your inner thigh with sticky, bloodied kisses. 

“Is it okay if I taste you?” He asks and you're not sure you could answer him properly even without Hyunjin's seeming determination not to let your mouth free. Whether it's the lack of oxygen and blood going to your brain, you feel just the slightest bit delirious and with delirium apparently comes confidence. Your hand finds the hem of your sleeping gown easily and you tug it up your thighs haphazardly, exposing as much of your slick folds to him as you can and hoping he takes the very obvious green light. 

Fortunately for both of you, Jisung is not an idiot and he snatches the invitation as readily as you offer it. Hyunjin let's you have a moment to breathe just as Jisung shoves himself impossibly close to you, acting as though there's no other place he'd rather be than with his head between your thighs and his hands burning imprints into them. “You smell so good,” Hyunjin groans behind you, pressing bloody kisses into your neck and lapping up the blood that's trickled out of you and dried on your skin. Large hands softly kneading your tits over your gown, drinking in every reaction you offer to both of them. 

“She smells even better here,” Jisung comments before pressing his nose into your pussy and inhaling deeply. Embarrassment and desire heat your face and make your walls clench in equal parts. “Ji–Jisung,” you hiss but, it sounds more like a whimper than anything else. He doesn't respond but, you feel him smirk against you. Watching you like a hawk as he takes his first taste of you, his tongue dragging itself from your entrance to your clit. His firm grasp keeps you from bucking your hips into his face. “I bet you taste wonderful, sweetheart,” Hyunjin drawls against your skin, dragging his fangs along your neck while he tugs your gown down to let your tits bounce free. He laughs breathlessly into your neck when Jisung hums in conformation. “Maybe I'll get to taste you later too,” he whispers and you don't have much time to dwell on the thought because Jisung starts lapping at your clit with unabashed enthusiasm. 

Hyunjin keeps you thoroughly in his grasp when your body attempts to jolt from the flurry of sensations its hit with. You couldn't stop the drawn out moans and curses that fall from your lips even if you wanted to. Your eyes flutter and wetness further smears Jisung's face with every kiss and lick. Hyunjin, for his part, has grown thoroughly infatuated with your tits. Kneading them in his massive hands and groaning into your skin every time he toys with your nipples to gauge what you like the best. You think he nearly bites you again when he discovers a drag of his thumbs is all it takes for you to mewl in his hold and seek out his mouth. He readily kisses you. Pouring what you can only imagine is months worth of frustration and desire into this kiss. You can practically taste it. Well, that and your blood. 

He steadies you when Jisung presses two fingers against your dripping entrance. You can feel the way he watches you slowly swallow them. They slip in easily given how beyond wet you are and the strained ‘fuck’ that he whispers makes you grip him tighter. They feel…odd. Not uncomfortable or unwelcome but, just different from what you're used to. Their coolness is foreign but, Jisung uses that to his advantage given how scorching your walls are. “Fuck,” he moans against your pussy, giving your clit a second to breathe, “How is everything about you so good? You taste good, you feel even better,” he mutters, a bit fucked out before knocking the wind out of you by sucking on you while dragging his cold fingers along your sensitive walls. 

“Hyun-Hyunjin,” you cry into his mouth, grasping his forearm for…what? You don't know but it helps. “I've got you, my angel,” he replies without a second thought, nipping at your bottom lip while his hands and Jisung's mouth and fingers force you closer to an edge you hadn't even realised you were approaching. 

When did your other hand find its way into Jisung's hair? 

The thought evaporates from your mind the moment Jisung's fingers find the spot inside of that causes your vision to dance and your thighs to clamp around his head. Not that he minds even the slightest bit. He seems more determined with etching the taste of your pussy into his taste buds and bringing you to the brink of insanity with his fingers. Hyunjin greedily swallows all of the noises the two of them pluck from you. Only stopping when you have to separate for air, not that his mouth leaves you. Immediately attaching itself to every part of your shoulder he can reach. Heavy eyes watching the way your tits fill his hands and the way your back bows when he pinches your nipples a touch too harshly. 

“Hyun–Ji–I'm so–I think–” your tongue feels like it weighs a million kilograms all of a sudden and, it's really, really hard to speak or think beyond the two men touching and tasting you. “It's okay, beloved,” Hyunjin hushes against your neck, “You want to let go for us, don't you?” you're not sure what sounds more tempting: his suggestion or his voice. “You want to cum for us, right?” He continues, giving your tits an especially harsh squeeze and rutting his hard cock against your lower back, “Cum all over Sungie’s face while I play with your beautiful tits, huh?” 

Something within you snaps. Whether it's your sanity or the proverbial knot in the pit of your stomach, you're not sure but, you become undone within an instant. You don't think you've ever cum this hard in your life. Everything sounds distant and feels hazy but, you do feel Hyunjin and Jisung keeping you from totally crumpling onto your bed. Vaguely, you make out one of them saying ‘pretty’ and what you assume is another one of them saying ‘so hot.’ You're not sure how long it takes for you to come back to yourself but, eventually, you do. Blinking open bleary eyes to find Jisung staring at you with a mess of your wetness and blood all over the lower half of his face. It's easily the hottest image you've ever seen in your life and you hope you never forget it. 

“You okay?” Hyunjin asks behind you, large hands having drifted from your tits to soothing run along your waist while you attempt to steady your breathing and stop your thighs from shaking. “Ye-Yeah,” you reply, cringing a little at the hoarseness in your voice, “That was just um a lot and I need a–a second but, I'm good,” you finish, giving them a weak smile that you hope conveys that you are really okay despite the way your thighs quiver. 

“Thank fuck. I was worried we might have gone too far,” Jisung pipes up for the first time in what feels like ages. The depth of his voice makes your stomach drop and you bite back a whimper at the way your sensitive pussy reacts to him. Could your body give you a second? You just came, Jesus Christ. 

“Come here.” 

The words shake you out of your thoughts and you think he's talking to you but, before you can blink he's on his feet and dragging Hyunjin into a mess of spit and tongue by his hair. All you can do is watch the two of them with your mouth parted and your fingers attempting to find leverage in your sheets. You were so wrong. This is easily the hottest image you've ever seen in your fucking life. Your clit throbs and walls clench when Jisung pulls away and pins you down with a look that's far too knowing and smug for your liking. “What? Don't look at me like that,” he has the nerve to sound amused while you're sitting here already wound up. Again. “I just wanted Jinnie to have a taste of your sweet pussy, that's all,” he licks his upper lip for good measure and you're pretty sure you've never wanted to throttle someone more than right now.

“He wasn't wrong,” Hyunjin groans into your ear, his hands gripping your hips fiercely, pressing you against him and making you feel the outline of his cock, “You taste…divine,” the reverence in his voice makes goosebumps arise on your skin and you honestly think you might die if you don't have the two of them right now. 

“Please, please I want–I need to feel both of you. It hurts. I feel so empty and I'm so wet–”

Hyunjin and Jisung seemingly have no reservations about taking the next step in whatever the three of you have because you're blinking up at them within a flash, both of their eyes flashing with intent and want so visceral that your heart leaps in your chest. Hyunjin is the first to move. Positioning himself between your thighs and descending on your mouth immediately. “You have no idea how long we've been waiting for this,” he mutters before pulling away from you. You're about to complain but, he discards your gown faster than you can process. Leaving you totally exposed to the two of you.

“You're so beautiful,” Jisung whispers from somewhere above you and, your eyes catch his as he lounges against your headboard. He shoots you a lazy smile and it does terrible things to your heart. Before you can dwell too much about why he's sitting there you hear rustling and focus your attention back on Hyunjin. 

You're thoroughly unprepared for the sight of a shirtless Hyunjin impatiently tugging his pants and boxers down his slender hips. Seeing him without a shirt is earth shattering in its own right but, watching the way his hand wraps around his cock makes your bedroom spin a little. He has the audacity to shoot you a little grin like his cock isn't inches away from your weeping entrance and you don't hear Jisung's own staggered breathing behind you. His eyes never leave your face. Even as he shuffles closer to you. Even when his hands gently rest against your thighs. Even when his cock rests on your pussy. 

“Is this okay?” He whispers, dragging his cock along your slit and your body jolts totally without your consent when his tip brushes against your clit. “Ah, yes. Yes. Hyunjin please just–” you words are halted by a gasp when he slowly starts to push into you. You shouldn't be shocked at this point but, he's colder than you expect. And longer. And thicker. You can barely make out his face in the haze you're in and all you can do is let your mouth hang open when he finally bottoms out. His grip on your thighs tightens and his hand finds a home in the hollow of your throat while he gives you a bit to adjust to stretch. 

Without much thought, your hands find his broad back and he must read that as some sort of sign because he's pulling out before snapping back inside of you after that. The air is punched out of your lungs but, he continues. Gradually finding a pace that has your toes curling and your nails digging into the cool skin of his back. “You can claw at me all you want,” he whispers in your ear. Chuckling at the way your pussy tightens around him and your fingers follow his suggestion without your prompting. “I'm not one of those mortals,” he continues, “I can take it.” 

And so you do. Basking in the freedom of letting him know just how much you're enjoying being fucked on his cock and his hands more than likely leaving your thighs bruised. The thought of covered in their marks makes your pussy clench and you can't help but, wish they were both touching you right now. 

Hyunjin kisses down your neck until he reaches one of your tits. Covering them in kisses and licks. Grazing them with his fangs and delighting in the way you shudder underneath him. You're a woman on a mission, though. Turning your head until you find Jisung's hooded eyes and his hand around his cock. The sight makes your lips part and even more of your wetness gush onto Hyunjin's cock. 

“Ji–Jisung,” you whine trying your best to look at his handsome face but, it's incredibly challenging when his pretty cock is right there. “Want you too ah,” you manage to gasp out just as Hyunjin sinks his fangs into your tit, sipping on your blood while his pace increases and the obscene sounds of him fucking you echo through your bedroom. Jisung doesn't respond at first. Perhaps needing a second. Then, before you can blink, he's leaning down and devouring you whole with his mouth. Swallowing all of your mewls and whimpers and moans as though he needs them to live. 

“You're killing me here, baby,” he groans against your lips when he finally remembers you need air, “I want nothing more than to fuck you with Jinnie but, we don't know if you'll be able to take it. Maybe next time, okay?” He soothes, toying with your hair and giving you a smile that's filled with promise. You want to tell him you can. You can more than take both of them right now but, you can barely think coherently let alone speak so, all you do is pout and nod in resignation. “Don't give me that look,” he laughs, kissing you once again, “I'll make love to you as soon as Jinnie is done.” 

You may not be experiencing them at the same time but, you can live with them both…making love to you as Jisung put it. He leaves you with one more kiss, letting you focus on the other vampire currently, painstakingly slowly drinking from your tit while he snaps his hips into you. You never thought you'd want them to drink from you so badly but, watching the way Hyunjin revels in your taste, you can't help the fire it fans in the very core of your being. 

“Hyunjin,” you moan and that's all it takes for him to lick his way into your mouth and fold you further into your mattress. You're certain you'll feel the ache in your thighs tomorrow but, you couldn't care less. “You're gonna make me cum,” he moans into your mouth, snapping his hips faster and faster into you while hiz grip on you remains steadfast, “Gonna make me fill up this gorgeous, pretty, tight, hot pussy,” he continues, and you feel him throb inside you and you don't think you've ever wanted someone to cum inside you so intensely. 

“I fuck want it,” you respond, your fingers finding their way into his hair, “Want you to cum inside me, Hyu–Jinnie.” And just like that he slams his mouth into yours and holds you in place while he fills you with his cum as promised. It's cold but, not awful. Outside of how hot he sounds whimpering into your mouth, you're struck by the fact that he's still hard and his cum seems unending. Already starting to trickle out of you while he's still cumming. The realisation causes you to cling to him tighter and your walls to clench around him, milking him for as much as he'll give you. Fuck. 

Eventually, it does stop and he kisses you much gentler now. Even pressing playful kisses along your cheeks and your nose. “You're so pretty,” he sighs dreamily like you hung the moon in the sky just for them. He gives you one last kiss before leaning back and pulling out of you. You knew he was still hard but, seeing it with your own two eyes is a whole different matter. All you can do is blink in astonishment and watch it bob, covered in a mixture of your combined fluids. “It's a vampire perk,” is his explanation and you can tell he and Jisung are trying really hard not to laugh at your shock. 

“It's definitely one of the fun parts,” Jisung adds while tugging off his shirt. You're not sure where or when his pants disappeared but, you're not complaining. “So can you guys like just…cum and stay hard all time?” You ask looking between the two for some sort of sense to be found in all of this. “Not all the time,” Hyunjin replies, making himself at home at the foot of your bed. It's a little hard to focus on what he's saying when he's naked and posed like a Greek god but, you persevere, “But vampires have significantly better stamina than humans. It takes a lot to really wear us out,” he finishes, gesturing vaguely to his still very hard cock for emphasis. 

Before you can think to ask how they get hard to begin with since you don't think they have blood and what exactly their cum consists of, Jisung invades your personal space. His kisses are needy and desperate. His hands practically shake from how much he wants you and, if you're being honest, your ego is going to be through the roof after tonight. “Waited for this for so long,” he mutters into your mouth, positioning himself between your stained thighs. The mixture of Hyunjin's cum and your own wetness provide Jisung with more than enough to sink into you with ease. He's not as big as Hyunjin but, your eyes flutter and toes curl all the same. 

“Fuck, you're so perfect,” he grits out into the hollow of your throat before starting to move. Jisung seems to read you pretty well because his pace isn't slow or gentle and, for that, you're grateful. He fucks you thoroughly, making sure you feel every part of him while his hands explore every expanse of your body they can. Much like Hyunjin, he's especially into your tits. Savoring every gasp and arch of your back he can coax out of you. A garbled mess of his name and a curse fall from your lips when he sinks his fangs into your other breast. Unlike Hyunjin, Jisung doesn't drink slowly. He's greedy. Bloodthirsty. Blood smearing across his mouth while his pace picks up considerably. 

Tears spring to the corner of your eyes when he drags his thumb along your swollen clit. His grasp on your hip keeps you firmly in place. Forcing you to feel every sensation and, it hits you all at once just how close you've been. 

“Ji– oh my god– Jisung,” you cry out, gripping your sheets out of the sheer need to just ground yourself with something. Jisung watches you like a hawk the entire time. Lidded eyes only drifting between your thighs from time to time to watch the way he fucks Hyunjin's cum out of you but, he's more focused on your face. He has to see you when you finally shatter. He has to. 

It's a particular harsh circle he draws with his thumb that finally pushes you over the edge. Thankfully, he lets you catch your breath. Slowing down his pace considerably and slowly fucking you through your climax while he holds your hips. If you weren't on a totally different planet, you'd notice his attempt at soothing you with the circles he rubs into your skin. Still, despite his best efforts to let you come back to yourself, he's a goner the second you blink those teary eyes open and look straight at him. 

A weak whimper is all you can muster when you feel him cum. It honestly doesn't make any sense how hot he is. How hot they both are. You'd gladly give into the unconsciousness you can feel creeping up on you any other time but, right now you're too enamored with watching the way his inky hair sticks to his face and the way his mouth hangs open while he fills you to the point of leakage. Yeah, you've definitely never felt this full before and you're wondering whether the way your pussy flutters at the knowledge is something you even have the energy to unpack tonight. 

He gives you one last kiss before pulling out of you. You're sure you look like a total wreck right now and you can only imagine the state your sheets are in. However, sleep is calling your name and you can already feel yourself starting to drift off. 

“We know you're probably tired but, we need to clean you up, beloved,” Hyunjin says, startling you awake. The apologetic look he gives you is sweet but, you're so exhausted. You doubt you could move even if you wanted to. 

“But ‘m tired,” you mutter, rolling onto your side. 

“We know, baby but, we gotta clean you up and change your sheets,” Jisung chimes in, sounding as apologetic as Hyunjin looks. Before you can argue further, you find yourself in what you quickly realise are Hyunjin's arms. Blinking up at the man while he carries you like you weigh nothing in the direction of your bathroom. 

How does he still manage to look so pretty? 

“I'll help you clean up while Ji changes your sheets,” he says with a smile and you try your hardest to ignore the gymnastics routine your heart is doing. Jisung shoots you an equally as endearing smile over Hyunjin's shoulder before focusing his attention back on trying to clean up the travesty that is your bed at the moment. God, his ass is so cute. 

Allowing yourself to relax in Hyunjin's arms, maybe whatever your new normal is won't be so bad after all.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Stray Kids Masterlist | Ko-Fi

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

@idkwthgoitmww today is your day! <3 thanks for the request! Words: 1,226 Pairing: Negan Smith x Fem!Reader Warnings: language, descriptions of blood and injuries Summary: When Carol removes Negan from Alexandria and claims the council "banished" him, he doesn't expect to see anyone from the community again. Until Y/N shows up at his door for a visit which quickly goes sideways. A/N: I think this is just the first half of a little fic that was supposed ot be a short one shot, but I literally had no time to finish it today, so if you like it, let me know and I'll work on finishing it up when I can!

It was only mid-afternoon and Negan was beyond ready for the day to be over... He was already contemplating trying to sleep just so time would pass more quickly, but the thought that he'd wake up in the middle of the night and be unable to fall back asleep had stopped him.

The nights were dark in that little cabin alone. His thoughts were poor company. He was pouring himself a cup of water from the metal pitcher when he heard boots on the little wooden porch. He froze and strained his hearing. They approached the door slowly and then stopped. A board creaked softly underfoot. Then came a sharp resounding knock.

Negan set the pitcher down and his hand went to the fireplace poker laying on the hearth. "Who's there?" he called out. His voice was gruff and deep, markedly unwelcoming.

There was a moment of silence before your voice drifted through the wood. You sounded ...tired? "It's me. I would have called first, but—you know... zombie apocalypse and all that."

A grin grew on his face. This was an unprecedented and unexpected turn of events. His hand left the fireplace poker and he hurried to pull open the door. You were leaning against one side of the doorframe, but straightened up as he came into view. Negan was smiling at you, his hazel eyes surprised but crinkled at the corners. "Well, Hell, doll... You're about to make my week," he said.

"Your week? That's some low bar you have, Negan."

His smile quickly started to fade as he noticed you were a bit disheveled and there was a cut or smear of blood on your left ear. There was also a noticeable red mark on one side of your neck and something that looked like a fresh scratch. "You okay?" he asked, a shadow overtaking his features.

"I'm fine," you answered. "Are you going to leave me standing out here?"

Negan stepped back to let you pass by him but he was scrutinizing you carefully. "You sure? Because if I didn't know any better I'd say you had some trouble on the way here" There was a cavern between his eyebrows, deep lines of worry.

"Huh?" You tore your eyes away from the interior of the cabin and turned to look at him again.

"Your neck. And your ear, doll. What happened?"

Your hand flew to touch the top of your ear and you winced lightly as your fingers made contact with the wound. You gulped. "Just—had a little scuffle on the way here. I'm fine. Really."

"What kind of scuffle?" Negan asked, watching as you again turned to take in the inside of his cabin. You dropped your pack next to the little sofa against one wall. "That better not be a scratch from a walker on your neck," Negan said, his stomach turning even as the words left his mouth.

You turned and rolled your eyes. "No," you said. "Jesus, you think I'm some kind of amateur? Like I can't handle a walker."

"Hey, shit happens, doll," he said seriously. "Plenty of badasses have bit the dust from just the right shitstorm of shitty circumstances."

"No, it's not from a walker," you said, turning away from him again, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as if to shield yourself from further probing questions. You made yourself busy thumbing open the few cabinets on the far wall. Most of them were bare except for layers of dust, the odd spider web or dead bug, and of course a nice sprinkling of mouse shit. "Nice place you've got here," you said sarcastically.

Negan let out a low chuckle. "Yeah, Carol really went above and beyond finding me something special."

You turned and glanced toward the opposite wall. There were ample shelves flanking the fireplace which held a few of Negan's personal items including some books and folded linens. A couple lanterns were set around the room. "It's not a total loss. Could use a good cleaning though... and maybe a little more living in," you said pointedly, casting a look in his direction. "What have you been doing since you got here?"

Negan didn't want to tell you the uncomfortable truth—wallowing in self-pity and regret over his past actions. Hallucinating in the wee hours of the morning when sleep evaded him. He deflected. "You think I'm going to give up on hearing about that 'scuffle' so easily? What happened, doll?"

You sighed and sank down slowly on the part of the sofa that looked the least dusty. "It was nothing. I just ran into a small group on the way here and—and had to deal with them."

The shadow settled back over Negan's features. "Small group? Deal with them?" he repeated.

You sighed and avoided his eyes. "That's what I said..."

"Well, excuse me for giving a shit, but what exactly does that mean? You ran into some people and ended up with a cut in your ear and a scratch and bruise on your neck? Fill in the blanks for me," he insisted, his concern growing by the moment.

You let out a laugh you hoped sounded casual. "You haven't even asked me why I'm here!"

"I already know the fuckin' answer to that. You missed the fuck out of me and couldn't go another day without my handsome face. Now give me the details, doll. Do I need to go looking out there for some shitheads?"

"No! I told you. I dealt with them!'

Negan let out a frustrated sigh. "Why're you being so cagey about this?" he prodded.

"Maybe because I want you to leave it alone," you retorted, a steely edge to your voice. "Jesus, Negan! I'm here! It—it doesn't fucking matter!"

But he was looking at you through narrowed eyes, clearly suspicious and concerned, but at the sharpness of your tone he conceded. He sighed, sinking down in one of the chairs at the little table in the middle of the room. "Alright... why are you here then? Not that I'm not thrilled to see you. When Carol 'banished' me to this little corner of solitude I pretty much figured that'd be the last I saw of anyone from Alexandria."

Your eyes flitted up to meet his again. You shrugged, trying to ignore your nerves. "Figured I'd come check on you. Make sure you weren't swimming in a pit of despair."

Negan laughed dryly. "Wow. You give a shit about my mental state, doll? Careful. That's practically flirting in my book... Should I start unbuttoning?" he asked, grinning.

You rolled your eyes. "Shut up," you muttered, climbing to your feet, trying hard to suppress a wince. "I brought you a few supplies. I'm not sure what Carol left you with." You grabbed the loop on the top of your pack and started lifting it up, but the weight of it—you felt like white hot lightning shot through your entire body. Your vision went black and you were vaguely aware of dropping your pack and starting to crumple.

Negan was on his feet and catching you as you dropped into unconsciousness, swearing under his breath as you tipped into his arms like a ragdoll. "Doll? Hey, wake up, darlin'!" But you were out cold and lay completely limp in his arms. "Well, shit." A/N: Raise your hand if you want a Part 2! Sorry to leave you on a cliffhanger. Literally was not my intention (this time). I've worked over 30 hours in the last three days and am pretty busy and worn out! Drop me a note to motivate me to finish this up <3 k love you byeeee

[motthe]

may we please have first snowfall with rival viktor x female reader🙇‍♀️

my mutual!!! love of my life i hope you enjoy it!!!

warnings: sad/moody reader, she wears glasses, modern au, some yelling

The beginning of winter had left the majority of Viktor’s classmates irritable seeing as it was the earliest slot. It didn’t help that he was the professor’s assistant in his last one of the day as well.

He preferred the earlier class. They were shorter with their tempers, yes, but at least he didn’t have to deal with you.

He hated to admit the two of you mirrored one another. Where he was forced to keep an eye on the students, grade, and tutor when needed, you did the same as Professor Singed’s assistant in his biology classes.

At some point it had become a tug of war of sorts—you pestering him about his homework to him marking up your paper on physics. Neither of you could stand the other when it came to being corrected.

It seemed the frosted windshields and clouded breaths had begun to wear you down this week. You snapped as easy as ever, but where Viktor was used to your prompt answers and back talk, silence had become your newest weapon.

The switch up was quite honestly driving him insane. You’d merely scowled at him when he passed out the exam today instead of one of your usual snarky greetings. And where you were the first one done with tests, you were now the last one working.

Perhaps it was the last day before the holiday break, but you were less put together as usual. The skirts and vests you’d worn even with the freezing weather had changed to oversized sweaters and pants. You wore glasses—something he’d never seen throughout the semester. They were…well-suited to your features.

The class ended at eight. It was five minutes to when you stood from your chair, careful in taking the steps as you turned in the packet with nary a word. Professor Heimerdinger had left halfway through the test to deal with a private affair, leaving Viktor to put away the exams to grade later on.

“Cutting it close, are we?” he murmured, shuffling the papers together as you turned in the pencil to the box the professor left out for anyone who was in need of one.

That was another odd thing to jot down—you never forgot your school supplies and yet you’d rushed through the door just before class began.

“Yeah,” you scoffed, turning to leave with one strap of your bag over your shoulder. It was halfway open.

“Your bag—” he began.

The next thing he knew your hand was slamming on the desk in front him, eyes seething behind their framed lenses as you stared him down.

“I’m not in the fucking mood, Viktor. Can’t you take a hint?”

He waited, swallowing the anger building in the back of his throat. Taking a slow, deep breath, he leveled you with a calm look.

“Your bag,” he repeated, letting the words sink in, “it’s open.”

The dent between your brows morphed from anger to confusion before you pulled your bag around to check. You zipped it up with a sigh.

“Jesus…” You shook your head, running a hand over your face as you turned away. “I’m sorry—you didn’t deserve that.”

He blinked. Truly, he understood why you would apologize, but he never once would have believed you of all people would ever do so to him.

You sniffed, the sound echoing in the empty room. His hand flinched over the packets as you made for the door.

“Have a good holiday break, Viktor. Sorry again.”

As the door slammed shut, he felt frozen in place. Was he…was he actually worried about you, right now? The bane of his existence since the start of this semester?

He rolled his eyes, gathering his things and locking up. Truly, he needed a break.

Stepping out of the building entrance, Viktor paused under the awning to wrap his scarf a bit tighter when he noticed a figure leaning against a pillar further ahead.

He waited for the fog of his breath to dissipate before he approached—a strange tension in his chest. There was no doubt you recognized the sound of his cane, but you didn’t pay him a glance as he stepped up next to you.

A quiet moment went by, a few cars driving down the road a few feet away.

“It’s snowing,” you said.

He just noticed the flecks of white barely clinging to the ground as they hit. There was no doubt they would begin to pile soon.

“I know we aren’t on the friendliest of terms,” he started, playing with the grip on his cane, “but if there is anything bothering you—”

“It doesn’t snow where I’m from,” you continued, slow. There were tear streaks on your cheek. “It can get pretty cold, but it never sticks.”

He chewed at the inside of his lip, taking in the scene again. The warmth of the road lamps, the quiet hum of a AC unit nearby, it made for a strangely peaceful moment.

“It can get heavy here,” he replied, eyeing your hoodie and jeans. “Definitely weather you must bundle up for.”

“Right.” Despite being next to him, the word sounded so distant.

Another car went by. A few more clouds of breath twirling to wisps.

“We’re not friends,” you stated, shifting the strap on your shoulder, “but I don’t hate you, you know?”

“Mm,” he hummed, sounding more than doubtful.

“I don’t,” you laughed—the first time he’d seen you grin, truly. Not some confident smirk or buttery smile for the professor, but just a simple light in your face he’d never seen before. “You’re a bit of a know-it-all—“

“Me?” he grumbled.

“—but you’re passionate. You’re not trying to outdo people, just prove yourself.” You shrugged, holding a hand out to catch snowflakes. “I get it.”

Viktor wouldn’t allow himself to grow tangled in the emotions bubbling up. He took a step out into the glittering snowfall.

“I meant what I said,” he spoke over his shoulder. “Friends or not, I will listen. Bright minds must stick together, no?”

You huffed, pulling your hood up and over your head. “Sure. Maybe another time, Viktor.”

You waved, heading in the opposite direction. He watched, drawing his scarf up over his mouth as he sighed into the cold night air.

The next night, your computer dinged with a new email. Your exam.

Curling your hand into a fist, you nibbled on your lip as you opened the email to check your grade. 93/100, not your greatest moment but you couldn’t complain. Not after the week you’d struggled through.

Preparing yourself for the amount of corrections you knew Viktor for, you were surprised to scroll through and find the barest hints of red pen. Instead, there on the last page, lied a little note.

Good work. Get some rest over the holiday break.

-Viktor

[woso-dreamzzz]

Interruption

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

*LIGHT HARDERSSON SMUT*

Summary: You interrupt your mothers at a bad moment

There's so many upsides to you and Pernille living in London. Too many for Magda to even count but, this, this by fair is one of her favourites.

"M-Magda," Pernille whines as Magda ruts into her, her nails dragging down Magda's back.

Magda continues to thrust, hitting all the right spots. Despite the distance, she still knows Pernille's body like the back of her hand. She knows how to get Pernille to whine and clench around her strap.

One of Pernille's hands clamps around Magda's neck, pulling her closer so they can kiss. It's wet and sloppy, all tongue and no finesse, months of pent up tension finally coming to a head.

"Magda!" Pernille whines again, her legs going to grip Magda's waist, pulling her ever closer.

"Are you close?" Magda asks, nibbling at Pernille's pulse point and punctuating each word with a hard thrust. "I'm close. If you want to cum, you have to do it soon."

"Don't tease." Pernille grasps at Magda's hair, tugging her back down to kiss. "Or you'll be on your back again."

The idea is appealing. One of her favourite images is Pernille riding her, pinning her down with a hand on the chest.

"Do you want that, Magda?" Pernille nips at her pulse point, her tongue languishing over the red mark. "Do you want me to ride you? If I do, then it might be you who doesn't get to cum."

Pernille's words are teasing but Magda knows they hold a grain of truth.

Pernille's ruthless when she's riding, intent on nothing but her own pleasure and she always looks so beautiful doing it that Magda can do nothing but watch in awe.

"Well, Magda?" Pernille taunts, her hips rolling," Should I ride you?"

Magda's so tempted to agree but she just redoubles her efforts, her hands moving to grasp Pernille's hips so she has enough purchase to properly thrust.

"Oh?" Pernille says, voice low as she bites at Magda's neck again," So you are capable of making us both cum?" She grinds down on Magda's strap. "Get to it."

Magda moans, loudly and she picks up her pace causing Pernille to throw her head back in pleasure.

They're both so lost in each other that neither notices the door being pushed open and you slip inside. You're still half-asleep, rubbing at your eyes with your hair sticking up in odd directions.

You yawn as you waddle towards them.

You tilt your head to the side. Momma is on her back on the bed, her wrists pinned over her head by one of Morsa's big hands. Morsa is sitting on top of her, frantically moving her bottom half and causing Momma's body to jolt.

"Morsa, Momma," You say, still sleep-addled and tired," Why're you naked wrestling?"

Morsa lets out a long string of Swedish that you know you're not allowed to repeat. She rolls off of Momma and off the other side of the bed, frantically tearing at something on her waist.

Momma's clutched the blankets to her chest and has caught you by the arm to stop you from investigating what Morsa's doing.

"Princesse." Momma's words are panted out and breathless. "What're you doing here?"

"There's a monster in my wardrobe," You reply dutifully though you stand on your tiptoes to see if you can peer over the bed to find out what Morsa's doing," It's going to eat me."

Morsa pops up from the other side of bed, buttoning up her sleep shirt and hurrying around to grab your hand. "Well, why don't we head on back to your room and I'll scare it away?"

You give her a look. "Momma says monsters go away on their own," You tell her," It'll eat us if we go back. I sleep here tonight."

Momma and Morsa exchange looks and Momma clears her throat.

She's still holding the blankets to her chest as she reaches out to you, one hand coming to cradle your cheek. "Princesse," She says softly," England monsters are different to German monsters. Why don't you let Morsa scare it away and tuck you back into bed?"

You stamp your foot. "Can't go back just in case!"

Morsa sighs. "Listen, princesse," She crouches down in front of you. "Sometimes, the monsters disappear as soon as your eyes close. I have a feeling that's what'll happen today. So, why don't we get you all snuggly in bed?"

You nod, allowing her to take your hand before you say," In the Big Bed."

"Princesse," Morsa tries again as Momma begins to pull her pyjamas on," We're a bit busy in the Big Bed at the moment. Momma and I-"

"Naked wrestling," You answer," You shouldn't wrestle. It's mean."

"Princesse-"

You pull away from her and tug yourself up onto the Big Bed, crawling over to your usual spot in the very middle before flopping your head down onto Momma's head.

"Night-night."

"Hey, wait a second-"

"Magda," Pernille says softly," She's already out."

"Do you want me to put her to bed?" Magda offers even though she's already climbing back into bed again and tucking you in nice and tight.

"I think the mood's ruined," Pernille laughs, smoothing down your hair," We better just leave her here."

Magda jokingly sighs like she's being inconvenienced. "Well, if we must."

[evieelyzabethh]

Sugar and Spike

pairing(s): Spike x fem!reader

summary: after a night of patrol goes wrong, Spike starts noticing some changes in himself, mainly that Buffy's sweetest friend won't leave his mind and that she would never look at him the same if she knew what he wanted to do to her.

warnings: smut!!! a smidge of yandereness, kinda a sex or die fic, possessive spike, handjob, unprotected piv sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral (fem receiving), praise kink, biting/marking (mentions of blood), a little bit of spanking, overstimulation, riding, fingering, veryyy little plot, and I think thats about it.

In hindsight, they should've kept a better eye on him. It was an odd night of patrolling, the usual gaggle of vampires being a demon or two this time around. Big tall thing that appeared out of nowhere and left as soon as it came. Spike, always with little regard for the consequences of his actions, ran right in. Ran so hard he went right through the demon as it went into smoke. He breathed it in before going into a coughing fit, as if he could feel it in his nose and lungs, spreading in his chest like a vine that pulled everything impossible tight before releasing him like he was never in its grasp . Red flag one.

It fell on him like rain, some clumping into what looked like pink sparkles in his hair, on his jacket, his worn boots. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, pulling away expecting to see it gunked together, but there was nothing there. It felt like his hair had been hit by my mist, slightly damp and cool. It seeped into his exposed skin, adhering itself into a pink sheen which also disappeared after only a few minutes. He remembered trying to brush it off, expecting it to feel wet but it was just slick. It was admittedly infuriating, especially since the feeling wouldn't go away. Red flag two.

“Buffy!” He shouted, rubbing his hands on his jeans as if it was going to wipe away the phantom feeling, but his complaints were met with apathy. 

“There’s nothing there, Spike.” A groan bubbled in his chest. 

“Astute observation, Slayer, but it feels like something’s there.” You were there beside him, something that would’ve gone unnoticed had he not been hit with your scent as your fingers brushed against his hand. He pulled away quickly out of instinct, not as subtle as he would’ve liked to because you noticed and scampered off in between Buffy and Giles. The distance between you and him got larger and the two of you talked about a mall trip you had planned and Willow was the only one to stick with him. She humored him, allowing him to shower at her place and taking a sample of skin only to find nothing. No residue, nothing abnormal, nothing had changed at all. Red flag three.

But he was sure it was fine. Nothing had really changed. You had been a bit cautious though.

You were prone to worrying, and he couldn't blame you. There was a lot to worry about when your best friends hunted demons and one of them was a literal creature of the night. You worried about Buffy so much he genuinely feared you would collapse from all the stress you put yourself under. Pursuing a nursing degree so they could avoid hospital visits unless absolutely necessary because none of you had the money. Having him train you in basic self-defense because you hated feeling like dead weight. You took up Latin and all of the other dead languages in those old dusty books just so you could be useful. You tied yourself in knots just to be sweet. God, you were so sweet. Even to your own detriment, like pure sugar that was going to rot his teeth eventually.

The more time you spent together, the more the rot seemed to take his brain than his teeth. His mouth never got anywhere near you; Buffy made sure of that. He wished he could say it was because she was babying you too much, that you were also tired of Buffy making Spike seem like the biggest mistake you could ever make. To be fair, he hardly knew you. He knew of you; he knew of the pink wardrobe and the fluffy socks and the pretty shoes. He knew of you as Buffy's cute neighbor who stopped by so often that you might as well live with them. You weren't being a baby, you were being cautious, even more now. He almost wished you didn't believe him as much as you did, maybe you'd keep visiting him. He hadn't seen you in days and it was really starting to take a toll on him. His leg bounced and he got in the bad habit of biting his nails, which was starting to get annoying with how often he had to repaint them.

If you were here, you would repaint them. You would sit your pretty self on his busted couch, and you'd have a little bag with you with all your pins and charms that jingled like the earrings that dangle from your ears. In your bag would be at least three shades of pink, a range of blacks and greys, and a wild card or two, maybe a blue or a green. You'd let him pick his color, despite knowing he always went for black. You asked anyway, just in case he decided to go with pink just to humor you. Had you walked through right now, he would've obliged. He would've done anything you asked him too. It wasn't even that he was lonely, but it was getting to suffocate in here. It was getting hot, like a fire was spreading. Each breath felt smoke filled, his skin was on fire, his skin was getting damp, like the dust had fallen again. His hand was shaky as he put a cigarette between his lips and lit it, surely the smell would break him out of what had to be a daze.

If you were here, you'd make a joke about him needing to air the place out. He'd probably open the door and call that enough air, but he liked his privacy, and he didn't like the idea of anyone just being able to waltz right in. You would want to make a joke about no one wanting to visit him, but you’d bite your tongue at the fear of being too harsh. You always got that look in your eye when you thought something that could be misconstrued as mean. You took your lip into your teeth and your pretty eyelashes flitted and you looked away. He thought about what it would be like to bite your lips, wanting to see what they looked like, all red and even prettier than they were before. Just a taste, that's all he wanted, a taste.

He got up to open up the door only for that phantom feeling to return. All over his body, it felt like he had stepped out into the sun, like every molecule that made up his body was vibrating and mere seconds from combusting. His breathing got ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly and his brain going into overdrive. He squeezed his eyes shut as if it would make it go away, but even from behind his eyelids, you were there. The idea of you, your smile, your laughter, fuck the very way you said his name. It sounded so nice coming from you. 

The way you said it when he got injured in a fight when you would patch up his wounds and have a bag of blood for him to replace what he lost. “Spike.” you would say. Like he should’ve known better than to just throw himself into danger. Not even bothering to consider the possibility that he did it to look heroic, or maybe in your care with your hands over his chest. There’s no reason for him to be this beaten and bruised from some baby vamp; William the Bloody. Spike? He had pride, but not as much as Angelus. It was easily quenched by the fact that he was in no way losing with your delicate hands tracing over faded scars on his chest and feeding him blood while they were just dust. 

“Spike.” Buffy would say, her tone laced with less concern and more disapproval. She knew something was up. After all they had gone through together, vampires should’ve been nothing for him. He had to space out his “fuck ups” just to get her off his back, just to get her voice out of his head. She didn’t say his name like you did. 

There wasn’t much better than how you said his name when it was just the two of you. Being together in his crypt, sometimes in your own bedroom which you had invited him into much to Buffy’s chagrin. “It’s Spike,” you had said, “how many times have we saved the world with him? I think he’s earned it.” It sent shivers down his spine. He would’ve saved the world so much sooner if it meant being able to be in your space. If it meant getting to hear you say his name through fits of laughter, trying to regain your breath while still finding enough to utter his name. “Spike.” you said, your hand over his while you giggled. He felt that heat now, felt the heat of all your touches culminating right now. All over his skin, tensing his muscles, holding his chest as he fought for breath himself. 

While he had the chance, he should’ve raided your underwear drawer. Now he was left to fist his dick with just the memory of you. You wouldn’t notice a pair or two gone, surely you wouldn’t. It was the type of small thing you would overlook because really what is a pair or two. You wouldn’t want him to be in pain, hearing his situation now, you’d feel like it was all your fault. The least you could spare was a pair of your prettiest panties for him to wrap around his cock while he fisted himself to the thought of you and how you would say his name now. 

The closest he’d gotten would be after a big battle. You had taken a beating, by the time you had gotten to a safe space you had lost a dangerous amount of blood, but the sounds that came out of your mouth were so delicious. And you trusted him to carry you to safety, your bloody hand wrapping itself around his bicep to maintain some tether to consciousness. “Spike.” your voice dripping with pain, but even that wasn’t enough to mask how pretty you sounded. He felt bad then for how hard it got him, but there is such a thin line between   pain and pleasure. The only difference now would be circumstance, and he would never hurt you. This would be good for you, the both of you, you just had to let him. You just had to say his name. 

“Spike?” In that moment, he knew there had to be some high power looking out for him when he heard your voice. Dream-like, and soft, like the wind could have blown it out and away from your lips. “Spike?!” you said again. He couldn’t tell if it was his shred of restraint or his body’s unwillingness to listen to his brain that kept him glued to his couch. 

“Now really isn’t a good time, love.” He tried to keep his voice level, he really did, but it was too much. And you weren’t stupid, he heard the heels of your shoes against the hard floor and smelt you before he even saw you. And fuck you smelt heavenly. 

“Are you okay? What happened-” You looked like you had a halo above your head, or maybe he was much further gone than he had thought. You cut yourself off in shock. When you had walked in, you hadn’t expected to catch Spike with his hands down his pants. 

“You know what, I’m just gonna go a-and come back later.” You tried to smile in an attempt to make the situation less awkward than it needed to be, but he grabbed you by your wrist. 

“Wait-I just need-fuck. I just need you to stay for a bit. I don’t feel good.” Your eyes met and you saw the sheen of what you assumed to be sweat covering his chest and face. His pupils blown out, his hair out of place, his labored breathing, like he couldn’t catch his breath. Oddly enough, the sheen had a pink tinge, and despite the fact that his fangs were protruding, his vampire face hadn’t appeared. You reached out to touch his forehead to surprisingly find a temperature. He groaned at the contact, both wanting to melt into your skin and like it physically pained him. 

“What happened?” He declined the answer, instead pushing his head more into the palm of your hand, tipping his head to sniff the inside of your wrist. “What are you doing?” You tried to pull away and put some distance in between the two of you, but he pulled you back, even closer than before. 

“You smell so good.” He nosed his way past your wrist and up your arm till he made it to your collarbone, trying to find where he could hear your blood pump the loudest. “Stop it!” you pushed against him as soon as you felt the tip of his fangs attempting to break skin. To both of your surprise, he let you. It looked like it pained him to do so, his eyes screwed shut and his hand gripping the arm of his couch until the wood snapped. 

“If this is about the demon thing, I’m gonna go get Willow, okay? You just need to stay right here.” The authority you had laced in your voice was cute. 

“Just stay here with me, yeah? There’s no need to get Willow. We don’t need Willow.” His voice had dropped an octave, his pupils blown and his brain damn near empty. Anything went in one ear then out the other as he held your hands in his, staring through you as if daring you to defy him. 

“Spike, you aren’t well.” You had tried to reason, but all he heard was that you weren’t saying no because you didn’t want this. You were concerned for his well being, even when he had you pinned down and his teeth at your neck, each breath moving you closer to him drawing blood, you were saying no because you were concerned he didn’t want this. You somehow thought he didn’t want you. 

“I’ve never felt better, baby.”, he said-practically fucking growled. Hell if he wanted you, he needed you. He pressed himself into you, his hands grabbing at anything he could to ground himself, his left at the base of your scalp and his right bunching the fabric of your skirt in his hands. He breathed into your neck, nipping and nicking at bare skin then soothing it with his tongue and kisses. He worked himself up over you, taking and taking until he was drunk, his tongue lolled out as he put his head on your chest.“Can I fuck you.” 

You had been caught in a daze yourself, his words had barely registered. You had more sense than he did at this point, finding enough resolve to shake your head. “Please.” he begged, groaning it out through clenched teeth. “I need you to make it feel better, please God just make it feel better.” He had pushed his hips into your hand, his weeping cock leaking onto you, pleading with you to touch it. “I’ll make it good for you, I swear, just be my sweet girl, yeah? Just make it better.”

You experimentally rubbed the tip, and he whimpered. His hand grabbing your wrist so fast a look of shock flashed across his face. You took that as a sign to pull away but he put your hand back around him, pushing your hand up and down his base. “Too much too quick, love.” 

Any hesitancy you had was swallowed as he smashed his lips into yours. It was urgent and quick, almost bruising how hard he kissed and held you as if you were going to disappear at any point. He tugged at a handful of hair, catching you in a moan that he used to force tongue into your mouth, sucking it as you pumped his dick at a painfully slow pace. 

His kisses made you breathless, and it was then you realized that he likely forgot in his haze that you actually needed air. He moaned into your lips, the sound spreading throughout your body and shaking you to your core. It wasn’t lost on him how damp your underwear had gotten, had he had the strength to pull away to touch you he would, but the mere seconds his skin would be off yours was enough of a deterrent to keep him in place. 

You tried to move away, but his hand kept you in place. “Don’t move.”, he rushed it out, a tone that otherwise would’ve been more commanding had he not been weak himself. “Keep going.” His hips bucked and stuttered, his movements becoming erratic the more faint your touches became. Like it was a warning; let me up for air and I’ll keep touching you. He whined at the thought of you pulling away. That wasn’t fair. 

His lips parted from yours, settling for the corner of your mouth before moving to your jawline to your neck, then just under your ear. You gasped for breath, you numb with the ecstasy of air and the feeling of his rushed kisses. He was getting close. Your hand was covered in his sticky pre-cum, his cock even more so as your hand moved alone over him, his own hand now grabbing at your shirt at the feeling. You squeezed at the bass, a motion he clearly enjoyed with how his body tensed up. A series of obscenities flowed from his pretty lips as he came, spurts of his cum getting over your pretty pink skirt, an image Spike would get himself off to later. 

You didn’t get long to sit in what just happened when he was on you again, laying you on your back and ripping your skirt clean off. You moaned something that sounded like “My skirt!”, but neither one of you were really worried about it. 

His lithe fingers were quick, rubbing you through the fabric of your panties, while he kissed up to where you wanted him excruciatingly slow. His hands rubbed and teased at the soft skin of your thighs, marking bruises everywhere he went. 

He moaned into you, sniffing you once again, before finding a place he wanted to dig his fangs into. Maybe it was how delicately he stuck in his teeth, maybe it was the lust blown fervor, but it didn’t hurt as much as you anticipated. In fact, you moaned at the intrusion, unable to know what to do with yourself as he sucked and lapped up the blood he had drawn. Your fingers wove into his hair, as if he could be pulled any closer to you than he already was. “You taste so good. So good.” And he let you know as such. The obscene noises that flew from the both of you, the slurping and whines, the pop of his lips as he traveled from one spot to another. But that’s not how he intended to eat you whole.

You were unbelievably wet, soaking through your panties and even Spikes fingers before he took pity on you and decided to pull them aside and plant his fingers into you. Now, you weren’t a virgin, but you had never had sex that felt as good as this. Never had someone in you that had hundreds of years of practice beforehand. 

“You’re doing so good, Sweet Girl. So good, can’t get enough of you.” What was an attempt to calm your nerves, had you keening and over the moon, the praise bringing tears to your eyes as you ground yourself in his hand. That didn’t move him along any quicker, his tongue still collecting anything you would give him like he hadn’t been fed in years. 

“Spike!” You called out, which finally seemed to get his attention. He saw the glass-like look your eyes had taken and the pout on your face. You looked like you were about to cry. Poor thing, so desperate. He said he’d take care of you, make you feel good. No point in denying the inevitable. 

You whined when he pulled out of you just to choke when he began to devour you. His nose at your clit and his tongue plunging into. “Thank you.” he muttered into you, like this was some divine gift to him. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” The combination of his praise and how good he was giving it to you made that coil in your belly tighten and tighten until it threatened to snap. And he just kept going. Completely in his own world, the only thoughts in his mind being about you, how you smelled, how you tasted, god you were so good to him. Letting him eat you out like this, helping him like this. He shouldn’t have expected any less from his girl. His sweet girl. No one else's, you couldn’t be anyone else's after this. His grip tightened around your thighs at the very thought. “Mine.” he said, the vibrations hitting your core deliciously. “Mine.”

“Yours Spike, all yours.” He hummed in approval, inserting two fingers back into you while he kept up his electric pace. He held your hand as it began to be too much, your back arching off the couch and your thighs closing around his head as he just kept going. You called his name as you came, high and higher until it became too heavy on your mouth and you couldn’t say anything at all. The grip you had on his hand had loosened, but he hadn’t let up. He still rambled into you, “Again. Again. Again. Please.”

You didn’t know if your hips were bucking into him or try to wiggle away from him. Either way, both attempts were unsuccessful. With how hard he pulled on your panties they had snapped and had been thrown to the side for the simple crime of being in his way. His forearm lay on your hip keeping you in place. Your hand still laid in his, him squeezing it as if it was any comfort from the inescapable feeling of his tongue licking your thoroughly soaked pussy. 

Your toes curled in your frilly socks as you came again on his tongue, and you foolishly expected that to be enough. You would’ve asked him to stop if you could pant out anything more than whines. You would’ve pushed him away if you could manage anything more than weak taps on his forearm. “No more.” you whispered out. “Can’t.” His fingers rubbed your hand as some form of encouragement. 

“Yes you can, love.” You shook your head weakly, scooting your hips back only for him to swiftly smack your pussy. You preened on the contact, and he drank in the arousal that gushed out just from that. “My sweet girl isn’t gonna disappoint me, is she? She’s gonna make me all better, isn’t that right?” Your brain was so fogged out you couldn’t even produce a response. You just groaned and squirmed, unable to brace for impact when he smacked you again. 

“Spike!” You cried out, but he didn’t care. Heknew you were feeling good from how much you gushed while he tongue fucked your cunt. It was just a bit too much for you right now. You would feel better, you just needed to let go some more. He tried to relax you, tried rubbing mindless shapes on your skin to calm you down as he worked you through your third orgasm, but you just heaved. Your tits bounced with how heavily you breathed, and yet after all of that, he still didn’t feel better. Why didn’t he feel better?

Despite the relief that came from him pausing his abuse, you still whined as he sat up from behind your legs. With your taste still on his tongue, he kissed you. You sighed into him, the feeling of his large hands moving from your hip to under your shirt to touch your tummy and rip your bra in half. You didn’t even notice him moving you into his lap and setting your thighs on either side of him so you straddled him. He thumbed your nipples, pinching and rubbing over them while he relished in the feeling of you cunt so close to his dick. 

You didn’t seem to catch on either as he slid in between your folds, too lost of him finally kissing you again. You moaned into this kiss as his fingers dipped to toy with your clit before he whispered in your ear. “Just one more.”

In one fluid motion, he slipped his dick into his cunt, catching you as your limbs went weak. He was so big you felt your eyes water with the pressure of him being in you. You could tell he was struggling to stay still, but the haze had worn off enough for him to regain some sense. He still waited eagerly for you to adjust, brushing the fallen tears from your eyes and kissing your checks to make it all better.

“Too big. It’s too big.” You stuttered. It was all you could manage to mutter out. He cooed at you, his dick growing harder than he thought possible at the feeling of it all and the praise. 

“I was made for you, Pretty Girl, you can take it.” You yelped as he jerked his hips into yours, but he just couldn’t help it. You were so pretty like this, all fucked out and dumb. Not a thought behind those eyes of yours and the only thoughts he was capable of was you. How warm you were, how wet you were, how tight you were. You were squeezing him and  milking him dry and as much as he tried he just couldn’t stop him self from fucking into you. 

“I’m sorry.” and he meant it. You weren’t ready and he couldn’t even tell if he was ready, his body had a mind of his own and he felt himself just slipping into the feeling of being enveloped by you. “Just too good. You’re too good. My good girl. You’re gonna take all I give you, aren’t you, love? You gonna be my sweet girl and take it?” His voice was breathy and low and impossibly hot. 

All you could manage was a soft ‘mhm’ as you took him in. It wasn’t like you had any other choice as you bounced on his cock, gripping at his chest and taking in each moan you earned as you drew blood from your scratches. 

You felt every inch of him, felt the tip of his dick hit your cervix and kept pounding at it like it was his job;  like he would die if he didn’t. You can’t do anything but take it as you screw your eyes shut and just try to breathe as everything in your body fights to hold on to some feeling. It was impossible to think, not when Spike’s hands were all over you and his touch was so incredibly hot. Even stranger, a pink glow began to emanate from him, that or you were closer to passing out than you originally thought. . 

He kept you close to his chest as you both chased your impending highs together, your lips meeting in the middle as you moaned and sighed into each other's mouths and he was a goner, rambling like a mad man in your ear, thanking you endlessly for something he couldn’t put his hands on. Maybe it was your release, that you felt coming like a truck. He squeezed at the fat of your hips, pulling you even closer until neither one of you could tell where the other started and ended and you came like that, so close that you were almost suffocating, but a different kind from before. 

He came not long after you, his dick still inside spurting his cum inside you and keeping it in there with little intention of coming out any time soon. That pink glow had faded from before, fading away until there was nothing there and the slight pink tinge from before was gone too. His eyes drooped a bit, his blue irises that you hadn’t realized you had missed finally reappeared, his pupils returning to normal and his fangs retracting. 

He hung his head in your neck and you felt his temperature drop a bit, no longer boiling hot. He refused to move his head from his spot though. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was ashamed of what just happened. 

After the both of you had a moment to catch your breaths, he removed himself from inside you, stalking off to find something to wear now that your outfit was completely ruined. He even had the decency to turn around while you changed, granted he had a hard time looking at you anyway. 

“You’re gonna wanna deep clean that couch.” You said to break the silence. You were surprised you got a chuckle out of him. 

“Yeah. I don’t normally do this sort of thing on there.” Another moment of silence passed between the two of you.

“You know, we can go back to my place and I can fix your nails. I can tell you’ve been biting at them.” He didn’t need to be told twice either. The place still stunk of sex and his head was feeling clearer than it had in days, he couldn’t stand to be there right now.

“About all of this…you won’t tell Buffy, right?” You giggled. 

“Not if you don’t.” And that was more than enough for him.

[leighsartworks216]

Hii I saw ur reblog about the kiss prompts!

I choose - "if you win, i'll kiss you"

With nervous kiss and height difference! 😳🙏

I actually had a hard time trying to fit these prompts together but I think I did pretty well!

Warnings: knife throwing, height difference

Word Count: 1,327

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“What’s that make it now? 12 to…?”

“You’re such an ass.”

“Come now, dear, you’re being too harsh - my memory isn’t what it used to be, you know. How many wins do you have?”

Your glare could have burned a hole right through him, all the while Astarion looked every bit the smarmy bastard he was. He just loved teasing you. It satisfied him to no end to peer down at you as you fumed. Steam could come pouring out your ears and he’d still have that smug smirk on his stupid face.

You huffed through your nose, fighting the growing urge to throw the dagger right at his head - you’d miss anyway. This whole game started when you’d tried throwing a knife at a goblin as a last ditch effort. You missed horribly, and Astarion just couldn’t let it go. “Zero.”

He gasped dramatically and laid a hand on his chest. “Not a single one?! Well, this won’t do!” He leaned in, teeth showing as he grinned wickedly. “How about we make a little bet? Make things a bit more interesting.”

You scoffed. “So you can sweeten the deal in your favor and wipe the floor with me, again?”

“Hmm, I tell you what: in the interest of keeping things interesting, I’ll give you two throws. If you hit, you win.”

“Let me guess - you get three.”

He rolled his eyes. “Please, darling, I have some tact. I’ll get one throw. If I can hit the dummy square in the head, I win.” He accentuated the point by flipping his dagger in the air, easily catching it by the hilt by pure muscle memory alone.

You frowned, studying his face for any sign of deceit. You were getting really close to hitting… Gods, this is a terrible idea. You sigh. “Fine. What do you propose?”

A spark of mischief flickered in his eye, so quick it could have just been a trick of the light, but you knew him better than that. “If I win, you’re responsible for sewing up everyone’s clothes for a week.”

“And if I win?”

He smirked and lowered his face to be right next to yours, cold breaths tickling your ear as he whispered. “If you win, I’ll kiss you.”

Your heart raced as your face flushed. You could tell he noticed, too, when he pulled away with that self-satisfied look on his face. You cleared your throat, urging it not to shake as you grumbled, “It sounds like you’re making more out of this either way.”

“Yes, but one is certainly more desirable for you, no? Besides, what are the odds of you winning? You should have nothing to fear.”

You frowned, but he had a point. Resigned to your fate, your shoulders slump. “Fine. It’s a deal.”

“Excellent.”

You both lined up about 10 feet away from the straw dummy. It had numerous marks in its head and body, all landed by the vampire spawn beside you. But you felt good about this time. You felt you could actually hit it.

You didn’t hate the idea of kissing him, especially if it meant saving your hand the cramping of patching up your companions’ clothes, but, well… You’d never been kissed before. There was no reason why, you’d just never been close enough with someone to warrant it.

Your heart raced thinking about it. Your face was as warm as Karlach by now. But you swallowed down the feelings and focused. If you just aimed very carefully, you might be able to get it.

“You first, love.”

Gods, now was not the time for endearing pet names.

“Hush, fangs.”

He chuckled softly, but stayed quiet otherwise. You held the handle of the dagger, just as he showed you, and aimed. You took a breath, lifted it up, and with a quick swing it was flying through the air… Right over the dummy’s shoulder. You growled in frustration.

Cool hands smoothed over your shoulders, urging them to relax. “Take it easy, dear. Keep your wrist locked and keep your elbow tucked in when you lift the dagger to throw.” He slid his hand down your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake as he showed you how to keep your wrist straight and your elbow close to your ear. Then, he backed away and watched.

Shaking off the phantom feeling of him standing so close, you readied yourself again. You aimed, pulled your arm back so your elbow stayed tucked in, and steadied your wrist. With a deep breath, you threw the knife.

Time seemed to slow down as it flipped through the air. All sound faded away. You weren’t sure you were breathing. All you could focus on, all that mattered, was this stupid dagger.

In barely a second, the knife found its mark in the straw ribcage of the dummy.

A tidal wave of excitement and joy shot through your system. You cheered and pumped your fists in the air and gave a victorious yell that put Karlach’s to shame. And then, in the next instant, another knife flew by and lodged itself right next to yours. Your breath caught in your throat. Your eyes were wide when you turned to Astarion.

He smiled, part genuine and part impish. “Congratulations, darling. It seems you’ve won.” His smile only grew more flushed you became. He crowded into your space, peering down at you like a fox staring down a rabbit. “Don’t tell me you’re going to back out of our deal now.”

You swallowed. “I…” You glanced around camp, but no one seemed to be paying attention. They were all too busy preparing for the next day. You met his eye again and lowered your voice to a whisper, meant for his ears only. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

His eyes widened, brows raising minutely. He never thought the brave, compassionate leader before him would be so… inexperienced, to put it kindly. You’d always seemed to carry this sort of confidence, he just assumed…

“We don’t have to,” he back-peddled. He’d never have suggested it if he’d known. Well… Okay he would, but that look on your face - puppy-dog eyed and uncertain. It twisted his insides. He started to step away, out of your space, but you caught his arm.

“No, I…” You took a breath to steady your shaky nerves. “I want this.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded, but he could still feel the anxious way you fiddled with the fabric of his shirt. It was cute. And terrifying. You wanted him to be your first. It was only fair - you were his first after all.

Moving slowly to give you a chance to back out, he raised his hands to cup your jaw, fingers brushing over your pulse and tilting your head up. You were shorter than him, enough that he had to hunch a bit to meet your eyes like this. You held onto his arms, too unsure to hold him anywhere else. He leaned down, noses almost touching. He could see your eyes flickering from his eyes to his mouth; feel your heart beneath his fingers as it skipped with his proximity. In a final act of courage, you stood on your toes and met him halfway.

It was clumsy at first. You had no idea what you were doing, all you knew was his lips were soft and he tasted like wine. He gently tilted your head, smoothing out the initial uncoordinated start. His lips meshed with yours as he showed you exactly what to do. When you experimentally nipped at his lip, he almost groaned. It wasn’t perfect, but he was sick and tired of perfect. It was wonderful. He was almost reluctant to pull away. But you still needed to breathe, living thing that you were.

He chuckled as he pressed his forehead to yours, watching with rapture as you caught your breath, lips swollen so beautifully. “You are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnlovesloki @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @mheerdraws @kindadolly @httyd-chocolate @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red

[darkshelbyfiction]

Personal Whore (Kink Series)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Female Reader

Summary: This Series will explore different fetishes including an innocence kink, somnophilia, anal play, watersports, bdsm, marking, edging, and anything else you would like me to include!

In this series, you are Thomas Shelby's maid. You are innocent and shy. This is your first job. Thomas Shelby takes an interest in you and pays you to become his personal whore. He makes you have sex with him in exchange of money, every day, using perverse techniques to satisfy his needs.

PART ONE: ORAL SKILLS

"You have been working for me for two weeks now Love and you recently turned 18, right?" Thomas questioned and you nodded timidly, nervous about what might come next.

"I... yes sir," you whispered softly, averting your gaze slightly out of shyness. The room seemed impossibly large and dimly lit, accented only by the flickering candlelight reflecting off the pristine white sheets upon the bed.

"Very well, that means that you are of legal age for my proposition." His voice dripped honeyed promises.

"Now let me ask you, Love... Do you know what some of the other maids here do for me in order to earn some more money?" your employer asked quietly, watching you closely.

"They perform various tasks, sir," you answered hesitantly, trying not to imagine where he could be going with this conversation.

"That's right," he said before looking at you with even more intensity in his gaze. "And do you know what these tasks entail?"

He asked, leaning closer, his proximity sending waves of anxiety through your body.

"Well," you began cautiously, choosing your words carefully. "Sarah said that, occasionally, she would touch you down there," you blushed, feeling mortified at having revealed such intimate information, albeit indirectly. You noticed a flash of excitement in his eyes when mentioning sensitive areas—a sign that perhaps this wasn't all just talk?

Thomas nodded thoughtfully, his expression unreadable as he processed your response. Then he rose gracefully from his seat, moving deliberately toward you like a predator closing in on its prey. It felt odd being so close to someone with whom you had worked for almost two months without any physical contact beyond casual banter.

"She occasionally touches me, yes," replied Thomas, maintaining eye contact. "But it isn't always required – merely desired. So I wonder, my dear, how far would you go for some extra compensation?" He smirked subtly, inviting himself deeper into the territory where you were reluctant to venture.

The heat of the moment caused you to feel flustered and uncertain as you attempted to gauge the severity of Thomas' intentions. Your heart raced faster than ever before, threatening to escape your chest as sweat glistened lightly along your brow.

"You want me to touch your pe..., uhm, you know...down there..." your voice trailed off, unable to find the courage to say the word 'penis'. Thomas smiled reassuringly, appreciating your discomfort as he realized you hadn't quite grasped the extent of his proposal.

"Yes, sweetheart. I want you to touch my cock and, maybe, one day, you will even take it in to your mouth or let me put it into your pussy, eh," Thomas stated confidently while running his hand across your cheek, causing involuntary shivers to run up your spine.

Your face colored deeply with embarrassment, though it also held an undeniable hint of curiosity. While your desire to please and satisfy your newfound benefactor burned intensely, something inside you screamed that taking things further than simple caresses went too far - yet another layer of turmoil added to the complex relationship unfolding between you both.

Having sensed your inner conflict, Thomas chose to approach the subject tactically.

Slowly, tenderly brushing aside a lock of your hair, he asked: "How does that make you feel, sweetheart?" His tone betrayed no judgement or impatience, instead offering understanding and acceptance. "Do you think you can handle that sort of responsibility?"

You trembled underneath his gentle ministrations, torn between fear and arousal, struggling to process your rapidly evolving feelings towards your once strictly professional superior.

"I never even seen a man's private parts before, sir. I was saving myself for marriage, but some extra cash would sound nice too," Your statement came out as a quiet plea for guidance, a confession of ignorance that exposed your vulnerability.

"Well, for what it's worth, no one would ever find out, Love. Not even your future husband," Thomas said and there was a sinister edge to his tone.

"I know that you are a good catholic girl, but sometimes it is worth doing bad things for the right incentive, wouldn't you agree?" Thomas said before he decided to lay bare his plans for you. "So, listen very carefully. If you agree to carry out these tasks, then I promise you that I will give you double your usual wages for the duration of your employment. In addition, I will give you £500 for your virginity and loyalty. How does that strike you?"

Stunned and bewildered, you stared at him in disbelief. Double your pay for doing things you didn't understand fully and parting ways with your cherished purity – your whole world suddenly seemed to spin wildly out of control. Yet despite the magnitude of the choices facing you, one thing remained clear: continuing as your present self would lead to financial ruin.

With tears swelling in your eyes, you found yourself considering Thomas' offer, wondering whether surrendering everything you believed in truly amounted to nothing less than selling your soul. Still, it was difficult to resist the lure of instant prosperity, particularly given the dire straits you faced otherwise. As you struggled internally, Thomas watched patiently, waiting for you to decide. Finally, with a heavy heart, you made your decision.

Nodding solemnly, you declared, "Alright, Mr. Shelby, I agree, but I need you to triple my wages and add another £500 for my virtue."

With an approving smile curling at the corner of his lips, Thomas conceded, "Agreed. I will triple your wages and pay you a lump sum of £1,000 for your precious purity," your employer said before unbuckling his belt without bothering to remove the rest of his clothes.

"Understandably, you may need time to become comfortable enough to execute these duties adequately, so I shall start you off slowly," Thomas explained calmly before unzipping his pants and thereby exposing his erect member. Despite your reservations, you couldn't help but notice the size and firmness of his cock as he pushed down his pants halfway. 

"It doesn't look so scary, does it, Love?" he murmured, his voice holding an undercurrent of amusement, attempting to ease your apprehension as he reached for your hand, guiding it tentatively towards his penis. With an anxious breath, you followed his instruction, marveling at the weightiness of his organ, still unsure of exactly what he expected from you.

As your fingers traced delicate patterns over his length, you discovered small nubs on the underside, eliciting a deep groan from him. Uncertain about your progress thus far, you glanced upwards briefly to catch sight of his reaction, finding satisfaction etched upon his features.

"See, Love, we're making headway already," Thomas commented gently, encouraging you with warmth.

Despite your lingering apprehensions, the confidence exuded by your master proved infectious, allowing you to relax somewhat and follow the path laid out before you.

Inch by inch, your exploration continued until you encountered the tiny knobbiness located near the base of his organ. Upon stimulating it, Thomas' moans grew louder, confirming your suspicion that you had struck gold.

Encouraged by this success, you bravely moved onto his sacrum, discovering that a soft ticklish patch accompanied it. Smiling sheepishly, you proceeded to explore the area thoroughly. After satisfying yourself with a leisurely tour, you finally turned your attention back to the main event – his impressively throbbing phallus.

Feeling emboldened, you took hold of the tip, applying a slight pressure that resulted in a low grumble emitting from Thomas.

Taking hold of your hand again, he positioned it correctly, demonstrating proper technique. Encouraged by his expertise, you mirrored his movements and gradually increased the strength of your strokes, matching his fervent pace.

"That's it, love! Keep going!" he urged, his hands now wrapped tightly around yours before making a somewhat unusual request.

"How do you feel about taking my cock into your mouth, Love?" Thomas whispered huskily, watching your every move closely.

"You want me to do what?" you asked, still feeling uneasy about performing such acts. The mere idea sent waves of nervousness coursing through your body, prompting your limbs to quiver.

"I want you to practice sucking my cock, Love," Thomas insisted matter-of-factly, a commanding authority evident in his tone.

Swallowing hard, you hesitated for a brief moment before asking timidly, "Like a lollipop?" 

"No, not like a lollipop, Love," Thomas replied, his words filled with amused indulgence. "Just wrap your lips around the head first and start by licking off my pre-cum. Trust me, it won't be as terrible as you might imagine."

His assurance did little to alleviate your anxiety, but nonetheless, you nodded obediently.

Gingerly, you took his thick shaft into your small hands, immediately experiencing a strange mixture of revulsion and fascination.

Carefully lowering your head, you pressed your tongue to the engorged head, savoring the salty taste of his precum.

"There you go, sweetheart. Lick around the ridge just above the hole," Thomas instructed you kindly, clearly aware of how intimidated you were feeling.

"That's a good girl," he told you and, just as you obeyed his directive, your fingers simultaneously worked to stroke the entire length of his impressive manhood.

"Now take me in your mouth, sweetheart. As far as you can," Thomas commanded authoritatively, his voice full of raw demand as, with trembling fingers, you complied, opening wide to accommodate his girth.

"Beautiful," Thomas breathed, appreciating your attempt before holding onto your hair and pulling slightly to guide your mouth deeper down on his erection.

As your lips grazed the sensitive skin beneath his glans, a wave of dizziness assaulted you, leaving you gasping as you tried to regulate your breathing.

"There you have it, sweetheart, take it all," Thomas directed firmly, pressing your mouth harder against him. Gulping reflexively, you felt the foreign object filling your mouth, causing your cheeks to bulge comically.

"I will fuck your throat now," Thomas muttered roughly, thrusting himself further into your open mouth, causing you to gag involuntarily. Your eyes watered with the unexpected intensity of sensation. But even amidst the choking panic, something inside you recognized an undeniable thrill.

Thomas held you firmly in place, ensuring you maintained eye contact throughout the experience. As your struggle to maintain control intensified, so did his aggressiveness.

"Good girl," he growled approvingly when you managed to adapt quickly, albeit tears streaming down your face and saliva dripping from your chin.

His cock now nestled comfortably within your tender throat, Thomas began moving faster, building momentum. His touch became more forceful as you submitted to his demands blindly, consumed by newfound passion.

"Do you know what happens to a man when he orgasms, Love?" Thomas asked teasingly, raising an eyebrow playfully as he continued to use your mouth and throat for your pleasure. 

Confusion crossed your face, unable to discern the meaning behind his inquiry as you shook your head.

"Well, when I cum, seed will spill out from my cock right into your eager mouth," Thomas clarified casually while fondling your wet cheek. "Are you ready for that?"

Your brow furrowed, processing the implications of his statement. It dawned on you that your role as his sexual submissive required complete submission, including receiving the ultimate release from your employer.

You nodded silently, acknowledging your willingness to accept whatever fate awaited you. And as Thomas' hips started bucking violently, indicating his imminent climax, you steeled yourself, preparing for the inevitable outcome.

"Good girl. I want you to swallow my load completely," Thomas ordered, his voice rough with anticipation as he thrusted in and out of your throat. Without question, you opened wider, bracing yourself for the sudden explosion. As Thomas' hips jerked forward, releasing a torrent of hot semen directly into your gaping mouth, you could barely contain your shock. The searing liquid burned your throat, stinging fiercely, but you endured, determined to satisfy your master. Consequently, Thomas let loose a powerful roar, his muscles tensing powerfully, as his body convulsed in ecstasy.

Pulling away from your tender mouth after the volley was spent, he looked deeply into your eyes, searching for any signs of resistance or regret. Finding none, a satisfied smirk formed across his lips. "Very good indeed, Love. Now open your mouth and show me your tongue once again," commanded Thomas, placing one palm on either side of your face. Submissively, you parted your lips to expose your reddened tongue, waiting patiently for further orders. "Keep practicing, because soon you'll be giving me blowjobs regularly until, in two weeks or so, I will fuck this virgin pussy of yours," he informed you confidently, running his finger along your neck, arousal evident in his gaze.

Understanding implicitly that your services would extend beyond the confines of today's encounter, you silently accepted your fate without protest.

After all, despite the humiliation and unfamiliar experiences you underwent, there remained an inexplicable allure. Something about submitting entirely to the desires of another piqued an unidentifiable desire deep within you, stirring feelings that seemed almost forbidden. In time, perhaps these indistinct yearnings could evolve into something concrete and tangible. For now, however, you must focus solely on perfecting your skills as Thomas' personal pleasure provider and you soon learned that his requests are more than just a little unusual. 

[watcher7-9]

The Paradox of Love and Logic

Dr. Veritas Ratio X reader II Fluffy II Might be OOC

There’s been changes, if you had two brain cells that you could rub together you could tell Dr. Veritas Ratio had started to change. Well not completely, but for one person. All the students had noticed the subtle difference in his eyes when you walked by or said hi. It was odd, truly. Even Ratio himself had noticed. He could feel like heart drumming against his chest as he placed a hand onto his chest. Interesting. I’ve been experiencing an increase of heart rate and slightly higher dopamine levels when they are near. This could indicate—no it’s impossible, I must perform further observations to verify these results. Dr. Ratio failed again and again as he just couldn’t understand how to suppress them. After so many failures he felt like he was falling deeper and deeper as if these emotions were an endless void. So, he moved onto his next step.

Denial. Dismissing these feelings as a hindrance to his work; an obstruction if you must. This is…irreverent. There’s no logical reason to entertain such distractions. Focus, Ratio. Though as his mind battles with his heart, he admits defeat. Emotions are what make us human after all so decides to embrace these… inconveniences he decided. He had decided a plan, a well thought out one. He had taken up all the space on the large chalkboard he had in his home. Spending a few days planning out every single detail. Through his efforts and a lot of smeared out chalk marks he had contemplated the ultimate plan…

Operation: Heart’s Equation

1. Offering unusual acts of kindness

You had started to notice these small gestures when one day he approached you and handed you a granola bar. “Here. I have calculated your caloric intake for the day and you’re missing approximately 35.5 grams of protein. This snack should help balance that.” Before you could ask any questions he just placed it in your hand before walking away as if it was nothing. Little did you know his heart was racing as he walked off.

After settling down in the chair in his office he couldn’t help but overthink. Did he do it right? It was the perfect setting, no? Passing by as a subtle interaction in the hallways, he had an excuse to walk off afterward; given the excuse he could say he was busy, oh but now he rethinks it he shouldn’t have been so frank. Human emotions truly are complicated. Dr. Ratios mind races with excitement and self-doubt as he sighed.

2. Trying to impress you

You had tried to find a seat in the library, but it was filled. Everyone was trying to catch up on their assignments and today was your unlucky day. You scan around the room and notice Dr. Ratio sitting quietly at the corner table on his own. The table had a neat stack of papers as he typed on his laptop. As you approached him, you hesitated. He was known for his ruthless and upfront nature making students cry and run out of his classroom. You had witnessed it once yourself it was quite the experience to say the least. But you needed this time to study, and you had finally taken time out of your heck of a schedule to go to the library to catch up on work.

“Could I sit here? The other spots are taken…sorry,” you asked him hesitantly. Perking up from his screen he replied with little to no enthusiasm, “I suppose there’s space.” You breathed out a breath of relief that you didn’t know you were holding in. At least he didn’t just reject you. As you settled down and started to work you could almost feel his gaze shifting to you for a mere second in the corner of your eye a few times. “What are you working on?” Dr. Ratio suddenly suddenly asked. “Huh? I’m tasked on writing a paper around the topic of human brains. So, I picked advanced neurocybernetics but there’s not been many reliable sources,” you sigh as you explained the situation. “I have a few sources that I could introduce you to, they contain examples and proven solutions. Allow me to demonstrate my latest research on this topic for you. I’m certain this will benefit your paper.”

3. Try to...Flirt?

You two had ran into each other in a coffee shop when he first tried to flirt with you. It indeed had taken Ratio quite some time before finding the “perfect” opportunity. “You enjoy coffee as well? The flavors are like a chemical equation of sorts. It is quite the balance of acidity and sweetness if I must say. If I had to take a guess, the molecules interaction between the compounds create a 87% satisfaction rate. Hmm maybe even a little than that. ” Dr. Ratio commented as he held up his coffee cup before taking a sip. “Um that’s an…interesting way to think about it.”

After take a sip of from his cup he remarked with a small glint in his eyes, “I could suggest a few other brews like the one you have that I personally recommend. Perhands something with a higher concentration of…romance?” A slight smile tugged at his lips as he sees you laugh. “A scientist testing the water aren’t you?” You tease back with a smug smile. Dr. Ratio’s eyes widen slightly not expecting you to tease him. A red hue spreads over his cheeks as he clears his throat. “A-ah no! I mean um, not literally. But you just seem like the person to enjoy a coffee break from time to time.”

Oh you might just be the solution to his equation. A truly complicated problem. And oh he hopes just one day, he’ll be the solution to all your problems.

[ornii]

Yoo can i request a wenclair x male reader who is a streamer but no one knows about it in the school until Enid saw a fan of reader ask him for a picture

Tier 3 Sub!

Enid Stares hard and intently at the Computer screen as she watches a streamer who rarely shows his face, Wednesday peers into the room.

“You’ve been staring at that computer screen for four hours, as little as I care about your wellbeing it is.. odd for you.” Wednesday started. Enid turned to her, smiling.

“This guys voice is, so beautiful! I can’t see his face though..” Wednesday shook her head.

“I never understood the obsession of others though a screen, and his voice most likely isn’t even—“ Wednesday droned on, until the Streamer saw a request.

“What songs can you mimic?” Good question, I’ve been working on the pitch for d4vd, like this” he clears his throat and effortlessly hits the right notes.

“Watch the sunrise along the coast / As we're both getting old / I can't describe what I'm feeling / And all I know is we're going home / So, please don't let me go / Don't let me go~

And if it's right, I don't care how long it takes / As long as I'm with you, I've got a smile on my face / Save your tears, it'll be okay / All I know is you're here with me~ “

“I still gotta work on the pitch.” He awkwardly laughs, Wednesday and Enid are both now staring at the screen. He gets another request from Enid this time.

“Oh, WolfiutUwU2012. Asks if I play and instruments, I do! Let me show if I can.” He adjusts his camera to focus on the wall, as a black guitar was on the shelf, Wednesday noticed the wall and door nearby. It was a boys dorm, and the window showed the Quad at a downward angle.

“I know that room..”

“You know his room?!”

(Y/n) was enjoying his stream as per usual, until there was a scary and frantic knock at his door, “sorry guys gimmie a sec.” He stood up and walked to the door, but not before muting the stream. He opened the door and Wednesday stood there, he tilted his head a bit. “Uh.. Hello?” He said.

“Sing for me again.” She spoke so calmly, which just made (Y/n) uncomfortable. “I-I’m sorry?..”

“Save your tears, I don’t know how but your infectious voice wracked my brain..” Wednesday stepped closer, making (Y/n) retreat back. Enid finally catches up to Wednesday and grabbed her friend by the shoulder

“I am so sorry about—“ Enid looks (Y/n) in the eyes and immediately stopped talking, he looked was carved out of marble by a sculptor, a god.

“My.. friend..” Enid blinked a few times and (Y/n) gave an awkward smile.

“So.. you guys like the stream.”

“Very much.” Wednesday said, “your voice is like a soothing poison in my ears, wallowing me into a enteral slumber.”

“…” (y/n) looked at Enid for help.

“She means she likes it.. sorry for bursting in your room! We’ll leave you alone now! Btw gonna be a tier three sub!” Enid pulls Wednesday out and slams the door shut. (Y/n) shook off his creepy and unironically hilarious that interaction was, he went back to his chair and sat down, the camera aimed slightly down to his chest.

“Sorry about that…” he said, many question marks and “what happened” floods his stream and he laughs. “I met.. two really cool people. Both of them were really cute too..”

He didn’t have to hide his smile, and was having the time of his life, maybe this new streaming thing does have more benefits than he expected.

[sizzlingstarlightsky]

A Court of Burns and Scales

Azriel Week 2024 [Day 2: Scarred]

Azriel x F reader

Summary: His hands burnt, hers flaking. As solstice arrives, you both notice each others hands and attempt to remedy any of the discomfort. Either from scar tissue or dried out skin, you don't have to suffer alone.

work count: 2.3k

Her skin was perpetually cracked, no matter the season, and she was always seen fidgeting with a small, worn-out tub of lotion.

She walked with her head down, a silent guardian of her secret, her eyes darting up only briefly to survey her surroundings for any signs of contamination.

On a day much like the others, the sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow across the training grounds of the inner circle. The air was cool, hinting at the winter solstice approaching, and the smell of roasting meats and sweet spices wafted from the distant kitchens.

The sounds of laughter and camaraderie filled the air, as everyone worked tirelessly to prepare for the upcoming celebrations.

Her hands stung with the cold, the dryness a constant reminder of her condition.

She pulled out her lotion from the pocket of her cloak, the soft sound of the lid opening barely audible amidst the bustle around her. Applying a generous amount, she worked it into her skin, her eyes fluttering closed as she focused on the soothing feeling of the cream against her parched palms.

It was in that moment of solitude, her mind briefly detached from the chaos, that she felt his presence. The air grew colder, and she knew it wasn't the wind.

She looked up, her gaze meeting Azriel's, his eyes a piercing shade of cramelized green that seemed to see straight through her.

He was watching her intently, his expression unreadable, and for a fleeting second, she felt a flicker of embarrassment. But his gaze didn't linger on the tub of lotion; it remained on her hands, as if he could see the unspoken battle she waged every day.

"Your hands," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate within her chest. "They're dry."

"You really are preceptive Mr. Spymaster."

Her voice was a gentle tease, but there was an edge of vulnerability to it that she hadn't meant to reveal.

She quickly turned her attention back to her task, her eyes darting around to ensure no one else had noticed her odd behavior. But his gaze remained fixed on her, his silence more profound than any words could ever be.

"Let me," he offered, holding out a large, calloused hand.

His palm was a stark contrast to hers—marred by scars and burn marks, a testament to his own battles.

Her heart skipped a beat as she handed over the lotion, their fingers brushing briefly. He took her hand in his, his grip firm yet gentle, and began to apply the cream.

His touch was surprisingly tender, each stroke deliberate and soothing. She watched as the lotion disappeared into her skin, leaving a trail of softness in its wake.

"You should tell someone," he said, his voice softer than she had ever heard it. "They can help."

"It's nothing," she replied, trying to pull her hand away.

But he held firm, his gaze never leaving hers.

"It's just something I deal with."

"But you don't have to deal with it alone," Azriel insisted, his grip tightening slightly. "I can see the torment it causes you. It's clear you're fighting something more than the cold."

She swallowed hard, her pulse racing.

No one had ever cared enough to notice, let alone speak about it. The realization was both comforting and terrifying.

"It's... It's just contamination... it's nothing to worry about."

He studied her for a moment, his eyes searching hers.

"Is that all it is?"

"It's just... I need to keep my hands clean. It's a compulsion." The words tumbled out of her, a confession she had never uttered to anyone before.

She felt a weight lift from her shoulders, but also a deep fear of what he might think. Would he judge her, pity her, or worse, think her weak?

But Azriel's expression remained steadfast, a rare softness etched into his features. He finished applying the lotion to her other hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before letting go.

"It's not nothing," he said firmly. "But I won't push you if you're not ready to share."

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken understanding.

They both knew they had just shared something deeply personal, something that had the power to either bond them or drive them apart. She looked down at her now-moisturized hands, the flakes of skin settled, and felt a sense of gratitude towards him that she couldn't quite put into words.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

"It's the least I can do," Azriel replied, his eyes never leaving hers.

He tucked the lotion back into her pocket before turning to reveal his own hands.

They were a map of his life, etched with the scars and burns from years of fighting and serving in the shadows. He held them up to the fading light, showing her the stark contrast between them.

"My hands have seen their own battles," he said, his voice laced with a hint of sadness.

Her gaze traced the jagged lines that crisscrossed his palms, the burns that had long ago turned to scars. She could see the pain in his eyes, a pain that was not just physical, but one that ran much deeper.

"They're beautiful," she murmured, surprised by her own words.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Beautiful?" He repeated the word as if it were foreign to him. "They're my failures."

"No," she said, her voice firm. "They're your strengths, your proof of survival. They tell a story."

He stared at his hands for a long moment, contemplating her words.

"But they ache," he finally admitted, his voice a quiet confession. "The tightness, especially when the cold sets in..."

"I know," she said with a nod of understanding. "I have my own remedies, but I've never found anything that truly works."

The rest of the day passed in a blur of preparations, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between her and Azriel. His gesture of kindness had been so unexpected, yet it felt as if it had been the most natural thing in the world for him to do.

As they worked side by side, she found herself stealing glances at his hands, wondering if he felt the same discomfort she did.

The winter solstice had arrived, bringing with it a biting cold that seemed to seep into the very marrow of their bones.

The inner circle had gathered around a roaring bonfire, the flames casting flickering shadows across the snow-covered ground.

Her eyes found Azriel across the bonfire, his cheeks flushed with the exertion of the day's festivities. He caught her gaze and flashed a rare smile, his teeth gleaming in the firelight.

The sight of him, so carefree and happy, warmed her more than the blaze before them.

But she noticed his hands—clenched into fists at his sides, the tightness of his skin around his knuckles a stark reminder of his own silent struggle.

The snowball fight had been a highlight, a playful reprieve from their usual solemn duties. But she knew that beneath the jesting and camaraderie, his hands must have suffered.

Approaching him, she offered a warm mug of mulled wine.

"Your hands look like they could use a break," she said with a knowing smile.

He took the mug with a nod of thanks, his eyes never leaving hers.

"They ache," he admitted, "but the victory was worth it."

Her own hands felt tight, the cold air exacerbating her skin. She pulled out her tub of lotion and began to apply it, watching as the flakes of skin disappeared once again. But this time, she didn't do it in secret. This time, she did it openly, as if daring anyone to judge her for her compulsion.

"These are for you," she said, holding out a small, velvet pouch. "I had Thesan enchant it."

He took the pouch with curiosity, his eyes narrowing slightly as he felt the weight of the contents within.

"What is it?"

"An oil," she said with a soft smile.

"It's supposed to soothe the tightness of scar tissue." She watched as he pulled out a small vial and opened it, the scent of something warm and earthy filling the air.

His eyes widened as he took in the deep, amber liquid.

"You had this made for me?"

"It's the least I could do," she said, echoing his earlier words. "You've been so kind to me, and I noticed how much your hands hurt."

With a nod of understanding, Azriel dropped a small amount of the oil onto his palm. He tentatively touched the scarred skin of his hands, his eyes closing as he felt the warmth spread.

"It feels... amazing," he murmured, his voice filled with wonder.

Her heart swelled with pride and relief. She had hoped it would help, had spent hours with Thesan perfecting the enchantment.

"It's a blend of arnica and comfrey oil, with a hint of magic to penetrate deeper."

He nodded, his eyes still closed, savoring the sensation. "It's perfect." He looked at her, his gaze intense. "Thank you."

No was the infamous Spymaster. He knew everyone. Yet no one truly knew him.

Y/N did. She always saw him. Noticed him.

Y/N was always there.

She ducked her head, feeling a blush creep up her neck.

"It's nothing," she mumbled.

But Azriel didn't let the subject drop. He studied her for a moment before speaking again,

"You're always looking out for others, but who looks out for you?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with meaning. She took a sip of her wine, the warmth spreading through her chest, and considered her response.

"I manage," she said, her voice a little too bright.

"But you shouldn't have to manage alone," he said, his eyes searching hers. "Not with something like this."

"It's just OCD," she said, trying to downplay it. "It's nothing compared to the battles you face."

"Our battles are different," Azriel said, his voice low and serious. "But that doesn't make yours any less significant. We all have our demons, some we carry in plain sight, others we hide away."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, intricately carved box. The wood was dark and gleaming, the edges inlaid with shimmering silver that caught the firelight.

"This is for you," he said, holding it out to her.

Her eyes widened in surprise.

"What is it?" she breathed, reaching out to take the box.

It was surprisingly warm to the touch, as if it had been cradled in his hand for hours.

With a gentle smile, Azriel opened the box to reveal a small bottle of lotion nestled in velvet.

"It's an enchanted lotion," he explained. "Looks like Thesan helped both of us. This is supposed to lock in the moisture, no matter how much you wash your hands."

Her eyes lit up with hope as she took the bottle, her trembling fingers tracing the delicate silver runes etched into the glass.

"This is... I don't know what to say," she whispered.

"Say you'll use it," he said, his voice firm yet gentle. "You deserve to find some comfort."

Her heart fluttered as she looked up at him, his eyes holding hers with an intensity that made her feel seen. She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Thank you," she murmured.

As they stood there, the warmth from the fire and the newfound warmth between them seemed to create a bubble of comfort around them.

She could feel the eyes of the others in the inner circle on them, curiosity and speculation in their gazes.

But she didn't care. For the first time in a long while, she felt understood, accepted, and even a little bit cared for.

"Let's sit," Azriel suggested, gesturing to a bench nearby. "Give it a try."

Her heart pounded as she sat beside him, the warmth from his body seeping into her side. She unscrewed the cap of the enchanted lotion, the sweet scent of vanilla and sandalwood wafting out.

Carefully, she applied a dollop to her palm, feeling the rich cream sink into her skin. It was unlike any lotion she had ever used, cool and calming, as if it were whispering reassurances to her very soul.

As she rubbed the lotion into her cracked hands, Azriel's gaze remained on her, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes. It was as if he was memorizing the sight of her, the way the firelight played across her features, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her potions, and the way her hands looked after being coated in the magical balm.

"Better?" he asked, his voice a gentle rumble in the cold night air.

"Much," she replied, smiling genuinely as she examined her now-softened skin. "It feels like a miracle. I never thought my hands would be truly moisturized again."

"I'm not one for miracles," Azriel said with a small smile, "but I'm happy it helps."

They sat in comfortable silence, their breaths coming out in little puffs of mist in the cold air. She noticed the way the flames danced in his eyes, the way his scarred hands looked less harsh in the flickering light.

Without thinking, she reached over and took his hand, the one that wasn't wrapped around the warm mug of wine.

His fingers were large and rough, a stark contrast to her small, smooth ones. But the moment their skin touched, she felt a connection, a silent understanding that went deeper than words.

He looked at her, surprise flickering in his eyes before they softened.

He didn't pull away, instead, he entwined his fingers with hers, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. The heat from his palm seemed to meld with the magical warmth of the lotion, sending a rush of comfort up her arm and into her chest.

@azrielappreciationweek

Comment if you want to be added to a Taglist

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[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

pleaser part 4 pls 🙏🙏🙏

Hiiii! I hope you like it!

Sorry I left it on a cliffhanger again but I'll have the next part this weekend if anyone wants it!

Also, I'm sorry it took so long for me to write this, but I literally had almost 20 requests in my ask box for it. HOPEFULLY it doesn't suck😭

AND I STG BAD IDEA, RIGHT?(Part 4) IS STILL COMING! I'm struggling to get the end just right lmao.

Pleaser - Stepbrother!Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader - Part 4

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Summary: You're still sneaking around with your stepbrother, and it's looking like you have the chance to actually be together with your mom and his dad splitting up.

Contains: p in v, fingering-ish, thigh riding, stepcest but like...your mom and Ethan's dad aren't really together anymore so is it really that bad💀(I know I'm probably missing something but if I read this again, I'll delete the whole fucking thing lmao)

A/N: There's a lot of dialog in this fic, even the smut. If that's not your thing, don't read it:)

After a couple weeks of you sneaking around with Ethan, you started to get a little reckless. You knew how close you were to leaving for college, and you knew the odds of your mom sending you away at the last minute weren’t very high. It got to the point where he was sneaking through your bedroom window every night because you didn’t want to sleep without him. Then, he’d have an alarm set to wake up before Wayne and your mom would get up for work and go back to his room.

The situation between your mom and his dad seemed to be civil, even though Wayne had to sleep on the couch while he tried to find a house. He even contemplated getting an apartment for him and Ethan while they figured it out, but your mom was adamant that it wasn’t a big deal. As irritated as she was over the situation, she didn’t feel right for Ethan to bounce from place to place right before he was leaving for college anyway.

You were sure that your mom had no idea that you were still spending time with Ethan, but she started to notice little things. The flirty glances, the sneaky subtle touches. But what really let her know that you’d found a way to spend alone time with Ethan was when you were helping her make dinner, like you always did, and you put your hair up to get it out of the way. She saw the huge purple mark on the nape of your neck, and she realized that you had no idea it was even there once Ethan walked into the kitchen to see what was for dinner, and his eyes grew wide the second he saw it. He motioned for you to put your hair back down, your cheeks turning bright red. You thought she didn’t notice because she didn’t say anything, but she was planning to later that night after dinner.

Just like clockwork, you and Ethan excused yourself to go to bed right after dinner was over. He was crawling through your bedroom window as you walked over to cut the lights off, your room only lit by the moonlight that was pouring through the window before Ethan closed it and drew the curtains shut.

As you crawled in bed with him, he couldn’t keep his hands off you. Your back was pressed to his chest as your legs were spread for him, his fingers rubbing over your panties as he placed open mouth kisses along the side of your neck.

“You’re so hard,” you said, as your ass was pressed against his cock that was straining in his boxers.

“You always do this to me,” he mumbled against your neck. “I want to fuck you so bad right now.”

“You can,” you whispered, as he slid your panties to the side.

“You think you can be quiet?” he asked, a gasp slipping past your lips as he slid one of his fingers inside you.

Before you could say anything else, you heard a light knock on your door before it eased open. Ethan pulled his hand away from you as you closed your legs. You both froze in fear as you saw the silhouette of your mom as she made her way inside your room.

“Are you still awake?” she whispered, as she tried to navigate through the darkness of your room.

“Yeah, I was almost asleep. Just don’t cut the light on,” you said, your anxiety creeping up as she sat down on the foot of your bed.

“We need to talk about you and Ethan,” she said softly, “I know you’ve still been sneaking around.”

Ethan was trying to be as still as possible as he laid beside you. He was so thankful for your blackout curtains, and how you really couldn’t see anything in the room.

“I know you’re probably going to try to deny it, and I don’t want you to lie to me right now. Please be honest with me,” she said, as you took a deep breath.

“When am I going to dads?” you asked, confirming her suspicions without actually admitting to it.

“Do you love Ethan?” she asked, as you tensed up. You hadn’t said those three words yet, and you knew she was just trying to have girl talk with you to know where your feelings were, but you didn’t want to tell her when he was right behind you. “I think he loves you. He looks at you like it’s way more than just some fling.”

“It’s not just some fling,” you said, as you felt Ethan's hand rubbing against the back of your thigh. “I guess I do have really strong feelings for him.”

“I know I was upset when I first found out about the two of you, but I really like him. I’ve seen a different side of him since the weekend that Wayne and I went on our little trip,” she said, as she started to laugh to herself. “You know he used to annoy the shit out of me.”

“He’s actually really sweet,” you said, as his hand just kept moving.

“I’m not going to send you to your dads…and I think I’ll ask Wayne and Ethan to take the cameras down. They don’t really seem to be serving a purpose,” she said, “But, don’t think that I’m okay with the two of you going crazy. I don’t want to walk in here one morning and see him in your bed or something.”

“I’m not that stupid,” you mumbled, “But I’m really tired. Can we talk more about this tomorrow?”

“Of course, honey. Get some sleep,” she said, as she stood up to make her way towards the door. “If you want, we can go get stuff for your dorm tomorrow. Ethan can come, too.”

“Cool, I’ll ask him about it in the morning,” you said, as she opened the door and walked out, quietly closing it behind her.

You and Ethan laid in silence for a few minutes to give your mom plenty of time to go to bed, but he still snaked his arm around you to hold you close.

“Did she just give you permission for us to be together?” he whispered in your ear.

“I think so,” you said, smiling at the thought of it. “I’m sorry if she made things awkward.”

“I think the only awkward part was me being in the bed with you and she had no idea,” he said as he softly laughed against your neck. “Are you talking about the feelings stuff?”

“Yeah…I know we haven’t really discussed that yet. I didn’t know what to say.”

“Do you have really strong feelings for me like you said?” he said, as his hand ran up your thigh.

“I do,” you said softly.

“Good, because your mom was right…about me loving you.”

“You love me?” you asked, as he nodded his head against you.

“I have since we were left alone for the whole weekend.”

You adjusted on the bed so you were facing him, your legs tangling with his as he held you close.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” you questioned, as he sighed.

“It’s a complicated situation. I didn’t want to say it until I knew we actually had a chance to be together.”

“I love you, too, babe,” you said, as you leaned up to kiss him. You started to laugh against his lips once you felt how hard he still was, his cock brushing against you. “You’re still hard.”

“I told you; the idea of getting caught is my kink,” he mumbled against your lips. “You still want me to fuck you?”

“Mhm.”

He connected his lips to yours again, his hand running over the curve of your ass as he rubbed his cock against you. You were getting more wet by the second, the anticipation building as his tongue moved across your bottom lip. He moved his leg so his thigh was pressed against your pussy, as you started to grind against him, gasping at the friction on your clit.

Your breathing got heavier as you kept moving your hips, and once his hand on you ass was helping you move faster, you were trying so hard to be quiet. He started to groan once he felt how wet you were, your panties completely soaked as you rubbed against him.

“You think you could cum like this?” Ethan said, his tone teasing as his hand went to your hip to hold you down harder against him.

“Oh fuck,” you whimpered, as he softly laughed.

You reached between the two of you to palm him over his boxers, as he helped you move. He attached his lips to yours again to keep quiet himself, because his cock was throbbing so hard as your hand moved over the fabric. He wanted to fuck you so bad, but he wanted you to fall apart over his thigh in between your legs first.

You were whimpering into the kiss as you felt yourself start to get close. He pulled his lips away from yours, his bottom lip in between his teeth as he helped you move as fast as you could.

“Oh my god,” you said, your voice strained as he helped bring you closer to the edge.

“Try to be quiet, baby,” he said, his voice raspy as your legs started to tremble.

“I can’t,” you panted, “Fuck, we’re gonna get caught.”

“No, we’re not,” he said, as he leaned down to kiss you, hard. His mouth caught all the sounds you were trying to hard to hold in as your orgasm hit, your hand still shakily rubbing over his cock.

The grip he had on your hip loosened as you slowed down, your moans turning to soft whimpers as you started to relax against him.

“That was so hot,” he said against your lips, as your breathing started to slow.

“Now, I need to make you cum,” you said softly, reaching into his boxers to pull his cock out.

He let out a low moan once you started stroking, paying extra attention to his sensitive tip.

“Try to be quiet, baby,” you teased, “You want me to suck it?”

“I need to be inside you,” he said, “I want to feel your pussy.”

“Okay, let me grab a condom,” you said, untangling your legs from his before you rolled over to reach into your nightstand.

“I still think it’s funny that you don’t hide them under your bed anymore,” he said, chuckling as you reached into the almost empty box.

“What’s the point? My mom knows I’m not a virgin now,” you shrugged, as you felt him move closer to you, his hand pulling you towards him so your back was against his chest again.

“I can’t believe she thought you were just so innocent,” he said, as his lips went to your neck again, his hand running under the big t-shirt you were wearing. He squeezed your breast, a soft moan slipping past your lips at the feeling.

“I am innocent,” you said, your words making him squeeze you harder.

“You’re far from innocent…especially when you’re in bed with me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, playing dumb as you moved so your ass was firmly pressed against his cock.

“Keep that shit up and you won’t be able to be quiet,” he playfully warned, as he started to suck on your neck.

You moaned at the feeling as his hand moved to your hips, hooking your panties under his thumb as you adjusted to make it easier for him to slide them down. You passed him the condom, your anticipation building as you heard him open it. He rolled it on and grabbed your leg, spreading them open so it’d be easier for him to slide inside of you.

“Don’t be loud,” he reminded you, as he started to push inside you.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, feeling him stretch your walls.

“Shh, you can take it.”

Once Ethan was all the way in, he stilled to give you time to adjust, but that wasn’t what you wanted. You started to move your hips, giving your pussy the friction it was craving. He groaned at your actions as his hand started to roam under your shirt again.

“You gonna help me out or not?” you asked, once you’d been moving for a little bit and he wasn’t.

“I want you to beg me for it,” he said, as you kept moving.

“Please?” you asked, as he chuckled.

“Not good enough,” he teased, “Tell me how bad you want it.”

“So fucking bad,” you said, as his hand moved to your hip. “I need you to fuck me, please baby.”

He started to move, but it was so slow. He was helping you meet his thrusts, the tip of his cock hitting that spot every single time, but you needed so much more.

“Ethan,” you whined, as he shushed you. “Please.”

He didn’t know how quiet you were going to be, but he couldn’t hold back anymore. He started giving you hard, deep thrusts, as your hand slapped over your mouth. The grip he had on your hip was getting tighter, as your free hand started to grip at the sheets. He placed kisses along your neck as he started to whisper in your ear.

“You take my cock so well.”

“Your pussy is perfect.”

“I’ve got you.”

He knew you were getting close, the sounds muffled by your hand just getting louder as he started to go faster.

“Keep moving your hips, baby.”

You did as he said, his hand leaving your hip to rub fast circles against your clit. You were whimpering as your toes started to curl, your entire body getting hot as he brought you closer to your orgasm.

He let out a low groan when your pussy started to clench him, his fingers pressing even harder as he rubbed your clit. Your body started to arch against him as you cried out against your palm, your eyes rolling back as the intense euphoric feeling washed over you.

“Gonna cum,” he panted, as his hand went back to your hip, his cock giving you a few more hard thrusts before his grip on you got shaky. “Fuuuck.”

You both laid there, the only sounds in the room were the heavy breathing coming from the two of you until it started to return to normal. He slid out of you and crawled off the bed to navigate around the darkness of your room to the trash can to dispose of the condom before he laid back down and wrapped his arms around you. You soon dozed off with Ethan’s head nuzzled against your neck.

The next morning, you woke up with Ethan’s arms still wrapped around you. You reached over to your nightstand to check your phone, your eyes growing wide once you noticed that Ethan didn’t set his alarm.

“Babe, wake up,” you said, your hand shaking his arm as he sleepily mumbled. “Ethan, it’s almost eight.”

“Fuck,” he whispered as he sat up and jumped out of bed. “Where’s my sweatpants?”

He walked over to your curtains to let a little light in so he could see, his heart pounding in his chest one he noticed your mom working in the flower bed right outside of your window. The moving curtains caught her attention, and when she glanced up, she saw Ethan quickly trying to close them.

“Your mom’s out there,” he whisper-yelled, feeling around on your floor until he finally found his sweatpants.

“Did she see you?” you questioned, jumping off the bed to put your pajama bottoms on.

“Fuck, I don’t know,” he said, “I’m so stupid.”

You tried to think of a plan, but once you heard the front door open, you walked over to your bedroom door and eased it open to see your mom walk in.

“Out the window, now,” you said, rushing him as he did what you said.

Once he was out of your room and you closed the window behind him, you turned around to walk back to the door to see your mom standing there.

“Maybe we do need to look into you going to your dads.”

[tbhyknow]

𝗦𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗧 𝗡𝗨𝗜𝗦𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘 .ᐟ

summary, it was raining. and this time around, izumi didn't brought his umbrella. thankfully, he came across someone who does. unfortunately for him, it was the person he 'hated' the most.

featuring, izumi sena w/ gender-neutral!reader (romantic)

tags, (mostly) fluff, one-sided rivalry, just izumi things, implied childhood friends, izumi in denial core, mandatory ooc tag

notice, i feel like this idea could work for another character like tsukasa but.... idk izumi's the first guy i thought of when i came up with the idea.

(name) (lastname). oh, how izumi dreaded that name every single time he hears it.

there's not a particular thing about you he doesn't like. maybe it was your face or your voice, even the way you walk, but he seems to hate something in every aspect of your being... irritating. much worse is that his unit members teases him for it.

"ne, secchan, why are you so obsessed with (name)?" ritsu had brought up during practice break. the other knights members looked towards izumi who froze upon the question asked, midway picking up his water bottle.

"ha? obsessed?" izumi turned his head, furrowing his brows as a tick mark appeared on his forehead. why is he even bringing this up?

arashi chuckled from her side of the room, folding her arms over her chest. "oh, don't mind izumi, he's always been like that when it comes to (name). especially back when we're still kids." she then shook her head, "although i am interested to hear your feelings about (name)."

izumi clicked his tongue, his mood only souring as they pester him. "tsk, what's there to even talk about? feelings? i don't have any feelings for them. they're just so annoying that it's distracting me from my work."

leo tilted his head, "distracting? how?"

izumi opened his mouth, ready to spit out whatever reason he could think of to excuse his hate towards you. and yet something comes out, his vocal chords felt weak against the lump of muscles in his throat and his heart began thumping in an odd pattern when your face pops up in his mind.

what could he say about you? you're... you. as weird as it sounds.

he shook his head, sighing. "... do i need a reason to not like them? they're just... too much."

"sounds to me you have a crush on 'em." ritsu teased, causing the others— leo and arashi —to start teasing him too.

"a crush? i didn't think of that before, but that sounds about right!"

"little izumi is growing up, so cute~"

"it's ok, we still love and accept you for who you are."

the grey-haired boy felt his face flush in embarrassment, he opened his mouth to shout at them and tell them off but the words keept dying in his throat, not letting him speak properly.

"shut up, will you? there's nothing right about me crushing on them! i hate them." izumi huffed, turning away and hiding his face to avoid any further teasing. "there's no way i'd ever like someone like them. so annoying..."

even as he said that with such confidence, his face was still red as a beet and his heart continued to beat weirdly.

i don't get it. why do i feel like this? it's irritating. he bit his lip, closing his eyes and trying his best to clear his mind, to set his heartbeat normal again. but when he did, all he could see was your face. your disgustingly pretty face.

eventually, practice had resumed as usual. but each time he glances at the miror, he could see a mirage of you sitting in the background and clapping your hands to support him.

his heart wouldn't beat normally again.

.

.

.

the following weeks were not... the best weeks izumi had faced. everytime he was out with arashi, leo or ritsu and there was coincidentally an advertisement with (name)'s face on it, they'd point it out and call him out in it.

thankfully, tsukasa couldn't care less about the whole ordeal but lately he's been getting on izumi's last nerves by reminding him to focus on idol work instead of his little crush... it didn't take long until nearly the entirety of new-di knows about it.

and just like every other day, he carefully making his way out of the ES building after having to deal with the knights' teasing, he was immediately greeted the sight of thundering grey skies and the heavy pitter-pattering of rain.

just great. just exactly what he needed.

and unfortunately for the usually responsible izumi sena, he did not bring an umbrella with him.

he sighed, running his hand through his grey locks and tugging on them out of frustration. without no other choice, he stood there under the frigid, concrete shade with the cold seeping through his clothes. he crossed his arms and looked at the sky, waiting for the rain to end.

he waited, and waited. and waited some more. then 30 minutes pass and the sky has gotten darker and darker with no sign of the rain letting up anytime soon.

does he need to make a run for it? seek shelter under tree shades, rest for a few minutes before challenging the rain again until he reached home?

izumi groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "i should've checked the weather app." he muttered to himself. "when will this end?"

then, a voice responded. "from what i could see, it doesn't look like it'll be ending soon." a familiar, teeth-grinding voice responded to his rhetorical question.

izumi glanced behind him, his gaze sharp and indifferent as it landed on your smiling face before moving down to the automatic umbrella in your hands.

he watched you move closer to the edge of the porch and open your umbrella. the bright red umbrella standing out in the bleak, grey atmosphere. you turned your head towards him, your smile gentle and warm in contrast to the harsh weather.

even in your presence, you managed to make the rain what once was ruthless and unrelenting on its fall on earth, look like a drizzle.

"wanna share?" is what you only said to him, offering your hand towards him. for him to take and join you under the umbrella.

izumi flinched, but managed to hide it well underneath his aloof expression. he expected you to just leave him there, offering a half-hearted good luck. after all, you must not like him too, right? izumi sena and (name) (lastname) never gets along... or at least that's how he perceives it to be.

he hesitated, staring down at your hand, unsure if it was worth it. when was the last time you guys held hands before? or was there even a time when you two did that? izumi couldn't remember. no matter how weird the nostalgia the scene gives him.

then, he sighed and shook his head. "fine. but if my clothes get wet, you're going to clean it." he threatened casually and took your hand.

he nearly slipped on his way to find cover under your umbrella and glared at you as if you were responsible for it. "give me that." he, without a warning, snatched the umbrella from your hands and held it up. "it's better if the taller person held the umbrella.

you chuckled, "such a gentleman. although, you were always like that, i guess."

"what's that supposed to mean?" he glanced at you. his hold on your hand gentle but firm, a subconscious act on his part.

"nothing, nothing. let's just hurry up before the rain gets worse."

.

.

.

"hey, hold my hand!" a young boy shouted at another child, reaching out his hand towards them while the other was occupied holding an umbrella.

the child sat on the wet concrete, merely looking up at the grey-haired boy with an expression akin to awe. the boy, seemingly not appreciating the wait, glared at him and puffed his cheeks.

"hey, are you deaf or something? take my hand before i take it back!" he threatened, although at that moment, it seemed unlikely he'll do that.

the rain continued to pour down in them, the pitter-patter ringing loud throughout the empty street. then, snapping out of their trance, the other child finally took his hand and held onto it tightly.

the boy pulled them up with all the strength a kid his age could muster and kept them close under the safety of the umbrella.

"jeez, you're so reckless. falling down like that." he scolded them, shaking their head like a disappointed parent. "next time, hold my hand much tighter. just like that. i can't have you falling again or else i'll get in trouble."

he didn't get a response other than them squeezing his hand. he squeezed theirs back in response, as if to reassure them that they'll be fine. the boy looked away, hiding the growing blush on his face from them.

"come on, let's go. the rain might get worse."

notice, is this in game lore accurate. ik he's obsessed with makoto in their childhood days but this js came to me in a fever dream and ooooough i js need to write this. also we js got hit by like 4 typhoons, but that ok im a winner and i rlly like winning 🫶

likes, reblogs && general feedback r appreciated!

[dutiful-wildcraft]

Pack 141 - Fae!Soap Headcanons

Tags: monster au, Fae!Soap, poly 141, sfw, fluff, general lore, Soap's mom? for a minute at least, fae lore I roughly researched.

-Soap's mother was a stubborn and superstitious woman. When her baby boy was born with a caul over his face, her heart seized with dread. She had been told stories, how it was lucky to have a child able to see beyond the veil. How the caul signified a great power, coveted by the people of the forest. Her only babe, marked as Fae. 

-They would come for her child, steal him in the night and replace him with another. And it would be a cold day in hell before Jill Mactavish let anything touch her son.

-She slept with the bundle clutched tightly in her arms, refusing to sleep until she left the hospital. Left him wrapped snugly to her front as she hammered iron railroad spikes into the corners of her property; hung horseshoes above her doors, sprinkled fine lines of salt around every doorway and window of her home. 

-She thought it had worked. At least for a while. But the Fae are persistent if nothing else. Jill began to notice strange flowers pop up around the foundation of her home, odd tapping rhythms heard in the night. Would she know? Would she know if the lamb in her arms was replaced with another?

-She was so exhausted, worn thin from paranoia. Yet Jill Mactavish was no quitter. Under the light of a pale full moon she marched to the edge of her property. Her blue eyed bundle cooing and gumming happily at his fingers as he wriggled against her chest. With a final look to the boy she faced the forest with a stern resolve, “You won't take him! But I'll share him! Leave us be or help me raise him right!” 

-The winds rustled, branches creaking ominously. Leaves gathered and spun into a tornado of color in the chill autumn air. Jill would freeze in place as the leaves fell away, revealing an ethereally beautiful creature before her. All high cheekbones and sharp eyes surrounded by inky black sclera. 

-Ordinarily the Fae would swap out changelings, snag the babe once it was the right size and replace it with one of their own. Considering the wee one was already Touched….perhaps a swap would be unnecessary.  Human mother's were coveted. The milk of human kindness and all that, and the babe was truly beautiful, destined to be strong. The fae had looked Jill up and down with a calculating look. Yes. A deal could be struck. They would raise the baby together.

-And thus Soap spent his time in equal parts amongst the Fae and humans, learning to socialize with both, though he didn't completely fitting in with either. Soap was hell on wheels. Rambunctious and equally curious, constantly nosing or getting into things he ought not have. Not that he was ostracized by either group he was just..*odd.* Unable to find his footing or close friends.

-You could say that Soap has many siblings, though this term is used liberally.  By human technicalities Soap is an only child (his mum's baby boy). His mother, through the nature of her bargain,  was brought into the fold with young John. Helping to raise and nurse her own gaggle of fae children of differing bloods. Other children Soap would call family.

-Fae don't have strict family dynamics, it's certainly a community effort to rear little ones. Fae children can be produced in a myriad of ways, with no one way being seen above another, p in v? that works. Born from a flower? Sure why not. Throw some herbs and intent together until a wailing babe sounds from the cauldron? That works too.

-Soap naturally inquired about this, as any kid would. “Ma? Did I come from a flower?” “You came from my belly wee one” Soap had squinted at her, eyeing her belly incredulously, "but how?”

-It took several conversations to get the toddler to understand that the other children in his human primary school were not in fact his brothers and sisters. 

-As humans are fascinated with the Fae, the Fae are equally as fascinated by humans. As John grew into a young man he would see the differences. The Fae courts had long fallen into a peaceful rhythm. The humans? Hardly. With a powerful knack for chaos, among other abilities. Soap threw himself into the army. Keen to help as many as he could, and perhaps even find his own way. 

-Soap is a marked child. He is more resilient on average than most Fae, and shows no obvious limitations in what disciplines he can learn. However, as marked he does have particular dispositions toward the following.

-Tongues, the ability to speak any language at will. Sometimes without thinking about it. For Soap this isn't automatic, but after a few days of listening or studying he's fluent. (Albeit with the accent). This gives Soap a peculiar edge when working with varying communities, elements, and other critters/creatures.

-Glamour, a sophisticated illusion, these may allow for invisibility or changes to appearance for a brief time (upwards to an hour but possibly longer depending on the severity of the change). Living amongst the Fae made permanent changes to his body. The sclera of his eyes had shifted inky black. His teeth and nails razor sharp. There is an ethereal beauty to all Fae as well. Naturally Soap uses this ability to cover some of the obvious issues.

-Soap knows he's distracting. He's a proud thing, and rarely bothers shifting that. He's damn good at what he does and looks damn good doing it. Hshows off his muscles/skills/looks without shame. 

-Shapeshifting, self explanatory, but only works proportionally give or take a few inches. He may take on the appearance of another person or creature, briefly. But once again, only appearance. Mimicking voices is another skill.

-Sight or Clairvoyance, this ability's range depends on the court or bloodline. In Soap's case, his visions will occasionally come to him in dreams, these being more sophisticated visions or events far in the future. These visions are generally more detailed.  He is typically privy to smaller prophecies,  glimpses of events happening minutes before him. These are typically vague, but have consistently been enough to save his and his teammates asses numerous times in the field.  The Infamous Mactavish Intuition ;)

-Soap is one hell of an alchemist, and can make due with most natural items at his disposal. Poisons, potions, explosives, you name it, Soap can make it. He excelled remarkably in the maths and sciences in school, and it’s why he was also quickly assigned to demolitions so long ago. 

-Soap has a very noticeable smell. One that isn't exclusively detected by other supernatural beings. Any human standing beside him would notice it. Lemon and shortbread, with a warm curl of rose.  Clean, green and vaguely sweet. People wonder if his callsign was from this fact rather than his prowess on the field.

-Nudity has no taboo with the Fae. Raised as such, the man has literally no shame. Soap Mactavish has been naked since he was a child in the woods, and will continue to proudly do so. Does not understand why everyone else is so uptight about it. Will bust in on someone in the shower without a second thought. “Stop screamin’ it’s just me”

-Fae are very partial to music, and Soap is no exception. He is so easily captivated by the sound, swaying slightly, almost as if hypnotized. Soap isn’t as in tune with artists and genres as Gaz is, but he keeps a hoard of songs on his phone. Gaz is his main contributor, keeps him well fed with playlists he makes. Playing new records for Soap as they bop around the kitchen together, playfully dancing or headbanging together.  Soap was once pretty proficient with piano and guitar at his mam’s encouragement. His singing however, nearly got him killed in basic. 

-Many animals are the watchdogs of the Fae. Soap has been seen having conversations with himself, unknowing to onlookers that a little frog or squirrel was sitting beside him. Someone swears they saw a mouse crawl out of his tac vest once. He whistles with the birds, scoops up bugs and plops them back into the weeds.  He unfortunately doesn’t know the language of the shower spider. He doesn't bother to learn, he thinks he prefers the silence in this instance. 

-Soap can be attracted with a myriad of things just like any other fae. Music as mentioned above is one. He is also partial to pretty chimes and bells, running water, shiny and/or colorful displays, as well as anything sweet, candies or sweet creams/milks/liquors.

- Too much contact with iron on his bare skin will poison him.  Fortunately most weaponry constructed now is made of more synthetic material. It can be noticed that Soap is very particular about his gloves, and is rarely seen without them on. Iron on properties or above doors won’t exactly stop him, but it is incredibly uncomfortable and will lead to sickness if he is trapped within such a ward for too long. 

-Fae, like crows, are enamored with jewels and other shiny objects, less of a weakness really and more of a distraction. Soap, prior to his enlistment had several piercings, such as his ears, and brow…among other things. He was very fond of the adornments, and easily captivated by the shiny displays on others. (This also extends to his intense love of blowing shit up and watching the sparks fly, big ole hearts in his eyes as the colors dance)  In the event the team goes out for something special Soap will throw on a few pieces for fun~ 

-Soap can not lie, at least not directly, however Soap is a very sharp lad, and has learned to cleverly navigate around this by either not telling the whole truth, letting others assume, or simply not correcting misconceptions. He is a Fae afterall, being clever is his specialty.

-Customs of love and marriage vary among the Fae. Many Fae interpret strong love as variations of servitude, especially towards human mates.  Soap has gotten himself tangled between both of these versions of love. For Soap love is servitude. Not something to be expected of his lovers, but from him. Soap gives himself to his lovers willingly, He wants to be good, give them anything they want and let them take what they need. Love is worship, and Soap is a very devoted man.

-Soap and Gaz had bro’d up as soon as they spotted each other. Having seen through each other's glamours, they became fast friends. Two oddballs fighting side by side. Which would turn into playful banter, and kips on the helo leaning against one another. Then to wandering hands and desperate kisses, having found comfort and fondness in each other after years of hiding themselves among humans. Soap and Gaz are the most cuddly. Johnny likes to lay sprawled in his Sphinx’s nest, his arms curled around his middle, face buried against Gaz's stomach. Both of them absolutely hate to sleep alone. 

- Soap had a knack for getting into trouble. Disregarding orders to do what needed to be done. Had nearly been kicked out had his skills not saved his skin (and countless others). It was Price who sniffed him out, offered to take the man on loan for a bit. Soap's former CO was happy to be rid of him and hopeful that the notoriously stern Captain would knock some sense into him. Price, however had no such plans, he cut Soap loose, full authority, and watched the man bloom. Price did not anger at Soap’s decisions, didn’t flinch at his savagery in the field. In fact, Price had looked upon him with fondness (and a fair amount of exasperation). He kept Soap warm with lovely praises and a regular morning coffee, plus a heavy splash of sweet cream, for good measure.

-Simon had been more difficult, adamant on giving the Fae a hard time. Having seemingly been put off by Soap ever since he bounded off the truck and fist-bumped his arm on the tarmac. But Soap was determined, chatting and teasing, unphased by the lieutenants' icey behavior. They fell together in no time. Soap nestled to his chest, lips brushing over Simon's slow beating heart. Soap would never admit it. Never admit that he knew it would be like this all along. That Soap had seen him in his dreams.