#just some 'well as I understand these are the steps to *express* these feelings' not quite spontaneity going on)

[sweetfcwn]

say it’s okay - george clarke.

not a request but something i’ve had sitting in my drafts for a while.

you don’t mean to be short with him.

you’re just… tired.

your head hurts, your back aches, and everything feels too loud. it’s one of those days where your skin is hot with frustration and everything anyone says feels like too much. you’re sore, your stomach’s cramping, and all you want is to disappear under your duvet and sleep for a week.

and george—sweet, thoughtful, always-needs-to-be-touching-you george—isn’t helping.

he’s chattering from the kitchen about some video idea, voice light and happy, and you know he’s excited, you do, but it’s all too much right now. the clink of dishes. the hum of the fridge. the high-pitched laugh in his voice. it makes your shoulders tense.

you sit on the couch, arms crossed, jaw tight. he walks into the room holding two mugs, eyes crinkled as he says, “made you a cuppa, poppet,” like it’s the best thing anyone’s ever done.

and you snap.

“i didn’t ask for tea, george.”

he freezes, blinking. “oh. i—i know, but i thought it might help—”

“what would help,” you cut in, “is just… not being smothered right now.”

you hate how harsh it sounds the moment it leaves your mouth. the mug trembles slightly in his hand. he nods once, like he understands, but his smile falters. just a bit. just enough.

“right. yeah. sorry,” he says softly, placing the mug down on the table before stepping back.

he doesn’t say anything else. just disappears into the other room.

and then it’s quiet.

at first, you’re still irritated. at everything. your body, the headache, the world. but as the minutes pass, the fog of exhaustion starts to clear and something else creeps in.

guilt.

you didn’t mean to speak to him like that. you didn’t mean to act like he was the problem when he was just trying to help.

you sip the tea—still warm, sweet, just how you like it—and it hits you all at once.

he didn’t deserve that.

you find him an hour later, curled up in bed with his laptop, headphones on. he doesn’t notice you at first, totally focused on whatever he’s editing. his brows are drawn, lips in a little pout of concentration, and your heart pulls at the sight.

you feel even worse.

you tap on the doorframe softly. he glances up.

and smiles.

not big. not dramatic. just this small, soft thing like he’s not sure if he should. but he does. because he’s george.

“hey,” you whisper.

“hey,” he says back.

you climb onto the bed beside him, curling into his side, and he immediately shifts to make room, one arm going around your waist out of habit.

you bury your face in his neck.

“i was really mean earlier.”

he exhales slowly. “you were just tired.”

“no, i was shitty. i know i was.”

his fingers trace soft patterns on your side. “you weren’t feeling good. it’s okay.”

“it’s not okay,” you mumble. “you were being sweet and i snapped at you.”

he pulls back just enough to look at you, expression gentle. “i get it, love. everyone has off days.”

you frown. “i still feel like a dick.”

he smiles a little at that. “well, you did hurt my feelings.”

you blink. “i did?”

he nods, honest as always. “a bit. but only ‘cause i was excited to see you. i’d been thinking about you all day.”

your chest squeezes. “george…”

“but i knew you didn’t mean it,” he says quickly, brushing your hair behind your ear. “i know you. i know your heart.”

you blink hard. you don’t cry—but god, he makes you want to.

“you were so excited about the tea,” you whisper. “and i was so awful.”

he shrugs, soft. “it’s just tea.”

“no,” you shake your head. “it’s not. it’s you being sweet and thoughtful. and i love that about you. i love you. even when i’m tired. even when i act like a brat.”

“you weren’t a brat.”

“i was,” you insist, grabbing his hand. “and i’m sorry.”

he watches you for a moment, then lifts your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles one by one.

“you’re forgiven,” he says against your skin.

you lean in and kiss his cheek. “you sure?”

he nods. “completely.”

and then he grins, playful. “but i’ll accept additional apologies in the form of cuddles. maybe a forehead kiss. possibly a foot rub.”

you laugh. “you drive a hard bargain.”

he winks. “i am a man of principle.”

you settle back into his arms, letting the warmth of him soothe away the last of the guilt. he holds you close, like he always does, like he doesn’t hold anything against you.

and you realize something.

being loved by george isn’t just sweet. it’s healing.

later, you make him tea.

you bring it to him, proud, and set it in front of him with a dramatic flourish. “for you, my patient, angelic boyfriend.”

he chuckles, takes a sip, then hums. “perfect.”

“better than yours?”

he raises a brow. “never.”

you pout.

he kisses you. “but almost.”

and just like that, everything feels okay again.

taglist: @phantomveb @just-yazz @wherethezoes-at @tomhollandismyhusband1996 @cheekytv @clarkeysbedchem @artvscvntymullet @idkwhatthisevenislol @barfurtv @fyuge @ijustwannaread03

[qivrae]

say it like you mean it - nsfw

spencer reid x afab!reader

a/n: fighting with spence ugh then you get breeded

The sound of the front door clicking shut sent a bolt of tension through your spine. You didn’t turn around right away—just stood by the kitchen sink, eyes fixed on the glass in your hand, watching the condensation trail down like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Anything to keep from looking at him.

Spencer’s keys hit the bowl by the door with a familiar clink. His bag landed on the counter a second later. And then silence. Heavy, expectant silence.

“You’re late,” you finally said, voice neutral. He exhaled. “I called.” You nodded once. “Yeah.” Still, you didn’t face him.

“I didn’t pick up because I was in the shower,” you added after a beat. “Figured if something happened to you, someone would’ve left a voicemail.”That made him pause. “What’s that supposed to mean?” His voice was cautious but not soft. Tired, maybe. Defensive.

You turned then. Leaned back against the sink and looked at him for the first time that night. His hair was a mess, his tie halfway undone. His knuckles were raw. Your stomach turned. “It means,” you said slowly, “that I’m tired of playing this game where I pretend I’m not scared out of my fucking mind every time you walk out that door.”Spencer blinked. That he wasn’t expecting. “It was a raid,” he said like that explained everything. “There were risks, yes. But it was controlled. I had a vest on—”

“Oh, great,” you snapped. “A vest. That makes all the difference when some guy with a shotgun doesn’t give a shit where he aims.” He stepped closer, just one careful step. “You knew what I did when we got together.”

“Yeah. And I knew what war was when I read about it, but it’s a little different when you’re watching someone you love walk into it every goddamn day.” The words came out too fast, too raw. Spencer’s expression shifted like the ground beneath his feet tilted and he was struggling to stay upright. He swallowed. “I don’t want you to worry,” he said quietly. “Well, I do,” you said. “I can’t not.” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing now like the movement could help him make sense of it. “I don’t understand what you want from me. You think I want to be in danger? That I enjoy it?”

“No! I think you forget what it does to the people who have to sit at home and wait.” You moved toward him then, voice rising. “You come home late, bruised and bleeding and you downplay it. You act like it’s nothing. But you don’t see the way I flinch when you limp through the door. You don’t hear me crying in the shower after you fall asleep.” He stopped walking. “I didn’t know that,” he said. “Well, now you do.”

There was silence. The kind that burns in your throat and behind your eyes. And then softer, you whispered, “I don’t want to lose you.” Spencer’s head dropped. His hands clenched at his sides. You watched him breathe, slow and uneven.

“I’m sorry,” he said and for once, it didn’t sound automatic. It wasn’t a bandaid. It was an apology that cracked him open. “I didn’t realize you felt like this.” You wiped your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie. “I try not to. Most of the time, I try really hard not to feel anything at all, because it’s easier than feeling like this.”

When you looked back up at him, his eyes were already on you. Soft, guilty, wrecked. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like I don’t care,” he said, stepping closer. “You’re the one thing I think about when things get bad. The only thing that keeps me from falling apart out there.”

The air shifted. Warmer. Closer. You didn’t move away when he touched your face, just leaned into it, heart pounding so loud it drowned everything else out. “I don’t want to lose you either,” he whispered.

Your breath caught when his thumb brushed your cheek, eyes locked with yours like he wasn’t sure whether to kiss you or keep confessing. You didn’t give him the choice. You leaned forward, grabbed his face and kissed him like it would keep him here. Keep him alive. Keep him yours. And he kissed you back just as hard, just as fast, like he needed to feel everything you were saying without saying it. It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t sweet. It was a collision.

He groaned into your mouth, both hands sliding down your sides like he had to touch you to believe this was real. His fingers gripped your hips tight enough to bruise, grounding himself in the weight of you. You reached for his belt with shaking hands, fumbling with the buckle while he bit down softly on your bottom lip, kissed you again and again and again like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

When you finally got his belt undone, he exhaled sharply, like even that was too much. Like the relief of being wanted was overwhelming. “Fuck,” he breathed against your mouth, “you’re still wearing the hoodie.” You laughed against him, breathless. “You bought it for me.”

“I know,” he said dragging his hands under the hem, bunching it up around your ribs so he could touch bare skin. “That’s the problem. You wearing my clothes when you feel like you’re losing me? That’s mean.” You didn’t answer. You just kissed him again, tugged at the waistband of his pants. You were desperate to feel more. To feel all of him.

He lifted you onto the kitchen counter without warning, the edge digging into your thighs but you didn’t care. All you could feel was the heat of his body, the growing hardness pressing into your hip and the sound of his breathing getting heavier with every second. His mouth moved from your lips to your jaw, your neck, biting the underside just hard enough to make your stomach tighten. You were so wet you could feel it and when his fingers slid under the band of your underwear and dipped between your legs, he groaned. His forehead falling against your shoulder. “God, baby,” he said. “You’re soaked.”

“Then do something about it.” He didn’t tease. Didn’t build up to it. Two fingers slid into you slowly, curling with that same pinpoint precision you always forgot about until he was inside you again. You gasped and grabbed at his shirt, nearly coming apart right there.“You’re always like this for me,” he murmured, lips dragging over your throat. “Even when we’re fighting. Even when you’re mad. Like your body knows.” You whimpered and he chuckled—low, rough, still hurt under all the lust.

“Yeah. That’s right.” You wrapped your legs around his waist, dragging him closer and he let out a breathless laugh, pulling his fingers out so he could shove his pants low enough to free himself. You tried to pull your underwear off completely but he grabbed your wrists, stopping you. “Leave them on,” he muttered. “Wanna fuck you with them still on. Pushed to the side. Want you messy for me.”

You moaned softly as he lined himself up, sliding inside with one smooth but unrelenting thrust. Your breath hitched, hands scrambling for anything to hold on to. He felt so deep, so full, you couldn’t think. “God, Spencer—”

“You feel that?” he rasped. “That stretch? That fullness? That’s mine.” He didn’t move for a moment. Just stayed buried inside you, gripping your waist like he was grounding himself in the feel of your body. “I almost lost this,” he whispered. “I thought I was losing you. You know what that did to me?”

Your throat tightened. “I love you,” you said, quiet and raw. He groaned and pulled out just enough to slam back in, making you cry out. “I know,” he hissed. “I know, baby.” Your fingers tangled in his curls, tugging until he gasped. His laugh was wild, right against your skin. Then he started to move. Hard and fast, a rhythm fueled by every fear and every feeling he didn’t know how to say out loud. The slap of skin, the wet sounds between you and the harsh breaths—you couldn’t hear anything else. Couldn’t think of anything else. He reached down and grabbed the backs of your thighs, lifting your hips slightly to hit even deeper and you nearly sobbed. “Shit—Spence—”

“That’s it,” he panted. “That’s my girl. So good for me.”

“Yours,” you whimpered. “Say it again.” And you did. You did until you couldn’t anymore, until you couldn’t think about anything but him. He kissed you, open-mouthed and messy. His thrusts getting faster, rougher, his voice breaking around the words, “I love you.” he pants, “No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to make you feel like this. Yeah?” you could barely respond, “Yes—yes—Spence, please—”

“You’re making such a mess on my cock, baby. You like it when I fuck you like this huh?” You were barely breathing. Your moans were punched out of you with every snap of his hips.“Gonna come,” you choked. “Yeah?” he said, grinning now. “Do it. Come for me. Come on my cock like you were made for it.” Your whole body clenched, legs locking around his waist as your orgasm hit, crashing through you like a wave. He didn’t stop. Rode it out, held you tight, eyes locked on yours as he fucked you through it.

The way your body locked up, thighs trembling around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders like you were trying to stay tethered to the earth. Your mouth opened in a silent moan at first, head falling back and Spencer watched, completely entranced as it bloomed across your face.

“Fuck,” he groaned, arms tightening around you, “fuck, baby. You look so pretty when you come.” Your walls clenched down around him, fluttering and tight. You were soaking him all over again as he kept fucking into you without pause. He wasn’t letting up. Not when you were this wet, this open for him. Not when your body was already responding again, too sensitive to handle the pace but still twitching like it wanted more. “Spence—” you whimpered, voice broken and caught in your throat. “I—I can’t—”

“Yes you can,” he whispered, hips rolling a bit slower now. “You will. You’re gonna take all of it. Just like that.” His hands splayed against your lower back, anchoring you in place as he thrust slow, firm strokes that made your eyes roll back. “Still so tight,” he muttered, breath hitching as he felt your muscles fluttering again. “Even after you came all over my cock, you’re still gripping me like you need it. Is that it? Huh sweetheart? You need this?” You nodded, helpless. “Yeah,” he coo’d, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “My smart girl. My good fucking girl.”

You were barely coherent. Every thrust sent sparks down your spine, each one threatening to knock you over the edge again. Your legs had gone numb, your hands scrabbling for anything to hold but Spencer was there, keeping you steady, whispering the filthiest things into your ear while he fucked you slow and deep. “Gonna make you come again,” he murmured, lips dragging along your jaw. “Just like this. Gonna stay inside you until you’re soaked and shaking. Until you can’t think of anything but how good I make you feel.”

You whimpered, legs twitching again. The overstimulation was dizzying but your body wasn’t stopping. Not even close. “Please,” you whispered. “Spencer, I need you.”

“You have me,” he said, voice sharp and certain. “You have me, baby. Always.”Your head dropped to his shoulder as another wave built up in your stomach, slow and molten. Your breath stuttered. Your body started to tremble again, and Spencer felt it. “Yeah,” he whispered. “There she is. Look at you.” He pulled back just enough to watch your face, to see the way your brows scrunched, lips parted in a cry that never fully formed. He didn’t blink. “Come for me,” he said, low and rough. “I want to feel it. Right now.” And you did.

A second orgasm tore through you, twice as intense as the first. Your whole body jerking in his arms, cunt clenching so hard around him that he nearly lost it right there. You moaned his name, a soft broken sob against his neck and he held you through it, still moving, still whispering praise against your skin. “So good f’me,” he groaned. “That’s it. You’re so good. So perfect like this—messy and mine.” He didn’t stop.

Even as you trembled, even as you gasped for breath, he kept going. Fucking you through the aftershocks, keeping you full and stuffed and close. You could feel him starting to unravel, his rhythm faltering, breath catching, jaw clenched like he was holding back everything until you were ready to fall apart with him.

You felt it in the way he gripped your hips tighter. The way his voice dropped into something ragged, something helpless. “You want me to come inside you?” he asked breathlessly, brow pressed to yours. “You want me to fill you up?” You whimpered, barely a nod, barely a sound and his eyes darkened like it was the only answer he’d ever needed.

He couldn’t hold back anymore. Not after everything—your second orgasm still rippling through your body, slick dripping down his cock, your eyes glazed and dazed and stuck on him like he was the only thing tethering you to reality. You were wrecked and trembling and still letting him fuck you deep, whispering his name with every breath like it meant something holy. And to him, it did.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice shattering as he fucked up into you harder now, sloppier, chasing the edge that had been threatening to snap since you started pulsing around him. “I’m—shit, baby, I’m gonna come—” You whined into his shoulder, nails dragging down his back and that was it. Spencer’s hips stuttered, the rhythm falling apart entirely as he buried himself as deep as he could go, forehead pressed to yours. His whole body tensed—his breath caught—and then he came, hard and hot inside you. A broken groan tearing from his throat like he’d been holding it back for weeks. “Jesus,” he choked, his hands gripping your hips to keep you right where he needed you. “Fuck, you feel so good. So fucking good—made to take it, I swear…”

You felt him pulse inside you, ropes of it filling you up. The warmth flooding through you in slow, overwhelming waves. Spencer kept moving through it—slow thrusts that pushed it deeper, that kept him grounded while the orgasm tore through him like a lightning strike.

“Shit,” he whispered again, like he couldn’t say anything else. His voice cracked on it. You reached up and held his face, brushing the sweaty hair off his forehead and he leaned into your touch like it was oxygen. He didn’t pull out, not yet. Just stayed there, still hard inside you and breathing like he’d just run for miles and finally found his way home.

“I love you,” he murmured against your mouth like a confession. “Even when we’re like this. Especially when we’re like this.” You nodded, still catching your breath. You felt ruined. You felt whole. And even though nothing was fixed yet, even though the fight still lingered somewhere in the background—you knew you’d be okay. Not just because he came back to you. But because he never really left.

[devosin]

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! episode five : white lies & understanding . . .

♡. Spotify playlist | Updates, every Friday !! — Vil Schoenheit x reader | Dual pov . .

Your face drained of colour, sitting frozen in place as his words repeat in your head like a broken record, "I just don't believe you can act", the words said so casually with a drunken slur, as if he didn't just put down your entire skillset and career all together. Your hands grip the glass tighter, as some form of bitter resentment washes over you—momentarily, but enough to burn—your throat hurts as you let the words of complaint and the slur of insults that you really, really—wanted to hurl die there. 

The discomfort settled into a deafening form of silence among the table—and to think the two of you were getting along moments prior, sharing and recommending drinks . . ‘Way to kill the vibe, Schoenheit.’ 

The two of you didn't speak, seemingly waiting for the other to speak first, weighing down whether talking after that was . . the good idea? . .  There was still some time to cancel the contract right? (There wasn't) . . . the fine wouldn't be that high! (1 million give or take, out of your pocket).

The silence draws on, until Vil takes the hint, letting out a soft—well softer response, "I don't mean to offend you, I'm a little bias that's all", he said, his words no longer having a slight slur to them, the tension must've sobered him up. 

You paused, . . and let out a sigh, then smiled, "You're not good at apologizing, I hope you know that", you pointed out after a while, bringing the glass back to your lips, letting the alcohol burn your throat, melting the anxious bob down back to your stomach, your liver can deal with the problems later. 

Vil blinked, and let out a breath of relief, which he quickly tried covering up with a fake cough, . .  and you're supposedly the bad actor?, "It's not one of my biggest talents", he replied after a while, the words came out slower than expected as he stared down at the table, not quite meeting your eyes, "but I do apologize, it won't happen again." 

"It better not", you said casually, then laughed at his wide-eyed expression, "It's fine, I didn't like you in the camping series either, so I guess we're even?", you say, trying to cheer him up a bit . .  okay maybe you wanted him to feel a little offended as well . . 

“I was a child!”, he retorted back, and you bit back a smile, “Not an excuse Mr. Schoenheit, the ‘great’ actor”, his lips curled upwards just a bit, this time he didn’t really make an attempt to hide it, maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe you both were a little petty in your own right. 

After a while, the two of you were getting back into the rhythm of conversation, talking about some things here and there, and some casual word of the mouth gossip, because you both have an NDA and that shit isn’t getting out anytime soon . .  All the while consuming a little too much alcohol for a small brunch meeting, and you knew you were going to regret it when you got home. 

“Did you know I’m camera shy?”, you said randomly, and Vil looks up at you, eyes half-lidded, holy shit don’t make eye contact, you focus on the wall behind him, and he doesn’t really notice, “Really?” 

You nod, “Yea, terrible, I used to get nauseous every time I was behind a Camera, even for just photos”, he tilts his head slightly in confusion, because yeah, that doesn’t make sense, an A-list actor, whose income is from acting, being camera shy, “Did you get over it? . . because . . “, he gestures to the air, referring to your career, you chuckle and nod, “mhm.”  

“Yea, someone special to me said to start recording little videos for Magiciam, to get over it, so I did . .  just to step out of my comfortzone.” 

“Did it help?” 

“Not even in the slightest.” 

He blinks, and then the two of you chuckle, a drunken slightly slurred laugh. 

“I personally loved being behind the Camera, I felt . . alive every time”, Vil says in response after a while, “Yeah I can tell” . . . “What is that supposed to mean?” 

You avoid the subject, and he eyes you curiously, almost waiting for an answer. 

The evening sun lighting was hitting you in a little too perfect position, you both were seated by a large window, but it hit you at a perfect angle, it’s like those shitty films about the ex dead wife, and the wife is always depicted in that yellow lighting which made her look ethereal? Like nostalgic . .  That being said, you do look pretty . . ethereal . .  and fuck look away. 

Vil faces the other side, as casually as he could muster. 

Which wasn’t casual at all, because he was too tipsy to play it off cool and collected, “You okay?”, you ask, and he grips his fork . . and yea you guys ordered food sometime ago, “Yep”, he says, with a grin, “totally fine.” 

You nod, then a comfortable silence falls over the two of you . . . and suddenly things felt so peaceful, calming almost. 

And maybe this partnership wouldn’t gut him out and make him go mental in the next few months. 

Maybe. 

Okay so now he’s just doubting his own words.

Making eye contact with a drunk Vil sounds like torture im ngl, his eyes are very hot, violet baddies for the win.

This is actually a soft launch into my new smau (Cater diamond x Reader), the first few pictures hint at it, so check out "For the record" if you like this series <3 , they're interconnected.

Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter . .

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! ♡. Synopsis : VIL SCHOENHEIT recently signed a contract under Descendant. Inc for his very own late night show, only to find out his co-star and fellow co-host is none other than Y/n L/n, someone he hates despite knowing very little about them and never having met them, previously. Y/N L/N, an actor who made their debut 3 years ago and hasn’t been able to catch a break since, recently decided to sign a deal with Descendants. Inc to host their new late night show “late nights & flashing lights”, as a break from acting . . Only to find out their favorite long-time actor will be co-hosting with them. Tune in every Friday, for a new episode of “late nights & flashing lights” to see if these two hosts can find a peaceful work-bond amidst their judgements . . and quite possibly even love? . .

♡. Want spoilers ?! . . Join my server . . !! (or to be namedropped <3)

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[contentloadingandstuff]

Itsy Bitsy Spider... - Arlecchino x Male!Reader

A/N: A spider-inspired, spicy fic for our one-and-only Father. Enjoy! A/N: One more fic and I promise that I'll make the third masterlist. That should be enough fics for it not to be an empty, depressing page. CW: Some smut, predator-prey themes, Arlecchino is scary - but that's fine because Y/N is up for it.

Before you, there was only Bambi. It was quite an… uninteractive creature that never returned any affection - simply lacking the brain power to comprehend its situation - but, at the same time, required little maintenance. Arlecchino always thought that this would be her ideal relationship model - a partnership where she wouldn't have to devote too much attention to her lover, who could live without her perfectly alright. 

Well, Arlecchino didn't anticipate all the new emotions you would stir up in her frigid heart. But that is exactly the thing with love, is it not? One can never plan for it, as experiencing that feeling in its true form changes them. It wasn't different with her and Arlecchino would soon come to understand that a husband is, surprisingly, not the same as a pet spider. 

Because you offer more. So, so much more. More opportunities, more emotions, desires she did not realise until she had you just where she wanted. 

It is an experience like no other, having a pet man. Bambi was a pet, yes, but it was like her - a predator, only a lesser one. She treated her not as a lifegiver that she was, but as a matter of circumstance that was temporarily tolerated, but would be bitten if it got too close. But you? You sweet, little boy. No matter what her hands did to you, how much blood her teeth drew, you will always lean into her touch like the good husband you are. Grateful, patient, positively adorable in how timid you are.

Father is used to intimidating people with nothing more than her tone, a stray glance or just her general disposition. She intentionally takes on this kind of appearance for work matters, but she doesn’t enjoy scaring anybody that does not deserve it. 

You, of course, are quite the opposite. You, the silly boy you are, decided to capture the heart of the most dangerous woman, the most cold and ruthless of predators in all of Inazuma. With your oblivious smile and honest courtship you stepped willingly into her life, and now - you will pay the price. 

Arlecchino never understood what true, romantic love, true desire is. Of course, she was convinced her scarred heart was above these feelings. But when the first months of dating passed by, when she first received a simple gift from you, when she woke up to freshly brewed coffee, when she sat there, flustered as you fussed over her injuries and lectured her about safety… When she held you in her arms, her source of unprompted kindness and non-judgmental comfort, she realised something. Turns out she was not, in fact, immune to feeling. And when these emotions, stirred deep inside her and swirling around your lovely person tug at her heartstrings, why wouldn’t she give in and show them? After all, you don’t seem to mind…

Home is the only place where she can unwind, let her hair down and express herself. There are a lot of things constantly weighing on her mind, so it’s no wonder Arlecchino tends to be restless and in serious need of some rest and relaxation. Good thing she has this handsome, caring man to come back to. A warm bowl of soup, a massage of her sore feet, sometimes a bath with you gently rubbing the shampoo in her beautiful hair. She is eternally grateful for this attention, but you, on the other hand, know that your attempts at calming her down are hopeless. Because when Peruere is tired, stressed, frustrated? That’s when the hunger rises. 

A tired Arlecchino hungers for you. You and only you. Your voice, your hands, your chest, scent… Everything. Her hands are all over you whenever she gets the chance, searching, exploring, sizing you up for what’s to come. Soon enough her lips follow suit and, before you know it, your wrists are crushed in her iron grip. Helpless.

She never understood why spideresses don’t just mate and eat their males. Why all this nonsensical fluff? Why let him put in effort and tolerate him when you’re just going to devour him whole anyway? But seeing you beneath her, eyes wide with desire and nerves, feeling your skin crawl, your heartbeat and breath quicken… It made her understand. It’s just fun. 

It’s fun to scare you. Fun to glare at you with a sadistic smile, watch all these scenarios of what’s to come rush before your eyes. Endlessly entertaining to drag her clawed finger across your defenceless thigh and feel your eyes tracing it like a snake, ready to pounce. Short or tall, muscular or lean, confident or shy - it doesn’t matter as every man erodes before her, just as every trapped insect fears the spider, crawling across the web towards them. She’s the greater predator - inhumanely strong, devilishly smart and deathly beautiful. When her hands trace your Adam’s apple, you know she is strong enough to hurt you, really hurt you. But amazingly, you stay still. You may tremble, your skin may crawl, you might even beg for mercy - and yet, you never pull away. More; you come to her. You offer yourself before her, at her feet, just like a fly willfully ignorant of the web ahead of it. You are prey - prey not of nature, but of choice. The perfect lover. 

You might not escape her clutches or resist her, but Arlecchino likes you completely helpless all the same. Ropes will bind your wrists, neck, ankles, even hips if you wiggle and cry, begging her not to break you. She has no intention of hurting you, of course, but Father’s man must be durable. He must be able to welcome pain and stay still when she has her fun. Besides, it makes you look all the more adorable when your body reacts to her. She loves it, especially how expressive it is. Your hands are her favorite. Tied, they clench around the ropes when her fingers slip beneath your waistband and tremble oh so adorably as your voice cracks under the intensity of her touch. And these thighs, shaking as she mounts you… They encourage her not to be gentle. 

While she might not eat you up like Bambi ate her many suitors, you will feel her teeth as she goes down on you, sinking her sharp canines into the delicious, sensitive skin of your neck. You always squeal and whine like the helpless boy your are when she catches your nipples with her teeth, shortly going down to caress your stomach with her slick tongue, soon sinking further and wrapping around your thighs. They clamp down and pull your skin, leaving purple-red hickeys on her way to your most tasty of spots. Try to close your legs, protect your delicate manhood - it’s of no use. She licks her lips, gazing you straight in the eyes as she opens them, feeling no resistance. Soon after her lips wrap around your warm masculinity, her tongue and teeth will soon conduct a delightful melody of tortured sounds from your throat.

And then, the main course. By the time your poor, overstimulated body cries for mercy, she’s already putting your legs up and sliding herself down on your abused cock. Don’t expect her to be satisfied with one, measly orgasm - Arlecchino has a Harbinger’s stamina, so better hold on to your binds tightly. She will quickly plunge her desire-consumed mind into blissful, mindless coupling where the only things are your helpless whines and your dick perfectly striking her cervix with every powerful squat. When she needs to catch a break, she’ll simply lean forwards and plunge her teeth into your neck, grinding herself on you as you plead and struggle. Each time your mind is sure you will either be ridden to death or consumed by your thirsty mistress, but don’t worry - she’ll stop when you pass out. It’s not fun when you’re not begging. 

Binding you is a favorite of hers, but gagging you is a definite no for Father. Playing with you is not fun when she can’t hear the noises you make. The pleas for mercy and incoherent whines form arias and elegies she plays on your body, an instrument she’s become intimately familiar with. She plays you to her liking and knows how to elicit every tone, every lyric. Her tongue circling your ear will give her a trembling, high chain of whines, two fingers gliding up and down your head sounds out deep, regular moans and her teeth teasingly poking your nuts makes you sing pleas. 

There is a reason dog toys make noises. A predator has no fun without the squealing of her prey…

While you lay lifeless on the messy, wet bed, Arlecchino stretches and feels the moonlight on her naked body. It’s a refreshing experience, a catharsis for her instincts. But don’t worry, she tends to her partner. If you can stand, she’ll take you for a nice, hot bath, playing with your hair and stroking your body as your wrung out body drifts away to sleep. “You did well,” she’ll say, “good boy.” If you’re in no condition for anything but sleeping, you’ll wake up with her tightly curled around you, arms hiding your handsome face in her bosom - where nobody will dare to look, where nobody will hurt you, take you away from her. 

You’re her toy. Her boy. Her man. Her love, pleasure and home. 

But when you awake, remember to prepare the bed - for you know not the hour nor the day when the spideress hungers…

Thanks for reading!

[mythals-whore]

Bellara Lutare | Serials

A short Bellara drabble for our darling girl <3

Summary: Bellara allows Rook to read her work. Unfortunately, the her inspiration is a little more than obvious…

Belinda had admittedly been increasingly distracted by the professor as of late. Something about his hands, she thought, as she watched him draw one of his elegant, adorned fingers across the board—undoubtedly highlighting something important. But Belinda was busy studying the delicate curve of his waist when her name cut through the haze.

"Miss Lanariel?" he prompted a second time, and her eyes flicked up to his face.

The room was silent except for the thundering of her heart in her own ears.

He'd just asked her a question, and she wanted desperately to give the answer, if only to hear the praise that usually accompanied the right one. Instead, her mouth fell helplessly open, accompanied by no words at all.

She gaped soundlessly for a moment before his expression melted into disappointment that she felt somewhere low in her stomach. Belinda is usually a star student, top of every class—except this one.

"Miss Lanariel," he tutted, "Daydreaming again?"

Snickers erupted around the room, and Belinda felt her face flame brightly.

"I—" she squeaked, unable to find her voice under that unusually stern gaze. Her cheeks burned impossibly hotter.

The professor's eyebrows flicked up at that, lips pressing together in disapproval, "I see." he studied her a moment longer—she would ahve sworn his eyes dropped to her chest, undoubtedly just as bright pink as her face—before he said, "See me after class."

Belinda swallowed, hands starting to tremble. She isn't the kind of student to be seen after class—especially not for any kind of discipline. When class ends, the other students meandered out of the room in the usual flurry of papers being gathered, books being tucked into bags and the sound of wood scraping over flagstones. Belinda remained in her seat longer than the rest, heart beating so fast in her chest she was certain she'd pass out before she made it to his desk.

But a shaking hand tucked her things into her bag before she shouldered it, reaching for some sort of resolve and finding none. It only became harder, ever step toward his desk. He'd taken up his spectacles, studying some paper or another, quill twisting between his elegant fingers. Belinda found herself incapable of looking at anything else on her approach.

Professor Emmett Voltaire was always dangerously dapper—but that day there was something special about the chain dangling about his waist, an unusually unruly tendril falling over his forehead from his usually well-kept gray hair.

******

Bellara gnaws nervously at her lower lip, peering at her own notebook over Rook's shoulder. It's a good thing to do, as she understands, getting someone else to read her work—but why does it feel like her heart is about to come out her mouth? The whole point of writing this would be to try and publish it..maybe. It it was good enough. Which Bellara isn't sure it is. It still needs a lot of work—which she told Rook. Not that Rook has given her much choice. She'd walked in while Bellara was puzzling out something else about the piece and insisted on reading.

Rook had quickly become enveloped with the writing—which is somehow both exciting and nerve-wracking. Exciting because that almost certainly meant she was enjoying it—which was good! And nerve-wracking because Rook has been silent as long as she's sat there, brow furrowed with interest. Until finally—

"Bellara!" Rook exclaims, slamming a hand on the page and looking up at her with wide eyes. "Is this—"

Bellara snatches the notebook right out of the other woman's hand, "Nevermind—"

"About Emmrich?"

"No!" Bellara protests, pressing the notebook protectively to her chest. Rook's eyebrow only arches in disbelief. Bellara immediately collapses onto her cot, using the notebook to hide her own flaming cheeks.

It isn't based on Emmrich, not really.

It's just that…the professor happens to fit perfectly into the serial stereotype.

"I may have…taken inspiration?" Bellara admits, looking up to find Rook looking at her with the kind of delight that usually denotes a great deal of trouble. "It was just an idea!"

She's tried her hand at writing several different stories now, but this one had come the easiest. The moment she thinks that, her cheeks flame brighter at the thought of what Rook would say if Bellara offered that thought aloud.

"It's good, Bell." Rook says, and this time her smile is warm—though her eyes still sparkle with mischief, "Really."

"Yeah…yes! Thank you." Bellara is blushing furiously now. She bites nervously at the inside of her lip, but Rook just waits patiently, perhaps sensing the other question Bellara had brought her here to ask. She's already read it, Bellara tells herself. "Do you think he would mind that I…"

Rook grins, "I'd think he'd be flattered. This has the potential to Rival Swords and Shields in terms of…steaminess."

"No!" Bellara insists, frantically waving her hands to dispel the compliment—though it is one. Varric Tethras may not have thought it was his best work, but to Bellara…well she'd enjoyed it immensely. To have her work compared in any way…it was good.

Her work.

It was actually good.

She's just basking in the glow of it when Rook gives a slightly nervous chuckle, "Though I might think of changing the professor's name to something other than 'Emmett Voltaire'."

"It's a place holder—"

"—And Belinda Lenariel—"

"Alright!" Bellara laughs sheepishly, "You're right—thank you, Rook."

"Any time Bellara," she promises with a sunshiney-smile that Bellara actually believes. Then, Rook's smile turns mischievous, "Have you written anything about me?"

"What?!" Bellara demands, eyes going wide. "No!"

Rook's grin only widens, "Can I see it?"

"No!" Bellara backs farther away, fingers curling protectively over her notebook. And when Rook's grin only widens, she realizes her mistake. "Not that I—" Bellara grimaces, and under the prudent and enthusiastic gaze, finally relents. "It's not finished—"

"But can I read it?" Rook asks again, and Bellara's fingers tap anxiously at the spine of the leatherbound book. Rook's eyes go wide, pleading. "Please, Bellara? I'm sure I'll love it!"

Bellara eyes Rook warily, looking for any sudden movements. When she shows none—just sitting uo on her knees, fingers curling eagerly around the back of the chair—Bellara turns, flipping the notebook open to a marked page near the back.

Her eyes scan the page—Rosalie’s eyes roll back, a breathy moan escaping her lips as Damon’s tongue lavs over her throat, fingers skimming higher on the inside of her thigh. Already Rosalie is pulled taut like a bow string and soon Damon was going to know just how tight—Bellara snaps the book closed, turning back toward Rook in one fluid movement, "No."

Unfortunately her obvious embarrassment only seems to tempt Rook further, "Maker, Bell, now I have to know—!"

"No!" Bellara insists, "Not until it's—um—finished?”

Rook runs discerning eyes over Bellara's face before nodding decidedly, "When it's finished." She agrees, "Then I can read it?"

Bellara realizes only then the trap she's fallen into. She swueezes her eyes shut a moment before agreeing.

She quickly decides to never finish that particular story.

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Everything

Haymitch Abernathy x Reader

Summary: Haymitch is desperate to keep his darling safe and with him, even at the expense of her feelings.

Warning: possessive Haymitch, mentions of Haymitch's past, age-gap relationship, coerced relationship, power imbalance, mentions of drinking, Haymitch is such a red flag in this

A/N heavily inspired by @kining-the-evil's yandere!Haymitch fics

Word Count: 3.4k

Masterlist

Sitting at the kitchen table, Haymitch stared at his darling as she stood at the sink. The rush of running water filled the comfortable silence as he silently admired her.

No one in the Capitol had bothered to pay attention to him much mind after the first couple years following his games. Even Snow. He had thought the president was always watching. It’s part of what made him keep his distance from the girl before him for so long. But it seemed Snow thought he had taken everything from the victor. That he thought after several years of nothing but drunk isolation that his revenge against Haymitch was thoroughly complete. In some ways it was, Haymitch hadn’t even given anyone a second thought until two decades after his games.

“The usual?” Hattie asked her former protégé, her annoyed voice going ignored by the already drunk man.

“Yeah,” he slurred. As Hattie turned to grab the bottles, Haymitch took a look around. The Hob looked just as it always did, sad and grey full of sad and grey people. But his eyes flickered over a slight swish of color, catching the blue fabric briefly before searching for it with his eyes again.

There he caught sight of the bright blue again. It was a dress layered on a girl looking far too happy to be in the Hob. She looked like a townie, her dress too clean, her skin too radiant. No, this girl had never worked in the mines. She didn’t have the same starved frame of members of the Seam. She was definitely a townie.

The bottles clanking on the table behind him brought Haymitch back to reality. He thanked his former employer, paying her for the liquor before leaving. His mind still enraptured by the girl who was most definitely in the wrong place.

Five years later that girl he had seen at the Hob was now in his home. He wasn’t necessarily proud of it but once he finally got her in, she had hardly left.

“Hey, darling?” he caught her attention. Her head whirled around, a smile breaking out on her face as they made eye contact. Haymitch would never get over that smile. “Can you come here?”

She nodded, turning back to the sink to drop the plate she had been washing and shake off her hands. So sweet, so eager to please him. She stepped over to the table, taking the seat next to him and looking up at him with earnest eyes.

“So you know the Victory Parade is starting soon right?” She just nodded. “And that means more Peacekeepers, more cameras, more people?” She just nodded again. “Well, that means I’ll be out of the house more. And then I’ll be gone again for the tour.”

Her expression fell a bit as she looked down. She nodded again, taking a moment. “So you want me to stay here? Like when you leave for the games?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. He then got more serious, reaching across the table to grab her hands. “Look I don’t wanna scare you but you have to make sure no one sees you. Y’know the Peacekeepers? The Capitol people?” She nodded again, this time her face mirroring his concern. “If they see you, they’ll report you to Snow. And he will kill you,” he stressed. “Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” she agreed shakily. She knew all of his warnings and his rules. Ever since she had moved in with him nearly five years ago he had the same rule. Never leave. He told her about the president of Panem. How he had killed everyone Haymitch had loved before and how he’d do it again. At the time she thought he was just paranoid but agreed anyways. Until she had once left.

Standing in the kitchen, she was eager to welcome Haymitch back from his time in the Capitol. She had proudly plated the fresh stew she made using some deer meat she scored at the Hob. Along with the stew there was a makeshift vase of flowers picked from the meadow behind the house. She had been cutting them and bringing them inside since Haymitch left in order to brighten up the darkness of the home that came with his absence.

Hearing the door open, she turned towards the noise with a smile. “Welcome back!” she cheered , approaching him.

Haymitch had smiled, welcoming her embrace with open arms. Wrapping his arms around her, he reveled in her touch. He was so relieved to see her again. The entire time he had been in the Capitol his mind was plagued with thoughts of Peacekeepers breaking down the door and him not being there to protect her. But here she was, safe and sound in his arms.

But when he opened his eyes, looking over her shoulder, a coldness creeped into his previously full heart. He went rigid as he saw the flowers proudly displayed in a glass that was acting as a vase. “Wh- what are those?” he asked, his voice becoming deadly.

Feeling uneasy, the girl in his arms pulled away slightly. She turned, observing the kitchen. “What?” she asked hesitantly, sensing that she had messed up. “The flowers?” she guessed, finding nothing else obviously out of place.

“Yeah,” Haymitch confirmed her suspicions. “Where did you get those?”

Her breath quickened as she realized he was upset. “Just out back,” she answered, her voice gaining a lilt of anxiety. “Haymitch… what’s wrong?” The man was getting visibly angrier and something inside of her was stirring to ease him.

“So you went outside?” he asked menacingly, turning to face her.

“I mean, yeah,” she admitted, backing up slightly. “I didn’t go far! Just right out back to the patch of flowers!” she tried to defend.

He let out a frustrated sigh. “Do you not remember what I explicitly told you when you first moved in and again when I left? Don’t go outside!” he shouted, eliciting a yelp from her.

“I’m sorry!” she cried, tears now flowing down her cheeks. “I just thought-”

“No. You weren’t thinking, otherwise you wouldn’t have left. You don’t put yourself in danger when I have everything to lose!”

Overwhelmed, tears began to fall from her eyes as she shrunk into herself.

Seeing her meek state, the anger melted, leaving genuine concern as he saw her tears. He sighed. “Oh, darling,” he tried to soothe her. Stepping closer to the crying woman he wrapped her in his arms again, cradling her head against his chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just worried for you. You need to understand that bad things will happen to you if you’re not careful. Okay?” She nodded against his chest, her cries reduced to sniffles. “Okay,” he confirmed, shushing her as he stroked her hair.

“So, um, how long will you be gone?” she asked.

“Just a week. Not quite as long as the games.”

She just nodded, looking down at her lap. “I thought this was for Peeta and Katniss. Do you really have to go?”

Haymitch smiled, endeared at her attachment to him. It had taken him a while to make her this attached, but it made it so she no longer ever left. “Yeah, I have to. I gotta make sure they stay in line. Keep their story alive, y’know?”

“Will I ever get to meet them?” she asked hesitantly.

Haymitch sighed. “You know you can’t, darling. Not with all the Capitol’s focus on them. It’s too dangerous.”

She just nodded, standing up and going back over to finish the dishes. Sensing her disappointment, Haymitch got up, standing behind her so he could wrap his arms around her waist. He squeezed her, practically willing her to believe that she didn’t need anyone else. That she didn’t need to meet Katniss and Peeta.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured quietly against her ear. “But I can’t risk anything happening to you. I love you.”

The woman in his arms practically melted. “I love you too,” she affirmed, craning her neck to press a kiss to his cheek.

Their moment was then interrupted by a deep rumble coming from outside. Haymitch suddenly stiffened, pushing her away from the window as he tried to peer out.

“Haymitch?” his darling asked worriedly, already moving to the corner so she’d be out of the view. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured, stepping closer to the window, peering out into Victor’s Village. The little neighborhood looked just as it always did, untouched yet well maintained. But as he looked out onto the street that led to the town square, Haymitch could see chaos emerging. Large utility vehicles were rolling through the streets inciting panic as people frantically ran away from Peacekeepers brandishing their guns.

“Oh shit,” he cursed. Spinning on his heel, Haymitch practically lunged at the girl standing in the corner with a concerned expression. Grabbing her shoulders he began pushing her backwards towards the stairs. “Go to the office and hide,” he ordered.

Already knowing the drill, she nodded, spinning around to sprint up the stairs. Just as she reached the darkened, hardly ever used room, she heard the front door slam shut as Haymitch ran out the door.

The room Haymitch had dubbed the office was really a glorified closet in the attic. The ceiling came to a point along with the roof and the room was cramped and dark. The only form of respite was the tiny circular window facing out over their front yard. At first she did as Haymitch told her to do the first time she hid up here. She just sat quietly out of view of the window. The screams and shouts of District 12 citizens and Peacekeeprs gnawed at her soul. She wanted to help, knew she should help. But her promise to Haymitch to never leave and recalling his anger those years ago kept her firmly rooted in place. However, some shouts from the yard were too much for her to resist.

“Katniss!” a slightly shrill voice called. Recognizing the voice of the Victor’s little sister and hearing the sheer terror in the girl’s voice, she couldn’t help but look.

Crawling over to the window, she sat on her knees to peek up through the glass. Sure enough a young girl with blonde hair was just standing in Katniss’ yard while a girl with a dark braid was sprinting down towards the town square. Then, another flash of blonde—hair belonging to Peeta��also began running down the street, calling after the brunette.

Terror coursed through her as her mind concocted all the horrible things that could happen to the only other people Haymitch cared about. But she just kept reminding herself of her promise to him. Until something caught her eye. An unusually thick plume of black smoke emerging from the other side of town. This wasn’t the sputtering stream of gray that came from the coal mines, this was an emergency.

The part of her loyal to Haymitch got quieter as the smoke got thicker. And by the time she had sprinted out the door for the first time in years the voice was gone.

~

“Come on! This way!” Haymitch shouted, urging people away from the burning black market. Peering into the smog, he tried to look for anyone that needed help but the smoke was so dark and thick thanks to all the merchandise burning he couldn’t see a damn thing.

“Haymitch!” came a shout from behind him. Whirling around, he found Otho Mellark running towards him. Concern swirled in the Victor as he had never seen Otho do much of anything. “It’s Katniss,” he huffed. “She’s arguing with a Peacekeeper in the square… Peeta’s…”

He didn’t even let the baker finish his explanation before taking off. No, no, no, no. You stupid girl, he thought.

Arriving in the center of town, Haymitch found a wide ring of people surrounding what looked like a whipping post. They were giving the Peacekeeper holding a whip plenty of berth as Katniss kneeled between him and the bleeding mess of a man tied to the pole, her own cheek marred by a whip lash.

“You want another?” he heard the menacing man in white ask. Katniss didn’t respond with a sarcastic comment—for once—rather, she just stood defiantly, not moving from between Gale and the Peacekeeper. Incensed, the man pulled out his gun, pointing it at Katniss.

Ignighted by the sight, Haymitch tore through the crowd. “Hey! Hey! Hey!” he interrupted, emerging into the center of the square. The man in white turned furiously, facing him. Haymitch held his hands up, trying to dispell the situation as he positioned himself in front of Katniss. “What’s going on?”

“She interfered with a Peacekeeper,” the man spat.

“I never said she was smart,” Haymitch quipped, trying to dispel the situation. “Do you know who that girl is? Katniss Everdeen? Darling of the Capitol?”

Just as the man in white began calming down, taking a moment to evaluate Katniss, Peeta emerged from the crowd. “What’s going on?” he asked, also trying to dispel the situation. But another interferer just served to make the Peacekeeper angrier.

Haymitch turned to face Peeta, prepared to send the boy away when he caught a glimpse of a familiar face in the crowd. He froze for a second, convinced his mind was playing tricks on him. She wouldn’t come here, she knows that she definitiely shouldn’t be interfering here. But as his eyes scanned the crowd once more, finding her face. Her beautiful, terrified, stupid face. He cursed in his mind. He nearly yelled at her to go home. He wanted to march over and whisk her away. But the logical part of his mind reminded him that if he engaged with her any longer that’d just put a target on her back. Plus, he still had to deal with this.

Returning his attention back to the issue at hand, Haymitch found Peeta trying to calm the increasingly irritated Peacekeeper. “Look,” he interrupted, ending their squabbling, “you got a few good lashes in. Let me take her home before we end up with three dead victors on the eve of the big wedding.”

The man’s jaw tightened as he considered the implications of ignoring Haymitch. With a grunt of frustration his gun fell back to his sign. “Fine, but next time it’s the firing squad. I don’t care who she is.”

Haymitch let out a breath of air he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Okay,” he agreed.

The new head Peacekeeper turned his gun up to the sky, firing a single shot. “Clear the square!” his voice reverberated through the now silent town. “Anyone out after dark will be shot on sight.”

Haymitch resisted the urge to find his darling in the crowd, scared the the direction of his gaze alone would draw Snow’s attention to her. As he turned to help Katniss with her childhood friend, his thoughts never left her. Is she on her way home? Did anyone notice her? Did the Peacekeepers notice her?

As they carried the bleeding, whimpering man through the streets Haymitch couldn’t help but look for signs of his girl. And once they finally settled the man in the Everdeens’ kitchen and Haymitch could leave without raising suspicion or giving away his rapidly beating heart, he left.

It killed him to walk slowly across the street and to his home. He wanted to tear across the yard and yank open the door, desperate to know she was ok. Looking up at the home, he found it looking as dark and empty as it ever did. He was torn between wanting some indication that she was home and wanting it to look dark and empty so she’d be safe.

Opening up the door, he found it just like he always did. Dark, and empty. Her name was practically climbing out of his throat, begging to be screamed for a faster indication that she was home safe. But the fear of someone overhearing kept him quiet. He wasted no time going up to the attic level that served as the third floor. Immediately, he went to the office, wrenching open the door.

Immediately he was confronted by her embrace as she threw her arms around him, desperate to keep him from getting mad. At first, Haymitch was relieved, returning her embrace so tight it was like he was trying to melt her into him. But as the initial relief subsided, anger replaced it. His grip on her became so impossibly tight as anger coursed through him, his warm embrace became a vise grip.

He pulled away from her, yanking himself out of her arms that were desperate to keep him calm. His grip fell on her shoulders, holding them tight as he practically shook her. “What the hell were you thinking?” he spat. “Do you know how much danger you put yourself in? You could’ve just undone everything I do to protect you!”

The tears, which were already flowing from her eyes before Haymitch arrived home, flowed harder. “I’m sorry,” she cried. “I know I shouldn’t have left. But I was scared for you!” she defended. “I had to make sure you were okay.”

“When are you gonna get it through your head that that’s not your job! You are mine and that means it’s my job to keep you safe. You belong to me that means you do not get to put yourself in danger.” His voice was shaking with fury.

“Haymitch please, you’re hurting me,” she begged.

But he didn’t care, couldn’t care right now. Maybe the little bit of pain from his grip was necessary to get her to understand the sheer ache in his heart at the thought of losing her. The though of losing everything, again.

“Look, you are mine and that means you’re everything to me. You don’t get to flout my rules. They’re made to keep you safe.”

“I don’t want to be safe,” she finally admitted. “Haymitch, I love you but you’re suffocating me. I can’t keep living like this,” she shouted back, but her shouts still remained relatively quiet, careful not to draw too much attention. “I went to make sure you were safe. You get to put all these rules over me to keep me safe but I’m not allowed to be concerned about you?”

He froze, realizing what was happening but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything in response. He thought he had her, thought she was surely his.

“I can’t do this anymore Haymitch. You’re suffocating me.”

The victor wasn’t thinking anymore. All he could do was react. “No,” he answered her. “No, you’re not leaving. You’re mine and I’ll do whatever it takes to remind you of that.”

“Haymit-”

“What do I have to do to keep you?” he interrupted. “I lost everything and then I found you. I’m not letting you go but I’m willing to keep you happy. So what do I have to do?”

She sighed as she evaluated his hurt expression. She could feel her already shattered heart breaking even more as she looked into his sad eyes, practically begging her to stay. Her resolve was disappearing as she remembered Haymitch’s past. He hadn’t told her much but he did tell her that the Capitol took everything from him after his games.

“Just… stay safe,” she conceded to him. “We can reevaluate rules later?” she asked.

Haymitch sighed in releif, his grip relaxing enough so he could pull her into his chest, his arms wrapping around her as he buried his face in her hair. “Yeah, sure,” he placated her. “That’s my girl,” he praised. “Right? You’re my girl?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, letting out a shuddering sigh as she let herself fall into his consuming embrace.

Masterlist

[heretyc]

Astraphobia [Modern AU] [Coyle x Reader]

A fic revolving around Coyle helping you with your astraphobia. I personally hate thunderstorms only if they're at night. During the day? Gorgeous.

If I get anything wrong about storms, my apologies. This is based on the headcanons I posted. I'll be posting some more modern stuff soon; my health's getting a little better and I'm much more in the writing spirit. The closer I am to my doctor's appointment the better I feel. 🤷‍♂️

"Coyle, get in this fucking house. Now."

The bearded man cared not for your irritated voice or the alerts on TV as the Oklahoman sky roared above mere miles away. The sun shone onto the ranch, the sky still a lovely shade of blue as cows and horses feasted on the grass in their respectable pens.

Coyle ignored you, contiuing to sit and watch the sky above as purple and blue bolts of lightning intertwined in the dark, menacing anvil cloud.

You growled, now stepping outside to glare at him. "Coyle, there is a whole ass severe thunderstorm warning. Get in, we need to get into the basement in case of a tornado."

"The warnin's don't matter," he was quick to scoff, sipping at his beer. "Ain't no 'nader comin' round here. Not likely."

"Okay, since when did YOU become a meterologist, Leland?" You scoffed, leaning against the doorway. "The warnings-"

"Yeah, yeah. The warnings are for over there." He motioned across the many fields that the ranch had faced; the anvil had stayed eerily still, flashing every other second. He sipped at his cold beer once more, trying to remain calm and collected; he knew of your little phobia, and whilst he didn't understand it, he loved you enough to express some patience. "We ain't there, so don't panic."

"...So?"

"So," he clicked his tongue, "I been around enough storms to know. The wind's pushing them clouds away from here. We only get them warnings in case the storm reaches this way." He clicked his tongue, "It won't. And it ain't gonna drop no 'nado, either."

You sat down beside him on the porch steps, staring at the clouds in the horizion with uncertainty; the menacing anvil clouds rumbled with ease, ready to unleash chaos onto the earth. "And how do you know?"

"The sky's a pretty good indicator." He leaned down to mumble near your ear with comfort, "The anvil ain't high enough...so there won't be any ice or winds from the atmosphere. 'Nados need cold and hot air to form." He leaned back in his chair, crossing his feet. "Trust me honey, I'm an Oklahoman born and raised, I've seen storms that knocked out power grids for days. This," he motioned to the storm in the distant, "is gonna be torrential rain and a light show, nothing more. Of course it could get worse, Mother Nature's a real unpredictable bitch."

He snickered, shaking his head as he put his sunglasses up and onto his head. "But that ain't gonna happen. Trust me."

"...Sure, but you did just say she's unpredictable." You sighed, "what if it does blow this way?"

"Then we act accordingly." He cracked open a new beer can and offered it to you, nodding once you took it. "But for now it ain't coming to us, and it's just a storm. Make the best of it. You hate the thunder? Grab your earplugs."

"Those are saved for your snoring."

"Yes, well, you've said my snorin's like thunder," he smirked, "so nothing's changed."

And like Coyle had said, the storm remained at bay, the thunder eventually dying out, and the clouds faded into nothingness. You could see why Leland enjoyed storms so much; truly a gorgeous sight to behold when you're not being pelted with rain.

And when thunder rumbled that night, youweren't surprised to see him back in his seat on the porch, watching rain pelt the land in front of him. "Nonsevere," he muttered after hearing you open the door, "go back to bed, I'll be there in a few minutes."

And so you went to sleep, unbothered.

That was until his snoring started, however...

[vaguely-concerned]

lucanis is a 'I could sit in our quiet kitchen on a grey tuesday afternoon drinking coffee and talking with you about nothing much in particular forever and be the happiest man who ever lived' romantic, not a 'classic tropes and grand gestures' romantic. this is a distinction and conceptual gap I personally feel is crucial to understanding what's going on with him when romanced. for all his almost painful sincerity and clear depth of feeling he's not a very effusive guy by nature, but in the history of time no one has ever, with their whole soul, chest and being, been so genuinely and openly happy to just do laundry and taxes with you.

[seumyo]

when you don’t say “i love you” back to bakugou.

Bakugou says, “I love you,” every time he’s about to leave the house without you. It’s something that he got from his father, and to put it simply, he got influenced.

He’s about to finish putting on his hero gear. His gauntlets were already in place, his boots laced, and his mask pushing his hair away from his face—kind of like how he wore it during high school whenever it wasn’t necessary to wear it properly.

And there you were, sitting cross-legged on the floor without a care in the world.

Books were scattered around you in piles, organized by some system only you seemed to understand. You were focused as you murmured to yourself quietly, comparing sizes, genres, and authors, completely absorbed in your task of organizing the living room’s bookshelf.

“I’m heading out.”

“Mmhm,” you replied absentmindedly, holding up two books and tilting your head as if the slight angle would help you decide which belonged on the top shelf.

Bakugou frowned, his brow twitching. “Oi, did you hear me?”

“Yes, yes,” you said, still not looking at him. “Be careful, Katsuki.”

He let out a huff, running a hand through his hair. He was used to you getting lost in your little projects, but this felt different (were you playing a prank on him?). He stepped closer, crouching down beside you to meet your eye level. “Don’t overwork yourself while I’m gone,” he said, softer this time.

“I won’t.”

Still not looking at him. Unbelievable.

To Bakugou, it felt like being thrown through a building and back—and he wasn’t even exaggerating because it actually happened to him once! And he could definitely conclude that the feeling’s similar when you’re ignoring (not paying that much attention to) him.

Bakugou watched you for a moment longer, his eyes narrowing slightly before he sighed. “I love you,” he murmured, his tone quieter.

“Uh-huh. Have a good day at work.”

Just as Bakugou was about to stand back up, he blinked, the words sinking in slowly. His brow furrowed as the realization hit him—he’s so confused.

You didn’t say it back.

“What the hell?” he muttered, more to himself than to you—because you didn’t even hear him.

He huffed, taking the book you were inspecting as he let your hands fall on his arms instead.

“Hey.”

“Hm?” you glanced at him, your expression innocent as if nothing unusual had happened.

“You didn’t say it back,” he said, his tone sharp, though there was a hint of disbelief beneath the irritation.

The audacity you had. After almost always saying “I love you” to him to the point where Bakugou realized he couldn’t go on his day without hearing it, you decide to not say it now?

What’s next? You’re going to tell him you want a divorce? He’s overreacting, he thinks.

“Say what back?”

He clenched his jaw, his cheeks flushing faintly. “I said I love you, dumbass.”

Realization dawned on your face, followed by a sheepish smile. That smile—the one that managed to win him over—it’s so infectious it might as well be a cause of an epidemic.

“Oh! Katsuki, I’m sorry. I was distracted.”

“Tch,” he muttered, looking away from you. “Yeah, I noticed.”

You leaned closer to where he was crouching, squeezing his forearm softly, your touch light and apologetic. “You know I love you too, right?”

He side-eyed you, his scowl deepening, though it was clear his annoyance was fading.

“Doesn’t count if I gotta remind you,” Bakugou grumbled—almost pouting.

Your laughter bubbled out, so familiar that Bakugou was reminded where his home is, as you then held his face gently—then squishing his cheeks so that his lips are puckered. “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice warm and teasing. “I’ll make sure to say it next time, promise.”

“Better keep thath promish,” he muffled out.

“I will,” you assured him, loosening your hold as you gave him a soft kiss on the lips. Strawberry-flavored chapstick, one of Bakugou’s favorites whenever you kiss him.

“I love you, Katsuki.”

He tried to maintain his frown, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward as you kissed him once more. “You better.”

“Now go save the day, my hero.”

With a sigh, Bakugou leaned away from you, his posture reluctant to even leave you. He made his way to the door, pausing to glance over his shoulder one last time. You were looking at him, blowing him lots of kisses with the emphasized “mwah!”

“Don’t get so caught up in your books that you forget I exist,” he tells you.

You smiled, nodding along. “Never.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too! Text me when you get to your agency; love you lots!” That’s better.

As he closed the door behind him, Bakugou shook his head, muttering to himself, “Ignored for some damn books. Unbelievable.”

Still, despite his grumbling, the faint smile on his face said he wasn’t really mad.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ daddy kink, sickfic, SFW, requested.

Mara is surprised to see him. "Hey Captain Riley."

He nods. “She in the back?” The knit between her eyebrows is quizzical, and she shakes her head.

“What? No… she went home. Hours ago. Said she didn’t feel well.” He doesn’t bother to school his expression into neutrality, and she turns sheepish, like somehow she’s the one in trouble now. “I told her to call you. She was nearly falling asleep back there. Almost face planted in the batter of these cookies.” She points to an artfully arranged tower of chocolate chip cookies, their little placard labeling them as ‘brown butter’. What that means, he’s not sure. 

“How long ago did she leave?” He had no idea you were sick. Worse, you didn’t say anything. You lied by omission, sending your usual morning text messages, your before lunch check in with zero mention of feeling unwell. 

He’s not angry with you, because he understands you. This is uneven footing, new territory, a lot to learn for his little fawn. You’re finding your way in this new life, and he has plenty of time.

 A learning experience, that’s all this is. 

“Like… an hour ago? Maybe two?” A frown tugs his lips towards his chin. 

“Her car is still in the lot.” 

“Oh yeah… she walked.” Walked? You walked? 

Your ass is going to be sore for a week. 

There’s a queue forming behind him, so he steps back, gives her a parting glance before turning to leave. “Thanks Mara.” 

“Tell her I hope she feels better!” 

You live on the fourth floor. The elevator in your building is busted, along with the front door’s lock, and there are no cameras, no security, nothing stopping anyone from walking inside. 

Just his baby in a fourth floor apartment with a measly deadbolt and chain. 

You’ll be so much happier at home with him.

It takes three tries for you to come to the door, and when you find him on the other side, your expression splits in two, one side saturated with relief, the other, buzzing with nerves, but somehow still half asleep. 

“H-hi.” You croak, sweating and shivering, standing there in only a t-shirt. 

Miserable. You look miserable. 

“Sweet girl,” he breathes, stepping inside, immediately placing the back of his hand to your forehead, trailing down your chin to find your pulse fluttering beneath your jaw. It’s elevated, and you’re burning up, tears gathering on your waterline, threatening to fall.

"D-daddy," you hiccup, trembling, reaching for him just as he pulls you into his chest with a palm against your neck, rubbing circles at your nape as he takes a quick look around. He’s never been inside your apartment before, though he’s been tempted multiple times, made the trip to your building often, ensuring you’re home safe, watching the comings and goings of others who live here, looking for any red flags or reasons for immediate concern. He’s inspected empty units, tested the standard locks, checked for mold and mildew. It’s adequate, but your own flat is too cramped, and he knows you feel boxed in. 

"I'm here baby, I'm here. Let me look at you." He tips your chin up and moves into your line of sight, glassy, glazed eyes tracking him the whole way. "Have you seen a doctor?”

“No,” you sniffle, immediately planting your face back into his sternum, “’s just a cold.” 

“You don’t get a fever with a cold sweetheart. Have you taken anything?” He doesn't panic. It's not in his programming, not a part of his reality but seeing you like this, in distress, suffering, is starting to rewire long dormant standards.

“Don’t have a fever.” There’s a short hallway across the living room, two doors on either end, one he assumes is your bedroom, and he starts moving that way, keeping you tucked against him. “I took some naproxen.” You’re floating along with his direction without a single peep, barely recognizing where you are when he sits you down on the edge of your bed. 

First things first. He has to get you out of these clothes and into something dry. “This has to come off baby girl, it’s wet.” 

“Wet?” You’re barely holding yourself up, and he probably only has a few minutes before you’re out. 

“Your body is trying to regulate it's temperature, so you've been sweating.” He finds pajamas in the top drawer of your dresser, lips rolling into a smile as he unfurls the t-shirt. “Gremlins?” You throw him a squinty glare. 

“It’s a good movie.” He brushes his lips across your forehead, tasting the slick of salt before pulling away and tapping your shoulders. 

“Arms up.” You oblige without question, the trust that sometimes gets lost in this newfound dance shining through brilliantly. His hands brush against your ribs, your belly as he slides them beneath the hem of your shirt and tries not to wince at the scorching temperature of your skin. “Good girl. Don’t want you going back to sleep all sweaty do we?” He quickly pats the sheets, relieved to find them dry. 

“No daddy.” Such a sweet girl. You roll instinctively, burrowing in the mound of things in your bed, knees curling up towards your belly. There are at least three different colored fuzzy blankets in your bed, six pillows, and a stuffed cat of some kind, something about it vaguely familiar but difficult to place. A crumpled notebook with loopy handwriting and small drawings adorning the pages is wedged beneath your hip, and there’s a kindle sitting on the other side along with an empty water bottle. The frame itself has a shelf at the head of the bed, and it’s lined with stuff… a small lamp, a ceramic cupcake, a collection of seashells, chapstick, lotion, an empty mug, a glowing mushroom, along with two pairs of glasses and a few candles. It’s clear this is your space, where you’re safe and comfortable, a nest of your own making, a place just for you, and it’s fitting, all of it. Each little piece is perfect just like you. 

He lets you sleep while he cleans and refills your water bottle, finds the naproxen and your towels, pulling a washcloth out so he can run it under cold water for your head. You definitely have a fever, but if you can break it on your own there’s no reason to take you to a doctor. Time will tell, but if it gets worse, you’ll have to go immediately. 

Tally marks for today’s transgressions sit quietly on a slate in the back of his mind for far later, satisfying realization settling in against his soul. You’ve earned a spanking, and stricter rules. 

It’s a fine line. He doesn’t punish for the sake of punishing, there’s nothing good in it for him, or you, but he will punish you for things like this, things that put you in harms way, things like not telling him you’re sick and in need of help. Things like fucking walking ten blocks home. He’ll punish you for stepping outside a boundary, or failing to follow a rule, all of it a double edged sword, one he wields delicately, because often, punishments come with their own rewards, whether they be emotional or physical.

You rouse a bit when he comes back, making little sounds as he props you up to take more medicine, dabs the cold washcloth around your face, cooling you down and wiping some of the stale sweat away. He smooths a palm over your forehead. “We’re going to have a long talk about rules when you’re feeling better.” 

“Mmkay.” You press your nose into his neck. “Are you going to lay with me?” He kisses your temple. 

“In a little bit, I have some work to take care of. Close your eyes for now.” You nuzzle down into the mattress against his thigh and he can’t resist placing his hand atop your head, holding you there, your cheek bleeding heat through his pants, warm, wet breath building a damp spot. 

“But you’ll be here?” You mumble it, and like you’re afraid the answer will be no, you wrap an arm around the width of his thigh. He chuckles. 

“I’ll be right here.” 

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can’t stop thinking the tall horror men of homicipher. I’m like 5ft something, so I know damn well these men tower over me…am I discovering something? Maybe 👀👀👀but I know I ain’t alone. TRUE STORY: Also there was this guy that came into my place of work moths ago with his family and he was TALL, bending down to get through the doorframe TALL but he was lovely.

So how do I imagine these boy would react if they see that you’re clearly ogling them for how tall they were.

Mr crawling

Given the fact that you’ve only seen him stand once, it was enough to have your jaw dropping to the floor. He was taller than the fucking doorway that he had to manoeuvre himself under it, and suddenly you’ve forgotten that you were being kidnapped by Mr Stitch, too intrigued by his height and now understanding why he had lied to you about his ability to stand.

He thought he would scare you but in fact made you feel the complete opposite, you loved how tall he was and you couldn’t get it out of your head, even when he’s back on his hands and knees to comfort you. The illusion had worn off and now you wanted to see him tall all the time, but you didn’t want to pressure him into doing so unless he felt comfortable.

‘You’re tall, really tall.’ You said in awe as Mr crawling coddled you against his chest.

‘Scared?’ He asked as though he was fearing your answer, which broke your heart as you nuzzled your face against his shoulder in an attempt of comfort.

‘No, handsome.’ You replied as Mr Crawling made chirps and purrs of happiness as he held you closer to him.

While he’s still not fond on standing to his full height, the fear of his intimating stature would chase you away one day embedded in his heavily, he would find some comfort in knowing that you loved his tall stature and love you even more for not forcing him to do something he clearly was uncomfortable with; preferring to shower him in kisses and remind him that whether he’s standing or on his hands and knees you loved him regardless.

Mr silvair

The man can feel your eyes on his back constantly. He knows he’s taller than most but the way you looked and admired his full height like you wouldn’t be able to anymore.

He wonders whether this was something only you seemed to have or whether other humans also felt possessed by the need to gawk at people above a certain height. Or was it just you that has this particular expression upon seeing his tall stature in general.

He would take notes of how his height seemingly did something to you that then triggered a chemical reaction within your brain to make you find his height appealing and possibly a requirement in finding your perfect romantic partner.

Or more specifically people of similar height to Mr Silvair himself or anyone close enough to his height to qualify. Mr Silvair soon deduced that you liked the domineering presence of someone much bigger than you, someone who’s able to drag you wherever as though you were nothing but weightless to them, almost like a ragdoll.

He’d soon find that this is in most cases considered a kink amongst you humans who found the height difference between partner rather erotic.

Mr Scarletella

Finds your content ogling of him flattering and thinks that it means that you were finally, finally reciprocating his obsession with you for your own obsession with him.

He’s another one who takes note of how you like how tall he is in comparison to you, always looking at him whenever he was entering the room, eyes widening when you see him having to bed down to get through the doorway, and your eyes never leave him even as he’s walking towards you; seemingly getting taller with each step until he’s in front of you and you’re looking at him in awe and hitched breath.

He’s obsessed with your expression each and every time and uses his height to his advantage. Such as doing things like putting his hand above your head and on the wall, looking down at you with those obsessive eyes of his as his smile seemed to widen upon hearing your breath hitch and eyes widen once more.

His height continued to elicit a reaction out of you that Mr Scarletella loved and adored and wanted to see more of in the future.

Mr Hood

Finds your constant ogling of his height interesting.

He didn’t know why you were so surprised he’s this tall, he’s been with you this entire time and it was only recently did your mind seemed to inform you of your Incredibly stark height difference, and bam! Suddenly he’s the subject of your constant staring and ogling as though it would be the last thing you did.

It was humorous to say the least and will earn you some head pats and cheek caresses that has you leaning towards his comforting and gentle touches.

It wasn’t something that you hide from him as half of the time you didn’t realise you were doing it until Mr Hood pointed it out with curiosity, meanwhile your left flustered as your mind held certain thoughts towards his legs, thighs and large hands.

Poor Mr Hood, he understood to some extent but after a certain point it’s better to explain to him that you find his height rather appealing to you in more ways than one.

[shujichii]

x fem reader.

it was exactly 1:03 am when your careful movements had screeched to an abrupt halt, and you swear your heart nearly lurched out of the confines of your chest as a large shadow loomed over you.

you instantly whipped around, mouth stuffed with food, slightly backing up against the refrigerator and glancing up at the man you call your husband— who was solely responsible for the jumpscare.

for a moment, you just stared at him with wide eyes, and he simply stared back. no words exchanged, the peaceful silence of the night replaced by the thumping of your own heartbeat being the only sound. you hastily swallow your food before finally parting your lips at last.

"you scared me!" you whisper-shouted, your hand flying up to press against your chest where your heart was still racing erratically.

finally, his expression shifted— his lips curving into a small, sheepish smile; lightly ruffling the back of his hair as he took a small step back.

".. sorry, i didn't mean to scare you."

his voice was thick with sleep, a touch deeper than usual.

your expression softened, the fright from earlier easing up as you gently closed the refrigerator behind you, now the only illumination in the kitchen being the soft golden hued dim light.

"it's fine," you chuckle softly. "my bad, did i wake you up when i got up?"

you did, yes. was that a bad thing? hardly. your husband was just simply too used to having you in his arms as you both slept, safe and sound within his snug and comforting embrace. he always seemed to stir awake whenever he felt you moving away from his arms, just as he did earlier.

he assumed that maybe you had some business to finish in the bathroom, or that you had simply gotten up to fetch yourself a cool glass of water. so when 10 minutes passed with no sign of you coming back to bed, naturally, he was starting to feel the worry creep in. he was a man on a mission to find his wife and bring her back right where she belongs— in his arms, of course.

and now, here he was.

"it's not a big deal," he shook his head. "were you hungry?"

"uhh.."

"want me to make you something?"

"no, no! it's okay, i just woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't fall asleep for some reason." you finally said, although warmth bloomed in your chest at the way your husband was willing to cook for you in the dead of the night just because his beloved wife had a small craving.

he nodded his head in understanding, the remnants of sleep in his eyes slowly beginning to fade away. you moved away from the refrigerator to walk towards the counter, bringing a glass forward. just before you could reach for the jug, you stilled.

in 2 strides, he had closed the distance. he was standing right behind you now, his broader frame hovering over you— the solidness of his chest almost pressing against your back, as he, too, reached for his glass, while his other hand absentmindedly came up to rest on your waist. your heart skipped a beat at the sudden proximity.

... not that you were complaining.

before you knew it, he was already bringing the glass to his lips. your gaze darted down at your own glass which he had also filled while he was at it.

"well, someone's quiet."

now you were pretty sure he was doing this on purpose now. his hand? still on your waist, his thumb drawing small, featherlight circles over your skin. and the man himself? still standing right behind you, the warmth of his body intertwining with yours.

you could very clearly hear the smirk in his voice.

you huffed, ignoring the way your cheeks warmed up as you gulped down your water.

"you're being awfully flirty for someone who just got up from bed," you shot, finally turning around to face him. and the moment you did? his face was close. too close.

"what, i can't flirt with my own wife whenever i please now?" he raised an eyebrow, leaning down just slightly— his nose lightly brushing against yours in a ticklish, teasing gesture.

you rolled your eyes in response, yet you couldn't help the smile spreading across your lips. you merely hummed, your hands sliding up to wrap around his neck, tugging him down towards you just slightly, and he leaned down instinctively. you placed a soft, fleeting peck on his lips, watching the way his playful expression softened. both of his arms had already found their way towards your waist, gentle and steady.

"give me another kiss, pretty. preferably one that lasts longer."

you giggled, slightly shaking your head. greedy. you reached up again, your lips claiming his in a sweet kiss, slow and unhurried. and he returned the kiss in no less than a second, each movement of his lips against yours speaking like a soft confession of his unwavering love and devotion for you. he pulled you closer towards him, his hold on you tightening— but not uncomfortably. you instantly melted into him, nails gently grazing his scalp.

his lips tilted into the faintest smile in-between the kiss.

you immediately felt it, and smiled too.

that, in turn, made him smile a tad bit wider.

after a moment, you pulled away, lips slightly parted. a soft yet undeniably lovesick smile was present on both of your faces, and the way you two gazed into each other's eyes said more than what words could at that moment.

wordlessly, he began gently swaying with you still between his arms, guiding you into a slow dance. a surprised laugh left your lips, and to him, that itself was the melody for the impromptu dance— your steady breaths mingling with his, shared laughter, stolen kisses and hushed confessions.

perhaps getting caught in the kitchen past midnight wasn't so bad after all.

♡ gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, itadori yuji, okkotsu yuta (jjk), zayne, sylus, caleb (lads), kurosaki ichigo, ishida uryuu, hisagi shuhei (bleach), mammon, satan, solomon, diavolo, simeon (obm), uzui tengen, rengoku kyojuro, tomioka giyuu, kamado tanjiro (kny), eren yeager, armin arlert, jean kirschtein, reiner braun (aot), anyone else you'd like. (honourable mentions; sung jinwoo and wriothesley because they're fine.)

[rmview]

saying they want to break up during a fight, SKZ.

featuring — stray kids members x gn!reader ( masterlist )

summary — a reaction of what happens when the stray kids boys impulsively say they want to break up during a fight!

contents — angst, fighting, some tears, reconciliation.

bang ☆ chan

fights with bang chan weren’t common, but when they happened, they hit hard. his naturally calm and rational demeanor made it rare for him to lose his temper, but tonight was different. the stress of balancing his responsibilities, combined with your ongoing disagreement, pushed him to the edge.

“you always think i’m not doing enough!” he shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of frustration. “i’m doing everything i can, and it’s still not enough for you!”

“that’s not what i said, chan,” you retorted, equally exasperated. “i just need you to make time for us — just once without your work taking over.”

his jaw tightened as he ran a hand through his hair, his usual composure unraveling. “maybe we’re not right for each other,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “maybe we should just… break up.”

the silence that followed was deafening. bangchan’s eyes widened, and his expression immediately softened as he realized what he’d just said. “wait — no. that’s not what i meant,” he stammered, his voice trembling.

you took a shaky breath, stepping back. “you said it, chan. if that’s how you feel…”

“no, please,” he interrupted, his voice pleading. he reached for your hand, but you pulled away. “i didn’t mean it. i swear, i didn’t mean it. i’m just… i’m tired and overwhelmed, but that’s not an excuse. please, don’t leave.”

tears welled up in his eyes as he stepped closer, desperate to fix what he’d just shattered. “you’re the most important thing in my life,” he said, his voice breaking. “i’ll do better. i’ll make time — i promise. just… don’t walk away.”

felix ☆

felix hated confrontation. he was always the one to diffuse tension, his warm smiles and soothing words calming any storm. but tonight, the argument spiraled beyond his control.

“why do you always think the worst of me?” he asked, his usually soft voice laced with hurt. “i’m trying my best, but it’s like you don’t trust me.”

“it’s not about trust, felix,” you shot back, your voice rising. “it’s about feeling like i’m not a priority!”

his frustration bubbled over, and before he could think, he blurted out, “maybe we shouldn’t do this anymore. maybe we should just break up.”

the words hung in the air like a punch to the gut. felix’s freckles seemed to pale as the weight of what he’d said hit him. “no, wait,” he said quickly, his voice trembling. “i didn’t mean that. i didn’t mean that at all.”

you stood frozen, your heart aching. “how could you say that, felix?”

tears brimmed in his eyes as he stepped closer, his hands shaking. “i’m sorry,” he whispered. “i was angry, and i wasn’t thinking. you mean everything to me, and the thought of losing you —” his voice cracked. “please, don’t leave. i’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

lee ☆ know

lee know was known for his sharp tongue, but he rarely let his emotions get the best of him. tonight was an exception.

“you never understand my side!” he snapped, his voice colder than usual. “you always make it about you.”

“that’s not fair, minho,” you replied, your voice quivering. “i just want us to communicate better.”

“maybe we shouldn’t communicate at all,” he shot back, the words cutting like a blade. “maybe we should just end this.”

the moment the words left his mouth, regret washed over him. his face fell, and his usually stoic demeanor cracked. “wait,” he said softly, his voice laced with panic. “that’s not what i meant.”

you stared at him, hurt evident in your eyes. “minho…”

“i was angry,” he admitted, his tone desperate. “i didn’t think before i spoke. i don’t want this to end. i don’t want to lose you.”

he reached out tentatively, his eyes searching yours. “i’m sorry,” he murmured. “i know i hurt you, but please give me a chance to fix this. i’ll prove to you that you mean more to me than my pride ever could.”

hyun ☆ jin

hyunjin’s emotions always ran high, and tonight, they overwhelmed him completely.

“you don’t understand what it’s like to be me!” he yelled, tears streaming down his face. “i’m constantly trying to be perfect, and it’s never enough — not for you, not for anyone!”

“i never said you had to be perfect, hyunjin,” you replied, your voice trembling. “i just want you to let me in!”

“maybe it’s better if we’re not together,” he snapped, his voice breaking. “maybe i can’t give you what you need.”

the silence that followed was suffocating. hyunjin’s chest heaved as he realized what he’d just said. “no,” he whispered, shaking his head. “that’s not true. i didn’t mean that.”

tears welled in your eyes as you took a step back. “hyunjin, you can’t just say things like that.”

“i know,” he said, his voice cracking as he stepped closer. “i’m sorry. i was scared and angry, but i don’t want to lose you. you’re the one thing that makes me feel like i’m enough.”

hyunjin fell to his knees, his hands trembling as he clutched yours. “please don’t go,” he begged, tears streaming down his face. “i’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. just… don’t leave me.”

i.n ☆

jeongin wasn’t someone who fought often, but when he did, it was because something had truly gotten under his skin. tonight was one of those nights. the argument had started small, but it escalated quickly.

“you’re always treating me like i’m a kid,” jeongin snapped, his voice louder than usual. “like i don’t know what i’m doing or how i feel.”

“that’s not what i’m doing,” you countered, frustration evident in your tone. “i just worry about you, jeongin. is that so bad?”

“well, maybe i don’t need you to worry about me!” he shouted back. then, in a moment of blind frustration, he added, “maybe we shouldn’t even be together if you don’t trust me to take care of myself.”

as soon as the words left his mouth, regret hit him like a wave. his eyes widened, and he looked at you as if he wanted to take it all back. “wait, no,” he stammered, his voice softer now. “i didn’t mean that. i… i don’t want that.”

your expression faltered, hurt flashing across your face. “jeongin…”

he stepped closer, his hands trembling as he reached for yours. “i’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “i didn’t mean it. i was angry, and i said something stupid. please don’t take it seriously. you mean so much to me, and i can’t lose you.”

tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at you, desperate to fix the mess he’d created. “i’ll do better,” he promised, his voice barely above a whisper. “just don’t leave.”

han ☆

han’s emotions always bubbled just beneath the surface, and when he was upset, it showed in every word and expression. tonight, his frustration boiled over in a way he hadn’t intended.

“you don’t get it!” he yelled, pacing back and forth. “you don’t understand what it’s like to feel like you’re never enough!”

“jisung, i’m just trying to talk to you,” you said, your voice shaky. “why are you shutting me out?”

“because i don’t know how to talk about this!” he shouted back, his voice cracking. “maybe… maybe it’d be better if we weren’t together. maybe then you wouldn’t have to deal with me.”

the second the words left his mouth, he froze. his hands dropped to his sides, and he looked at you with wide, tear-filled eyes. “no,” he whispered, shaking his head. “that’s not what i meant. i didn’t mean that at all.”

you stared at him, hurt and disbelief written all over your face. “how can you say that, jisung?”

he stepped closer, his voice trembling. “i’m sorry,” he said, tears streaming down his cheeks. “i was scared, and i let my fear get the best of me. i don’t want to lose you. you’re the only person who makes me feel like i’m enough, even when i don’t believe it myself.”

seung ☆ min

seungmin was usually calm and level-headed, but even he had his limits. tonight, the argument had pushed him to a place he rarely went.

“why do you always think i’m the bad guy?” he snapped, his voice sharp. “i’m doing my best, but it’s never enough for you.”

“that’s not fair, seungmin,” you replied, your tone frustrated. “i just want us to communicate better.”

“maybe we shouldn’t communicate at all,” he said coldly. “maybe we should just end this.”

the second the words left his mouth, his heart sank. he saw the look of hurt on your face, and regret washed over him. “wait,” he said quickly, his voice softer now. “i didn’t mean that.”

you took a shaky breath, stepping back. “seungmin, you can’t just say things like that.”

he nodded, his expression filled with guilt. “i know. i’m sorry,” he said, his voice trembling. “i was angry, and i wasn’t thinking. please don’t take it seriously. i don’t want this to end. you’re… everything to me.”

chang ☆ bin

changbin’s temper was quick, but so was his regret. tonight, his frustration boiled over in a way he couldn’t control.

“why do you always have to push me?” he snapped, his voice rising. “can’t you just let me be for once?”

“i’m not pushing you, changbin,” you replied, hurt evident in your tone. “i just want to talk about what’s bothering you.”

“maybe we shouldn’t talk at all,” he shot back, his voice colder than usual. “maybe we should just end this.”

as soon as the words left his mouth, regret hit him like a truck. he froze, his eyes wide with realization. “wait,” he said quickly, his voice shaking. “no, i didn’t mean that.”

you stared at him, tears welling in your eyes. “how could you say that, changbin?”

“i’m sorry,” he said, stepping closer. his voice was softer now, filled with guilt. “i didn’t mean it. i was angry, and i wasn’t thinking. please don’t walk away. you mean everything to me, and i’ll do whatever it takes to fix this.”

notes: i don’t like redoing the same prompt, but angst is fun, so enjoy!

[moonstruckme]

hello! im not sure if you've done this before and if you have, i hope its ok to ask for more hehe but can i request rockstar poly marauders w a shy!reader and gets easily flustered when they show affection? thank u sm i really love all your poly marauders drabbles!!

Thank you for requesting angel <33

rockstar!marauders x shy!reader ♡ 1k words

The sound tech at this venue is nice. You liked her first for her pink hair and then for the easy way she motioned you over to help do the boys’ sound checks. You don’t think she needed the help; she only saw you standing off by herself and did a kind thing to make you feel less awkward. 

Now the boys are off in their dressing room, and you’re trailing contentedly behind her while she shows you how she sets up for shows. 

The bustle and ruckus of crews setting up before shows isn’t new to you. You’ve been with the boys since the beginning of their tour, but usually you stay out of the way, blending into walls or taking refuge in your boyfriends’ dressing room while they’re busy. You’ve never really gotten to know the actions the bustle and ruckus constitute. 

“Usually I help with lighting once I’m done with my own stuff,” the sound tech tells you. “It’s all programmed ahead of time, so really I’m just on standby in case something happens. Do the boys have a favorite color if I have to pick something?” 

You gnaw your lip, contemplative. “Sirius would probably like yellow, if you get the chance.” 

Her eyebrows shoot up. You know it’s not in the usual color palette of the boys’ shows. “Really?” 

“No.” You suck in a breath as a pair of arms wraps around your middle, releasing it when you realize it’s Sirius. “Not really. Minx, you know I hate yellow.” He smushes his face into your cheek. “Joke’s on you though, I look good in every color.” 

“Yellow certainly least,” James teases. He steps into your field of vision wearing his concert outfit. Jeans and a tight t-shirt just short enough to tease a sliver of abdomen. Of all the fans who will get to see him looking so handsome tonight, you’re glad you’re one of them. 

“Anyway,” he says, grinning, “we have a very important question for you both. No pressure.” 

“Well, some pressure,” Sirius says. 

You look at your sound tech friend. Like most crew, she’s largely unaffected by the rockstars currently sharing in casual repartee in front of her. Her eyes don’t appear to dip to James’ stomach or trace the myriad of tattoos you know are showing through Sirius’ sheer top. If anything, she looks only faintly amused by the way the band’s lead singer is mushing tiny, soft kisses into the skin by your ear. Your cheeks warm. 

“What’s the question?” you ask, dreading the reply. 

Sirius turns you in his arms, taking you by the shoulders and levelling you with a very serious look. “What is the hottest instrument for someone to play?” 

Your sound tech friend barks a laugh. “Bass,” she says. “No question.” 

James’ eyebrows fly up, his expression one of utter disbelief, but Sirius only says swiftly, “Wrong. You know what it is, don’t you, gorgeous?” 

Your shoulders gravitate upwards at the moniker. “You can’t ask me to pick between you.” 

“Don’t think of it as picking between us,” he says. “Just, which is the hottest? Objectively.” 

“I can’t be objective,” you plead. 

“Does anyone know what time it is? I can’t seem to find a clock in this whole place.” You turn your head as Remus emerges from their dressing room, blowing smoke from the corner of his mouth. “Oh.” He blinks when he sees you, waving to dispel the smog. “Sorry, dovey. Where’ve you been?” 

“I’ve been here,” you say, voice softening. Sirius makes a quiet sound and hugs you again. 

“You’re cute,” he murmurs, low enough that only you can hear. Your face flames. 

“It’s quarter ‘til,” the sound tech offers helpfully. 

Remus turns to her with a smile he’ll never understand the power of. “Thank you.” 

“We’re conducting a poll on which instrument is the hottest,” James informs him. He jerks his thumb toward the sound tech. “She says bass.” 

Remus’ grin turns smug. “Quite right. What’s your pick, dove?” 

You’re mute and melting, hot enough by now that you wish you could evaporate into steam and float away through the vents. 

“She won’t say,” Sirius sighs dramatically, breath warm against your cheek. 

“Oh.” Remus seems to wisen to your plight. “It’s not really playing fair, is it? She can hardly be objective.” 

“Right,” you agree quickly. 

“But angel,” says James, bewildered, “guitar is classic.” 

“I’ll tell you what’s not fair,” Sirius argues. “For anyone to say anything other than the front man! We’re chosen for our hotness!” 

“Well, that’s not strictly true, is it?” 

“Yeah?” Sirius has that shit-eating grin, like he’s winding James up in anticipation of hauling him into a broom closet. You’re only glad it’s not directed at you. “You got something to say, Potter?”

“Sorry,” Remus apologizes to your sound tech friend on their behalf, touching a hand to Sirius’ back to guide you both towards the dressing room. James follows. 

“You’re good,” she laughs. “Nice to meet you, y/n.” 

“You too,” you say, cringing at the unintentional softness of your own voice. 

“Who was that?” Sirius asks as James closes the door to their dressing room behind you. “Have you made a new friend?” 

You groan, flopping down onto the posh-looking, uncomfortable couch and covering your face with your hands. “I was trying to.” 

“It looked like it was going well,” James says. “Maybe you can hang out with her again while we’re onstage.” 

“I can’t now,” you mumble between your palms. 

“Why not?” 

“Because,” says Remus, as he sits beside your head and begins smoothing your baby hairs with his fingers, “we’ve embarrassed her.” You let your hands slip down enough to see him, and he smiles at you. “I don’t think she’ll hold it against you, dovey. She seemed nice.” 

“You would think so.” Sirius plucks the cigarette from between Remus’ fingers, taking a drag before it can burn out. “She picked your instrument.” 

Remus shrugs, smug again. “That helps.” 

Sirius squints at him spitefully. He sits next to your knees where they’re flung over the arm of the couch. “Don’t let us spoil your new friend for you,” he says, sincerely. “She loves you already, I can tell. You’re perfect.” 

“You’re biased,” you counter, face heating again. 

Sirius grins like he can tell and reaches down to tug you upwards. He grasps you with a roughness for which he has no follow through, kissing you sweetly with his fingers bunched in your jacket.

“Wrong,” he says, lips moving against yours. “I know how to be objective.”

[justblades]

❝ THE GENERALS' COCKSLEEVE ! ❞

ᝰ. JIYAN x afab! reader x GESHU LIN

๋ᝰ. IN WHICH geshu lin tries to heal your hurt heart as you thought it was a one sided love with jiyan

ᝰ. SMUT, 18+ ONLY. double vaginal penetration, threesome, possessive! geshu lin, WC: 4.2k

a confidential expedition was sought in order to study the occurrences in the battle beneath the crescent. as there was no concrete evidence that recounts the whole of what transpired way back then, it was then decided the magistrate to take precautionary steps to delve deeper into the event.

as soon as the decision has been made, jiyan reaches out for you to talk in private. a secluded room freed from disturbances and lurking ears, a solemn look dances in his golden gaze. "the magistrate ordered for us to study the geographic location when the first retroact rain befell." he states as he shuffles the letter back to the envelope that he received from jinhsi.

a wax seal of ivory color engrained with the sentinel jué's design adorns the surface, jiyan's fingers trail the edges. you purse your lips tightly, reluctance slightly rising from your façade of composure. a tale as old as time, the jinzhou residents knew very well the story of the battle of the crescent.

what dawns in your perturbed mind was the former general behind it, the one deemed as the hero, the savior of all eventually leads the lives of the many to meaningless sacrifices. just the mere stories of those who witnessed general geshu's might would suffice to reinforce the thought on anyone that he was strong, mighty, that those onyx flames of his seared and tore through his countless enemies.

you're just as curious as the person next door. being jiyan's one of the few trusted rangers, you nodded, giving consent to the mission. the two of you will then embark on the journey once the sun rays peek through the bed of stars and the darkness.

it will pass . . . and so, the daybreak arises.

coming vis-à-vis with the general upon the agreed time to meet, the two of you swiftly weave through the vast forest, eliminating any possible tacet discord that might hinder your exploration progress with swift and haste. "we're nearing the norfall barrens now, be careful." jiyan reminds you as he treads forward, the broadblade hoisted at hand to prepare for any case of danger to come.

"yes, general." you reply as you manage to scan your surroundings carefully. as the ground beneath your feet starts to feel different the farther you walked and the olden structures welcome your vision with a faint light, the general looks back at you to confirm his observation. nodding in agreement, a sharp, gelid wind blows within, jiyan's teal locks ripple along the muted breeze.

"the magistrate ordered for us to not stay here for too long, as there's a possibility we might encounter larger waves of tacet discords." he pauses for a short while. "however, if we do not split up and make haste, we might lose the frequencies left behind the battle that might lead to  potential clues. given that we're both resonators, we're capable of diluting the echoes residing within the field."

he stops in his tracks, explaining the pros and cons of the decision to take. naturally, he's gearing towards the advice of jinhsi, as it is true that staying longer in this place will expose the two of you in greater danger. but a part of him doesn't want to split up from you, worrying he'll lose a trustworthy, competent figure in the midst of this expedition.

having known the general for quite some time, you've come to understand patches of his personality as if it were the back of your hand. you'd notice in the slightest change of his facial expressions, even more so in his tone lacing his words. no matter how miniscule the shift is, you'll always be able to know. "fret not, general. i assume you know me well as i know you." you simply state, flashing a small reassuring smile to subside the doubt gnawing at his bones.

jiyan nods slightly in exchange. "understood. i'll contact you via your terminal once i'm finished with exploring the half of the land and you'll do the same with yours. if you come into trouble, just ring me up, i'll come to your aid quickly." you reach for the gourd behind you, double checking if its functions are working in pristine condition.

after enough preparation, the two of you then separated ways with no goal other than to stay alive, rush to the aid of your companion in any hint of trouble and lastly, to pick up clues that draw back to the event. you make your way to the west of the norfall barrens, focusing on your senses to ensure that the exploration would go smoothly.

darkness envelops the whole land, dark embers of faded crimson continually drift from one place to another. among the lingering eerie noises resonating in the field, a distinct voice surfaces - "so it is you."

goosebumps ride on your skin as you prepare into stance and hoist your weapon, eyebrows furrowed as sobriety exudes from your body. when all of a sudden, a towering presence appears behind your back, and as you take a swift turn to face your supposedly opponent and strike them down in a single swing, black and indigo violet flames set the barren lands ablaze, kindling with the littlest movements from the broadblade the person does.

you take a step back, a suffocating heat engulfs everything, the oxygen left in your lungs thinning. struggling to catch your breath, you ball your fists and cough repetitively - the scale of this power is far too destructive.

"still holding out? impressive. no wonder he picked you."

once you finally manage to stabilize your breathing, you enhance your physical body with your forte, bracing impact once the person finally engages with you head on. within a blink of an eye, strands of long, grayish white hair comes to sight, and a pair of honey golden eyes lock gazes with yours.

he closes in with immense speed as the two of you exchange blows left and right. the male grits his teeth as the corner of his lips twitch upwards, "commend yourself for being able to withstand a fraction of my flames."

a gut feeling kicks in, that the danger you were watching out for - was finally settling. you instantly reach for the gourd as an attempt to reach jiyan on the other end, but no avail, the mysterious figure was faster than you. he approaches from above, swinging once more, clashing with your sword as his broadblade defeats yours. he successfully unarms you and manages to immobilize you with makeshift of bindings to keep you still. your back crashes flat on the dry land, a sharp pang of pain striking on your torso.

met with utter loss, he draws closer to you. he reaches his bandaged hand to your face, "could it be . . ." and your consciousness gradually fades away. "general geshu lin?"

rousing from a shortlived slumber, you jolt awake as your eyes peel open, your movements feel minimized. you examine the surroundings, and then yourself - a special restraint encages the both of your wrists together, seemingly one that is made of advanced technology especially catered to confine resonators. you knew from one look that it'd be useless to try and break free and you no longer bothered trying. instead, you opted for any possible methods to escape.

"general jiyan would not be able to come to your aid today, unfortunately." there it was again, the hoarse voice that resounds to your ears like a nightmare fuel. you flinch as you see him within your line of vision once more, confusion washes over yourself, at a loss for words in response to what he said.

"general, why?" was all you could verbalize amidst the worry pulling back your tongue. you bite your lip and could not help but think about jiyan, who put faith in your capabilities only for you to end up like this. "you're asking the wrong question." he says and kneels lower to your level, driving you to a corner as birch walls meet your back.

it was a small cabin from no one knows where that he resided in, necessary supplies and equipment arranged in a chronological manner displayed on the shelves. a dim light illuminated the vicinity, it flickers in opposition to geshu's strong gaze. "i know you have an unrequited love for the general - but you know as much as any midnight ranger that love is not a priority in jiyan's life."

his words struck like sharp lightning aiming to your heart, crushing it whole into smithereens of pain as your world flips upside down. questions come whirring in your mind, such as: why does he know? how does he know? what benefit does this fact bring to him?

unfortunately, his claim was true. being by the general's side for several years, you've seen him be vulnerable, reliable, and resolute regarding whatever trouble may come in his way. his bravery to withstand the lurking unknown sparked your faded flame inside your heart. jiyan became the beacon of light in your muddled world, as the two of you brave through the obstacles with joint forces, in every long night.

the sorrow he faced that you shared with him - it was halved. the joys he witnessed that you shared with him - it was doubled.

"come, be my companion instead. let us eliminate together the darkness at bay." geshu proposes and inches closer to you, his masculine features coming into full view. this time, you could see him better this time, only now noticing details you haven't before. a small mark adorns his face under his left eye and a diagonal scar carves his sultry lips.

he looks at you solemnly, you could feel the proximity between the two of you increase, until he finally presses his lips onto yours gently. shock courses in your veins - the general's tongue makes way inside your mouth, lapping your taste as it twirls with yours, performing a tantalizing rhythm to which mewls were elicited from the drowning pleasure.

you try to retort in opposition to his actions, but your protest was silenced as his right arm snakes its way up to your torso, tearing the fabric of your clothing with little effort. he nestles your nipple within the warm palm of his hand, his calloused fingertips fiddle on the very hard bud.

after making a concoction of your salivas mixed together, geshu breaks the kiss, leaving a trail that connects your lips to his.  "i-i can't abandon general jiyan from a petty reason. i did not uphold my duty all this time just so my feelings were to be reciprocated."

his aureate irises fixate on your features, "and you're loyal too. sorry, but i won't be as gentle as jiyan is to you." geshu crashes his lips on yours once more, this time, a burning carnal desire exudes from his aura, hands now exploring your body, removing the remaining worn out clothing as your tits spring free, nipples erect as glacial winds caress your skin. "so? have you two engaged in such an encounter before?" he manages to query in between heated kisses.

a muffled "no" reverberates and geshu immediately understands. a smirk creeps up to his face and pulls away, an idea slipping into his mind as he now buries his face in the crook of your neck. he asserts dominance as the general flicks his tongue all over the shell of your ear, proceeding to give the whole part slow, sloppy licks, as well as biting on the lobe to determine which you'd like more.

as if you were melting, you felt like putty in his touches as he continues to toy with your breasts. he savors your skin down to the sweet spot on your neck, putting pressure once he sucks on the part, leaving lust filled bruises. taking turns from licking, biting, and sucking, he finally gets his fill as his erection grows bigger and harder to restrain within.

a thought crosses your mind as his bulge brushes on your clothed region, maybe it isn't that bad, accepting general geshu lin's proposal, that is.

geshu shifts positions, he lays on his back as he makes you straddle his pelvis. "cat bit your tongue? i suppose i have to let your body do the talking from here on." heat rushes to your cheeks, embarrassment dawning as you, ironically, grind your lower region against his bulge, creating friction to ease the lust brewing in your lower stomach.

the confinements of the both of your clothing felt impeding to the satisfaction the both of you are chasing. no longer spending time to be rational, you let your emotions guide your next course of action - you strip down his black pants alongside his undergarment, revealing his girthy cock itching for action.

it was adorned by the most prominent blueish veins, it continually twitches, as well as very warm in contrariety to the chilly, tranquil atmosphere encompassing the two of you. you gather spit from the back of your cheeks, redirecting it past your lips, creating leeway for it to trickle down geshu's throbbing dick.

with heavy lidded eyes and blind guess if the accuracy was right, your drool drips down from the head of his cock down to the shaft, cloudy hues gracing it. you slowly wrap your hands around his length, carelessly curling your fingers as you stroke it up and down, starting slowly yet sloppily.

geshu's body tenses from the foreign sensation, his legs trembling and arms jerking. he shuts his eyes, indulging in the feeling as you continue pumping him, granting you low growls of pleasure from the male. meanwhile you remain straddling him, higher levels of libido rushing to your bloodstream as you pick up the pacing. "t-that's it—" geshu verbalizes with a faint voice.

he gets along with your momentum, thrusting his hips upwards in accordance to your rhythm. as he was nearing his release the faster it dragged on, he rises only to flip your frail body around, pinning you down against the floorboards. geshu's chest rises and falls continuously, panting heavily as he feels his release draw back, much to his wish. you've never felt so small and helpless before.

you could pick up every detail of his body language, yet heeded no mind for the embarrassment that was previously gushing in your system. your mind starts to feel dizzy yet carefree, as if like you've drifted far away from reality and only cared about nothing other than satiating your hunger for carnal desire. once geshu's breathing stabilizes, he presses your lips against yours again, relishing every drop of your saliva.

it was becoming messy, but still, the two of you continued like animals in heat. he bites on your lower lip and sucks on the part up to no end, granting him winces of pain mixed with pleasure altogether. a deep chuckle resounds, "quite daring for you to enjoy that."

"no matter, i'll proceed as i please now." he continues and sweeps aside your soaked panties, revealing a heavenly view for him to revel in - white liquids seep out of your slit, a certain pungent scent wafts into his nostrils. "your scent is everywhere." the general states as a matter of fact.

uncertain if that was to be taken in a positive connotation, he wraps his hand around his dick and slaps it against your folds lightly, tapping the very head on your clit. the littlest touches send you spiraling into bliss, a strong yearning growing within. "put it in." you whisper with a weak voice. geshu looks at you, surprised, even more so once you add, "please."

your melting expressions have long been engraved in his mind, as he guides his tip to your slit, the door of his cabin busts open, a strong force sends it flying to the other side of the wall. geshu lin lets out a hoarse laugh, "ah, look who's here!" almost as if he was rejoicing, he repositions the two of your bodies, now holding you up as you sat on his dick.

your sight becomes hazy from all the foreplay ensuing, weakening senses coming back as you saw the familiar hues of teal within your bleary vision. jiyan stands across from your lust-lost bodies, eyes enlarging into two full moons as shock was painted upon his masculine features.

he hoists up his broadblade once more, threatening geshu to let go of your naked body. "general jiyan, if you would not treat such a competent figure like her right, then let me do it in your stead . . . as i am confident that i can treat her better."

rivalry rose from the two males, "that is no way to treat someone." jiyan's words cut through the thick tension sharply, while geshu's brows knit. "you say that, but have you paid attention to the face she's making?" just as he finishes his question, he pushes your body against his cock, thrusting into your cunt with no forewarnings. the intrusion makes a lewd, sloppy noise, accompanied by your moan unintentionally slipping.

a surprising warmth expands through your insides, stretching your velvet walls apart as they mold around the shape of the general's cock. you throw your head back in immense pleasure as he fills you up, mind almost threatening to go blank. "if you want to take her back, prove that she'd want you to reclaim her away from my grasp."

"if not . . . i'm afraid this will be the last time you'll be able to set your eyes on her."

jiyan has always been a rational person, one of the many qualities that renounce him to be truly befitting a title of a general. yet, as he sees you get lost among the sea of pleasure geshu lin has been drowning you in, a sense of ache thrums his heart against his ribcage. with slow steps he took, he's now merely inches apart from you.

geshu continues to hold you up and still, while jiyan leaves a chaste kiss on your cheek first and foremost: a sight that the former general would rather not have seen at all, contributing to his annoyance. while you remained there, incapable of taking action as if you're merely just existing. with little mustered strength, you manage to wrap you arms around jiyan's neck as you loll him into a deep kiss.

a deep kiss capable of delivering human emotions through an intimate action, "general. . ." your voice was faint, yet he understood your intentions. he shuts his eyes and let his emotions take control, immediately fondling your exposed chest as the icy tips of his golden armor fiddle your perked up buds. a moan escapes, followed by even more as the light haired general thrusts in and out of you with great force, the tip of his dick kissing your very womb. "g-general!" you yelp in an attempt to cry for mercy, yet you were only met with more brazenness.

"now you sound like you're yearning for two inside your tight hole." geshu says, frustration lacing his tone as he clicks his tongue afterwards.

jiyan's breathing becomes staggered, letting himself loose as he licks your boobs with his wet tongue, poking its tip on your erect nipples. your body flinches, its sensitivity building up while you remain a moaning mess. even you, yourself lost track of which general you were pleading to for, all you want is to drift afloat into the euphoric seventh heaven, with no other worries in mind but having your thirst quenched.

"will it fit . . ?" he asks as he casts you a look of concern, eyes fixing particularly on your lips that have been stained by three salivas all in all. jiyan unbuckles the dyad belt adorning his waist, letting everything come undone while geshu continues to pump in and out of you, his strong hands grip the plush of your thighs rather tight.

you could hear his mewls from behind, yet your attention was taken by jiyan who's currently stroking himself at the view in front of him. he sheepishly watches you get your cunt pistoned by the former general, his aching erection protruding from the fine fabric of his boxers. " . . . put it in too, general."

the two of them, simultaneously, had their jaws fall agape in shock upon hearing such yearning words come out of your mouth. with a sense of responsibility burning within jiyan, he strips himself naked at this point in time - ready to heed your request. his hands glide all the way down to your inner thighs, his dominant hand's fingers brush back and forth on your dewed folds. he anchors his attention on your pussy alone, at how it flutters every time geshu's cock pounds you in and out.

his patience starts to wear thin, the same could be said for you. with watery eyes and melting expressions, you call for him once more. "please." you mumble, but was eventually silenced as geshu turns you to him and initiates an open mouthed kiss. the teal haired general ached twice as much for more pleasure as he finally spreads your lower lips open, making more space for his dick to go in.

the head of his cock kisses the outermost part of your walls yet you were already squirming. numbness strikes through your legs and quiver, but geshu lin stabilizes them with his one arm hooked on the both of your thighs. he shoots jiyan a frustrated glare, one that seemingly felt that spoke words of "what are you waiting for?"

with slow motions, he finally inserts himself into you, the shaft of his cock comes into contact along with geshu's. jiyan's eyes dared to fall, a titillating feeling wallowing his dick whole. "so tight." he manages to utter in between his hardly stifled, ragged breathing, evident that this feeling was overwhelming.

it was getting overstimulating within each passing minute, with two, fat, big cocks buried inside of you, warming and accompanying your velvet walls as one of them itches to move - geshu's tip crooks inside and rubs on your sweet, textured spot, rewarding the generals your strings of satisfaction. "ah— i'm cumming!"

perhaps it was too late when you said it, but geshu pulls out, giving jiyan a chance to fully savor your slutty hole. "i'll make use of your mouth for now." he flips you around, making you stand on all fours with your ass perked upwards, giving jiyan a full view of your aching cunt.

you shake your hips in desperation, wriggling around just to feel his tip come into contact with your slicked walls again. all the while you coil your digits around geshu's cock, starting off with the head by kitty licks on its little slit. the white haired general loses composure and restraint, hands finding themselves cupping the frame of your face, urging for you to go deeper. as obedient as you became once lust runs in your system, you finally lap all his length up, and at the same time, jiyan rams into you, continuing where he left off earlier.

more sloppy sounds emit from the intercourse as slurping and licking accompanied geshu's dick. sweat begins to trickle all the way down all of your bodies, both the generals' luscious hair becomes disheveled, they ramp their movements by a notch as jiyan performs such impactful thrusts, ramming with his balls deep in and as for geshu, he fills your mouth with his dick alone - both aiming to chase the familiar feeling of release.

jiyan's pacing transitions into a faster one, hands gripping your waist hardly that'll certainly leave a burning sensation on your skin later on. meanwhile geshu lin, he bucks his hips forward, the tip of his cock kissing the very back of your throat. tears then begin to well up in your eyes, burning your irises as your gag reflex was getting harder and harder to tame.

"swallow it."

"i'll shoot it inside."

the both of them says in unison, and finally, strings of their sticky cum sprawl all over your body's insides: one in your womb and another in your throat. the two generals took some time to let these events sink in their desire filled minds, dicks still not softening any time soon.

jiyan looks at your naked back, the supple skin of yours makes him want to do more; eventually succumbing to the temptation. he wraps his arms around your chest and pulls you to a tight embrace, chin rests on your shoulder blade. you heavily pant, the back of your head now laid on the plane of his chest. the two of you then look over to geshu lin, whose facial expressions say that he's in no way satisfied. reading the ambience of the atmosphere, a gut feeling kicks in and tells you that jiyan feels the same.

geshu lin closes in, kissing away the drool escaping past the margins of your soft, sultry lips. jiyan then does the same, softly nibbling on your shoulder, making you elicit a short whimper.

"now, tell us. which one of us do you prefer?"

[chansdoll]

방찬 ─── heavenly body

⋆｡ ˚༘ ♫ worship - ari abdul

♡ pairing ៸៸ idolbf!chan x fem!reader genre ៸៸ smut ៸៸ cw ៸៸ smut with basically no plot, slight sub!chan, as well as slight dom!reader, reader is pretty vocal, some dirty talk, handjob, blowjob turned face f!cking.. if i miss anything else lmk ♡ synopsis ៸៸ you decide to worship your boyfriend, chan, since he thinks so lowly of himself. ♡ taglist ៸៸ @ephorxa ♡ masterlist

you watched as your boyfriend stepped out of the shower, steam rolling off his body and water droplets cascading down his chest. he always looked so good, but as your eyes wandered over every muscle, every inch of his skin, you couldn’t help but feel a pang run from your chest to your stomach. 

what upset you about this was that he never saw what you did–he was always too critical of himself. whether it be his looks or his talent. he was so mean to himself and you couldn’t understand why. 

you set your phone down on the bedside table and walked into your en-suite bathroom, then leaned in the doorway as he dried off his thighs and groin. he noticed you, and a small smile curved onto his pretty face. “hi.” he started to wrap the towel around his waist, but you gently grabbed his wrist and stopped him. “hi.” 

he let out a soft chuckle, looking down at you. “babe. i need to at least put on boxers before we watch the movie.” he grabbed your wrist with his own hand, about to pull it away. “wait.” you said softly, tugging him out of the bathroom and toward the bed. “what?” he asked you, stumbling forward. with a little shove, he sat on the edge of the bed, towel loosely draped on his lap, just barely covering  his manhood. you walked toward him, slowly. he leaned back, propping himself up on his hands as he watched you. 

“you look too good..” you finally spoke, straddling him on the bed. his breath hitched in his throat as he felt your lips pepper kisses on his jawline. “sh-shut up..” he said shyly, his ears turning dark red at your words and actions, which were quickly sending him into a submissive headspace. “i’ll never shut up about how perfect you are, baby.” you purr, raking your fingers through his damp curls. he let out a soft groan, looking up at you with half lidded eyes. you took the opportunity to kiss his irresistible lips, which tasted like mint, since he had just brushed his teeth not too long ago. you pressed yourself against him, cupping his face and deepening the kiss instantly. his hands moved from the bed behind him to your thighs, kneading the plump flesh. 

slowly, and teasingly, you pull away from the kiss with his bottom lip between your teeth, making him whine. “how ‘bout i show you how much i love your body?” you ask him, though it wasn’t much of a question. his expression softens at your words but he doesn’t stop you, especially not as your hands move from his face to his shoulders, pressing your fingertips into his trap muscles. he nodded eagerly before leaning his head back and groaning quietly as you kissed on the soft, sensitive skin on his neck. 

“mm.. you’re too good to me.” he managed to speak, looking up at you as you pulled away briefly. you grinned down at him, caressing his cheek gently. “you deserve it all.” you respond, slipping off his lap and kissing his neck once more, before traveling further south. his hands fell back behind him once again, keeping him propped up on the bed. a breathy moan escaped his lips as you littered kisses on his chest, then down each ab muscle. he watched you intently as you mapped out all your favorite parts of him.. stopping at your favorite favorite. his waist. you tugged the towel down ever so slightly, revealing more of his skin. so soft, so beautifully sculpted. he inhaled deeply, his muscles flexing as he watched you, showing off his vline. you looked from his bare skin up to meet his eyes as you leaned down and kissed his hip, gradually turning them into sloppy wet kisses. 

he sucked in a breath once he felt you tug the towel down all the way, revealing his semi-hard length. “baby, please..” he whined, looking down at you, his eyebrows tugging together. “please what?” you purred, your hands kneading his thighs now, slightly pushing them apart as you kneeled down fully. he bucked his hips up, unable to use his words from how flustered he was. you smiled, wrapping a hand around his length and kissing the skin on his pubic bone. “use your words, love.” you said, your breath fanning onto his skin as you stroked him slowly. 

“need you..” he trailed off, thrusting into your hand in an attempt to increase the friction. a soft hum of approval left your lips before you leaned forward, licking the bead of precum off his pink cockhead. an even louder whine left his lips and he fisted the bedding under him, his cock now rock hard from your teasing hands and mouth. “not good enough, channie..” you ask, maintaining the slow pace of your hand. 

“fuck–i don’t care.. please, just give me something..” he let out a pant, becoming impatient. you became impatient as well, needing to taste more of him. so, at his wishes, you leaned forward, spitting sloppily on his cock, lubricating him so you could stroke him faster. he let out a low groan of satisfaction, his eyes rolling back into his head. while pumping his shaft in your hand,  you leaned down and wrapped your lips around his angry, now red cockhead, earning more delicious moans from the man. 

he bit his lip, whimpering quietly as he thrusted up into your hand/mouth. you popped off his length only for a moment. “c’mon, baby, let me hear you,” you murmur against his length before bringing it back into your mouth, sucking on his tip and pressing your tongue to the underside. his thighs shake under your arms, and he lets out a loud, guttural growl through gritted teeth. the lewd noises from your expert mouth and the slickness under your hand is making him closer and closer every second. 

“you feel.. so good..” he was struggling to get the words out, but when he did, they were low, whiny, and rushed. your free hand wandered from his thigh to his stomach and waist, grazing your fingertips over his soft flesh. you could feel his muscles flexing as his body tensed from the pleasure you were giving him, and for some reason that turns you on so much more. “g-gonna.. cum..” he trailed off, thrusting into your hand and mouth, three times as desperately as before. 

his shaky hand rested on your head briefly before he gripped your hair, making you whine in pleasure now. he wanted to cum so bad, he was fucking your face at this point, your hand out of the picture as his throbbing, slobbery cock pistoned in and out of your wet mouth. 

after a game of tug-of-war, both of you teetering between dom/subspace, he finally snaps back into his usual role, triggered by watching you on your knees, whimpering, with your hands kneading his thighs as he fucked into your face. he let out a loud, guttural roar as he began to cum, holding your head still as his cock twitched in your mouth and coated your tongue with his release. 

after a moment, he released his grip on your hair, letting you pull yourself off him as you swallowed. however, you were still too caught up in wanting to worship this man, and too drunk on the taste of him to pull away right away. you lean forward again, licking any remnants of his release off his shaft and tip, digging your tongue into his slit. he let out a soft, shaky groan, watching you with half-lidded eyes as his chest still rose and fell rapidly from his orgasm. 

“mmm..” you hummed, finally popping off his cock wetly. he helped you up, placing the towel back over his lap. “thank you, baby..” he said softly, petting your hair, neatly combing it back into place since it was disheveled from his rough handling just moments ago. “you don't need to thank me…” you respond, running your hands over his shoulders soothingly. his expression softened and he leaned forward, placing a tender kiss to your lips before kneading your thighs again. 

“well.. now its my turn to return the favor.” he grinned against your lips, squeezing your ass and flipping you onto your back, making you giggle and squeal.

©chansdoll do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.