#its at least bottom third surely

[sandymybeloved]

DWM's 11th Doctor rankings are an affront

[thirdtimed]

crossed fingers that i'll do something with these thumbnails. happy cactus ring day everyone

[lovscb97]

— stray kids links [hyung line]

tags: hyung line!stray kids x fem!reader, established relationship, rough sex, unprotected sex (plz wrap it before u tap it), creampie, breeding kink, daddy kink, mild dacryphilia, begging, use of collars/leashes, spanking, strength kink, oral sex (f. receiving), squirting, car sex, slight exhibitionism, slight choking, use of nicknames (baby, princess, angel, kitten, etc), degradation (slut, whore, etc), dirty talk, edging, overstimulation, etc

wc: 2.73k

add. notes: hai …. sorry i made this post instead of giving u guys nerd!chan pt. 2 I FUCKIN SWEAR IT’S COMING but it’s just taking the piss out of me n i needed this out for a new post. anyways plz dni if u r a minor like i mean that w my whole chest n also lmk if some of the links stop working or if u can’t see them idk what i can do abt that . but at least i will be aware LMFAOOOOO yea anyways enjoy :3

maknae line ver.

. . .

⥽ … BANG CHAN: 

link one.

chan is packing. he is absolutely packing to the point you felt like he was going to tear your womb apart when you first got intimate with him, his thick cock stretching you out past your limits as fresh sobs fell from your mouth. since then, he's trained you to take him with enough prep, always making sure to milk at least two orgasms from you before he even thinks about letting his dick near your pussy regardless of how hard it might be throbbing. that wait becomes worthwhile though when he finally sinks inside of you, dirty words and throaty groans rambled in your ear as he releases himself deep inside once he's reached his peak. he loves the feeling of your warm walls sucking him in, never leaving you alone until he's dumped his load empty.

"fuck, baby. how are you so tight?" chan hisses incredulously, wet thumb still circling your clit as you shake in his hold. you're extremely sensitive at this point, twitching from the slightest touch after having cum for the third time, but the only thing in your mind right now is your boyfriend breeding you, the request made obvious with how you tighten your legs around his waist to pull him in. "cum in me, daddy. please!" you plead, teary eyes blinking up at chan whose orbs roll to the back of his head at your keen expression. it only takes a few more thrusts before he's shooting ropes of hot cum inside you, gripping himself to ensure he stays in place. you sigh in content at the warm liquid flooding you, and chan just smiles tiredly, leaning in to sweetly kiss you. "i love you, precious girl." he whispers, resting his body on top of you to keep you plugged up for the rest of the night.

link two.

you're chan's favourite destress toy, that much is obvious. every time he comes home from a long day at work, he knows it'll be worthwhile because you'll be there waiting with open arms and your wet hole longing to be filled up. he'll even take you right then and there in the living room sometimes, making sure everyone around you two knows exactly whose name you're screaming. certain days when he's had it particularly bad though, he'll collar you up and attach a leash to it that he can pull back on, bending you over with your ass up in the air as he slams himself into you repeatedly. it gives him immense pride to have that sense of control over you, to be able to manoeuvre you into whatever position he desires. if he's feeling especially mean, he'll edge you until you're crying into the sheets, cooing at how fucked out you look, knowing he's the only one who can make you feel that way.

"please.. i wan' cum, please." you slur out mindlessly, drool dripping down your mouth as chan slowly drags his cock in and out of you, its mushroom tip pressing deliciously against that spot inside. your boyfriend just chuckles from behind you, his hand yanking on the leash that's tied to your collar which makes you lean back in an instant. his hand sneaks down to grip himself as he pulls out for the nth time, and you whine at the loss of fullness in you, bottom lip jutting out as he slaps the head of his cock against your clit. "yeah, princess? you wanna cum? wanna cum all over daddy's dick?" he mocks you, laughing sadistically when you desperately nod your head. he continues to rub up your little nub, and you're soon about to fall over the edge, gratitude on your lips when he suddenly stops. "oh, baby, you're not cumming that easily tonight." chan growls, causing you to shiver under his hold as he pushes you back onto the bed. it looks like you're in for a long night.

⥽ … LEE MINHO: 

link one.

you love pissing minho off. it's one of the little things in life that gives you so much pleasure, aside from when your boyfriend fucks you, of course. minho, on the other hand, doesn't take lightly to your teasing at all. on days where you're acting out by wearing revealing clothes in front of his friends or sitting too close to one of them for his liking, he'll drag you out with some lame excuse and a clenched jaw, mumbling something about how you're both going home now. he doesn't even care that you're probably smug by the end of it, because that feeling of triumph soon dissipates when he has you bent over his lap, veiny hands kneading the plush of your ass before he's landing a harsh smack on it. he'll spank you and make you count your punishment, and if you lose track, he'll just have to start all over again.

"fucking slut." minho tsk's, cold fingers running themselves against the bruised skin of your butt. he takes a moment to admire his work, tracing the red imprints of his hand on your ass and even the outline of your white panties, which are absolutely soaked by now. "min, please! 'm sorry, it won't happen again." you cry out, and he scoffs, rolling his eyes although you can't see it. another series of repeated spanks land on you, and you yelp in response, legs kicking up from the stinging impact. your body burns by now, every touch minho provides it leaving behind a searing sensation, but you know your boyfriend is far from done with you. "we both know that's a damn lie." he clicks his tongue. "you're always acting out, so it seems like i gotta really start putting you in your place, hm?" you're about to protest when he smacks again, drawing a sob from you; the sound goes straight to his core. he licks his lips, a smirk stretched across them as he readies his palm once more. "now, stop crying and start counting, whore."

link two.

it's no secret that minho is a certified ass man. he loves you, but god does he love your ass just as much. everything about it sends him reeling, from the way it's accentuated in the clothes you wear, to the plump flesh of it that jiggles every time he's got you on your hands and knees. you'd argue he puts you in this position at least once every time you two fuck because knowing your boyfriend, he just wants to watch the way you push back on him when he's bottomed out inside you. he'll give you a few smacks here and there on it too, kneading the skin in his palms before he's snapping his hips into yours. most of the time, he'll refuse to cum inside of you, instead pulling out just before he tips over the edge to release all over your behind and back. you're not complaining though, you love the feeling of his seed dripping over it just as much as he does.

"mm, shit, you look so good right now, kitten." minho groans from behind you, cockhead practically battering your cervix with the way he's shoving himself in and out of you. your whines are high in pitch with how he's fucking you, and you stutter to speak when you try and respond. "y-you say that every time." you eventually manage to heave out, and minho chuckles breathlessly, fingers gripping the flesh of your ass in them as he bites his lip, moaning lowly at the way it bounces back against his dick. "can't help it. you're too hot." he grunts, pistoning his hips at a frenzied pace that knocks the breath out of your lungs. it only takes a matter of minutes before you're both cumming, loud noises filling the room as minho pulls out just in time so he can splatter his release all over your backside. his thumb dips into the seed that now decorates your ass, and he swipes to collect it, pushing it into your mouth. a grin decorates his face as you suck on it. "atta girl."

⥽ … SEO CHANGBIN: 

link one.

changbin is a gym fanatic through and through, and with his rigorous work out routine eventually came his well-built physique, chiselled and bulked up to the point you think you would barely recognise his past self. it refects in the way he walks, talks and holds himself; he loves his strength and he loves showing it off, especially to you. that's why every time you're both entangled in his sheets, it results in him urging you to stand up before hoisting you in his arms. some days he'll hold you in them and bounce you up and down his cock, relishing in the way your cries echo through the room alongside the slapping of skin. other days, he'll toss you around and headlock you as he pounds you from behind, groaning filth in your ear as he pushes you to the edge of tipping. either way, you love what he does, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

"hng, so strong, binnie!" you wail, hands clutching your boyfriend's broad back and shoulders as your nails dig into his soft skin, sure to leave marks the next day. changbin just grunts at your sounds of pleasure, too immersed in fucking you onto his cock in your current position. he's got you clinging onto him for dear life as he enters you repeatedly, pride blooming in his chest when you acknowledge how hot it is that he can pick you up so effortlessly. "y-yeah, pretty? like when binnie fucks you like this?" he stutters slightly, too wrapped up in how your pussy clings to his girth. you nod your head rapidly, babbling about how close you are and how hard you're going to cum, spraying all over your boyfriend in due time when he slams into that spot hidden inside you. you're not even given a chance to recover afterwards, changbin manhandling you onto the bed on your stomach before he's sinking back inside. "just a little more, baby. binnie's gotta cum too, okay?" he's whining, and you keen despite the sting of overstimulation rushing through, not knowing you're going to end up letting him use you for another hour.

link two.

you've always known changbin is a romantic at heart, his soft-spoken nature despite the daunting aura he gives off due to his frame often sending your brain spiralling. it gives you whiplash, the way he treats you. some days he'll fuck you like he hates you, growling dirty comments to your face and spitting in your mouth as you shake through an orgasm. other days, however, he'll craddle you in his arms, caging your body underneath him as he rocks his hips against yours in deep, fluid motions. one of his favourite things to do during these instances is hold your hand. he loves the feeling of your fingers lacing through his, holding onto him as he delivers sharp strokes inside of you. something about it feels so raw, like both your souls are intertwined in one big hug. he'll kiss you dizzy, burying his face into your neck as you both whimper 'i love you's' to each other.

"baby.. fuck, baby." changbin moans, his breath fanning hot against the sticky skin of your shoulder from where he's nosed himself in. his hand clings to yours amidst his movements, and you mewl loudly when he thrusts particularly deep inside of you. "i love you. love you so much, my baby. my pretty, perfect angel." your boyfriend pants, head moving to bring his lips to yours in a messy meeting. it's filled with so much love and care, your mouths moulding perfectly against one another's as you exchange kisses. your stomach feels like it's filled with butterflies, but you're not sure if that's because of how fucking in love you are with him or because of changbin rocking his hips into you. either way, you pull apart from him, trying to say it back in the middle of your noises of pleasure. "l-love you so much, binnie. fuck, you always give it to me so good." you praise, and changbin visibly shivers, burying his face back where it was between your neck to continue making love to you until at last, you're both coming undone together.

⥽ … HWANG HYUNJIN: 

link one.

one thing you adore about your precious lover boy is his mouth. his pretty, plump lips that kiss your tears away, or his dangerously addictive tongue that's always finding it's way between your thighs when he feels like it, which is basically all the time. hyunjin can't help that you taste so sweet, or how you're always so perfectly wet for him by the time he's journeyed down to your legs where you truly need him. he'll spend hours buried between them, parting you with his slender fingers and holding you open for him to lick into. he finds extreme satisfaction in the way you push back against his body when he's having a go at you, too weak to move him in your futile efforts of running away from his mouth once he's had you cum twice without stopping. he'll continue anyways though, because to him, there's no better treat after a long day.

"hyunie, s-slow down." you whimper, the lewd suckling sounds of your clit being wrapped in your boyfriend's mouth resonating through the room as he messily eats you out. his movements are filled with fervour and desperation, something you'll never get used to experiencing despite how long you've been together. each time almost always feels like you're starring in some obscene porno with the way hyunjin always drawls out the most nasty sounds from you. this instance is no different either, because before you can even react, you're spraying droplets of clear liquid on his face, your boyfriend groaning into you at the feeling of you squirting on him. he cleans it all up with great pleasure, breathing heavily as he finally rises from his position to slot himself between your legs. his lips find yours in a dirty kiss, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. "you're insatiable." you murmur when he pulls away, and hyunjin chuckles, mouth hovering over your jaw as you tremble at his next words. "not my fault my baby's got the tastiest cunt in the world."

link two.

hyunjin is a freak through and through. you've known for a while that he gets off on all sorts of things, and one of them is primarily the risk of being sneaky in public, regardless if it's planned or not. there have been one too many occasions of the latter where you've both been out on a date together with you looking a little too good, too good to the point that the waiter starts flirting with you and leaving hyunjin seething. it's only high time after that until he's dragging you out of the restaurant and into his backseat, too lazy to even undress properly before he's sinking inside of you to fuck you as he sees red. he'll get so possessive too, groaning how you're his and his only whilst pulling you back by your hair. it's true that your boyfriend is a big lover, but when times come down to this, he'll drill into you like he absolutely loathes you.

"dirty slut, letting me fuck you where anyone can see. you'd even let that server find you like this, wouldn't you?" hyunjin grits out, his sweat dripping onto your back as he shoves his long length in you. you're sure the windows are fogged up by now, his car rocking with his movements, but neither of you care about that. "n-no, only want you to see. just you, hyune." you whimper, eyes rolling to the back of your head at the way his cock slams in you with each thrust. your boyfriend lets out a low moan at your words, yanking you back by your hair to lick at your neck. "that's right, princess. only i get to look at this pussy, hm? only i can f-fuck it right, yeah?" he grunts, slender fingers coming up to wrap around your throat as you nod shakily, taking a deep breath as hyunjin squeezes slightly. "gonna cum in this cunt and fill you up with my babies so everyone knows who you belong to. then, i'm taking you straight home to fuck you full again. got that?"

. . .

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

you’re borrowing your boyfriend!jason todd’s…

hoodie

it’s big, it’s warm, and it smells like your big warm boyfriend. of course you stole it. luckily jason runs hot..or that’s what he tells you at least. the man gets cold too, but he’d never tell you that. not when you look so cozy in his sweatshirt.

sweats

your favorite thing of his to match with his hoodie. his sweatpants are super warm, super soft, and super baggy. meant for ultimate comfort. jason loves it when you go full out sweatsuit in his clothes. like, loves it. you’re like his own personal teddy bear to hold on to while he falls asleep. who needs sweats when he has you to keep him warm..in his.

t shirt

sometimes, when the weather’s warmer, you’ll steal one of jason’s shirts to thrown on over a pair of panties. you’re oblivious to the fact that this combination makes jason go absolutely buck wild. somehow you’ve never made the connection. but more than once he’s found you sprawled across the couch, watching tv, and ended up going down on you. his head nestled between your thighs as you grip his raven locks. his hands are fisted into the loose fabric of his shirt that you’re wearing. he’s not satisfied until your legs are shaking, your moans intermingling with the wet, borderline pornographic, sounds that he’s creating with his mouth on your clit. he never lets you get him back either, even though you know he was grinding his crotch against the couch, chasing that sweet friction and release along with you. but he always just sits you atop his lap after, kissing your cheek as he brushes your hair out of your face. grips your thigh as he makes a comment about the show playing, your panties long forgotten on the floor.

underwear

you never get very far wearing a pair of your boyfriend’s boxers. for one, they’re pretty loose on you, so you have to roll the waistband a couple times, which just gives jason a prime view of your ass. they also just make it so easy for him to get his hand down the front, his strong fingers expertly finding your clit like he’s memorized a map of your body. which, in some ways, he has. it’s not long before you’ve come, once, twice, almost a third time, and he’s pulling his own boxers off to free his stiff cock. it points out, the tip leaking, and you’re opening your legs wider without even realizing it. he grabs your waist, sliding you closer to the edge of the bed, making sure you’re ready before he slides in, burying himself in you. he bottoms out, and you’re throwing your head back, a third orgasm threatening to crest as he starts up a rhythm. the muscles of his stomach ripple as he thrusts in and out. one of his hands is on your waist, the other slowly snaking its way back down to your clit. your toes curl at the feel of his calloused thumb rubbing circles on that sensitive bundle of nerves. he’s groaning, low in his throat, at the way you look on his cock. it never gets old for him, ever. the way your cheeks flush, how adorable your blown out pupils are when you look up at him. your wet lashes, your messy hair. your entrance clenches around his cock as you come a third time, your hands gripping the bed sheets. jason comes along with you, groaning loudly as he paints your insides with white ropes of cum. he pulls out, wetting a washcloth in the bathroom. the wet, warm fabric feels like heaven against your sensitive folds, your boyfriend wiping away the mixture of fluids between your legs. you feel pleasantly boneless, sinking into the pillows at the head of the bed. your boyfriend cleans himself up after, settling into bed next to you. jason wraps his strong arms around you, and it’s better than any clothes you might steal. but what you don’t know, is that he’d let you steal his clothes anytime.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐏𝐀𝐘 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄!

Choso

Pairing: Choso x f!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend completely stops focusing on you after you give him a gaming console for his birthday. Luckily, you have a very clever way of reminding him that you also need his attention.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, oral sex (m. receiving), masturbation

10k Event Masterlist

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Getting your boyfriend a gaming console for his birthday was truly the worst mistake you've ever made. The moment he turned on the console, all the attention that was rightfully yours, went to a monitor and a controller. Sure, Choso isn’t the most affectionate boyfriend but at the very least he’d give you attention.

You would be attached to the hip, you’d give him all your physical love while he’d do you a favor; whether it was getting you a glass of water or preparing your favorite snack. But now that’s not happening. You try to spend time with him but he’s always on his fucking game, and it annoys you more than you’d like to admit. 

“Do you want to watch a movie tonight, babe?” You walk to the living room, finding him with his headphones on, eyes dead focused on the TV. You sit down next to him, and your usually calm boyfriend suddenly begins to scream, the match pissing him off. You roll your eyes, tempted to turn off the game, but you know that’ll ensue a huge argument. You clear your throat, and repeat your question.

“Huh?” He responds, and you glare at him. You decide that you won’t ask the question for a third time. You’re about to stand up and walk away, but your eyes go to his sweatpants, and a much better idea comes to mind. You suck your bottom lip between your teeth and ponder your options. You’re touch starved because of the stupid game console. But Choso doesn’t deserve it.

Your hand still goes to his thigh, and you get on your knees on the floor. Maybe doing this for him will make him remember that he still has a girlfriend with a lot of needs. He can’t pause the game, risking for him to lose when he looks down at you. Utter confusion then clarity hits as your hands go to the waistband of his sweatpants. You give him the cutest eyes while a wicked smirk comes to your lips before asking him, “May I?”

“Have fun.” He responds, his eyes back on the screen. You pull down his pants and boxers, letting his cock free of its confinements. 

Your hand wraps around the base of his shaft and you spit on his cock a couple of times. Your tongue drags on his dick before it gets to the tip. Your tongue circles the tip before you hollow your cheeks and wrap your mouth around what you can take of his cock. It doesn’t earn much of a reaction from him. His game is that much fun.

Your hand wraps around the part that isn’t in your mouth, stroking it while you bob your head. Your free hand goes to his balls, massaging them to get a sound from him, and you feel like you’ve succeeded when you hear a whimper from him. You look up at him, his eyes still focused on the TV but you feel his attention drifting. 

You stop playing with his balls, your hand goes down your own shorts and gets in your panties. Your index and middle finger run through your folds before you begin to play with your clit. Sucking him off always turns you on so much. And it works more now since you’re in dire need of attention.

You try to take all of him in your mouth, your eyes immediately filling up with tears as you gag on his cock. You hear a soft moan from him, and your teary eyes watch him finally break his focus. You finally let his dick go, gasping at a breath of fresh air. It doesn’t take too long for your mouth to wrap around him again, going back to all you can handle. You push two fingers inside your pussy and begin to move them in and out of you, moaning on his cock. 

“Ah… shit– fuck fuckfuckfuck–” You hear, and you watch him toss the controller to the side. He doesn’t care if he loses anymore, his attention has been captivated. He whimpers again before praising you, “You’re doing so good…”

Your fingers go back to your clit, playing with it a bit more before stopping. You have a feeling that your night is far from over, and he won’t edge you. On the contrary. He’ll be generous tonight after you’ve been so generous to him.

He gets more vocal as you continue, letting you know that he’s close to finishing. Maybe after this he’ll finally remember what he’s missing out on while he focuses all his attention on a stupid game. He’s missing out on his pretty little girlfriend in a hundred different ways– If you do well enough he might smash the console into pieces (he won’t).

“I’m gonna–” His breath gets caught up in his chest, his hand going to the back of your head and pushing your head down before he fills your mouth up with his cum. He holds your head still for a moment, and when he finally lets go, there’s a smirk on your face as you swallow every drop of his cum. 

“Did that change your mind?” You ask.

“Let’s go to the bedroom.” He completely ignores the game on his screen, completely focused on you.

[alchemistc]

Once again I need to get off my ass and go work but instead all I'm thinking about is Them:

Buck's mostly got his breathing under control by the time he hears the side door slide open, and he adjusts his weight automatically, tips his chin as he straightens his spine, tugs at the bottom of his suit jacket like that will fix the wrinkles he'd made bending at the waist for the last ten minutes.

"Buck?"

He's turned away, thank god, so Tommy can't see the wince.

"I'm fine," he says, annoyed with himself and the world at large when it comes out wobbly. "Go back ins-." When he hears the door click shut again he takes a moment to hope Tommy's just left, again, but -

No such luck.

"That door locks from the inside," Buck murmurs, and tears his gaze away from the gentle expression on Tommy's face. There'd been a cardboard box wedged up in there by whatever line cook had been out here smoking when Buck burst through the doors, and the guy had left it with a warning about how insanely large this building was and how few doors along its perimeter were unlocked, and now the broken down box is somewhere beneath Tommy's left foot.

Tommy tries the door anyway.

It doesn't budge. "We could just call Eddie," Tommy says, and Buck feels the ire rise in his throat.

"Eddie's not here," he spits, and it feels like a knife under the ribs. Everyone fucking leaves, eventually. "Call your date, if you want. I'm walking."

Buck heaves himself up from his lean against the brick, takes two large strides to make it past Tommy and keeps going.

He should have known better than taking Bobby at his word that this stupid gala would be worth his time. So far he's dodged conversations about the curse of the 118, spent an unbearable five minutes smiling blandly at Gerrard before he could excuse himself, and tossed two numbers written on raffle tickets into the trash in his mad dash through the kitchens because apparently Tommy had been chosen as the rep for 217 and he looks fucking good in his suit, and he'd been pretty sure they'd be spending this Christmas together, until last month.

He's twenty yards down the alley when he hears footsteps catching up to him. Light, brisk - he's jogging to catch up and Buck doesn't want to deal with -

"Not my date," Tommy says, and Buck curses his own body for automatically slowing to allow him to catch up.

Buck snorts. "Okay." The guy was older - than Buck, at least. Grey around his temples, fat lips and clever eyes that caught Tommy's mid-sentence and sent them both into quiet hysterics.

"Buck, would you just -."

He's close enough to reach for Buck's arm, so Buck wrenches it away before he can make contact. "Don't call me that."

December twenty-third is one of those weird days where the world doesn't quite work the same. Traffic is heavier or lighter in weird places, people with nothing to do wander the streets or hole up in their homes making too much food and watching weird holiday movies, and even in LA it gets chilly enough at night to need a jacket. This one isn't doing shit to keep Buck warm, but the anger catching in his throat sure is.

"It's your name," Tommy says, exasperated.

"Not to you." Buck stops dead in his tracks, watches Tommy take another three steps before he realizes he's alone. When he turns, Buck doesn't allow himself to turn away from his gaze. Annoyance isn't a new look - Buck has tested the waters enough in six months to know intimately exactly how far he could push it before Tommy stopped indulging him.

He looks upset. Frustrated. Tired. Hot as fuck. Buck sort of wishes he'd do something about those first two.

Something other than walk away.

Tommy sighs. Runs a hand through his hair, and the sides aren't as high and tight anymore. There's a piece curling over the tip of his ear and Buck wants to tug at it, slide his fingers in there and tuck it back. "That was Sal," he says, and Buck flicks through the sadly small Rolodex of names Tommy has mentioned in the past. Another boundary Buck hadn't realized was a brick fucking wall in the way of getting to know his boyfriend.

Ex.

Sal. He'd been at the 118 with Gerrard, in the early days. Before Chim and Hen, before Bobby. He'd been the one to prompt Tommy into filing a complaint against Gerrard even though he'd been scared out of his mind to do it.

"I don't care."

He does care, is the problem. He cares so much. He's got a pile of fruit cakes and half a dozen pies sitting on his kitchen island right now that prove it. He can't seem to stop caring.

Tommy looks sceptical.

Buck brushes past him again, keeping his strides long. Tommy's the same height, but both literally and metaphorically he's always struggled to keep up when Buck had somewhere to be.

At least the panic attack has passed. Maybe he could take up running, as a cure all, instead of the weak ass recovery period he usually takes that involves him drinking a bottle of water and staring at the same spot on the wall until he sees stars.

So, fine. Tommy hadn't brought a date to the work function it was entirely possible Buck would be at six weeks after breaking up with him and disappearing into the damn wind. He'd bubbled Buck seven times that Buck knew of, and he hadn't brought a date.

Fine.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You looked -."

Buck had watched Tommy wheeze with laughter and curl a hand around the dudes - Sal's - wrist and he'd felt like maybe he was gonna throw up. Like six months and the something he'd been working his way up to defining hadn't meant a damn thing. Like Tommy could just move on like he seemed to think Buck could.

"Doing great, Tommy. My best friend is moving to Texas and the man I thought I could -." Buck clears his throat. Shuffles sideways just a bit because Tommy is keeping pace now and his cologne is familiar and devastating. He doesn't have anything inside. Once he rounds this corner he could just order an Uber and go home.

There's nothing keeping him here.

"Eddie's moving?"

The no contact thing had extended to everyone at the 118, apparently. At least Buck wasn't alone in that.

Buck digs out his phone, slows his pace just enough to pull up the app he needs. He can feel Tommy's eyes burning a hole in the side of his head.

"Yeah, well. I'm getting used to people leaving at this point," he says, filling it with as much ire as he can. His voice doesn't wobble this time.

"Buck."

It's soft, this time, same inflection as when he'd cage Buck against a counter and lick into his mouth. "Don't worry about me, Tommy. You made it a point not to."

"That's not fair."

Buck couldn't care less. He's spent six weeks on a depression baking spiral and now he wants to go home and destroy every bit of baked goods he's made that are still left.

It only takes a few taps. They're surging prices, but that's not exactly a shocker.

He'd really thought the next time he saw Tommy he'd just be sad. Maybe he'd feel a little wistful about all the moments they'd shared that had meant something to Buck even if they hadn't meant the same to Tommy.

He wants to swing a fist, if he's being honest. He wouldn't. Not ever. But the desire is there and he hates it.

"Buck, could we just -."

"Stop calling me that!"

"I pay a mortgage, Evan!"

Buck can't remember Tommy ever raising his voice. It's - weird.

"I'm forty years old and I own a house and you asked me to move in to your loft after you told me you admired me." The emphasis isn't lost on him.

His ride is three minutes away.

"I got it the first time, Tommy. Haven't sucked enough cocks or done enough tests to know what I really want, so. Go enjoy your evening with Sal and -."

"That is not what I said." Cool, calm. Infuriating.

"Well that's what I got from it, so clearly we were never on the same page. I wanted a future with you and you've been eyeing the expiration date the whole time so -."

He's definitely not expecting Tommy's lips. But there they are, on his, and Buck's stumbling back, fully expecting the sharp crack of the brick at the back of his head as Tommy surges forward with him, only Tommy's hand curls around his skull at the last second and takes the brunt of the landing. His mouth opens on a groan and Buck licks up into it. Their noses clash and rather than shifting for better positioning they just press closer. Tommy's free hand finds the soft give of Buck's waist and his thigh finds purchase between Buck's legs and -

"You're willfully misunderstanding me," Tommy says, lips on Buck's jaw, heart pounding under Buck's hand, his breath ghosting along Buck's cheek.

"Never really gave me the opportunity for clarity," Buck bites back, and Tommy huffs, rolls his hips, tucks his forehead into the juncture of Buck's shoulder.

His pulse is pounding in his ears and there's a cloud of Tommy Tommy Tommy obscuring his senses.

"Do you still want that?"

Buck's phone dings in his hand.

His ride is here.

"Not if you're just gonna walk away again," Buck bites out, and shoves. Hard.

It barely moves Tommy, but it's enough to slip out of his grasp.

He doesn't glance behind to see if Tommy follows as he pulls at his suit jacket again and rounds the corner to try to catch - he eyes his phone - Sheri before she cancels the ride on him.

Doesn't stop him from hearing the footfalls behind him while he searches out the blue Honda Civic.

[drabblesandimagines]

Cramped

Inspired by @creativepromptsforwriting prompt 1080! "I can't stop thinking about kissing you." "And what are you going to do about that?" Leon Kennedy x gn reader

“I can’t do this.” Leon mutters under his breath, but you hear it as clear as day from your position.

How could you not, seeing as you’re currently only an inch away from his chest, his head nearly resting atop your own?

You’ve been trapped in this tiny storage cupboard for at least 20 minutes now, waiting for Hunnigan to give the all-clear that all 27 heat signals had dispersed from outside your current location. You would describe yourself as a relatively decent shot, Leon more so, but the numbers weren’t in your favour.

“Claustrophobic?” You whisper back, cautious that your voice may carry. You wish you could shift your left foot ever so slightly, currently standing awkwardly over a bucket that was sat at the bottom at the cupboard when you entered.

“No.” He has his hands braced either side of you against the opposite wall, seemingly caging you in more than the cupboard is. Your arms awkwardly hung by your side, painfully aware of how if you moved even slightly forward you’d be pressing your front into his chest, fingers ghosting against his hips.

“I can’t do this.” Leon says again. “Missions - with you.”

“Oh, come on,” you wish you could step back so you could give him a proper withering stare. “You can’t blame me every time something goes wrong. The intel definitely said only five guards were on site at any one time.”

“No. I mean, I…” He’d rub the bridge of his nose if he could bring his arm forward to do it without hitting you in the process. “I can’t concentrate.” You scoff, immediately defensive. “And how is that my fault?” “Because I can’t stop thinking about kissing you!” Silence. “Oh.” “Yes, oh.” He mocks, frustrated. He's meant to be better than this. Hell, he usually is when the two of you are paired up. Leon’s flirty, sure, but he knows to be professional when it’s a matter of life and death, and trapped in a cupboard with a number of hostiles outside is definitely a time when he should be at his most focused. But ever since the two of you retreated in here, all he can think about is how close you are, how good you smell, the warmth of your body pressed up against his, how he could place his fingers under your chin, tilt your head up… “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“Sorry?” He looks down at you in disbelief, sure he’s misheard. “I said,” you lift your hand and trail your fingers up his chest before you rest it just above his pounding heart and meet those soft blue eyes. “What are you going to do about it?”

He doesn’t need a third invitation, dropping his hands from the wall. One arm wraps around your waist, bringing you needlessly forward that final inch, your left thigh finding its way between his in lieu of anywhere else to go. His other hands grabs the back of your head and tilts it up to meet his lips, stealing your breath with a deep, frantic kiss... Hunnigan smiles to herself as she leans back in her chair at HQ, your voices falling silent on the comms in what she suspects is the result of other activity – Leon had left the channel open when you'd been forced to find cover. It’s only when she hears Kennedy let out a muffled moan that she taps to disconnect the audio, her suspicions now well and truly confirmed. The computer screen in front of her shows a blueprint of the factory, where two red dots reside in the small storage cupboard she’d directed them to after she’d ‘alerted’ them to the unwelcome company. She still needs to work out how to explain the sudden disappearance of 27 hostiles, but it’s worth it so she won’t be forced to watch the two of you dance awkwardly around each other in the office anymore.

--- This is probably the closest to a drabble I've ever gotten despite my blog name, ha! Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

PS: Thanks to @porcelainseashore for helping me clarify the ending <3

[whatusername00]

Which Baldur's Gate Characters Know How To Lace Up Their Clothing - Camp Edition

I got this idea because I noticed Gortash's shirt isn't laced properly, and then noticed Astarion's shirt isn't laced properly, so now I need to look at as many characters as I can because I can't stop noticing. And I'm about to spend too much time on this for it to stay in my brain. Starting with all characters who appear at camp (main party + others.)

Shadowheart, Lae'zel, Gale, Withers, Aylin, Mizora, Duke Ravenguard, Emmaline, and Arnell don't have lacing on their camp outfits.

Starting with the default clothes for Tav. Yes, they know how to lace their shirt. Good job. This particular Tav is Durge, so it's good to know he didn't forget how when his brain got Swiss'd. However, it's not perfectly consistent because on the bottom 2 sets of eyelets he threads from the outside, but the third set he threads from the inside. Though this is probably intentional so the lacing doesn't hang on the inside of his shirt, so 9/10.

Astarion, baby boy, you were so close. But unfortunately there are two pairs of eyelets where he threads one side from the outside and one from the inside. For someone who wants to appear so put together, you think he could take the two extra braincells to lace his shirt consistently. 7/10.

Threaded consistently the whole way through...with one side. Why didn't you finish lacing your shirt? Why even lace one side if you weren't going to lace the other? Why isn't the lacing that you didn't finish shorter than the one that you did finish? All questions I can't answer because I cannot ask. 7/10 at least it's consistent.

I couldn't get a good in game screenshot of Karlach since her lacing is on her pants, but I found a texture rip so I can work with it. So the lacing here is the same all the way through, super consistent, *mwah*, but...it's sneakily unnecessarily complicated. Typically, the lacing that laces from the inside to outside would sit on top, but it's not that way on her pants. She pulls the lacing through the eyelet, then threads it under the other part of the cross, then threads it through the top of the next eyelet. And with as much lacing as her pants have, this must have taken forever for no extra benefit. It would have been easier to let it sit on top. 8/10 its pretty though.

Halsin. Beautiful. Gorgeous. I choose to believe the knots are hidden on the inside. No other notes. 10/10.

I've never actually recruited Minthara so I took a picture from the BG3 wiki. Just like Halsin, beautiful. Again, I choose to believe the ends are hidden on the inside. 10/10.

Jaheira's pants lace the same way Halsin's shirt does: perfectly. Though if the knot is hidden on the inside, I feel like that would be more uncomfortable, so I'm gonna headcannon that it ties at her waist under her shirt. Other than that, 10/10.

Minsc's shirt uses the same model as Wyll's so everything I said there applies here, though I feel like it makes more sense for Minsc. My real gripe here is that Minsc is a liar. Talking 'bout some thrice laced pants, but I didn't see any lacing on those pants. How dare he trick me in this way. 6/10 I don't like being lied to.

Yenna's mom may be dead, but she made sure her baby knew how to lace her shirt before she did. She may have gotten kidnapped by Orin, but she looked put together while doing it. Perfect 10/10. She deserves it after what she went through.

After being dead for 100 years, Isobel didn't forget how to lace her armor. Gotta be put together to see her girlfriend again. 10/10 Isobel can do no wrong.

Volo...I don't know what you've done to the front of your pants but it doesn't look good. Some of those crosses are missing. It looks sloppy. What is this. This is something I would do as a joke to see if anyone noticed. Well I noticed and I hate it. 2/10 it keeps your pants closed I guess.

That's it for the camp. I'll link other sets of characters below as I do them.

Tieflings

[woso-dreamzzz]

Natalia

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adeventures Universe

Summary: Talia has a way with the refs

You wrinkle your nose in disgust as you look at the smear of mud on your boot. You know boots get dirty but this is a new pair and you had hoped to keep them cleaner than this after their first game.

It's a little annoying but there's not much else you can do.

Actually, you haven't had much to do in this match at all which is probably the reason why you can take so much time to inspect your shoes.

The action is on the opposite side of the pitch for the most part with brief forays into the midfield but the ball never got close enough to you to need to touch it.

You like playing, obviously, but sometimes it's nice to be on the field and not have to do much. At least when your mothers are in the crowd because there's always the added pressure of keeping a clean sheet when you have to go to dinner with them afterwards.

Besides, a seven-nil lead on a team at the bottom of the table is always fun to watch while on the field.

Talia has been tearing up the opposition's defence. On a hat trick already with a brace of assists you know she'll be searching for a third to complete her set.

On the bench, you can see Alexia bouncing her leg with the other coaches as if this is a make-it-or-break-it game. You're at the top of the table so you can only think she's hoping for the goal difference to increase.

She's a bit intense like that.

You're a bit more relaxed though. It's a mixture of the usual starting eleven and some of the kids from the B Team, testing out formations and roles.

Your defensive line is mainly the kids but they take orders well and don't seem to mind when you micromanage them.

You usual defence know what you want before telling them so it's a seamless partnership. The kids just need a bit more guidance sometimes.

Not that you've really needed to do it this match with all the action up the other side of the pitch. But, still, it's nice that they listen to instructions.

This match has been an easy win for Barcelona but that doesn't mean it hasn't had its mishaps.

Yellow cards have been flying around since the moment the whistle was blown. Three in the first half and four this second half. It's a little impressive, actually, because this referee isn't really known for giving out cards so willingly.

You think that's probably why Alexia seems so intense on the bench. A few players are a yellow card away from being suspended from the next match and you've got matches against second and fourth in the table in the coming weeks.

She'd probably try to take over for coach yelling if anyone got suspended.

You sigh as another altercation happens in the midfield. Some attackers collide with your midfielder and they go down.

It's a clear yellow but it seems like the ref is done giving out cards this match. It's the wrong decision but you're not about to march up to her and tell her that.

Talia seems to have no such reservations.

You can't quite hear what she's saying but you know she's arguing because her hands are flying around and her face is all tense and the vein in her neck is bulging.

This ref is a bit trigger-happy with dissent though and you can see her hand twitch towards the cards in her pocket.

"Talia!" You yell.

She ignores you.

"Natalia!"

She turns her head slightly to the noise but doesn't stop.

"Natalia Guijarro!"

She turns to look at you and you point to the space in front of you.

She jogs there, panting from exertion or yelling, you're not quite sure.

"Yeah?"

"Don't you dare get a yellow for something as silly as arguing."

"But-"

"No, Alexia's about to blow a gasket on the bench and you'll just give my Morsa more reason to dislike you. Go and get another assist so you have something to brag about."

She sighs, kicking a patch of grass stubbornly. "Fine."

"Good."

Talia ends the match with no yellow cards and a hattrick of assists to add to her hattrick of goals.

Alexia gives you a nod of thanks as you pass her before she turns on her heel to go yell at the players that got yellows.

Talia's arm wraps around your waist as you approach the stands.

"Good game," Momma greets as you stop in front of her.

"Good game for her definitely." You nudge Talia. "Hattrick queen."

Talia's cheeks glow red at the praise. She always does that when it's you complimenting her.

"Almost got a yellow card too," Morsa says and you roll your eyes.

Her whole act of annoyance with Talia is so flimsy at this point.

"But she didn't."

"Yeah, I suppose she didn't..."

Talia's grin widens.

"Let us get changed and we'll meet you outside? Or reservation is in forty-five minutes."

[phyrestartr]

Icarus Drabbles (Pt.2) | Sukuna x M!Reader

W/C: 3.7k [#Modern AU, ABO dynamics, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, Mob Boss!Sukuna, Alpha!Sukuna, Street Doctor!Reader, Omega!Reader, toxic relationships, age gap, sukuna is mid 30s, yuuji gang and reader are mid 20s, sukuna and yuuji are brothers, sukuna has FEELINGS, but he is BAD AT FEELINGS, nsfw, fluff, hurt/comfort, cheating, zenin family mentioned, lightly edited lmfao]

Note: There will prolly be a third drabble thingie lol I just wanted to post SOMETHING

tag: @better-imagination-9

1. Restless

Sukuna finally bagged you, the omega he pined over and hunted down for over a decade, and knocked you up, made you move in with him to ensure he could keep an eye on you and that growing baby bump. His alpha had rejoiced, running its victory lap around Sukuna’s chest, but then it slowed, yawned, and curled up, satiated. 

Now, his human side was left to its own devices, and it was bored. 

Probably because you were boring. Or, well, you’d become boring–you and your omega seemed more in-tune with one another, both settling down as soon as you both agreed on staying with Sukuna, with your mate. To Sukuna’s human instincts, that meant you were about as exciting and fun as doing his taxes. Yet, at the same time, he couldn’t fathom letting you go. Whenever the hypothetical crossed his mind, that second set of eyes would open and stare, tear bared, anger rippling. And Sukuna would agree with it. He didn’t want to lose you, yet he didn’t always want you either. 

And he was bored. 

“Hey,” you cooed, leaning over his shoulder as he stared into space on the couch. “You okay?”

Sukuna blinked a few times and rubbed his face tiredly, finding himself growing pissed off at the dull delight your presence brought him. “Yeah, ‘m fine. Need something?”

“Well, Christmas’s coming up,” you reminded. “Wanted to make sure we were still–”

“Can’t.” Bitterness rose in the back of Sukuna’s throat. God, he didn’t even want to look at you right now. “Gotta work.” He finally spared you a glance, but only after a long stretch of silence. You didn’t look perturbed or mad, not really sad or disappointed, just…placid. 

You looked at your phone, staring at something just for a moment before returning back to him with a slight nod of acceptance. “Alright.” 

Sukuna's other bristled. “Alright.” 

“I knew you couldn't really be taken ‘n tied down, Sukuna-sama,” Yorozu cooed as she cozied up into the spot between the man's legs, her hands smoothing up and down his thighs before deftly unlatching his belt and ripping it off. “You're too good for that sort of life.” 

“Don’t you have somethin’ better to do with that mouth?” The nice part of Sukuna asked. The less nice part of him wanted to rip her head off and punt it at the stupid fucking moon. Luckily for her, he was trying not to throw as many things at the horizon these days. 

Yorozu's eyes shone with pure delight. “Oh, of course, of course.” She unzipped his slacks expertly quick and pulled free his half-chub, excitedly stroking it to get him to full-mast. 

Sukuna sighed and sank back in his chair, trying to focus and enjoy the attention and spice he so sorely missed, but it was hard. Well, not hard, which was the problem–his mind wasn't finding this (cheating, getting a blow job at his desk, having a woman with tits on his knees for him) exciting. Thankfully, though, his body reacted in his mind's stead, and decided to not embarrass him. 

He closed his eyes and focused on the small hands grasping his base and holding his thigh–but your bigger, stronger hands held him better, digging in without the lethality of acrylics threatening harm. At least her mouth was warm, her lips soft--but your lips were soft, too, and you knew where he liked to feel your tongue press down. Her hair was silky and thick enough to fist his hand in–but yours was just…better. He couldn't describe it, but–

Knock it off, he growled. He needed a break from you, from how mundane you made everything, that was the whole fucking reason he ditched you in the first place. You were boring. You were making life boring. You–

What were you up to, actually? 

Sukuna sighed, this time in defeat, and snatched up his phone while Yorozu gave him head. He scrolled through whatever socials he knew you had, but saw nothing new, nothing Christmas-y. 

Who the hell is he visiting again? He looked to the side, gazing through the huge windows looming behind his desk as he thought, and then remembered. 

Sukuna tapped open your text thread and grimaced–it was so blatantly one-sided. The sight of his flippant convo-killing responses hit him with a wave of psychic damage that probably couldn't be fully healed for as long as he lived. He wasn't a fan of texting, but he was a fan of you. But-wait, didn't he loathe you?

5:05am went to see my mom for christmas

5:05am getting picked up dw

5:06am hope work doesn't suck too much

Right. You went to see family. Right. Sukuna was supposed to meet your mother. 

Damn.

“Fuck's sake,” Sukuna muttered moments before fisting his hand in Yorozu's hair and pulling him off his softening cock. “We're done.” He stood and tucked himself away, ignoring the indignant scoff the woman sent his way. 

“Sukuna–” 

“Leave.” He sent a text your way instead of tuning in to whatever Yorozu said as she picked herself up off her knees:

10:49pm When should I pick you up?

Of course he was gonna pick you up. He wasn’t about to let someone else take care of you for a second longer. 

“Clearly you're unhappy,” Yorozu finally cut in. 

Sukuna saw a read notification pop up in the chat. 

“Clearly that other one isn't satisfying you fully.” 

He watched the three dots pop up as you replied back. 

“After he has your pup–”

10:52pm you can come now

10:52pm if you're free 

“--you should reconsider your choice in mate–” 

Bang.

10:53pm Send me the address.

He stepped over her and the pooling crimson on his way to the door, texting Uraume to call the cleaners to take care of a mess in his office while he went to pick up his baby mama. 

Picking you up had been eventful.

Firstly, Maki and Mai had refused to open the gate for Sukuna in favour of mocking him and exclaiming, “are you kidding me? You're the baby daddy?” while incessantly prodding him for information. You'd managed to bat them aside to let him up to the house, though it took some effort on your part. 

Next, Toji Zenin himself was waiting at the front door, arms crossed, totally unbothered, dressed in his hideous Christmas jumper that his woman had apparently made him wear as punishment for something. Sukuna ribbed him, hiding just how confused he was about the entire thing–he didn't fucking get why there were so many Zenin assholes here. The outcasts, sure, but what the fuck was that about? 

“Oh. Toji's my stepdad,” you said when you had finally squeezed your dragon's hoard of gifts into the car and got in the damn thing to go home. Sukuna left it at that for the time being–he didn't want to think about what the fuck that meant now that the two of you were together. He had time to ask a thousand questions another day.

His mind still whirred in the elevator, though, and when he helped carry your only-child gifts into the penthouse like a servant put under a spell. You said something to him that he only realized a solid fifteen minutes later was, “I'm taking a bath. There's room for two,” and a fire suddenly lit under his ass. 

“Huh, so you can bear to look at me,” you hummed from the bath. It was large and oaken, filled with yuzu thanks to Uraume's thoughtfulness, and it overlooked snowy Tokyo and all its bustling, light-filled glory and–wait, what.

Sukuna scoffed as he pulled off his clothes methodically. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

You watched him undress shamelessly. “It means you still have lipstick on your dick.” You poked away one of the yuzu that bumped into you. “It's not really my colour.” 

Sukuna clenched his teeth and kicked aside his clothes before grabbing the showerhead to wash off before joining you because he was going to join you. No matter the case. No matter the objection. 

But you never objected. You leaned back in the tub and watched him while you rolled another yuzu between your palms. “Did you have fun fucking her?” Fuck, you could be so scary sometimes. And you didn't even have to try.

Sukuna found it hard to answer. He found it hard to even speak. Christ, was this shame? “Look–I didn't fuck her. Didn't even get close.” 

“So she just sucked your dick.”

“Tried. Didn't finish. Couldn't.” 

“So sad. Why not?”

“‘Cause she's not you.” Sukuna finished with the shower and slipped into the bath, sitting across from you with a content sigh. “You give better head.” 

“That went from being somewhat meaningful to annoying,” you grumbled. Still, you scooched over to him and pressed up against his side, clearly in the mood to forgive his stupid little attempted fling. “So. Then you're sure about this.” 

“Sure about what?” Sukuna wondered, suddenly feeling more at ease with the rich scent of you pooling through his senses. He leaned into you when you carefully smoothed his hair out of his face with that usual, simple gentility he'd come to desire so desperately every day. “Sure about you?” 

“Yeah. Us. Everything.” You nuzzled at his neck, dutifully scenting him up with kisses, nips and licks. “You started pulling away like a pussy, so I figured you regretted it.” 

Sukuna had to laugh. “You're callin’ me a pussy?” He half-growled before yoinking you into his lap and squeezing you up against him. His grin widened when he saw you hold back a smile. “I think you should apologize.” 

“You cheated on me with your stalker. Why do I need to apologize?” 

“You hurt my fuckin’ feelings.” 

“Oh. Hm. I see.” Your fingers, bigger than a woman's yet still elegant as a piano player's, danced across his firm shoulders in thought. “I think you need to have feelings for me to hurt them.” 

His hands found their rightful place (on your ass) and kneaded your skin thoroughly, squeezing and pinching wherever he felt most enticed. “You know I have feelings, sweetheart. Why do ya think you're here in the first place, huh?” 

Your scent flared with bashful approval. “Guess that's good to know. These days, you've left me wondering.” 

Sukuna grew placid gazing upon your features, listening to your words. If he really tried, behind that diamond mask of nonchalance most Zenin brats wore, there existed soft, vulnerable skin--tired and ragged, worried and creased. He'd done that to you. Why had he done that to you? 

He lifted a hand from your curves to cup your face gently, his touch breaking through the shields you so bravely put up to tell the world to fuck off. And you leaned into that touch so eagerly, so hungrily, with a sigh that sounded like you just remembered how to breathe. 

“‘M sorry,” Sukuna mumbled. The word felt foreign on his tongue. He didn’t know if he even said it right.

Your eyes squeezed shut just a little tighter, holding onto whatever you could of your crumbling shell as your hand rose to rest on his. “You know I love you,” you said while diamond dust turned to quicksilver.

Sukuna wiped the glimmer from your lashes. “Love you too, runt. Mean it.” Those words still felt strange, too, but he loved those words. He loved the way they made you glow from within, how they solidified you and stopped you from collapsing into a melted mess in the face of his betrayal and swift try at redemption. 

You nodded a little, the hard line of your mouth softening. Sukuna relaxed and hugged you close to him, purring deep in his chest in rhythm with you as you wholly accepted him in return and buried your face into his neck. He did the same, scenting you the way you had him, enjoying your company and weight against him. Because he loved you. He really did. 

So, he said once again, “Sorry.”

2. Family Matters

“Sukuna,” Wasuke warned. The attention of the younger alpha, leaning against the counter, was on you as you yapped on about this and that with his little brother.

Sukuna grunted and looked over his shoulder at the old man, though, silently and curtly asking, what? even though he already knew what was coming.

“Leave that boy alone.” 

Sukuna stared at his grandfather. It'd become more and more common, the way the young man challenged his elder, maintaining hostile eye contact that threatened the beginning of the end if the older broke first–but he never did. The old fuck was too tough. Molded by whatever his own colourful irezumi put him through.��

Once, when he was younger, Sukuna wanted to know how to break his elder. He wanted to crack him open and rip those secrets from him, find out how he could use that knowledge to his advantage to never feel so small in the eyes of another ever again. He hated it. He hated the dominance held over him, the humility that came with it. 

But, like always, Sukuna broke first, looking away with a grumble, reinforcing his place in the food chain.

Sukuna sighed. The old house was the same–far too traditional, too plain, too normal. It irked him to his core. Here, amidst all the boring normal shit of his past, his status in society no longer mattered; here, he forfeited first place, and took up second.

“Hey,” came your voice, muffled by the car window separating you from your lover. When Sukuna looked over at you, he saw his little nugget tucked safely in your arms, only half-awake as she nuzzled into the warmth of your chest. 

But then there was you. A face full of confusion, annoyance, and exasperation greeted Sukuna. You went for the door handle to wrench your man out of the car, but he locked it, watching you yank on the handle a handful of times before you knocked on the window incessantly. 

“Get out of the goddamn car, you little shit,” you hissed, looking between Sukuna and the front door of the house frantically. You stared at him hard, then, your frustration building every second your alpha refused to budge and end the embarrassment crashing down on you. 

A terrifyingly calm expression took over your face, before you adjusted the little pup in your arms and fished something out of your pocket. Sukuna didn't realize what it was until you leaned over and slammed your fist into the hood of the car, tearing into it easily with the fucking key in your hand. 

“You gotta be shitting me–” Sukuna scrambled to unlock the door and swing it open. He hopped out and slammed the car door closed. “You little–” 

“Oh, good, you found your balls.” 

Sukuna groaned as he looked at the damage you left. “Baby, you know how expensive this is gonna be to fix? Fucking hell, why're you such a crazy bitch?” 

“Well, look who I'm stuck with,” you said lightly. “Obviously you've corrupted me. It's not my fault.”

Sukuna grumbled and turned to you, grabbing you and pulling you close; but instead doling out a punishment as his past self was so accustomed to doing, he aggressively nuzzled the top of your head, viciously scenting you up and squeezing you against his solid frame while he grumbled and growled. 

“I'm splitting you in half when we get home.” 

You sighed, dramatic. “Oh no. I'm so afraid. But I guess I deserve such a brutal punishment. Sigh.” You nuzzled him back before tiptoeing up to kiss his chin, then his lips when he leaned down to meet you the rest of the way. “Ready?” 

Sukuna took a deep breath and looked over your face, running the back of his fingers against the rise of your cheekbone. He loved touching your face these days (more than usual). You still held onto a bit of pregnancy plushness that filled in the hollow angles of your handsomely beautiful face and other once-bony parts of your body. You'd never panicked about it, but you bitched and moaned, loudly lamenting about the way your clothes fit a little differently or how you just had to keep stealing Sukuna's shirts to replace your own. 

Touka, your little one, mewled from her spot smooshed between her parents. Sukuna sighed as he pulled back to look down at her, hoping she'd take most the heat off of him when he faced his grandfather again. 

“Let's just get this over with.” 

Yuuji was the one who answered the door. He lived with Wasuke, claiming it was just easier and cheaper than getting his own place, but most knew the younger was a worry wart; he couldn't stand by and let his grandfather get put in a home or quietly tough out everyday life on his own in his elderly years. Yuuji stayed for the sake of family, and Wasuke quietly welcomed it. His brother's goodness nearly struck Sukuna with guilt. 

But any chance at guilt died the moment he met the old bastard's stony gaze. 

“Itadori-san,” you cooed pleasantly, a far cry from the demon that'd keyed Sukuna's car. “It's good to see you again.” 

Wasuke quirked a brow and walked up to you, nudging Yuuji aside so he could get a good look at you and the pup nestled to your chest. Sukuna took a breath and looked away. He didn't need to see the critical stare of the old man while he processed the fact that Sukuna had indeed not stayed away from you. Ugh, the idea of being scolded made the alpha itch. 

“We're far beyond honorifics, boy. You know that,” Wasuke lightly scolded, and you beamed. Sukuna could imagine a little shiba inu tail on you, wagging fast enough to take flight. “I'm glad to see you in one piece after taming my grandson. It must've been a damn ordeal.”

Yuuji cackled impishly, pointing at Sukuna. “Oooh, burn.” 

“Sorry, who got the omega in the end?” Sukuna quipped back, making Yuuji sprout a grumpy look and cross his arms with a mumbled you suck. 

“Quit the fighting and come in,” Wasuke ushered. “And you,” he snapped, looking at Sukuna with chronic disapproval, “Take off those sunglasses. You're trying too hard. Look like an idiot.”

You stifled your laughter as Sukuna grumbled and plucked his shades off. His very cool, very neat, very fancy, very expensive shades.

Wasuke ushered you all inside, gesturing to the kotatsu prepared with food and drinks and starting off on a grumbling rant about the shitty cold mornings and warm afternoons that came with Spring. Obviously, he'd complained to break the ice, and it worked. 

Small talk turned into easier conversation. Whenever Sukuna seemed to struggle with being cordial, you would lean into him more, squeezing his hand tightly whilst purring under the radar. That worked, too. As much as Sukuna was an asshole, he didn't want the afternoon to fall apart. Better he stay quieter than say something to regret. 

“They've calmed you down,” Wasuke said, snapping Sukuna's mind to attention. It was then that he finally noticed Yuuji had effectively kidnapped little Touka and was giving her a tour of the house like she actually gave a shit. 

“Hm?” He grunted, so eloquent. 

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, leaning into your partner more with a sigh. “Words, not grunts, Sukuna.”

He huffed. “You grunt at me all the damn time.” 

“Not at our elders.” 

“Tch.” Sukuna rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Whaddaya mean they've calmed me down, huh?” 

Wasuke, for once, looked somewhat amused. “Your pup. Your mate. They've made you human.” 

“Ha? You're actin’ like I was some four-armed, two-faced freak or some shit.” 

“Some days you acted like it,” Wasuke scoffed. “Doesn't matter if you agree or not, I can see the change in you, kid–that wild thing inside of you is finally settling down.”

You hummed and looked up at him. “I've noticed, too. You're less pissy. More tolerant. Still annoying, but that's just a personality flaw.” Sukuna growled and nipped at you, but you faced him so very bravely and suffered no such nip. 

“I'm glad for you, kid,” Wasuke interjected, breaking up the petty fight that was about to go down. The two of you looked back to the eldest. “You were a real pain in the ass, and you fucked up a lot along the way, but you made things work out. You should be proud.” 

Sukuna would never be able to put his feelings, the utter rush he felt getting his grandfather's approval, into words. 

“So where does this end, kid?” Wasuke asked. 

“What?” He asked before he could properly think it through. 

“This life. Your ‘profession.’ How long're you gonna keep that up, huh?” 

Sukuna could feel you lean into him more, letting more body weight ease your shared worries about the life you shared and the professions you'd taken up. Both unpredictable. Both in the crosshairs of dangerous beasts.

“You think we'll end up six feet under like mom ‘n dad, that it?” Sukuna rasped. He looped an arm around your waist and squeezed you against his side in reassurance as Wasuke's expression grew gloomier.

“You're more like your mother than you know, kid. You don't–”

“‘Course I don't know,” Sukuna interrupted, firm but not vicious. “Mom was a fucking moron ‘n knocked up whoever the fuck she could to get an in into one of those big-name clans. No shit they'd get pissed off and kill the bitch.” 

Wasuke scowled, but didn't argue. It was hard to when his daughter in-law was in the wrong, when she dug her own grave with every child sired before slipping and falling in on her own. A sad story. An incredibly stupid one, too. 

“That won't happen,” you offered mildly. Sukuna looked down at you, suddenly feeling the urge to shoot another baby into you as you spoke up on your own. “I trust Sukuna as much as I trust myself; he's worked hard to create an untouchable empire, and I have the connections to supplement it.” You glanced up at him. “If it's not Sukuna, then it'll be someone else running Tokyo. I couldn't think of a better king.”

A beat of silence passed before Wasuke asked, “And you, kid?” You afraid? 

Sukuna willed his mind out of R-rated territory to look at his grandfather. “You know me,” he started with a troublesome grin, “I can't stay away from what I want.” 

[kiwicopia]

MDNI | Themetober: Warmth

Incubus!Gojo x Warlock!Male!Reader

CW: spell gone wrong, mentions of deal making, power siphoning via sex, hickeys, marking, bottom!Gojo, cock rubbing, anal prep, tail fucking, creampie.

tags: @sweetchildcloud

Themetober Masterlist

Accidents weren’t uncommon when it came to new spells, however, they were typically ones that caused issues on a level so miniscule that it could be overlooked. This particular spell, sadly, had the opposite effect, and you were left dumbfounded when staring at an incubus rather than an imp, which you originally intended to conjure up. Still, this little mishap wasn’t without its own reward—one that ended up satisfying both parties.

Like clockwork, he appeared yet again at the stroke of midnight. Conjuring him one time had made it incredibly easy for the incubus to simply come to you himself. “Your scent is all that I need,” he once told you. Still, it amazed you that a creature from a different dimension could track you on scent alone, and with such ease. 

“Does it not tire you to see me so often?” You asked, watching as the creature prepared himself on your bed. “Surely your body must require rest in-between our nightly sessions?” The incubus flashed a devilish grin before chuckling, and his head gave a slow shake as he beckoned you forth with a clawed finger. 

Once close enough, Gojo reached out and pulled your naked form down on top of him. His lips latched onto your neck, gently sucking as the tip of his tongue circled against the flesh. Your head tilted to the side as you groaned softly from the pleasure that it gave you, and you slowly rutted your hips against his. 

A low growl rumbled in the incubus’ throat, causing him to nip at the skin he sucked on when feeling your cock sliding against his own. The pleasure from it was delicious, and he craved more—just as he always did from these sessions. With one of his hands gripping your shoulder, the other slid around to the back of your neck, pulling you flush against his chest. 

Your hips never ceased their movement, still humping against him at a slow pace, drawing another growl from his throat. Gojo’s cock twitched as arousal leaked from his angry tip, only to be smeared in-between both phalluses. The incubus knew you were teasing, as you always did, but now was not the time for it. Not when he desired you so badly tonight. 

A shaky breath fell from your lips, hot breath fanning against his pointed ear as his hand left your shoulder and wrapped around your dick. Your movements ceased, hips freezing on the spot before following along as he shifted his hand down to his ass, smearing your arousal against his awaiting hole. After he did that, you slid a hand down and used the precum to slip a finger inside, then two, and slowly prepped him for entry. 

Gojo moaned against your neck, his canines pinching the flesh as your fingers scissored inside him, and he couldn’t help but grind his hips upward, rubbing his cock against your abdomen as you pushed a third digit inside. Your fingers stretched him out, little by little, causing him to nip and suck on your neck even harder—to the point a visible mark could be seen. 

Once the preparation was complete, you leaned back on your legs and stared down at the incubus. His half-lidded, lustful gaze and the way his tongue poked out between his lips made your dick twitch, and as you leaned back down again, your hands carefully eased his legs back. Gojo moved his arms behind his knees, holding his legs up and out of the way as you lined your tip against his hole before easing the head inside. 

It was more than the pressure three fingers gave, but the creature endured, having leaned his head back against the pillow as your cock slowly, but surely, stuffed him. Oh, he missed this feeling—at least with you. Sexual pleasure was his natural sustenance and he thrived off of it with others, but with you, it felt different. It was a comforting warmth like no other, and the incubus would be damned if he let something like that slip from his claws. 

His legs rested over your shoulders as your hips began to move, slowly easing yourself in and out of his hole. “Still so tight, even after all of these sessions,” you muttered. His tail flicked across the bed beneath him, smacking against your thighs teasingly before sliding up and prodding against your hole, teasing it with the tip. 

“You’re just as tight,” he teased. Gojo’s tail soon eased inside of you, wiggling against your walls the further he got. A moan fell from your lips, and you pressed your face into the crook of his neck while now slamming into him. The incubus matched your moan, the sound having a slight growl to it as his claws raked down your back, scratching the flesh with every repeated thrust as you fucked into him. 

The movements of his tail matched your own, fucking you at the same pace you did him. The tip slammed against your prostate, just as your cock did his, and you both groaned at the sudden flood of pleasure that swept over your bodies. Again, and again, and again—it was fucking heavenly, just as all sessions were. 

The closer you came to your release, the more you felt that familiar tingling of power that came from the creature and seeped into your bones. It was part of a deal that had been made after accidentally conjuring him up from his dimension. An incubus needed sex as a means to live and, well, you couldn’t turn down the power that could be siphoned from him and used for other spells. Still, you had expected to be the one in Gojo’s place, not him, but it didn’t matter. You both got what you wanted in the end each and every time. 

Your cock twitched as you pistoned into him one final time, spilling yourself inside of him. At the same time, Gojo came undone, with his cum having spurted out along your abdomen and up your chest. The incubus closed his eyes and eased his tail out of your ass while you rode out your high, thrusting slowly whilst kissing along his neck. 

Honestly, it was a good deal to the creature. Getting fucked for once, despite this being the umpteenth session with you, felt so good. It wasn’t like with any other mortal or supernatural being. It was a warmer, cozier feeling; it was something akin to a home he couldn’t remember the last time having. The pads of his clawed fingers gently ran along the marks he made across your back, causing your body to tense. 

You were like a home he had been searching for, despite this being merely a contractual agreement. Something that the incubus wouldn’t let slip away. 

[writteninsunflowers]

Another Crappy Day 🌶️

A deep growl rumbles in Katsuki’s chest as he picks up his keys for the third time, huffing when he finally slides the key into its slot. He kicks his shoes off angrily, throwing his keys in the nearby bowl, and drops his gym bag haphazardly on the floor. He’ll clean up everything at a later time, currently, he is focused on finding his girlfriend.

To say the least, Katsuki had a shitty day. Anything shitty that could have possibly happened had definitely happened. He damaged yet another set of gauntlets on patrol with Shouto while trying and failing to apprehend a villain. How the fucker was able to blow up his gauntlets had him stumped and he is the one with the Explosion quirk. Late that afternoon while assisting some of the other heroes in a nearby city, he was stuck with a baby whose parents had been trapped under some rubble of a damaged building. Contrary to how the media paints Katsuki as a hero with an explosive temper, he did like children and wouldn’t mind having a few brats of his own someday. This child in particular was one of the cutest chonky-legged babies that he’d ever seen and immediately volunteered himself to babysit while his parents were being examined by the medical team. The child gave him no trouble, giggling and drooling with the cutest gum-filled smiles. The trouble appeared once it was time to change his diaper. Truthfully, Katsuki had no experience in diaper changing, but Katsuki Bakugo never backed down from a challenge.

It couldn’t be that hard, right?

Well…nobody had informed him the proper way to change a diaper was to not remove the used diaper until you were sure that the child was finished releasing their bowels or bladder. Katsuki had only turned away for a second to grab a fresh diaper from the Medivan, only to turn and have his chest covered in warm baby urine. Thank All Might for his quick reflexes or it would have been his face too. Then to make matters worse, he wasn’t allowed to leave the scene to shower until he assisted with cleanup. For the next four hours, with growls and mumbled curses, Katsuki had to walk around smelling like a hot, wet diaper. When he was finally free to go shower and burn his uniform, he scrubbed himself until he felt clean, his skin red and raw, got dressed and headed to his desk to complete his paperwork. Once he had somewhat calmed down, just happy to be going home, he sees an instant replay of him getting peed on being broadcasted on every damn screen he passed.

You don’t hear Katsuki enter the apartment, too focused on cooking dinner and completing your weekly hero reports. You turn the rice cooker off just as Katsuki trudges toward you, lifting you from the floor and kisses you hungrily. You instantly melt into the kiss, your hands fisting his shirt. He pulls away, letting you down to give you a moment to breathe while he tugs your shirts from your bodies, tossing them to the floor.

“K-Katsu, w- “

“Don’t wanna talk…,” he mumbles into your neck between bites.

“Bu…”

“All I need you to do is shut up, take this dick and we’ll deal w’the consequences later.”

You nod your head wordlessly, biting your bottom lip, pupils blown. Big hands tug your shorts down, grateful that you weren’t wearing panties. Fingers dig into thick hips as he wraps your legs around his waist and walks you to the nearest wall, instantly pressing inside, twin moans kissed into each other’s mouths.  Katsuki didn’t move immediately, choosing to first suck hickies into your exposed neck and breasts. He feels the cool band of the ring he’d gifted you against his neck, sending a shiver to travel down his spine. Katsuki circles his hips slowly, then snaps them forward with a groan as you twitch and squeeze around him. “Shiiit…,” he groans as his pace increases, hissing as nails drag down his back which he retaliates with a nip to your earlobe, chuckling low and breathless at the squeal you release.

What a way to end such a crappy day.

Katsuki smirks, knowing that you’d assuredly receive another noise complaint from your neighbors, not that he gave a fuck at the moment. Usually, you are the responsible one in the relationship, having to remind Katsuki of the noise ordinance when he was on the phone with his mother during their monthly yelling matches or on game nights with friends. Today though, you’re the loudest, filling your shared apartment with squeals and moans and he couldn’t wait to tease you about it.

“Fuck K-Katsu!”

“Mhm, fuck yea, take this dick,” he pants breathlessly, his hands moving under your knees to spread your thighs wider. Katsuki leans to bite your bottom lip, chuckling as your eyes roll back when he strokes deeper. “Hold on tight,” he warns, allowing you a moment to wrap your arms tight around his neck. He pulls out, hands gripping your thighs, then drops you down, slamming his dick directly into your g-spot. Dazed carmine eyes darken at the stuttered moan of his name, responding with labored curses and growls of his own, steadily fucking into your dripping pussy.  He watches your mouth form into a small “o” as he penetrates deeper and deeper with each bounce. Your eyebrows furrow with a bite of your lip to silence yourself, finally realizing how loud you are. “Uh Uh…let it out.”  He smiles at the jittery whine that escapes when he presses you into the wall. Katsuki loved moments like this when he could come home and ease his mind after a long day. Some days you’d order take-out and watch a movie or pick a simple dish to cook together, which always led to both of you slow-dancing and singing to each other. There were also days like today when barely any words were needed, only grunts, moans, and mumbling.

You lean forward to nibble on Katsuki’s lip, moaning as your tongues tangle together. “Hngh fu-fuck, y’feel so good.” Hot hands clutch your thighs, guiding them to keep the rhythm. Your fingers grip the sweat-moistened hairs at the nape of his neck, tugging him into a breathy kiss. A whine of ecstasy escapes as your walls throb, clutching tight around the thick girth that feels like it’s now in your chest.  “B-baby, ah f-fu…th-there…gonna cum.” The man curses with a hiss as you’ve somehow gotten tighter and wetter around him. He drops one of your legs, the other still hooked over his arm.

“I feel it baby…give it t’me. Cum for me.” He groans low and breathless as his eyes travel down your glistening frame, his free hand now rubbing your swollen clit. “Come on babe, cum on this dick,” he commands with a smack to your clit. “I can tell you’re gettin' close…drippin’ all over me. C’mon, wanna feel it.” Katsuki’s legs shake from overexertion and strain, hips still rotating. His legs could give out and he would keep stroking. He refused to stop until you came at least once for him. He feels you tug him into a sloppy kiss, all spit and tongue. Your spongy walls tremor around his length, followed by a gush of warm sticky liquid cascading down his dick and balls. He pulls away from the kiss, watching as your mouth drops open in a silent scream. He loves to watch you cum, your face contorted in bliss, kiss swollen lips releasing jumbled words as you wheeze, your orgasm shaking your entire being. Katsuki’s eyes roll back as you cum, an elongated curse forced from him as he presses himself deeper. His forehead is pressed into your shoulder as he shoots a load of hot cum into you. He trembles at your moans of “fill me up”, his dick continually shooting thick strings of cum deep in your walls.

You both slide to the floor in a heap of tangled limbs, the man still seated deep inside of you. You slide your fingers through his hair soothingly, silently catching your breath. Eventually, you’re standing on shaky legs, walking shakily to the bathroom to shower and redress. You return to the kitchen together to reheat dinner and eat in comfortable silence. “Katsu how was your day,” you inquire, breaking the silence. Katsuki chuffs and places a kiss to your forehead. “Shitty until I saw you, he responds with a small smile. “Just like any other day.”

[ataraxiaspainting]

Morningstar's Road.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader x Yan Feitan.

Synopsis: Your routine is average, to say the least. But due to Chrollo’s orders, Feitan cannot snatch you up yet – so he simply mirrors your behaviors instead for self-satisfaction. His boss does so too.

Warnings: Yandere themes, stalking, kidnapping, a few suggestive actions, manipulation, some descriptions anxiety/depression for the reader, animal death, and violence/some gore.

Word Count: 4.4k.

*~*~*~*

Feitan is so close to you that he can just about hear your beating heart. He could only see the back of your head, hair loose and surely will be knotted by the morning sun, but he can smell you whenever he is this close.

You always smell so nice, but for some reason, you smell even better – of that floral-scented oil you put on your neck and wrists before you go to bed. Maybe you added extra because it is the weekend.

You are on your right side – the fetal position was always your favorite – and hugging a plush that resembles your childhood cat. This was typical behavior for you; you had cried for days when your older sister called to say he had passed from old age. You weren’t weeping anymore, but you were when you saw the stuffed animal near the window of that dollar store you pass by daily on your way to work. You named it Silky, the same as the real thing, and tuck it in whenever you are in and out of bed. Feitan somewhat wished he could get the same treatment, to be in your arms as you sleep and to feel just a hint of your comforting warmth.

Feitan brought his own blanket.

It isn’t pastel pink like your sheets or your pillowcases or your pajamas and it has holes from moths and years of being stretched as he grew and his fights came to have higher and higher stakes.

If he had recalled correctly the bloodstains from the first time he was stabbed were just under the giant white skull pattern, although since most of the blanket is black it wouldn’t show even in the brightest of lights.

If he had recalled correctly the bloodstains from the first time it was stolen are still there too; on the bottom right corner.

“This type of nen won’t last forever, Fei.”

Feitan turns his neck, his bandana doing little to hide the slight scowl on his face. “I know.”

“Now, now… I never said you did not.” Chrollo responds while giving a small smile, still having the Bandit’s Secret in his right hand while your diary is held in his left. He turns to the next page while Feitan goes back to snuggling up beside you.

If Chrollo had a third arm, he could have the rest of your coffee you didn’t finish and left in your fridge. There is a lipstick stain, the color of that tint you often sport when in your office space. A light taffy color, he muses. 

Very fitting.

“I simply wanted you not to fall asleep too slow or too deep, we do have to leave by dawn after all.”

Feitan said no answer. Chrollo is used to that – a little too used to it, maybe, but Feitan has always stood out from fellow people from Meteor City even by the Phantom Troupe’s standards.

“Same oil?” He asks, and on cue, Feitan gives a loud sniffing sound.

“Yes.”

“Cute.”

Around your waist Feitan’s left arm lays, and his right hand holds the blanket tighter than a noose.

If Chrollo were to guess, if Feitan had a third arm he would put two of its fingers on your lips to feel how soft they were. Chrollo had done so before, but his friend hadn’t. He almost chuckles at the irony. The member of the Troupe the most intimate when it comes to matters of anatomy and torture felt that his fingertips having pink on them was a line he could not cross. It’s almost funny in a way. It’s adorable.

“Boss.”

“Hm?”

“For just a while,” Feitan starts. His tone is shy, like a little boy about to ask his classmate crush for their hand in marriage. “Can you read it to me?”

“‘It’?” Chrollo teases slightly, yet he knows what Feitan is talking about.

“The thing in your hand.”

“‘Thing’?”

Feitan huffs a bit and follows it up with a sigh.

“The… diary. Please.”

*~*~*~*

I think I’m getting worse and wondering if I have ever been happy with myself.

There is this girl that sits at the desk across from mine, Lyra is her name, and I don’t hate her by any means.

I just wish I was her, you know? She gets along with everyone in our office, Her hair is always nice. She has only been here since February and has already been promoted to the status it took me three years to get. 

Don’t get me wrong, she is incredibly nice and I always have a few laughs with her from time to time. Maybe it’s just my insecurities getting to me.

I wonder if sometimes she has similar thoughts when with other people, or even me if that were possible. I know she has a habit of procrastination and has a record of not handing in her work until a few days or weeks later – those are qualities I don’t have, but maybe she doesn’t feel anything negative about herself.

I’m known as the quiet and sweet girl at my job.

I’ve always had a bone to pick with the title, in a way. All my life that is what I was labeled as. People come to me for advice, and it does make me feel good, but I wish I could be a jokester like Lyra too.

That’s all I have… at least for now, I guess. I’m going to drink tea with honey and go to bed.

May 8th

*~*~*~*

The duo entered through the front door this time. You were gone tonight, as evidenced by the messy pile of umbrellas and house shoes that flooded the entrance, so they could break in without much sneaking around. They know where you headed to – and for now, Chrollo orders Feitan not to slit the man’s throat and gouge out his eyes. Your boyfriend, the only one of your past romantic interests not yet dead. Francis.

He’s quite the simple fellow as Chrollo had noted. Feitan was only focusing on where his organs started and ended when they both saw you with him near midnight months before.

“Not yet.”

Chrollo turns his head and looks down at Feitan as they walk down the hall. 

“I know you’re still thinking about it, but your actions may cause our plan to fail.”

No verbal response, though Chrollo notices how Feitan’s steps get slightly louder.

“Fine.”

“Are you saying you’re fine? Or are you still agreeing to not go haywire on the man yet?”

“New one.”

“Hm?”

“New word.” Feitan’s nails retract slightly from your walls as he rolls his eyes. “Hay… wire.”

His hand stops at a photo of your dead cat framed on the wall – he’s a kitten in this one, with his first collar and teenager you hugging him – but your face is cropped out.

He moves the hand away from it for just a few steps. Chrollo finds it polite of him – as polite as Feitan can be with others, anyway.

At the same time, they consider bringing the photos you took off your walls and onto whatever penthouse walls Chrollo has rented out for the next few months or so. It would be cute seeing smiling pictures of you all over, especially since you’ll be switching locations soon enough, and in turn, that expression will soon enough become rare. 

But when Chrollo thinks about the idea further, a problem arises. Your photos aren’t focused on you. They’re focused on your friends and family. You are always in the corner or hidden behind someone else. It’s of your own volition. Chrollo is sure of it. Perhaps he can get Shalnark to work his magic on them and ignore the teasing. Feitan would do nothing more than threaten to bash in his teeth, as with friends he is nothing more than a ‘grumpy wet cat’ – those are Shalnark and Uvogin’s own words. Not Chrollo’s.

“No.”

“Hm?”

“I’ll cut ‘em,” Feitan suggests while putting his sharp nails on your bedroom’s door frame.

“How do you intend to do so when there’s near nothing to cut out?” Chrollo asks. Feitan goes silent until he sits on your bed.

It’s still unmade. You must have ignored that chore list of yours again and opted to work extra hours instead.

Chrollo sits down at the small part of your room that is clean; your desk. It’s mainly used for just reading and video games, hence why the only two things not neatly in piles are a book and your computer. Shalnark told them both the password, but neither of them had decided to tread into that territory for multiple reasons. Firstly, neither of them knows a single thing about the internet and simulations. Secondly, Shalnark can just get whatever information they need without them looking inside it themselves anyway. Thirdly, they already know you enjoy wholesome things on there – the opposite of what you’re reading, if the books on your unfinished read pile mean anything to Chrollo – so there is no point in venturing for unneeded facts about you.

You’ll surely tell them yourself one day. 

Eventually. In maybe weeks. Months. Years. 

Eventually.

It’ll feel like forever and a day if you decide not to talk to either of them. Chrollo and Feitan have agreed without any argument that if you want something, you will ask them. Nicely, of course. 

Broken fingers aren’t necessarily something people flaunt. 

You wouldn’t brag about being forced onto a lap for hours out on a balcony either. 

You’ll eventually tell them. You have to. For your sake.

Eventually. Nothing lasts forever, after all.

“Fei. I promise you that this will be worth the wait.”

Feitan shakes his head, scoffing. “Will it? It would have been easier to just grab her and run.”

“I know,” Chrollo leans in a little, putting his elbows on his thighs. “I know. But you’ll lament it. I would have too if I had agreed with you to go down that route.”

A stare is the response.

It isn’t anger, Chrollo knows that much.

No. 

In all the years Chrollo has known Feitan, Feitan has never gone back on his loyalty to him and the Troupe.

But. But.

Chrollo hasn’t ever seen him have such a concurrence when there is still such division in his eyes.

“Are you sad?” He asks.

“No,” Feitan replies, looking at your cat plush instead of his leader of the full moon outside.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

*~*~*~*

Francis lives outside the city in a farmhouse. It’s up a tall hill with no pathway aside from little rectangular stones here and there – and if you ignore the animals and their housing, people would think that the place is deserted.

Feitan and Chrollo make their way to the white picket fence surrounding the chicken coop. They continue to bite down into the soil for worms or leftover grain. All female. Only three were brown; the others were smaller in frame and white.

“I’ve heard his eggs go for high prices in markets,” Chrollo grins a little. “Maybe I’ll raise some chickens of my own in my later years.”

Feitan raises an eyebrow at him.

“I was joking, Fei.” He clarifies.

“Ah.”

Feitan continues to walk with his hands still stuffed into his coat pockets. 

Chrollo looks at the farmhouse up at the top of the hillside. The lights are still on, meaning you were most likely still up and about in there.

The rooster resting on top of the mailbox makes eye contact with him for a few moments.

“Don’t scream,” Chrollo murmurs, his words sweet as sugar.

“What?” Feitan asks, not even bothering to turn around.

“I’m talking to the rooster.”

“[First]’s rubbing off on you too much.” His friend rolls his eyes and makes sure not to step on a twig.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed how these animals look at us.”

“They’re animals now. What came before… that doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Maybe to you – but I find it intriguing.”

“Talk later,” Putting his hand on the fence gate that leads to Francis’ garden, Feitan turns his head for just a moment. “Near. Quiet. Look.”

For once, Chrollo is the one that does the nodding.

The gate gives off a little squeak as it is opened. It reminds them of Francis’ prized pet pig Annie – though she is only allowed to be inside.

There are all sorts of vegetables and some fruits back here. Cucumbers, chili peppers, watermelons, corn, tomatoes, peaches, pears. They’re all in pristine condition, and so are the flowers growing in pots near the far-off window sills.

Feitan considers giving you the daisies. 

Chrollo considers giving you the marigolds.

They both look at the pig’s head hastily buried under the soil, her ears still popping out and facing the moon. Despite the interment being new, perhaps even being dug today, flies have already spread to the top part of the head and ears. They’re happy you didn’t see her because that would be quite an awful gift from your boyfriend.

Francis is probably happy too, not that they care.

From what Shalnark was able to gather from someone who barely has any social life, Francis moved here from another country about four years ago. He acquired this farm and its land almost immediately afterward. 

From a lottery, Shalnark had explained to them. Or an inheritance. Either way, man’s life is going pretty dang good. Too good, actually, because my senses are tingling too much.

Shalnark was right in that regard. Francis may adopt animals from time to time from farmers’ markets, but a majority of them suddenly appear a few days or weeks apart. There were three white chickens he had purchased. Then after a month or so, there were twelve. The three brown ones came all at once one day.

“Where’s Annie?” They hear you ask as you open one of the windows to get some fresh air. “She usually runs to the door to see me…”

Using hatsu to conceal their presence, the pair aren’t detected among the plants.

“She ran away.”

Feitan almost snickers at your boyfriend’s answer, looking down at the flies and corpse rotting beneath his feet. He didn’t mind the smell of rotting flesh – he has almost always enjoyed it since he was in his teenage years.

Chrollo’s feet don’t dig into the soil – he has opted to instead stand on the few pieces of stone that are by the cucumber plants. He makes a note to go to the laundromat after this; even though it has already been the third time in a row this week alone.

If he can convince Feitan, they’ll steal some things from your place to wash up too – Francis has always been touchy, after all.

“That’s weird,” You say worriedly, not looking into the garden anymore but instead inside; to Annie’s little bed huddled next to the window. “Did you leave the gate open?”

“Yes, I’m still rather upset about it but I’m sure she’ll be found soon.”

Soon. Chrollo grins a bit as he closes his eyes, imagining the moment he’ll save you from this man. Soon isn’t enough. No. This…

This is the moment.

This is the day.

This is the time.

“Feitan.”

“Hm?”

Francis will die today. Or tomorrow maybe, Chrollo isn’t completely sure.

“Don’t make it too bloody,” He instructs, getting off the stones and onto the dirty tiles of the garden’s path to the back door. “I’ll focus on her. We’ll leave the others alone.”

“Fine.”

“Thank you, Feitan.”

Feitan looks confused for a moment. If Chrollo were someone who hadn’t grown up beside him, he wouldn’t have noticed the small millisecond of his friend showing emotion. ‘For what?’ He wants to ask. 

Chrollo knows it. He knows it so he answers the silent question. “For being more vulnerable with her and I. [First] seems to have rubbed off on you too much too, huh?”

“I don’t like your jokes,” Feitan replies as he stuffs his pockets even more – perhaps to hide his balled-up fists. Whether they were made from the hatred of Francis or the annoyance of everything else is up to interpretation. No one will be getting an answer anyway, even Feitan himself. “You’re very happy lately.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Chrollo’s grin widens just a smidge more. “We’re about to rescue a princess.”

From that look, he knows Feitan agrees with his reasoning and is happy as well.

*~*~*~*

“You’re beautiful, darling.”

You’re laid out on Francis’ bed. It’s rather large for a room this size, but it is comfortable to undress on. You picked a periwinkle blue dress today with buttons on only its top front side. Francis wanted to help but you declined. You don’t decline a lot of things, especially when it comes to him. Francis is annoyed by that but he tries not to let it show. He hides a lot of things from you.

“Thank you.” You sheepishly smile, a light flush on your cheeks as you start to undo your buttons.

“Of course,” You’re his favorite by far. You aren’t stuck up or are with him just for his money. You’re so nice to him. You’re so sweet to him. “I wouldn’t lie to you, honey.”

You aren’t like those whores, those sluts, those fucking cheap little bitches.

“I’ll take it slow since it’s your first time and all.” He promises.

You look up at him.

Your frown is just barely noticeable – but noticeable enough for him to see.

“What’s wrong?” Francis asks.

“Lyra’s still missing… I’m worried.”

“Why?” Francis asks, getting more annoyed the more time you spend covered up. “Why are you so worried about her right now? It’s not the time for that.”

“I don’t know,” You look at the open window, cool air still blowing in along with the slight scent of flowers. “I really don’t, I just… have suddenly gotten a little sad just now.”

You’re shivering a little.

“Ah, you must be cold.” He deflects. Having only his shirt on now, he walks up to the windowsill and looks at the vegetable patch. With both hands, he pulls the window closed. “Better?”

You must not have heard him, because you keep playing with your buttons instead of being fully undressed already.

“Could you…” 

Ah. You did hear him, but you seem concerned for something else. That’s fine, as long as you aren’t playing with him and will soon attempt to run away. 

“Close the curtain? Please? I’d really… appreciate it.”

“Sure,” Francis replies, his smile returning to his face. “Anything for you. Just get comfortable, pumpkin.”

The wicked thing came all at once before either of you could blink. Shards of glass flew into Francis and into the bedroom walls. Francis screams as his bleeding hands are quick to go to his eyes, his fingers attempting to get the glass shards out of them before his vision is gone for good. In front of you was a stranger in a suit – he pushed you out of the way in a fraction of a second and onto the floor. The bed had shielded you and him. 

“Are you alright?”

You’re too shocked for words, peeking from behind the bed to where Francis is still screaming.

In front of him was a man in all black stepping on the back of his head with one of his feet. The soles of his boots seemed lodged into Francis’ scalp, and it takes you a moment to realize why. There were spikes on them; not that you could see them much because of how hidden they seemed to be right now. They’re silver judging by the color of their slight sparkle, but the rusted kind. No. Maybe that’s just the bloodstains.

The feeling in your chest is so horrible like you’re very sick. There’s pressure on your heart. It’s strangling you, despite the taller stranger’s grasp on your shoulders being so pleasant. So tender.

“What are you doing?” You screech. The sound doesn’t make either of the intruders flinch. Francis does instead. “Let go of him!”

The shorter man doesn’t look at you, opting to wedge the spikes of his shoes further into Francis’ brain. You try to get up but the man in the suit pulls you back down, shushing you as you protest and cry. “Don’t… it’ll be over soon. I told him to be gentle, you see.”

“Gentle?” You repeat.

“Yes, my dear.” One of his hands rises from your shoulders to where your eyes are. You struggle some more and the stranger whispers something in your ear. “Behave – I can always tell Feitan to torture him the amount he deserves if I wanted to. I know he wants to.”

You deflate and your eyes are forced shut by his palm. “Please stop… I don’t know what we did, just please-”

“You didn’t do anything,” The other man – Feitan if the taller man had named him right and he wasn’t just some assassin he hired; he said his name so tenderly too like he is an old friend – interrupts you. “He did.”

You feel like you’re about to throw up all the wonderful food you just ate. Chicken pot pie, beef tenderloin, roasted pork belly – it all feels like it is about to release from your throat and onto the wooden planked floor below.

“Oh dear,” Another hand covers your nose and mouth. Instead of blood you now smell cologne – sandalwood and amber. “Can you please hurry up, Fei? She looks like she’s about to collapse.”

*~*~*~*

“It’s a wonderful time to be alive,” Chrollo says as he puts the key into his car’s lock. It’s embedded with little multicolored jewels – he had commissioned some artist to customize it for him a week or so ago while Feitan went into your home on his own. “Or at least a wonderful night. Wouldn’t you say so?”

You’re in the passenger seat. You fell unconscious after Francis’ barely alive body got its fingers broken one by one. Some of his blood got on your skirt, but Chrollo is sure that the laundromat will fix that just like the workers will fix his clothes. As long as he pays them enough or threatens them enough. The latter would be more fun for Feitan but the former would let him be seen as a kind patron. Whichever way the coin flips. 

He doesn’t blame you for fainting. If he hadn’t been born in Meteor City and hadn’t been raised in a constant state of fear and a constant battle for power over others, he would most likely do the same. 

Feitan is in the back, silent. His hands now have gloves on them and are now brushing through your hair.

“Should we make the pit stop or go straight?” After the second question, the car’s lights turn on.

“Bed.”

The car starts moving into the barren street. 

“Alright,” Chrollo chuckles a little at the insistence in Feitan’s tone. “We can get some of [First]’s clothes tomorrow then. She’ll probably sleep throughout the day.” 

He doesn’t explain why because they both already know the reason. There is a short chain attached to the main bed. Depending on your behavior early on, it will either lengthen or become briefer. 

There are also some syringes in the mirror vanity that Feitan asked him over and over to keep in case of an emergency. He doubts there will be any real threat where they would have to use them. 

Feitan doesn’t. Feitan doesn’t doubt many things.

“Blankets too.” 

Feitan doesn’t ask for many things either, much less demand them.

“Ah,” Chrollo makes the left turn as his fingers tap on the steering wheel. It’s a song you enjoy listening to on your avenue home. He knows you aren’t listening to it but that doesn’t matter right now. He’ll continue to do so until your mind associates the tune with small controlled adventures to and fro and not you having a life of your own. “All of them?”

“Yes. Please.”

“You don’t say that word very often,” He teases, looking at the flat glass mirror overhead.

“Hmph.”

Putting his hand on your thigh, Chrollo continues to drive while still glancing upward now and then. 

*~*~*~*

Your heartbeat has calmed down. Feitan is now able to look at your face as you sleep. 

You look at peace now. When he had placed you on the bed, your eyebrows furrowed for a moment – perhaps your subconscious being afraid – or disgusted – by him.

The flowery scent of your perfume vanished long ago and has been replaced by a stinging one. Feitan doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind a lot of things when it comes to you.

Unlike the bodies of those who have died by his hands, Feitan places the white blanket on top of you gently like you would shatter if he was just a tad bit rougher. 

Well… Body bags don’t really count as blankets, do they? They are meant to be ripped open and stuffed full of parts no wandering soul hopes to find.

Chrollo decides to break the silence. “After she adjusts a little, we’ll leave. Or you can stay if you want. I can carry her things on my own.”

Feitan turns to look at him.

“Pictures.”

Chrollo sighs. “Alright. But we’ll get Shal to edit them. No cutting.”

“...Tch. Fine. Silky too.” A thumb is pressed against your lips. After it is lifted, there is a light pink that covers its print.

“It’s a pretty color, isn’t it?” Chrollo muses, hanging his suit jacket on the edge of his sofa as he holds his book. “I’ll try to get the same shade for her when she runs out of it. Though I suspect it will be a while before then, huh?”

“It’s fine,” Feitan states, rubbing his thumb against your lips more. “She will always be pretty to me.”

“Never took you for the romantic type, Fei.”

“Hmph.”

[24carathoney]

Fan Calls | C.SC | 18+

Pairing: Idol!Choi Seungcheol x FemReader 

Wc: 2.7k

Genre: Smut // Established Relationship

Warnings: minors do not interact // dom!Seungcheol // Seungcheol in glasses (yes it's a warning)  // daddy kink // reader is a bit of a brat // f. masterbation // fingering // oral m. receiving // oral f. receiving // pussy slapping (only like twice) // choking // orgasm denial // unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) // creampie // use of pet names (princess, baby, gorgeous)

Summary: Seungcheol's fan call cuts your steamy afternoon short so you do something about it. 

You narrowed your eyes at the man setting up at the table. His computer starting up and his stupid glasses on his face. He was literally right on top of you, kissing you softly, prepared to do unspeakable things to you before his alarm went off for his fan calls, which he has to do from home today. So now you're covered in hickeys and horny. You scowl deepened as he sent you a wink.

“We'll pick up where we left off as soon as this call is over.” He chuckled, kissing your forehead as he popped open the soda in his hands, making his way to the table. You rolled your eyes, turning away from him to pick something to watch on Netflix. “I've told you about rolling your eyes at me princess.” The change of tone sent a shudder down your spine and straight to your pussy. Clenching your thighs together to get some relief you remained silent as he spoke to the first fan soon after. After a while the ache between your legs slowly intensified and you mentally cursed as he still had at least 3 more calls. You took your bottom lips between your teeth as you slipped a hand past your thighs to where you needed it most. A subtle sigh left your lips but Seungcheol knew that sound more than anything. His head quickly snapped over to where you sat on the couch, still listening to the fan on the call. You caught his predatory gaze as a small grin made its way to your lips when you heard your phone buzz. 

Knock it off. I'm warning you Y/N. 

I have to find relief somehow sweetheart and you're busy, soooo.

You continued with your hands as you grabbed at your chest, squeezing and pinching, sending shivers up your spine. You kept quiet so he could continue work but how could he when you were so close to slipping your fingers in your tight hole. You debated on whether or not to relieve yourself until he was done. But the wetness pooling in your panties was enough to counter your doubts. You slid your hand past the waistband of your shorts, hips jolting as you brushed against your clit. You bite down on one of your fingers to suppress your moans as you run a digit along your slit coating it with your arousal. 

“I'm glad you enjoyed the concert! We worked hard to make sure it would be fun for you guys.” His voice cheered, masking his words with glee just as you pushed a finger past your slit. You saw the way his jaw clenched and found yourself even wetter than before. You slightly arched off the couch, leaning your head back and your eyes fluttering closed. You started at a slow pace tuning out the world around you as the rubbed against your walls, your cool palm slamming into your clit. It wasn't enough so you used your other hand to rub quick circles around the bundle of nerves, your breathing speeding up into short huffs. A small whine left your mouth as you felt the familiar knot start to tighten in your belly, not even noticing that the third call had finished. Seungcheol could see the way your head lulls back over the arm of the couch as you work yourself closer to your release. He'd be a liar if he didn't want you to face him while you fucked your fingers. Every memory he has stored away went straight to his dick, twitching in his pants. 

Just as another one of his calls ended, you curled your finger to push against that one sweet spot causing your body to shake, pushing you over the edge into your nerve wrecking orgasm. When you came down from your high you pulled your hand out of your shorts, licking your release from your manicured fingers, not realizing your boyfriend's dark eyes were glued to your form. Once you relaxed a bit you shyly caught his gaze before standing up from your spot, hobbling over to where he was sitting. 

“You almost done?” You asked over his shoulder before you pecked his cheek. His dark eyes stared into your own brown orbs and you felt your stomach flutter. He didn't say a word causing you to poke out your bottom lip in a pout. He's giving the silent treatment? You sat in the chair next to him with your arms folded across your chest as the last call came in. You sat patiently waiting for him to finish up but didn't miss how his eyes flickered over to you every now and then, as if daring you to pull something like you did earlier. You found yourself fidgeting with your now dry fingers as he waved goodbye to the fan before shutting off his laptop. You watched his every move as he made no advances towards you and made a glass of water at the counter. You bite the inside of your cheek not knowing if he's actually upset about earlier so you stared down at the table in shame. Just when you stood up to go to bed he was behind you with a hand wrapped around your throat. He didn't squeeze hard enough to hurt you but just enough to get his message through to you, straight to your pussy. He kissed your temple before moving down to your ear. 

“You wanna play gorgeous? Let's fucking play.” He growled, pushing you down so you were bent over the table. He held your arms behind your back by your wrists watching you squirm below him. He yanked your shorts down your legs, quickly moving to rub your clothed pussy with his fingers. 

“Cheol! I liked those.” You whined as he ripped your panties clean off, chuckling at the way you're clenching around nothing. It's a good thing you're drenched now because without any warning he shoved two fingers between your folds, thrusting in and out at a speedy pace, abusing that perfect spot just enough for the knot in your stomach to quickly return.

“Cheol!” His mouth started to water watching you squirm underneath him. Hips jerking, chasing the release you so dearly craved. His pace was relentless and you kept pushing back to meet his fingers, your heat clashing with the cool sensation of the rings that decorated his hands.

“You want it so badly, you can't even behave for 30 minutes.” He wanted nothing more than for you to cum but he knows he has to make you work for it first. After that stunt you pulled, he was ready to fuck you stupid. But not yet. He felt the way you started clenching around his digits and shook his head. Just before you could reach your second sweet release he snatched his hand away from you causing you to whine in frustration. 

“Seungcheol what the hell?” You shouted as he kept you pinned to the table with one hand. 

“That's my name now? You think I'd let you cum just like that after your little show on the couch?” His breath fanned over your ear as he stuck his fingers in your mouth, letting you taste yourself. You rubbed your slick coated thighs together while nothing but filthy insults left his mouth. “A cock hungry brat like you shouldn't get to cum after testing my patience like that.” He reached around to grab you by your neck and lifted you to stand to your full height. His lips latched onto your neck and sucked along your skin while his free hand undid his jeans. Ever thought in your brain began to disappear as he manhandled you and he hasn’t even made you cum yet. Just the sheer feeling of having his hands on you was enough to send you to cloud nine. Every nerve in your body wanted him deep inside you but you know you pushed it earlier so you have to play your cards right for him to give you what you wanted. 

“On your knees princess.” You did as you were told and watched as he stroked himself before slapping your cheek with his cock. “Look at that, you actually can follow directions. You really want my cock that bad?” His vulgar words usually have you hiding your face but all you wanted at this moment was his cock down your throat. “You need to use your words baby. What is it you want hm?”

“D-daddy's cock. Inside me.” There it is. 

“Maybe if you act right I'll give you what you want.” As he tapped your cheek, you slipped your tongue out of your mouth waiting for his next move like the obedient girl you were. His lips curled up into a smirk as he sat his tip on your tongue before moving to pull your hair up in a puff taking notice of how easily you slipped into your sub headspace. You rested your hands on his thighs, with him giving you a nod before taking him all the way to the hilt. 

“Fuck.” He had his head back relishing in the way you moaned around his cock, the vibrations turning his brain into mush. He held your head still as his hips sped up to a brutal pace, gaze locked onto you. You did your best not to gag as he repeatedly hit the back of your throat, tears stinging your eyes. He suddenly stilled with your nose against his pelvis and you held your breath. “That's it. Hold it right there for daddy.” You shut your eyes tight to not concentrate on the way your throat started to flex before he pulled you off, giving you a chance to breathe. A low growl left his throat when his eyes zeroed in on the string of saliva connecting your lips and the tip of his dick. 

“You can do better than that. I know you can.” Within seconds your mouth was back on his cock and he started fucking your face for a minute, sinking in the sensation. The feeling of your warm mouth was one he could never get tired of. He pulled you forward back onto the hilt and you sat there moaning around him as he pulsed against your tongue. He couldn't cum yet, but the way your tongue wiggled against the vein under his dick would instantly make him lose it. 

He pulled you off again, lifting you up onto the table in one swift movement. He places your hands onto the back of your thighs, pushing them up until you are spread out, giving yourself to him on a silver platter. You sucked in a deep breath as he swiped his tongue along your slit, pushing two fingers past your wet folds. “Fuck......fuck that feels so good!” The slurping sounds bounced off the walls sending you into a turmoil of pleasure. He always ate you out with the most gentle of touches, holding you like you could easily break. His devotion to your pleasure always made you feel like a queen. A queen he’d put on a pedestal any day. But today you were his brat that he had to discipline. Your hips jerked to chase his tongue as he made figure eights around your clit prepared to pull your orgasm out of you. Or so you thought.

“F-fuck! Cheol I'm close.” As soon as the words left your mouth he pulled away and you couldn't help but scowl before a slap sounded. You moaned out at the slight sting coursing through your pussy. 

“Wrong name baby. Have you nothing in that pretty little head of yours.” When you didn't respond, another slap to your pussy sent you spiraling. 

“D-daddy! Daddy I'm sorry….fuck!” He held down your hips before easily bottoming out inside you and your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head. His eyes glued to the slight bulge poking from your stomach and a familiar switch flipped in his mind. Every time he sees where he's nestled so deep inside you it shuts off any other logical thoughts he would have. You rubbed over the small bump with your hand, whining at the sensation. All other thoughts vanished from his mind until the desire to fuck you stupid was the only one that remained. He sucked in a deep breath as he leaned over you, holding himself up on one arm. He pulled out to the tip, brushing your hair out of your face giving him a better look at your face expression. Your eyes are in a daze as your pussy tried to suck him back in. Before you could question him, he started to pound into you without saying a word. “Ah…….. fuck.” Your hand slipped to the edge of the table to ground yourself to something, anything before your legs started to give out from the burning sensation.  

“Where are your hands supposed to be princess?” He grunts from above you and you quickly move to hold the back of your thighs, keeping you open for him. He smirked as he pushed your knees back up to your chest, his palm rubbing over the rose and cherry tattoo that rested on the back of your thigh.

“Holding….open for daddy.” Your words became slurred and he chuckled at how fucked out you looked. “So disobedient. I should just make myself cum and leave you here.” He used his free hand to rub your clit and you jolted, hips wiggling to meet his own.

“N-no!” He smirked at your protest, not missing the way one of your hands flew to his arm to hold him in place. You knew very well that he would cum and walk away from you. “I'm sorry daddy, please let me cum! I'll be good!”

“You're sorry? But you seemed to have so much fun earlier without me. You wanna be a good girl now?” He teased rubbing your bottom lip with his thumb as your body bends to his touch on muscle memory. You immediately sucked his digit into your mouth, moaning as you could feel yourself on the brink of an intense orgasm. He enjoyed just how much power he held over you. And you let him have that power. Everytime. “I'll let you cum, but your bratty ass has to make it up to me tomorrow. Deal?” His words fell into a whisper as his stomach started to flex, his own release nearing. “Where you want it pretty?”

“Inside, ah fuck, deep inside.” His hand quickly left your mouth, wrapping around your throat as you arched off the table. He groaned as you fluttered around him loving the way your hips jolt at the feeling of him fucking you through it. 

“That's it, eyes on me. I got you princess.” Locking eyes with him was the only thing keeping you from passing out. His deep brown orbs keep you rooted to the overwhelming pleasure rushing through your being. Your orgasm triggers his own and with one last sharp thrust his hips stilled against your thighs as long strings of his cum paint your walls, a steady stream of profanities shooting from his mouth. You reached to pull him down for a passionate kiss as the two of you rode out your highs together. When he went soft he let a hiss leave his lips as he slipped out of you, the mix of your cum leaking down the crease of your ass. 

“You still with me baby?” Your eyes were glazed over and you were in a daze but you nodded nonetheless. “I need to hear you say it princess.”

“I'm still with you Cheollie.” He quickly scooped you up and carried you to the bathroom where he started a warm bath. Once the two of you were in the water you couldn't help but cling to him with a pout, bringing your arm to hook around his neck. “I'm sorry.” He kissed your forehead bringing his arms around your middle. 

“Don’t apologize, even after acting out, you did so well for me. I didn't hurt you did I?” Even after an intense session he always makes sure you're alright. And that was one of the things you loved about him. 

“Of course not. You know I can take whatever daddy gives me.” You smirked and he raised an eyebrow down at you. But you didn't miss the way his eyes darkened for the second time today. 

“Careful what you wish for gorgeous.”

[meazalykov]

gold or silver

laura freigang x reader

summary: you say words you don't mean.

warnings: reader's mentality is.. harsh in the beginning. jealousy. bits of angst.

it's the 40th minute and you were frustrated.

as an attacking midfielder, it seemed like you were doing everything.

you were helping the offense with your creative chances, you were clearing goals to help with the defense, picking up any pieces that horan or coffey failed to receive.

your body was tired and your mindset started shift into playing aggressively, anyway that will help you win against the germans.

by now, you'd start your aggressiveness with any other team-- but the germans had something special with you.

having two german parents made you eligible to play for the german national team. you were born in the United States and were raised in the US for your entire life-- the decision to pick a national team was hard.

back in 2018 when the united states promised to put you on the 2019 World Cup roster, you accepted.

it didn't help that they were the best team in the world at that point.

it made it special that you played for bayern munich, a bavarian club. most of the german girls on the gerwnt were your bestest friends, you've considered them to be your non-biological sisters.

one of those non-biological sisters, sydney, introduced you to laura back in 2021.

the both of you hit it off, the chemistry was undeniable and you've been with the older girl for 3 years now.

mallory swanson shoots the ball towards the goal in the 44th minute but it deflects off of the goalpost, the ball lands on your foot and you shoot the ball-- only for it to launch into the crowd.

you yelled in frustration as sam reassures you that you'll get it next time-- again. this was your third huge opportunity of the night and you didn't make a single goal yet.

nobody did. its nil-nil.

when the referee blows the whistle for halftime, you groaned out in frustration. hearing this, trinity jogs by your side as you both head back to the dressing room.

sitting down by your locker in the dressing room, you cling onto the bottom of your red shorts and take a sip of water out of your gatorade bottle.

the entire dressing room was frustrated-- the many missed chances wasn't acceptable.

after emma came in the dressing room, surprisingly calm while talking about the switches in play, you look up to the ceiling in silence.

"hey y/n." sophia places her hand on your right knee. you look towards her and raised your eyebrow, signaling for her to talk to you.

"are you okay?" sophia asks with a light smile.

"not really, are you okay?" you ask back.

sophia shrugs her shoulders, "I've been better."

that response breaks a smile from you.

"I just want to help you guys score, or at least score myself, I hate this deadlock we are in." you speak, going to take another sip of your water bottle after.

"I'll score for you and the team in the second half, I promise." sophia says.

"but honestly, I thought that your bad mood might've been about playing against laura and your german friends." sophia continues.

"no-- not really." you place your water bottle down and bend down to fix your cleat laces.

"huh?" sophia says, surprised.

"I mean, I am determined to help us get a medal. I'm not letting a relationship get in the way of our dreams." you say.

"and I know laura thinks the same way. yes, I am a little scared that she will resent me if we win and she doesn't-- but if that is a huge problem for her, maybe we aren't meant to be." you continue.

sophia knits her eyebrows together as you finish tying your cleats.

"she wouldn't resent you. are you saying that you would have resent for her if germany wins tonight?" Sophia asks.

"no, because I'll make sure they wouldn't win." you say, standing up and jogging out of the dressing room.

in the 61st minute, you push down and block a huge chance coming from nicole-- your girlfriend's frankfurt teammate.

seeing her fall after her failed chance, you walk up to her and help her when you realize that she had a cramp in her leg.

laura is subbed on her nicole afterwards, which made you feel nervous.

seeing her come onto the field, your tough façade faded away at the sight of her. you couldn't play mean when it came to her-- she made you feel loved and soft.

you didn't think it, but subconsciously, you make a note to be aggressive towards every other player except for her-- unless you absolutely had to.

in the 72nd minute, laura gets the ball and nearly gets the goal against the united states. noticing the position between her and crystal dunn, you reached your hand up because she was offside.

when the ref called for it offside, laura walks closer to you frustrated.

something inside of you feels heartbroken when she walks by you without bothering to look at you-- or gives you a signal that she notices you.

did she hear your conversation with sophia? no way, the American locker rooms aren't near the german ones.

was it because you were the first to urge the referee to call off-side? maybe.

in the 94th minute, you ran the ball up the field and passed it to mallory.

mallory, seeing no free space thanks to feli and kathy, passes the ball back to you. as you get the ball and dribble around feli, you pass the ball over to sophia.

berger fails to grab the ball from sophia's feet as she shoots the ball into the undefended goal.

1-0.

you feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you dart towards sophia, who’s grinning like she’s just won the entire tournament. 

she practically tackles you in the celebration as you both crash to the ground, your teammates piling on top of you. 

the scoreboard flashes 1-0, and the realization hits you—you’re just minutes away from securing a spot in the gold medal match.

you finally stand up, breathless and exhilarated, giving sophia another congratulatory hug. you gave the assist and she got the goal.

she smiles at that thought, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she points at you and says, "i told you i’d score a goal for you."

"and it was perfect, soph!" you laugh, your heart swelling with pride and affection.

your voice carries your excitement, and for a moment, the world seems to pause around you, focusing only on the joy of the moment.

but then, out of the corner of your eye, as you’re jogging back into position, you catch sight of laura. 

she’s not far, standing near the center circle, her posture stiff, eyes fixed on you with a mix of confusion and something else—something you can’t quite place. 

her brows are knitted together, and she’s biting the inside of her cheek, a habit you know all too well. 

you feel a pang of guilt but push it down, focusing on the game at hand.

laura’s mind races as she replays your words in her head. "scoring a goal for you?" the phrase echoes, unsettling her. 

of course, she trusts you—she has to. but seeing you so close to sophia, hearing the way you cheered for her, stirs a gnawing insecurity within her.

she shakes her head, trying to rid herself of the thoughts. now’s not the time. there’s a game to win, and the germans are still in it—barely.

the game restarts, and you see laura moving with renewed determination. she’s pushing forward, trying to lead her team to an equalizer. every touch she makes on the ball is sharp, decisive, but there’s an edge to her play now, something almost desperate. 

you can’t help but feel a twist in your gut every time she gets close to the goal. she has to be stopped, even if she doesn’t want to be. 

in the 96th minute, laura receives the ball just outside the box. she fakes a shot, sending emily off balance before cutting inside. 

your heart skips a beat as you watch, silently praying she doesn’t score. it’s a terrible thought, but you can’t help it. the idea of seeing her disappointment if she misses, or the tension if she scores, is almost too much to bear.

laura shoots, the ball curling towards the far post, but it’s just inches wide. the ball goes into the crowd and you exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding. the sight of laura with her hands on her head, staring at the missed opportunity, brings a lump to your throat.

when the final whistle blows, the stadium erupts in cheers for the USWNT, but your gaze is locked on laura. she’s sitting on the grass, staring at the ground. your feet move before you can think, crossing the pitch to her.

you should be celebrating with your team, but that's not your main concern. as much as you said it did in the locker room. 

“laura,” you whisper as you reach her, crouching down. 

laura looks up at you, her eyes tired and exhausted, and for a moment, the world falls away. it’s just you and her, and the weight of the game feels inconsequential compared to the heaviness between you.

“i’m sorry,” you say, knowing it’s not enough, but it’s all you have at the moment.

“it’s okay. you deserved the win.” laura shakes her head, managing a small, sad smile. her voice is soft, but there’s a crack in it that makes your chest tighten.

“it’s just a game, laur. we’re still us. and i believe that you guys will go and win bronze.” you reach out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. 

she nods, but her eyes tell a different story—a story of doubt, of worry, of wondering if the game really is just a game, or if it’s something more. something that could wedge itself between the both of you.

“i saw how you looked at sophia,” she admits, her voice barely audible. 

“what did she mean by ‘scoring for you’?”

you open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat. how can you explain that it was just a friendly promise, a moment of celebration? that it means nothing compared to what you have with laura? you can see the doubt in her eyes, and it scares you.

“it was nothing, i swear,” you say, squeezing her hand. 

“sophia’s just… sophia. she’s engaged to michael and i do not have feelings for her outside of platonic ones. you’re the one i’m with, the one i love.”

laura takes a deep breath, nodding again, but you can tell the seed of doubt has been planted. 

the victory feels hollow now, and as you pull her into a hug, you can’t shake the feeling that this game has cost you something far more important than a spot in the gold medal match.

so much for what you said in the locker room at halftime. you’re terrified that you might’ve manifested something. 

you hold laura close, feeling the tension in her body as she tries to keep her emotions in check. 

the cheers and celebrations around you fade into the back of your mind, replaced by the sound of her uneven-- and tired--breathing. 

you hate this—the way the game has twisted something as pure as your love for each other into a source of tension.

“laur,” you murmur against her hair, trying to comfort her as you sit on the grass, 

“you’re the one i’m going to go home with after this all ends. none of this changes that.”

she pulls back slightly, her eyes searching yours, trying to find reassurance in your words. 

“but it does, doesn’t it? we’re always on different sides out here, and it feels like… i don’t know, like we’re not on the same team anymore– i mean we aren’t physically– but i mean with us.”

the vulnerability in her voice breaks your heart. you never wanted this—never wanted to be the reason she felt insecure or doubted what you have together. 

you cup her face gently, your thumb brushing away a tear that threatens to spill over.

“we’re always on the same team in this relationship,” you say firmly, hoping your conviction can bridge the gap that’s opened between you. 

“what happened on this field stays here. it’s just a game, but you and me? it exists everywhere else.”

laura looks down, her lips pressed into a thin line. “it’s hard to separate it sometimes, you know? watching you celebrate with her, hearing what you said echoing outside of the locker room at halftime… it hurt, y/n.”

the honesty in her words cuts deep, your heart drops and you feel a huge wave of guilt hit you. she heard what you said. 

you wish you could go back, change how you reacted, change what you said to sophia, change how you celebrated. but you can’t. all you can do is try to make it right now.

“i didn’t mean to say that.. or to hurt you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. 

“sophia and i—we’re just friends. she was just trying to cheer me up, that’s all. i don’t think that you’ll hate me like I said in the locker– the emotions of this game were just–” you cut yourself off, finding no excuses. 

“you’re the one i care about, the one who matters to me.” you say with full sincerity. 

“I know that, but it’s hard when we’re out here, competing like this. i don’t want to feel like i’m fighting for you.” laura’s eyes soften, but there’s still a shadow of doubt lingering. 

the feeling of playing against you all of the time is starting to catch up to the german girl.

she's never been your teammate on the pitch, just an opponent or rival.

“you’re not,” you insist, your grip on her tightening as if you could physically hold her fears at bay. 

“you have all of me, laura. there’s no one else, and never will be.” you stare into her eyes. 

she nods slowly, taking in your words, and you can see the conflict in her eyes begin to ease, if only slightly. 

“i want to believe that,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “but this… it’s just hard.”

you pull her into another hug, wanting to shield her from the pain, to show her that nothing has changed between you. 

“i love you, laur,” you say, the words a promise as much as a declaration. 

“we’ll get through this, together. when you win that bronze medal, i promise i’ll be there to celebrate with you.”

laura lets out a shaky breath, her arms wrapping around you tightly. “i love you too,” she murmurs against your shoulder. 

“i just… i don’t want to lose you and three years of us to this– to a football match if anything.”

“you won’t,” you assure her, pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes. 

“we’ll figure it out. we always do.” you say. this is true, you guys have solved small disagreements before and have made compromises. 

a small, fragile smile forms on her lips. not caring about any cameras or teammates that could see it– you lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. 

the sound of your teammate, sam, calling your name pulls you back to the present. you know you have to go, to join them in celebrating the victory, but you’re reluctant to leave laura’s side. 

you’d stay by her side forever if you could. ninety minutes of rivalry exhausted you. 

laura notices your look at sam and gives you a small nod.

“go,” she says, her voice steadier now. “you deserve to celebrate. i’ll be okay.”

“are you sure?” you hesitate, searching her face for any lingering doubts. 

“i’m sure. we will talk more later back home, okay?” she smiles, a bit more convincingly this time.

you nod, pressing one last kiss to her lips before standing up.

the joy of the journey towards gold feels muted, but as you jog back to your team, you glance over your shoulder at laura. 

she’s watching you, and there’s a small smile on her face, one that tells you she’s trying to be okay..

as you rejoin your teammates, the cheers and laughter envelop you, but your mind is still on laura. 

the victory with your national teammates is bittersweet, a reminder of the delicate balance you have to maintain between your love and your rivalry when playing on the national level– even club level since you play for bayern and she plays for frankfurt.

but you’re determined to make it work, to ensure that no game, no matter how important, comes between you and the woman you love.

you’re determined to show laura that she’s the most important part of your life—on and off the field.

well, after you win that gold medal for your team. 

my master list is here if you want to read more fics <3

[daisyblog]

Mini Us

Young Love Masterlist Summary: Louis and YN welcome their baby into the world.

Warning: childbirth, labour, unexpected home birth, mention of blood

10th of November 2009

In the quiet bedroom, YN laid in the bed still sore and uncomfortable from the trauma her body had been through earlier in the day. She looked down at the sleeping newborn that laid upon her chest. She admired the little one that was equally half of her and half Louis.

The little ones blue eyes were identical to Louis, whilst their little petite nose and lips mirrored YN’s. YN brought her finger up to their cheek, admiring their precious gift.

“I’m the luckiest mummy ever that you chose me”. She spoke to the sleeping baby who was content in her arms. “Me and your dad are gonna give you the best life possible…we’re going to spoil you with love and make so many memories together”. YN could feel the tears begin to form in her eyes because now that she was a mother herself, she couldn’t understand how her family could have treated her in that way.

---

Earlier that day

The third trimester had certainly taken its toll on YN. She was tired to the point that she could come home from college and take a nap, and still go to bed early and sleep all night. Her heightened hormones caused her to snap at anything, big or small. Louis had been walking on eggshells at the inconsistency in her mood swings.

Four days had passed since YN’s due date, but she had tried everything to kick start labour but unfortunately for them nothing worked. The only thing left to do was take a long walk. That morning YN and Louis had walked around Doncaster at least ten times until YN said she was tired and her feet were hurting.

As soon as YN’s body hit their bed, she was fast asleep as she cuddled up to the pillows. After a while Louis had noticed that YN’s body began to tense for a few minutes but then relax again. Seeing as she was still sleeping, he hadn’t thought much about it.

Louis realised he must have dozed off to when he woke up to YN’s scream. The sound was piercing, sacred and terrifying. He shot up from his sleeping position and the sound of YN crying caught his attention.

“Lou…Lou..there-there’s some-something w-wrong”. YN stuttered out the words in between her sobs, her body still almost like she was afraid to move.

Louis gulped heavily, feeling it travel down his throat and into the pit of his stomach. He looked at scene in front of him and his body froze. The bottom half of YN, including the bed sheets, was covered in red. Blood everywhere, something he would never forget the sight of.

“Lou…please…I need help!”. YN broke him from his frozen state, and without saying a word he called for his mum.

Jay came rushing in and although the sight shocked her and caused her to panic, she remained calm and collected on the outside. “Everything’s going to be alright darling okay…Lou go and get loads of towels and blankets”.

“Mum is the baby okay?”. Louis looked for his mother’s reassurance, but Jay gave nothing away and instructed her son to go and get the stuff quickly.

Once Louis had left, Jay moved quickly. “Alright YN, love…am I okay to check what’s going on?”. When YN nodded, shaking with fear, Jay removed the blood stained clothes and gasped. “Oh my…I don’t know how you’re not screaming in more pain…I can see baby’s head!”.

“I feel numb…and weak”. YN admitted, and it was in that moment that Jay realised that an ambulance wouldn’t arrive in time because this little one was on their way.

Louis walked back into the room, folded towels and blankets gathered in his hands, but was more shocked than before because he could see the top of his baby’s head.

“Is..is…is that?”. Louis eyes were as wide and in shock as the could be.

“Yes! That’s the baby’s head…you need to get over here and support YN…you’re about to have a baby!”.

---

The next hour felt like a lifetime. Jay stayed in the same position, watching to make sure her first grandchild was safe coming into the world. Louis was by YN’s side, moving her hair back from her face whenever she pushed through a contraction.

“YN…darling…you’re doing amazing my love…listen to your body and any minute now you’re about to meet your baby”. Jay spoke calmly, as she reached up to give YN’s hand an encouraging squeeze. “You’re doing so well love”.

Louis felt like a spare part, he wanted to take the pain away, he wanted to be the one that was doing all the hard work so YN didn’t have to experience it.

“I’m so proud of you!”. Louis left a gentle peck to her forehead. “You’re so strong…and me and the baby are so lucky to have you”.

YN felt an immense pressure down below, and like Jay had said, she listened to her body and pushed as hard as she could whilst squeezing Louis’ hand.

“AHHHHH!”: She let out an exhausted scream, hoping this would be the last push she needed for her baby to be born and in her arms.

Jay quickly picked up the crying little baby and placed them on their mother’s chest. Louis and YN both had tears in their eyes as they peered down at their newborn.

“I’ve never felt love like this”. Louis spoke into the room as he held the little ones tiny hand.

“She’s beautiful!”. Jay spoke, carefully revealing that they had a daughter.

YN looked up at Jay, tears still soaking her eyes and cheeks. “A little girl?”. With her own tears matching her sons and YN’s she nodded as she soaked them precious moment.

YN and Louis shared a look, knowing they had already chosen both a girl and boy names ready for the birth of their baby. A smile appeared on both of their faces.

“Welcome to the world Mia Rose Tomlinson!”.

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