#man it's too much after my bedtime

[meattiramisu]

I just think Grimal would like it

I believed in myself and sketched something not just right after watching the new audiolog, but also in completely different style.

[vypridae]

dude ough im so jealous of trans kids that can actually come out of the closet to their families and even extended families, i think i'd rather actually fly into the sun than tell my dad i'm trans

[simpjaes]

ELABORATE ON OBSESSED!WORSHIP THE GROUND YOU WALK ON!HOUSEHUSBAND JAKE PLEASE!!!!!! MY MIND IS GONNA EXPLODE – byeol

i'll be the husband jake plug no worries. warnings: jake is suppppppppperrrrrrrr needy omg.

It's normal, natural to him to do these things.

You're so tired after a long day, he gets it. the days feel longer to him sometimes though, despite your tired feet and aching back. You're his wife, he needs you.

So what if he's unemployed? He's employed to you. Will do anything for you. everything for you. happily and willingly, with so much love in his eyes every single fucking time he hears that lock on the door click open.

Time to reiterate. He needs you.

It's been weeks. He gets it. Stress, big promotion you're going for or something. He can't say he cares too much lately due to the neglect he's been dealing with.

After all the cleaning, he massages you, bathes you, tucks you in, kisses you gently, and doesn't dare ask for more from you. After all, you're expected to do so much, from so many people. Not him. Not ever. Until now. He's a man. For three days now he's been trying to remind you. Trying all sorts of subtle tricks. Some blatant ones too. Generous groping that goes rejected. A few heavy makeouts dwindling to a pop kiss and a tired "goodnight." More subtle ones, where he simply tries to dress well for you, clean far better than usual, make your favorite foods. He knows it's not because you don't want him but...you're so stressed. He could kill two birds with one stone if you'd just... "Baby." He had said last night, sinking under the blankets and prying your legs apart. "Just rest, this is all i need." He continued, implying that he would be perfectly happy helping you relax with some bedtime head. You had closed your legs on him, pinching your brows together with the same stressed out face. All day today, his brows have been equally knitted together. Stressed. Fucking horny. Is it cringe for him to do this? Yes. Does he care? No. Fuck no. And so, you come home just like any other day to the smell of dinner. It's sweet smelling, which is an indication that your husband wants something. Never does he serve dessert for dinner, but tonight feels like a welcome change because everything else just started not only feeling, but tasting too mundane. You were more surprised when you werent greeted by Jake at the door. He didn't take your things, or slide your jacket off of you. Which, that's fine. You don't need him to wait on you hand and foot. He just tends to like doing that for you anyway... You search in curiosity for him, following the sound of clanking pots and pans. The sound would give you a headache if it weren't for the image of him as you enter the kitchen. There he is. Hair pinned back with one of your headbands, apron on... only an apron. Cock lending quite a large tent as he turns to you. You know he's trying to smile genuinely, but you see a hint of pain behind his eyes. Desperate pain. Almost like he's begging you for something. Anything. And he is begging. Only when he drops to his knees and looks up at you with those eyes do you recognize how terribly you've been neglecting him. So much so that you didn't even let him eat you out, which wouldn't have expected anything on your part aside from an orgasm. This moment feels almost emasculating for him, you can imagine. Like you've deprived him of everything he needs from you in order to maintain order in this household. Arguably, you have deprived him. You can tell by how big his cock looks peeking from the hem of the apron, and those sad glassy eyes looking at you as if this is a last resort. "Baby, ple-" Jake starts to plead on the floor, the dessert he was cooking long forgotten. You're speechless at the image, finally feeling a tingle between your legs for the first time in months. You feel so apologetic alongside the tingle, realizing how much suffering he must have gone through to be doing this. After all, there's no way in hell you could have satiated this need within you without him. How he's managed to do it all this time is beyond you. ''Jake," You interrupt him, dropping your hands to his cheeks and tilting his face further up to you. "What do you need?" You see those glassy eyes become more tearful, probably from happiness by now. No words and no apologies need to be said at this moment. He sees your realization, and understands the lack of seeing to his needs to an extent. But this... this can't happen again. Nothing is to be said after that when Jake immediately goes for your pants, missing the taste of you so badly. He was right in knowing that even just the smell of you could satiate him. And it does, his cock heavy and leaking just from the sensation of the apron rubbing against him paired with the scent of your pussy that has been long neglected.

And he devours you, getting off at least twice there on the kitchen floor with his palm desperately working himself to each high. You could tell he didn't want you to feel like you needed to do anything for him but...let him. God, fuck, you feel so guilty.

So you make up for it. Right here, sliding down on him raw, letting the mess he's made of himself make a mess of you too.

"Baby, wait-" Jake chokes, working against his words by helping you slide down on him entirely. "Fuck, you're-"

"Shh." You sigh deeply, realizing how much you needed this too. "Just keep going," He does. Fucking you so desperately that you believe he cums in you at least twice from you adjusting alone, messing your thighs with sticky fluids, the kitchen floor, and himself. So much of it, you're so full of it already. Plan B isn't such a difficult thing to buy anyway. Especially after he chooses to keep fucking you, as if he worries he'll never get to do it again.

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Of Lions and Mice

Leona Kingscholar x Reader

Reader is intended to be female

Masterlist

Leona was annoyed.

Once again, his golden goody-two-shoes older brother decided to shirk his responsibility of being a father and dump the overexcited, disgustingly bright-eyed crown prince on him for the day. And not only that, it had to be today of all days - a rare day where you were free from picking up Crowleys’ slack, where the loudmouthed, nattering extras that always followed you were otherwise preoccupied (and bribed to bugger off with a bag full of tuna), where he was certain he’ll spend the day in bed with you right next to him. 

But no. Just like with everything else in his miserable existence, his dreams were crushed and he had to spend the day playing caretaker to his nephew instead of wrapped up with you. What’s worse was that, you’d decided to carry the pint-sized load off of his back and gave your undivided attention to the cub when it should have been rightfully his. How he hated that selfless nature of yours, that sweet, caring, gentle nature that would make you look at anyone that wasn’t him with that loving gaze, that would make you brush your fingers through Cheka’s golden orange curls the same way you would Grim’s fur or the stray cats you’d find around campus or any other being instead of his mane. 

He hated just how loving you were, how your eyes could see the beauty in everything.

How, now that it’s late at night, and he’s closed his eyes and pretended to sleep in his attempt to actually get some shut eye and so that the little hairball would quit bothering him but Cheka just continues yapping.

Even in the darkness under his eyelids, he could feel you cast a worried look his way from the spot where his bed sags a little.

“Hey Cheka,” your sweet, dulcet voice (which is currently being used to please his nephew and not sooth him to sleep with the sweet nothings it usually does) pipes up, “how about I tell you a bedtime story from my world?”

“A bedtime story?!” Wow, even with his eyes closed he could see the stars coming out of his nephew's eyes, “yes please!”

Once the little cub has settled into bed, he asks you, “do you know any stories from your world with lions in them?

“Any ones with lions? Hmm, well, I suppose I could tell you about Narnia but I think you might be a bit too young for that and - wait,” you punctuated your words with a snap of your fingers, “I know a short one. There was this man called Aesop who wrote these short stories called fables.”

“What’s a fable?” Cheka asked, his words covered in that innocently curious lilt that all six year olds seemed to have during every occasion Leona wished they wouldn’t - and that was all of them.

You, however, seemed to have much more patience than him, “A story with a moral in them. Like, always be honest, or share, or work together, that sort of thing. I had a book of them when I was younger and I really enjoyed reading them.”

Figures. Of course, the shining beacon of sickeningly polite goodness grew up with such stories. He would’ve teased you for that but he had a child who he’s still trying to convince he was asleep.

“That sounds so cool, Aunty Y/N! Will you tell me more?”

“Of course, I will,” he can hear your smile, “but I’ll tell you them later, okay. Now, it’s time for you to rest.” 

“Okay, Aunty Y/N.”

“Alright so,” you clear your throat, “there was once a lion that lay asleep in his den. A shy little mouse came upon him and in her fright she ran away, only whilst doing so she accidentally ran over his head, waking him up.”

“Oh no,” Cheka gasped, “that lion is going to be so angry if he wakes up.”

Oh, so the little hairball does have a brain after all. 

“You’re right. Furious that he had been woken up, the big lion slammed a paw down on the tiny mouse and grabbed her by the tail. Holding her up, he growled at her,” here you made your voice noticeably deeper, trying to imitate a gruff growl, ““How dare you wake me up! I am the king of beasts and anyone who interrupts my slumber deserves to die! I shall kill you and eat you!””

It took everything within Leona to not burst into laughter at your adorable imitation of a ‘big scary lion’. It’s a voice you’ve used before whenever you tease him, playfully repeating the words his old self would have said to you, and it’s one that he’s rather fond of. 

He loves and respects you, Herbivore, and he’s the first to attest to your formidability and capability - even though you have the annoying tendency to not only blur the line between bravery and reckless stupidity but also play skipping rope with it - but intimidating you are not. 

“This scared the terrified mouse even more. Shaking with fear, she begged for him to let her go,” you make your voice higher at this part, squeaking in a way that oddly suited you, in Leona’s not so humble opinion, ““please, your majesty, I beg of you, please don’t eat me. It was only a mistake and if you let me go I’ll be sure to repay you. If you spare my life one day, I might even save yours.””

“The lion looked at the tiny creature and laughed, amused at how such a small mouse could ever be of use to an animal as powerful as him, “You? Save me? How absurd. You’ve made me laugh and put me in a good mood so I shall be generous and let you go.”

“Thank you, your majesty, thank you,” the mouse squeaked as she was put back on the ground, before scurrying away as fast as fast as her little legs could carry her.”

“Yay, so the mouse is free.” Cheka giggled.

“He is,” you said, “but there’s still more left. A few days later, the lion was prowling around when out of nowhere he was caught in a hunter’s net. Try as he might, he couldn’t get out of it. He tossed and turned, roaring angrily as he struggled to escape.”

“Wait, so now the lion’s in trouble. How’s he going to get out?” Cheka asked in worry. 

“You’ll see. Hearing his cries, the mouse followed the sound, recognising it from the lion he met earlier.

“I have to help him,” she squeaked as she scampered towards him.”

Upon seeing the lion in the net, she said, “hold still your majesty, I’ll get you out!”

And she quickly started to nibble on the ropes with her sharp little teeth, biting until all they broke apart. It wasn’t long until the lion was free.”

“So the mouse saved him. Was it because the lion helped him earlier?”

“It certainly was Cheka. “Thank you, little mouse,” the lion said, “I laughed at you and didn’t think you could ever help me but you saved my life.”

“It was my turn to help you.” The mouse replied, ”never forget that even a creature as small as a mouse can help a lion.”

And that’s the end,” you say.

“Thank you, Auntie Y/N, I really enjoyed that. Do you think the lion and mouse became friends after that?”

“You are very welcome, Cheka. I think they did. They did help each other, after all. Now I think it’s time to go to sleep.”

And once you were sure that the crown prince was asleep, you made your way next to your boyfriend, running your fingers through chestnut locks, “did you enjoy that little story, Leona.”

He opens his eyes to see your endeared smile. Rolling over so that he could wrap his arms around your waist he muses, “it seems awfully familiar don’t you think? A scared little herbivore wakes up a sleeping lion and ends up saving him later.”

“I’ll have you know, Your Highness, that I was never scared of you. Even when you were a rude old brute who threatened to knock out one of my teeth. And I’m certainly not little.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” 

He pulls, letting you flop down on his bed beside him so that he can spoon you.

“Sweet dreams, little mouse,” he kissed your forehead, “I hope you know that I don’t ever intend on letting you go. Not after you helped in ways you could never even imagine.”

And so the lion fell asleep, holding the prey who rescued him from the confinement of his past safely in his arms.

[mangostarjam]

terms of address — kaiju no. 8, fluff, "sweetheart" as a pet name, hoshina soshiro x female reader, 1.6k words — part two, part three

"What's wrong, my dear? You look kinda… stressed."

"Stressed? Stressed?" you repeat, turning your disbelieving gaze upon the Third Division's Vice Captain. Hoshina Soshiro is frowning slightly, a faint downward tick to his mouth that others probably wouldn't even notice, but you — you've been his operations manager for a few years now, and you've had plenty of time to learn his quirks.

"Yeesh, I was just askin'," Soshiro says, "what're you doin' up, anyway? Ain't it past your bedtime?"

"I could say the same to you," you point out. You watch as he slides his practice blades home, pretending not to notice the flex of his arms in his stupidly fitted training uniform. Sometimes you wonder if he got his clothes a size smaller with the way they seem molded to every ridge and curve of his muscles, and then you mentally smack yourself because you should not be paying attention to him like that. He's your Vice Captain and that's it. That has to be it.

"You just got discharged from the hospital. Rest is important!"

"I'm alright," Soshiro waves you off, but takes the towel you wordlessly hold out for him to wipe at the sweat dripping down his face. The training room is quiet except for the buzz of fluorescents above you and the heavy pounding of your heart in your chest. Your Vice Captain seems content to stand close as he wipes himself down, emanating heat as you try to shrink into your borrowed Defense Force jacket.

This was a mistake. You should've just walked past the door and ignored the light on underneath — but the distinct sound of blades slicing through air at high speeds made your ears perk up, and before you could tell yourself not to do something stupid — well, you're here now.

"I couldn't sleep."

Soshiro raises an eyebrow at your confession and hangs the towel around his neck. He's still standing way too close, but it's… comforting. Confusing. Another little piece of the mystery that is Hoshina Soshiro, who always has a grin on his face except for when he's taking down kaiju. Your Vice Captain, who's started standing closer to you than normal, and asking you about the books stacked in your dormitory, and brushing his hand along the back of your chair as you sit in it.

"Because of the stress?"

"Yeah," you frown, tilting your head up to look him in the eye. Sweat has dampened his purple hair into a darker shade, a deep pretty color that nearly seems black except for where the light glints off the strands. Man, you really must have it bad if you're starting to find his sweaty hair attractive. "So you should be good and quit stressing me out."

Soshiro grins abruptly, light and lopsided as he tilts his own head to look at you appraisingly. "You were stressin' about me?"

"Obviously," you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest and taking a subtle step back. He mirrors your step seemingly subconsciously, ducking his head to hide the pleased curl of his mouth before he arranges his features into something more familiar to you when he meets your eye again. "You're my Vice Captain, after all. And you know I hate when you land in the hospital. I hate… seeing you get hurt."

Too much — too close to a confession. But the night air is still and your little bubble feels warm and comfortable and secret.

"That's why I've gotta get stronger, my dear," Soshiro says pleasantly. You take another step backwards and your heel hits the wall a second before your back meets the cold metal. Soshiro leans forward, bracing a strong arm against the wall by your head. "Next time I'll wipe the damn floor with that kaiju."

"Of course you will," you flush in spite of yourself. He's standing really close, practically pinning you to the wall, and this is so not normal Vice-Captain-and-Operations-Manager behavior that your lightning fast brain feels like it's short circuiting.

He smells good. Like… cypress. Something woodsy and fresh. You take a deep breath.

The column of his throat works and you watch, mesmerized by the strong cut of his jaw and totally distracted.

"So didja want some help?"

"H-help? With what?" You risk a glance back up just in time to see his gaze drag down to your lips.

No. There's no way —

"I could tell ya bedtime stories."

The ends of his towel swing forward and rest against the zipper of your borrowed jacket and the swell of your chest. You can feel his breaths against your face, but he makes no move to get any closer. "I doubt you know any good ones."

Soshiro laughs. His forehead presses against your own for a moment as he chuckles, and when he pulls back a little the grin on his face makes you beam up at him, delight swooping through your stomach at making him laugh.

"I could tell you training stories, then," he suggests. "Like the time Okonogi thought —"

"Nothing with Okonogi," you interrupt, flushing again when he pauses to regard you. "I just — she —"

"What's the matter? I thought you two got along…?"

This is so embarrassing. You should've just kept your mouth shut, but now Soshiro is looking at you intently and you don't want to give him the wrong idea about your relationship with your superior but if you admit the truth… it's embarrassing.

"You…"

"Me?" Soshiro moves to pull away and you reach up to grip the end of his towel before he can get too far, dropping it immediately when he freezes in place. Fuck, you shouldn't have done that.

"Tell me," he says quietly. "What is it, my dear?"

Your heart clenches in your chest. "You call her that, too. Do you use that for all the female operations managers?"

His eyebrows draw together for a second in apparent confusion before his entire expression brightens and he laughs. "Just you two," he admits, reaching up with his free hand to grip the loose ends of your hair lightly. "Okonogi and I have worked together for a while. I respect her. And you. But… I can call you somethin' else, if you'd like. If I'm allowed."

Your face feels like it's on fire. You curl your fingers around the ends of your too-long sleeves. "You… you're the only one who's allowed. You know that."

Soshiro says your name. Watches your reaction with a focus usually reserved for fighting kaiju. Twirls the strands of your hair gently around his fingers. "Too soon? Let's get you to bed, then. It's gettin' late."

"B-bed? Hoshina-san, Vice Captain sir, that's not — we can't —"

"Aw, don't worry, ya dope. I'm just escortin' you. These halls ain't safe for a cutie like you this late at night," Soshiro says easily, finally moving away and taking all of his warmth with him. You squeak in surprise at his words and he tosses you a grin over his shoulder.

"Sir —"

"Play fair, sweetheart," Soshiro says. Cutie?? Sweetheart?? Those are new ones. You become suddenly aware of how your heart is beating rabbit-fast.

He grabs one of your hands and tugs you forward, his smile growing lopsided when you squeak again and stumble after him. "What're you gonna call me from now on, huh? Everyone calls me Vice Captain or sir. You'd better come up with somethin' special."

Your Vice Captain leads you out of the training room before your brain can catch up, his hand firm around yours. Rough callouses scratch at your skin, but you squeeze his hand the instant he starts to loosen his grip. Soshiro glances back at you with a smile that makes your heart do something concerning in your chest.

"Hoshina…kun," you test the honorific in your mouth, glancing up in time to catch the way his ears redden beneath his hair. "Can I call you Hoshina-kun?"

Soshiro clears his throat and keeps walking. "'Course, sweetheart. But maybe just when we're alone."

"Huh?"

"Can't have ya makin' me shy in front of the officers," Soshiro says, facing resolutely forward. "I'd lose all my authority."

Oh. Oh…?

"Okay… Hoshina-kun."

Soshiro makes a funny little coughing noise and stops abruptly, turning to rest his free hand on your head, forcing your gaze downward. "Alrighty, then, cutie, time to sleep! I'll see ya tomorrow mornin', hm?"

You nod, eyes closed, trying your best to memorize the weight of his palm. Soshiro drags his hand downward, cupping your face for a moment and sweeping his thumb along your cheekbone before dropping it entirely to tug at the collar of your jacket.

"Okie dokie, now get inside," Soshiro says lightly. You risk a glance up and valiantly try to suppress a shiver down your spine at the expression on his face. "It ain't fair to look so good wearin' my jacket, y'know."

"I — it was on the back of my chair and I was… cold…"

Soshiro grins. "I figured you were. That's why I left it for ya."

"Thanks, Vice Cap— Hoshina-kun," you murmur, reaching for the door to your dormitory. Warmth is settling deep in your chest. You really shouldn't be doing this — letting him hold your hand, shifting your relationship in another direction, following the beats of your heart as his smile softens and you take a tiny step closer to him. This is inappropriate and dangerous, but… it's Soshiro.

"You're going to sleep now too, right?" you ask. The hallway lights flicker and buzz as he leans forward, tugging you close by the collar of your (his) jacket until he can press his forehead against yours. Your eyelashes flutter shut as his breaths puff across your lips, but he simply takes a deep breath before pulling away. His hand is warm around yours.

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Not My Type

Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader x Steve Rogers

Word Count: 2,329 Masterlist Part 2

Summary: Bucky is dumb.

Warnings: Fatphobia.

A/N: something short, sweet and simple because I’m starting to feel guilty about not posting 😭

Steve watched, as his friend searched around the club with his eyes. He could assume Bucky was just waiting on the rest of their coworkers to get there, but he knew better. “She’ll get here soon enough, relax.”. Steve leans his back against the booth and takes a long drink of his beer. “Who?” Bucky asks, unconvincingly.

“Y/N.” He says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Bucky scrunches up his face “As if, man.” He ignores the look of disbelief Steve gives him. “Why deny it? I’ve caught you staring her down more times than I can count.”. Steve stands up and waves to signal Natasha to where they sat. “There’s nothing to deny, she’s not my type, leave it there so no one’s feelings get hurt, okay?” Bucky puts the bottle to his lips to shush himself when he sees you approach the booth.

“You guys look.” Steve’s speechless as he takes in the silk nighties the girls adorned. They all wore semi matching babydoll dresses. Color coded fishnets and heeled slippers adorned their long legs. Their hair was high and teased, makeup adding to the sultry bedtime look they were going for.

“You’re gonna catch flies.” Wanda remarks, leaving to find Vision having the time of his life with the DJ. Steve’s reaction to their costumes did nothing to calm your nerves. You went with the housewife costume too. Just a different approach entirely. Your hair sat in victory rolls atop your head, a thick stack of curls laying on your shoulders, a knee length dress with three quartered sleeves covered you. You’re painted your eyebrows on thinly, just to over line your lips, filling them in with your favorite red Mac lipstick. You were the most modest in your costume, but the most accurate.

You couldn’t wear a see through nightgown to the club. You would die of embarrassment, your rolls would be everywhere. At least in this thick cotton dress, no one could see the layers of shape wear you wore. You slid into the booth and sat beside Steve, getting sandwiched in when Sam finally arrives, late with no costume. “What took you so long, huh khakis?” You tease him, feeling nothing but comfort in his presence.

“You ever had to tell a 10 year old his idea isn’t good enough.” He laughs, “, You should go as yourself Unc!” He recalls the boys words over the phone. “Oh, of course, looks like a superhero to me!” You giggle, loving the thought of his nephews building up his self esteem. He was new to the team, no super strength or speed. Just courage, you admired Sam.

You finally take the chance to look around the booth. Steve wore his vintage Captain America suit, claiming it still fits like a glove. Bucky didn’t wear a costume, just his regular black t-shirt and leather jacket, no effort, even for Halloween. It helped Sam not look so out of place, so you just rolled your eyes at him. He tried way to hard to act like he didn’t care about anything, or anyone. You hate people like that, too self absorbed to carry on a conversation with someone who doesn’t benefit them.

You had been on the wrong side of his attitude before. Bumbling up to him after your first meeting. Stretching out your hand for a shake, he barely touched your hand as he shook your fingers, nodding at you with a curt “Welcome.” You didn’t think much of it till he sat beside Yelena, who got recruited the same day as you, and sparked up a lively conversation with her, telling her if she needs anything at the compound to come ask him. That was the first time Bucky hurt your feelings, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“Y/N!” Someone yells at you from the dance floor. It’s Yelena dancing alone, “You promised me a dance.” She says, holding her arms out for you. You nudge Sam on the shoulder and do the most embarrassing scoot out of the booth you could imagine. Your dress rode up in the time you’d been sitting there, causing your thighs to stick to the old leather. Your face grimaces and you peel your skin away, hoping no one noticed.

“I’m on the dance floor, as promised.” You say, holding her hands while she dances on you. “You’re gonna need to do more than stand there if you want him to notice you.” She remarks, not skipping a beat. Yelena knew you too well, she knew you picked the 40s for a reason, not going with their free spirit 60s slumber get up.

Giving her a wide eyed look, as if he heard over the thumping music. “We both know I have no rhythm, stop that.” You giggle when she presses her back against you and slides down into a squat. She goes behind you and grabs your hips, forcing you against her chest. She grinds you into her pelvis, using her hands to guide your hips in sync with hers. You never moved that way before, and the sensuality of it had your heart racing. Yelena could be anyone, tightly holding on to you, you closed your eyes and threw your head back on her shoulder, just to imagine it was him for a moment.

You feel Yelena’s lips tickle your ear and she’s whispering “Look who can’t take their eyes off of you.” You tilt your head down and open your eyes to lock them with Bucky’s. He looks angry, like you pissed in his cheerios. You turn your body around to face Yelena, “I think he’s upset I’m blocking his view from you.”. That causes her to laugh out loud, grabbing your shoulders to shake you. “You’re mad woman! Look at what’s right in front of you.”. You laugh and look behind you to see Bucky staring down his beer now, instead of you.

“Yelena, I don’t know how to put this, he probably doesn’t even go for girls like me, skinny blonde seems more his type. You, you seem more his type.” You plead with her. She just shakes her head, “He doesn’t like me, I promise, Y/N.” You nod your head, trusting the closest friend you had.

•••••••

You make your way to the bar, grabbing a drink to cool yourself off. You’re walking back to the booth to get off your feet when you overhear Steve and Bucky’s conversation.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“You look like a helpless puppy, just make your move.”

“As if I’d need to, she’s probably never had male attention, that’s too easy.”

“Just admit that you’re afraid of rejection.”

“From her? Never in a million years would fatty have a chance. Like I said she’s obviously not my type.”. Bucky instantly regretted the words as they came out of his mouth, he didn’t mean it. But Steve wouldn’t stop accusing him of having a crush on you.

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but you push them down. You knew better, Yelena didn’t, you shouldn’t have let her give you false hope. You choke down your pride and turn the corner, sliding into the booth as if nothing happened. “I think this is my last drink guys, I’m getting tired, and winter training starts tomorrow.”.

An echo of ‘boos’ and a “noooo why.” Almost tempt you to stay. But you know you’re not wanted here, by the one person that mattered. Steve catches your attention, “Are you sure? The nights still young.” He wiggles his brows. You give him a tight lipped smile, knowing he tried to get Bucky to make a move.

“Yeah, there’s really not much for me here. I came for Natasha.” He nods, giving Bucky a death glare. You finish your drink and when you stand up the previous shots you had with Wanda hit you. You quickly sit back down, grabbing the table for stability. “Are you alright?” Steve rests his hand on your lower back, scooting closer to you.

You shake your head, not being able to form words. You think you’d faint if you didn’t focus on breathing. “Let me help you home.” He can see the unsure expression on your face. “Wouldn’t be respecting the suit if I didn’t make sure you got home safe.”. With that he convinced you.

When the cold October air hits your face, it sobers you a little bit, taking away the dizzy feeling, leaving you with a thumping head. Steve takes a few minutes to join you outside, you left him in a heated whisper match with Bucky.

You’re leaned against the side of the building when he finds you. “Ready to go?” He offers you his arm but you shake your head. “No need to be such a gentleman, it’s just me.” You say, knowing he’s doing it just to be nice.

Steve cocks his head to the side. “Why shouldn’t I be a gentleman towards you?” He asks. You press your pounding head against the brick wall, closing your eyes to think of the right words. “The only reason a guy needs to be a gentleman is for good impressions. I highly doubt you feel a need to impress me.”.

He scoffs at you, “What gives you the impression that you’re not worth impressing?”. Even though you were tipsy, Bucky’s words seared your frontal lobe. You suddenly are at a loss for words. How do you tell him you were eavesdropping on their conversation.

“I just don’t get much male attention I guess.” You let him in, his eyes widen in realization that you heard Bucky’s harsh words. “I’m sorry about him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” He says, stepping closer to you. You roll your eyes at him.

“No, he knew exactly what he was talking about. Fatty is no one’s type. No one looks at me and thinks “woah, the most beautiful woman in the world just walked in the room”.” You push yourself off the wall. “I understand that you wouldn’t get that, since you’re so perfect Steve. Women lay down at your feet, your options are endless. But not for someone like me.”.

Steve’s face had turned into a stone. His jaw clenched tightly. He let you vent out your frustrations. “The way you looked at the girls, the way half the club looked at the girls, I’ll never have that.”. You look at your feet and notice him take a step closer to you. You look up to see your faces not too far apart.

“I was looking at you too.” He reaches out, letting his hands hover over your waist. He rests them on your hips when your don’t push him away. “I don’t care what he said, he’s just insecure, he can’t admit that he thinks you’re hot.” You scoff at him this time.

“Steve whatever you’re doing, I get the whole nice guy thing. But just stop.” You say, pressing your hand against his chest. The thin polyester did nothing to conceal his smooth muscles. You feel him squeeze your sides tighter, his thumbs pressing into your belly. “He doesn’t speak for me.”.

You look into his dark eyes. “What are you saying?”. You’d never even humored yourself by considering Steve. You now had to rethink every encounter you ever had with him. “Forget him, let me show you how a real man appreciates a woman.”

He slides his hands down, letting them grasp as much of your ass that could fit in them. You gasp, he wasn’t afraid of your body, he knows what it has to offer. Judging by the way he gripped on to your ass like his life depended on it, he liked it.

“What if someone sees?” You say, pushing his hands off of you. He replaces them “I’m not afraid, why are you?” He leans down, connecting your lips, you’re frozen for a moment. How do you kiss him back? Before you could find out you feel a hand on your shoulder, ripping you away from Steve.

“What are you doing?” Bucky is talking to his friend, ignoring your existence. “Excuse me, we were in the middle of something.” Steve steps between you and Bucky. “You shouldn’t be out here hooking up with a random coworker.” Bucky says, trying to convince himself.

“Y/N isn’t a random coworker, Jesus Bucky, what’s your problem?” Steve asks, letting his anger show. He knew what he was doing, if Bucky wouldn’t admit it on his own, jealousy would work just fine. Bucky balls up his fists at his side “You know what my problem is.”.

You’re staring at Steve’s back, you don’t know what Bucky’s talking about. Is he so repulsed by a plus size woman, he doesn’t even want his friend with one? You were done, you’d never done anything to Bucky besides exist. He had an imaginary problem with you.

You stepped around Steve, crossing your arms in front of your chest. You don’t know where the boost of confidence came from, probably Steve’s lips and hand placement. You look Bucky up and down, truly taking him in.

He was perfect, and he knew it. It was starting to disgust you. “Just because ‘fattys’ like me have no chance with you, doesn’t mean that I’m not worthy of another man being attracted to me.” You take a step back, pressing yourself against Steve. Just to show Bucky, you meant business.

Basing it off of the hard indentation on the front of Steve’s spandex, he liked watching you tell Bucky off. You turn your body around to face him, throwing a look over your shoulder at Bucky, “Take me home Stevie.” You sing song in his ear.

A smirk falls on his lips, “Let’s do that princess.” He says while leading you out of the alley. Bucky is stuck in place, having an internal war with himself, that you weren’t gonna stick around for.

[comatosebunny09]

tempest | sylus q.

summary: sylus sabotages all your attempts to move on. things come to a head after you grow tired of him giving you mixed signals. genres: angst, erotica warnings: melodramatic af, alcohol, jealousy, unprotected intercourse, size difference, written with female reader in mind, dirty talk, restraints, profanity, emotional hate sex, “slut” used like once notes: a consequence of staying up past my bedtime, this late night/early morning blurb was born. thank you so much for reading, lovely! hope you like it! ❤️❤️❤️ now playing: masc - doja cat

Nothing seems amiss tonight, Sylus thinks, leant against the rail of the second-floor balcony in his club.

He studies the crowd—the sea below of writhing, sweaty bodies. The floor thumps beneath his feet from the bass of the music. Red strobe lights briefly highlight his features, revealing a pristine glass of whiskey poised at his lips. Nothing in particular seems to capture his intrigue. There are no suspicious-looking people sinking into the crowd. No dancers to protect, no fights to break up. He’s about to retreat into the quiet safety of his office, but—

Oh, what’s this?    

Something finally does pique his curiosity tonight. That very something being you, and he finds his brow ticking upward at what’s got you so tickled. You come to him in a flash of sensual grins and carnal titters, tucked away in the corner of the first-floor VIP section. Sylus bristles at the sight, blood turning to icicles in his veins.

You’re not alone, much to Sylus’ chagrin. Shacked up with another performer, and Sylus doesn’t like how close he is to you on the red leather couch. Doesn’t like how he nuzzles into the hollow of your shoulder, whispering God knows whatever obscenities into your ear. And his hands are on a languid excursion over your waistline, down the swell of your thighs...

You don’t push him away. Instead, you encourage his advances with a hand clasped around his neck, an airy sigh parting your lips. Your laugh pierces through the dense fog and thumping melody, heard only by Sylus. And the sound of it curls its fingers around something hidden in his chest, squeezing.

Sylus sets his jaw into a rigid line. Narrows his eyes. The whiskey glass suddenly explodes in a flurry of jagged, glittering shards in his palm. He ignores the lazy drip-drop of his blood pooling on the marbled floor, unable to tear his eyes away from you so effortlessly entwined with another man. What’s more off-putting is that you’re doing it of your own volition, blatantly playing in Sylus’ face. In his club, no less.

His girl. Enthralled by someone else. 

The iron-wrought rail screeches and bends under Sylus’ crushing grip. He turns away from the scene with a tempered rage, stalking into his office. None the wiser to your eyes, boring holes into the space between his shoulder blades as he retreats. 

—

You have a thing for blondes.

Platinum blondes, to be specific, the unnatural sheen reminding you of a figure stuffed in the darkest reaches of your fantasies.

He talks too much, you muse, tugging at the give of your newest conquest’s belt. Still, he’ll have to do for tonight. 

He chuckles, hot and lustful against your shoulder, open-mouthed kisses emblazoned into your skin. He promises the best of things whilst his hands smooth over the silk of your nightgown. He bunches it between your thighs as he seeks out the searing heat of your womanhood. 

You roll your eyes. You’re all too familiar with this song and dance—a convenient face in your bed to chase away the loneliness, whispering hollow words. White noise in the muddled mess of your mind, your need for instant gratification blotting out all thought and reason. Tamping down your dignity, your pride. 

You giggle despite yourself to play up the theatrics. Act all docile so you can get what you want as he moors you to the bed beneath him, branding your throat with kisses. Despite the angle, his belt finally gives, and he sighs something relieved as he slots himself between your thighs.

At least he feels good, you reason, lying back once you’ve unfastened the buckles of his jeans, and you grant him whatever claim he wants on your body. Your eyes slide shut, your mind spilling into a fitful haze. You will yourself to relax. Will away thoughts of a man clad in black and his stupid hair and equally stupid, stunning eyes boring into you. 

But it seems fate has other plans for you tonight.

He comes to you in a flourish of inky feathers and sparkling, claret orbs of energy at the foot of your bed. 

Initially, you mistake him for a trick of the light, your bedroom’s muted, amber glow distorting your vision. Desire dulling your senses. There’s no mistaking the shift of pressure in the room, however. The air crackles with static, the hairs adorning the back of your neck standing stiff.

“What the fuck?” you mutter over your counterpart’s shoulder, sitting up as best you can with the hard press of his body weighing you down. You find your blood running cold, your breath corked in your lungs.

It’s him, alright.

“What’s wrong?” asks the man between your legs, all breathy and concerned through the fog of lust. He ingests you with mussed hair and lidded eyes. Kiss-swollen lips part, and he scrutinizes you before chasing your line of sight over his shoulder. 

What greets him turns his body to stone.

“Mi-Mister Sylus?” the man cowers, scrambling off you. He stands at your bedside, bowing profusely beneath your intruder’s glare. “I-I didn’t know this was your ho—”

“Leave. Now.” The control of Sylus’ voice leaves no room for argument. Promises the worst of things if he’s not heeded, the glint of his Evol on his fingertips driving his point home.

Your former one-night stand books it, scooping up his clothes to slip past your employer out of your abode with his life intact. You sit up on your elbows with a scowl, your body awash with the heat of embarrassment when Sylus’ disapproving gaze slides over you. 

“Un-be-fucking-lievable!” you grate, clambering out of bed. Under normal circumstances, it would be comical to watch you tumble to the floor, fighting with your sheets. But now, you crave nothing more than to distance yourself from the center of your heartbreak. 

“What is? Me catching you screwing around with the help, or your state of dress?”

You give him a sharp look, ignoring how the rake of his eyes over your form makes your body hum. Fixing your negligee, you stalk out of your bedroom, Sylus hot on your heels. 

The gleam of your decanter on your counter calls to you. You snatch it up without thinking, the dark, viscous fluid inside violently sloshing about. The cork popping is jarring in the stillness of your kitchen, contending with the violent thrum of your pulse. You greedily drink straight from the bottle, caramel streams of bourbon easing down the sides of your face, your neck.

When the acrid sting reaches your nose, you slam the decanter on the counter. Just in time for Sylus to blur into frame, and he props his hands on your kitchen island as he watches you with his mouth carved into a tight line.

You pace. Massage your temples and smooth back your hair with a shaky hand, finally giving in to your frustration. “What the fuck are you doing here, huh? What the fu—what do you even want with me?”

Sylus’ shoulders drop the slightest. He exhales slowly, the red wash of his irises glinting dangerously in the light above your stove.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you sneaking around with my staff?” He quirks a brow at your scoff, the tendons in his jaw jumping. He otherwise appears composed, clicking his tongue and shaking his head with disdain. “This is very unbecoming of you, sweetie.”

“Are you kidding me,” you say with a bitter laugh. Against your better judgment, you maneuver around the island until you’re standing before him. He swaddles you in his imposing aura, peering at you with an air of indifference, a silent rage brewing beneath the surface of his skin. 

You’re breathing hard over crossed arms. Refuse to back down despite every synapse in your brain alerting you to flee. “Didn’t you once say I can have whoever I want?”

He bristles at that, squinting at your brazenness. You’ve struck a nerve. Buried the knife to the handle and twisted.

“Since when do you give a fuck who I sleep with? I never gave you shit for chasing that—” In a fit of rage, you kick one of your stools over, the clatter of it against the hardwood not once deterring Sylus’ stare. “—fucking Hunter around like a lost puppy!”

He scoffs bitterly. “So that’s what this is about?” It’s infuriating how calm he is, contrasting the tempest raging behind your ribs. “Petty revenge?”

“Oh, fuck you,” you seethe, stepping around him. 

You barely take two steps before limber fingers wind around your forearm, searing you to the bone, halting your escape. You stiffen. Surprise briefly glazes your features before you give him a haughty, sidelong glare. His own holds a warning. An alarm you don’t heed, trying vainly to shake yourself out of his grip.

“Let me go!” you snarl, struggling to no avail. You’re grossly outmatched. Can do nothing when he effortlessly pulls you stumbling in front of him, irritation coloring his features. 

He passively waits for you to finish thrashing about. For you to stop shoving the heels of your palms against the rigid pane of his chest in an effort to free yourself. You pause to catch your breath, glaring daggers between the divot of his collarbones.

“Are you quite finished, sweetheart?”

The childish look in your eye begs to differ. 

The air shifts. His expression warps into one of conflict as if he’s waging an internal battle in his mind. He huffs out a breath, fixing you with a look that sets your body aflame.

“Do you love me?”

The question catches you off guard. Floors you, and you replay it in your mind, unsure if you truly heard it. You blink dumbly at him. “Do I—huh?”

“Are you in love with me,” he repeats as if it isn’t the most earth-shattering thing. “And don’t lie to me because I can very well see through your ruse.” 

Sylus leans closer, the warm scent of his skin overhauling your senses. His right eye glows a sinister red as he threatens to tap into the power of his Aether Core. Like a door being knocked upon, you feel him poking around the edges of your mind, those sickly tendrils of power begging for entry.

You avert your gaze to the side. Even without the use of his Evol, he reads you like the deckled pages of a book. 

Of course you care for him, your feelings rooted deep like a sturdy tree. You’ve been his ace for years—his trump card. Yet, he’s treated you with nothing but kindness. Built you up to believe you meant more to him than just a tool to lure out and kill off his competition. The errant touches. The unguarded words he whispered…

Dammit.

You were foolish to think you could ever erase the thought of him with cheap carbon copies and one-night stands.

“Let go of me,” you say again, though the fight’s left your voice. 

“Answer me.” The hard edge his tone once held is traded for something softer—more beseeching. “Please.”

You reply with a sardonic chuckle, the taste of the truth pungent on your tongue. “Even if I were in love with you, it wouldn’t change anything. I’m nothing more than a pawn to you, Sylus. A pretty face. Your moneymaker. I’m damaged goods. ‘m nothing like her, and I never will be. So, would you—”

You try weakly to free yourself, your chest swelling with emotion. God, why do you feel like crying? “—would you just piss off?”

It is his turn to look wounded. You stiffen when the callused fingertips of his opposing hand graze your cheek to sweep some hair away from your face. You don’t deserve this tenderness—his pity. His hand falls listlessly at his side, and his trembling lips part, voice abrasive with the strain of whispering. “Is that what you think of me? That I don’t care about you? That I’m using you?”

The tremor of his voice makes your stomach pinch with regret. Its painful, sharp talons sink into you. Despite it all, you refuse to face him fully, instead swept up in your own head.

He laughs bitterly, disbelieving your apathy. There is no warning. No preamble when he suddenly hefts you onto the counter by your waist, the air pinched from your lungs as the brisk countertop touches your thighs. You blink at him disbelievingly, rooted to your spot.

“What the fuck? Are you putting me in timeout?”

Sylus doesn’t dignify you with a response, instead shrugging out of his overcoat and ducking out of sight into your darkened entryway. You watch the path he forged with your mouth agape, ears straining for every bit of sound. Every flicker of static. 

He returns soon after placing his coat on the rack. And you’ve nothing but the gleam of red and rigid hips bullying their way between your legs as preparation before he snatches you into a kiss that siphons the breath from your lungs.

“Sylus, what the f—” you pant between the fusion of your mouths. You push against him, scrambling for reprieve. He doesn’t let up, instead using your shock to his advantage. He slips his tongue into your mouth, leaving no part of it unscathed, greedy as he swallows the noises you make for him. His grip on the nape of your neck is almost bruising. Desperate as his lips slant possessively over yours.

Your pounding fists devolve into weak thuds against his chest. You find yourself melting into the warm pull of his mouth. Find your ire petering, something hot pooling in the pit of your stomach. He breaks away with a sticky click, his hands finding the crooks of your knees to tug you impossibly closer. You share a breath out when your chests crash together. He doesn’t grant you the luxury of an inhale, his lips sealing to your neck, blistering the column of it with sweltering, open-mouthed kisses.

You instinctively wrap your arms about his shoulders, weighted fingers sifting through soft strands of white.

“It seems you need to be reminded of your place,” he huffs, highlighting his words with a sharp nip to your flesh whilst his hands smooth up and down your sides. Curl around your ass, squeezing and kneading, eager to lay claim to whatever parts of you he can reach.

You snort incredulously, doing nothing to deter his ministrations. Breathless as you are, you still taunt him. “And what is my place, Sylus? Curled up at your feet like an obedient little dog?”

That gets his attention. 

He draws back to fix you with a simmering look that makes your limbs sparkle with anticipation. “No.” You suck in a breath, gritting your teeth against a moan, when his wide palm slips between your bodies, digits pressing into the seam of your muff. “You’re mine. Have I made myself clear? Mine.”

Arousal dampens the seat of your panties. Your scent betrays you, radiating in the space between. He hovers his mouth over yours, breathing hot and ragged while he strokes you with meticulous arcs, dredging the prettiest little sounds from your throat. “Were you really about to give this to him,” he husks, smug in the face of your keening. “My body? My cunt?”

Try as you might, words elude you, the tremor of your body belying your earlier fight.

“Fine. If you wish to act like a brat, then I will gladly treat you like one.”

He snatches you to him, your legs impulsively encircling his waist. With one hand sealed to the small of your back, he spins you ‘round to walk you towards your living room. His effortless display of strength makes the apex of your thighs throb. You’re a mess of shaking tendons when he deposits you onto the shag rug, peeling back to snatch his sweater from his shoulders. To fret with the buckles of his belt, freeing his girth pushing against the stitch of his slacks.

Saliva puddles in your cheeks. You missed the sight of him. Hard planes of muscle rippling and contracting, his gaze predatory from above. You reach out to touch him, to familiarize yourself with the tan stretch of flesh covering his abs, to chase the neat trim of hair dipping beyond the waistband of his briefs.

But he stops you. Snares your wrists in one hand, and your throat burns with ash when the smoky stems of his Evol materialize in its place. He lifts a brow in warning. Behave, his expression reads. Once perfectly coiffed hair falls into his face, adding to his wolfish appearance. 

Soundlessly, he eases down the sprawl of your body, blazing your stomach with languid kisses. His eyes never disconnect from yours as he pushes your negligee over the ripple of your ribcage, dipping his face between your thighs. You arch with anticipation. Why is it so damn hard to breathe?

Deft fingers bow beneath the waistband of your panties, tugging them down none-too-gently. He drags them over your ankles, flinging them over his shoulder, and the warm musk of your sex causes his eyes to smolder and his lips to part. Drawing your thighs further apart with one hand, the other seeks refuge at your bosom, curving around a swollen breast, thumb grazing over your pebbled nipple.

Your lips part with a sigh of his name. You don’t know if you’re begging him to leave or stay. He reads between the lines, parting your sticky labia with the upside-down V-shape of his fingers before diving in for a taste of your pretty pussy. 

You scramble for purchase of his locks. Drive your fingers between the strands, tugging, burying his face deeper into your muff. He feasts like a man starved, his appreciative groans growing in volume and tingling your stomach whilst he relentlessly sucks on your clit, alternating between licking that sticky bud of pleasure and tonguing the pucker of your pussy.

You chase that cresting wave of pleasure, your hips surging off the floor. His hands mold around the globes of your ass to keep you fastened to him. To keep you nice and open, humping pitifully against the glide of his tongue. 

Your toes strain with the effort of keeping you up, your head thrashing, and you’re pulling so roughly on his tresses, his grunts of satisfaction intermingle with those of pain. You don’t care. Not thinking straight, your mind a nebulous cloud of pleasure. Pleasure you’ve missed, pleasure that only he can give you.

With another succession of licks, you come undone in his mouth, your orgasm spilling through you like warm liquid. You sigh all hot and wanton, your hips slowly meeting the ground with your exhale. You shake like a fawn when Sylus laps up the remnants of your orgasm, and you tug at his hair with your manacled hands when the stimulation borders pain.

“Done already, sweetheart?” he goads huskily, sitting back on his haunches, eyes shrouded by alabaster bangs whilst he swipes his thumb over his cheek to chase the last vestiges of your nectar away. Such a feral sight makes you clench, a reawakened surge of need rippling through you. 

“Too bad,” he croons, coaxing and tender, the texture of his voice betraying the sinful things he’s doing with his hands. He palms himself, lip pinched between his teeth. Reaches beneath the band of his briefs to pull his cock free, and it slaps intimidatingly against his navel. “I’m just getting started.”

The head burns an angry red. Shines with a pretty, pearlescent bead of pre-spend, and you swallow, watching his fist swallow up the bulk of it whilst he strokes himself. With a devious cant to his lips, he taps the milky mess of your cunt with his cock, and you gasp, your hips twitching whilst your sex throbs in protest.

There’s no preface when he takes hold of your hip, effortlessly flipping you onto your stomach. The carpeted rug bites into your naked torso, leaving pretty, raw indentations on your skin. You peer over your shoulder, a flash of crimson alerting you to what Sylus is up to behind you.

He rucks your hips up until you’re on your knees. Positions himself between your splayed thighs, fisting his cock. You’ve nothing but the crisp kiss of an errant breeze on your sticky cunt as a warning before you feel him pressing into you, the engorged head of his cock slowly feeding into the clench of your pussy. 

His groan is strained from the force of your union. You quiver around him, and despite your overstimulation, you suck him in so greedily. So filthy, your pussy squelching as he sinks further in until his hips notch up against your ass.

His grip is vexing on your hips. For a moment, the pair of you sit like this, the searing channel of your sex readjusting to his size. It’s been far too long since you’ve felt like this. Felt so full, your stomach pinching pleasantly. 

When you clench around him, finally reacquainted with his girth, he moves. Slow and steady at first, drawing out the agony, killing you with suspense. You grit your teeth as your arousal resurfaces, your cheek buried in the carpet. His pace quickens thereafter, and he alternates between sharp snaps of his hips and shallow thrusts that leave you keening and leaking.

He gathers your makeshift restraint in his hand, tugging on the band of his Evol as he fucks you, your arms awkwardly folded behind your back. 

“This is what you wanted, right?” he huffs amid the lewd symphony of skin slapping skin, your bodies adorned in a fine sheen of sweat and slick. “For me to fuck you like old times?” He slams into you with a particularly violent thrust, punching the air from your lungs, your body painfully scrubbing against the high-pile rug. “To fuck that little attitude out of you?”

You can only pant, a hot film of tears blurring your vision. Your mouth hinges open, saliva leaking from between your distended lips. Feels so good. Hurts so good, and you can hardly speak, trained only to the sensation of him moving inside you. 

“It seems you only understand me when I’m using you like some wanton slut. Is that right, sweetheart?”

Of course you can’t respond, your voice siphoned with each pump of his hips. He clasps your ankles, drawing your legs up until your heels dig into your buttocks. And he digs a little deeper with this angle, his thrusts growing erratic as he batters against the swell of your cervix.

Finally, finally, his hips stutter. Stiffen, a groan pushed through grit teeth. You milk him, hot, furtive spurts of cum bathing your sex a milky white. So much, it seeps down the inner curves of your thighs, pooling in the carpet. Slowly, he draws out of you, releasing your ankles and freeing your wrists of the harsh pull of his Evol. You lay flat on the floor, thoroughly spent and heaving breaths, something between a laugh and sob caught in your throat.

He leaves you sprawled out like this, and you’re remiss of his warmth. He doesn’t leave you for long, coming back to you with a towel he’s procured from your linen closet to clean the aftermath of your union. There’s reverence in his ministrations, contrasting the beast he was mere moments ago. As if he fears causing you further harm, gentle as he cleans around your swollen sex, whispering words of praise and reassurance.

The remainder of your time with him slides into a confusing blur. With him helping you stand, arms snaking around your waist to keep you steady. He kisses you like you’re something fragile. Like he’ll never see you again, though you doubt this will be the last of your encounters like this.

You help each other with your clothes. And there’s an unbearable silence between you when you watch him leave through the doorframe of your front door, bidding him a fitful goodnight. 

“See you tomorrow night, sweetheart,” he promises, a smile that doesn’t quite touch his eyes, cresting over his lips. You nod quietly, and you’re surprisingly lovesick mess as you close your door behind him, battling with a new onslaught of emotions swelling in your chest.

[sinsirellaxx]

Man I love your toxic Slytherin boys writings (I reread them as my bedtime stories every night since I found your account 🤭) but knowing my personality and temper, there's no way I would let their toxicity slide 😩🫸

Pls pls pls pretty pls will you write where we put them in their place and have them grovel and trail after us like a lost puppy? 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

Slytherin Boys – What they’ re like if you put them in their place

Warning: Toxic Slytherin boys 😌

A/N: Thank you so much! That is very sweet of you – hope you always have sweet dreams! 🤭 Honestly, same – I love a good temper! Hope you like what I have come up with! And sorry that some are a bit shorter than the rest! If you want a part two (for the groveling and trailing part) let me know! (I didn't include this here and I only noticed that it was part of the request now – so, sorry about that)

On another note: I've added Tom Riddle to the boys and will be doing so from now on! Comments are appreciated!

Mattheo …

… is shocked. He was used to always getting away with things, given the status he had attained through his family name – and his own actions. In his past relationships (or situationships) he had his girls practically kiss his feet and were ready to do everything for him and to him. But here you were, his first real relationship and apparently the boon and bane of his existence. You were getting ready for the party in your common room and had chosen a rather risky black skin-tight dress for that evening. Mattheo usually never cared about what his dates or girls wore – actually, he loved them to wear revealing clothes because he wanted to show off. But with you, he hated the idea of other people staring at you. He’d walked into your dorm room before the party – also something he had never done before – and immediately shook his head upon seeing your dress. “Absolutely not.”

You turned to look at him in confusion, closing the lip gloss you had just applied before putting it back into your make-up bag.

“You can’t wear that. The dress is way too short and – just no.” Mattheo glared as he looked you up and down. “I don’t want anyone to stare at you with like that. You’re mine –“

You scoffed loudly, fully erupting into a laugh as you stared at him with raised brows.

The frown on Mattheo’s face deepened as you walked up to him, placing your hand on his cheek as you slowly shook your head. It’s sweet you think you can tell me what to wear – because you can’t. You spoke smirking at him. And I’m not yours.So please get that silly idea out of your head. You can’t tell me what to do. You tapped his cheek slightly before walking towards your door, leaving Mattheo no time to react. The door closed behind you leaving him to brood in silence as he breathed through his nose, his hands clenched at his sides.

Well fuck.

Theodore …

… is kind of pissed but also kind of turned on. He can’t decide which feeling is stronger. You two have been fighting over you refusing to always tell him where you’re going and with whom. If he had asked nicely, you probably would have told him. But Theodore had been rude and controlling about it.

“You can’t just go wherever you want without telling me first. I need to know where you are and with whom you are.” The tall male demanded as he had you pressed against the door to your dorm room. He had waited for your arrival at the top of the stairs because he wanted to talk to you. You had ignored all his calls and messages, and he was livid with you – how dare you not answer him?

Upon seeing him you had rushed past him, with the hopes of closing the door to your room right in his face but he was quicker than you had expected.

You rolled your eyes for the umpteenth time, obviously annoyed by his antics.

Fuck off. Get off my fucking dick, Nott.

Theo smirked, he loved when you got bratty. “No, but you can jump on mine.” He whispered against your ear as he opened the door to your room and pushed you inside.

Lorenzo …

… is speechless. Lorenzo Berkshire is known to have many girl friends falling for his prince-like appearance. He enjoys the attention and loves to feed his ego. It was something that you had to get used to when you agreed to be with him, but you eventually found your peace with it. You were sitting on Enzo’s bed with your phone in your hands, typing away and smiling at the screen.

Lorenzo noticed your smile and raised his brow as he watched your fingers move quickly. If not for the typing, he would have thought you were watching cute animal videos, but he was sure you were chatting with someone. He couldn’t help but ask, “Who are you texting?”

You didn’t answer at first, your fingers still moving until you finished your last message. As you clicked ‘send’ you lifted your head to look at your boyfriend. You told Enzo you were talking with your seat-neighbor about something funny that had happened in divination that day.

“Oh, is it Granger?” He added, growing slightly nervous because you left out the most important detail. Who was it, that made you smile like that at your screen? Lorenzo was known for being – well he tried to be – patient with you. He loved you after all. He had managed to be in almost every single class you had – except for divination. Ever since the beginning of the term he’d been thinking about it: Who were you sitting with? Were there many boys? Would you talk to any of them?

You finally answered him: Harry Potter. Enzo felt this weird warmth spread through his whole body as his heart started beating incredibly fast, his hands unconsciously balling up into fists to prevent them from trembling.

“You are friends with Potter?” He spat, putting special emphasis on the Chosen One’s name. Oh, how he hated that boy. You just nodded; your phone vibrated in your lap. Lorenzo ripped the phone out of your hand before you even managed to unlock the screen. “I don’t want you to talk to him. Block him.”

You just rolled your eyes at him and demanded him to give you your phone back.

“No.” He shook his head and stood up from the bed, already typing in your code he had managed to figure out from staring at your screen whenever you unlocked it.

“I don’t want you to have any male friends – am I not enough for you?” His voice raised a notch as he held you at arm’s length with his left hand while trying to open the messenger app with his right one. He clicked on the chat with ‘Harry’ and read through the messages, scoffing as he saw just how much you have been chatting with him. His face contorting in anger as he reread the messages from last night.

“You’re planning on going to Hogsmeade with him?!”

“Fuck, no.” He exclaimed loudly, rolling his eyes when you had finally managed to get your phone back before he could send whatever message he had typed in.

“You won’t go.” Lorenzo added with finality, glaring at you in hopes of intimidating you into submission.

He expected you to cry and get insecure, but he did not expect you to scoff at him, hands on your hips as you told him he couldn’t tell you what to do. You quickly grabbed your things and left the room not bothering to close the door after you. He could do that himself.

Lorenzo was too stunned to speak.

Draco …

… (almost) has a panic attack. Remember that scene in the bathroom in the sixth movie, where Harry finds him? Yeah – that kind of panic attack. You had just told him to leave you alone until he got his head out of his ass because he had threatened to break up with you if you didn’t break off your friendship with the golden trio. Draco would not have expected you to walk out on him – he usually always got what he wanted, and this turn of events completely threw him off. He gripped the front of his shirt as he gasped for air, the other hand combing through his hair as he paced through his room.

Rushing into the bathroom he splashed his face with cold water as nothing else seemed to help. When he finally lifted his head to look at his reflection in the mirror he had to accept the truth: He apparently needed you more than you needed him.

He would have to win you back. Even if he had to beg.

Blaise …

… would think you were joking when you told him you didn’t need him to protect you.

You were fuming as you pushed Blaise’s hands off, telling him that what he had done was completely wrong and uncalled for.

“Why are you mad?  I just protected you, doll. I saw the way he looked at you.” Blaise tried to reason with you. He couldn’t just sit still when another boy tried getting closer to you. Over his dead body. But you didn’t seem to agree with him as you shook your head in disbelief. “I didn’t push him away for no reason, did I?” He sighed, growing impatient with you as told him that there had been no reason to hurt the other boy. “Babe, I did it for you, you know?” And that was the last straw for you as you yelled at him to leave you alone. You are suffocating me, Blaise. This is over – we are over!

Blaise knew then that he had overstepped your boundaries. Again. He should have run after you and begged for your forgiveness right away. But he also knew that you probably would need some time to cool down. You’d be back in his arms soon, he was sure of it.

Tom Riddle ...

... would let you have your moment. Tom had been bored nowadays and he was actually intrigued to know how far you'd go and what you'd do exactly.

Tom is known to be an intimidating and bossy persona – he is the born leader one could say. Seeing as he is the oldest son of the Dark Lord that came as no surprise to anyone. Everyone had high expectations of him so he projected all that pressure onto you: You had to be perfect. Not what you deemed as perfect but what he thought was perfection. At first you let him control you, blinded by love and the attraction you felt for him. But after months of dating, and his demands getting increasingly more suffocating you have had enough.

Your complaints and worries, however, were met by indifference. Tom did not care. "What do you expect me to say?" He spoke lowly as he looked up at you from where he was sat on his bed.

You just blinked at him dumbfoundedly not sure what outcome you had expected.

"You knew what you were getting into, when I asked you to be my girlfriend." Tom tilted his head as he leaned back on his arms. "Now, if you have anything else to add to this ... very productive conversation, please, go ahead. If not, get on your knees."

There it was again. The hurt and the humiliation. He only wanted one thing and nothing else. But this time, you wouldn't let yourself be manipulated. This time, you told him to go fuck himself before storming out of his room.

[jesuistrestriste]

ART 👏🏾 DONALDSON 👏🏾IS 👏🏾 A👏🏾 THIGHS 👏🏾 MAN👏🏾

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk

art likes anything that has to do with your thighs. he truly lives and breathes for any opportunity to play with them, and he'd be lying if he said that it wasn’t like a moth to a flame.

when you're sitting down on the couch, he has his head in your lap resting over your thighs.

when you're laying down with him in bed, he kneads and squeezes and palms your fleshy limbs under the covers. it helps him sleep sometimes. it also makes him ever so slightly (very much) aroused, but he usually tries to ignore that at bedtime when you're already exhausted.

when he's down on his knees for you, your panties off and your legs spread, he makes sure to give your thighs extra attention. 'tender loving care', he had called it one time. eating you out makes him cum quick, usually untouched, so he opts to kiss and suckle and nip at your thighs for a while beforehand so that he can delay this (and hopefully make you cum before he gets a chance to). he leaves tons of lovebites every time, but you like the way they look when you're naked in the mirror before a shower or when you're getting dressed, so it doesn’t really matter. he, of course, loves the look of them too. he likes looking at the small, muddled patches of purple and red on your delicate skin. it makes him feel proud. among other things..

one year, on his 29th birthday, he had sheepishly asked you something that you were surprised he hadn't asked years prior.

"Can I— only if you want to— but can I please fuck your thighs..?"

and wow, did that get your core bubbling with heat.

it was his birthday, so of course you had said yes. even if it wasn't his birthday, you knew you didn't need to be asked twice. you'd give him whatever he asked for — he was always so good to you, so he deserved it all.

first, he bent you over the bed, one hand pressing down on the small of your back, and then he pulled down your underwear. he slipped two fingers over your soaking folds and slid them back and forth to feel you; little moans slipping out of lips as his cock throbbed and bobbed in front of him. you actually felt his tip brush against your ass a few times as he struggled to resist the urge to just drop to the floor and lick you all over.

he knew he wouldn't last long just from feeling you up like that, so he then took his cock in his hand and gingerly slotted it between your thighs and right below your mound. you had hung your head down against the comforter as his had tipped back in pure, unadultered pleasure. his brows knitted together as an anguished whine spilled out from his chest.

he started out slowly, sliding his leaking cock in and out of where it was trapped between your limbs, but he had gotten close much faster than he usually had when he was actually inside you. every thrust had his cockhead bumping and rubbing your clit. he picked up the pace pretty quickly, rapidly pumping himself back and forth as you crossed your legs and squeezed your plush thighs together to give him more needed pressure. you knew what he liked, you knew what would make him feel best, and you knew that you had wanted to make that birthday gift feel special, so you started to talk a little here and there. you mumbled obscenities, some praise, and groaned out words that you were certain would make his brain fuzzy.

"you like my thighs, babe?"

“you like fucking my pretty legs?”

“doin’ so good, art.. god, i feel you leaking..”

he keened, nodding behind you as his cock pulsed.

"Mm— yeah, yes.. oh my god, yes.. yes yes yes-!”

it didn't take long for him to grip your hips as he bucked against you, spilling a hot sticky load between your squishy flesh as he used your body to stroke his tip.

after he came down, his forehead on the nape of your neck, he whispered something to you as his legs trembled.

"Can we do that again tomorrow night?"

and of course, you had said yes.

[slytherinshua]

NIGHTS WITH YOU

genre. fluff. warnings. food (ramen). pairing. soobin x fem!reader. wc. 700. request. requested by @blue-jisungs (my baby) for #25: "are those my clothes" and #34: "where's my goodnight kiss?" a/n. i've been writing just so much sleepy fluff either sleepy morning fluff or sleepy bedtime fluff im not complaining cause its always so soft but yeah :(

Soobin stepped out of the bathroom, still drying his hair with a towel. His eyes immediately scoured around the room for you, and when he didn’t find you anywhere, a frown etched on his face. Since he had been at practice all day, you forced him to take a shower before delivering any hugs or kisses, despite how much he begged for them. It was a reasonable request, of course. He was sweaty and stinky— of course you’d rather kiss a clean Soobin. But your boyfriend hadn’t seen you all day and simply needed to be as close to you as possible for the rest of the night. 

He located you quickly, following the smell of spicy noodles to the kitchen. His eyes softened as he saw your figure, wearing one of his black t-shirts.  He pouted, coming up behind you to hold you in a back hug. 

“Are those my clothes?” He asked softly, a giddy smile growing on his face as soon as you laughed.

“You left your drawer open. They were practically asking for me to take them. Plus, they’re more comfortable than my pyjamas.” You said simply, stirring the sauce packet into the pot of ramen noodles you were preparing. 

Although Soobin’s shirts were much too big for you to wear daily, they made for the perfect oversized sleeping garment. As they were designed to fit your 6 foot man both height wise and broad back wise, they practically swallowed your figure. But you loved it, especially the way the shirts smelled exactly like your boyfriend. Soobin didn’t mind. How could he when you looked so cute in his clothes?

“We already share everything anyway. Including that ramen—?“

“No! You’re not getting any!” You shoved your boyfriend off of your back, defensively shielding the ramen pot from his prying hands. He frowned, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to find a way through, but each reach he took got expertly blocked by your chopsticks.

“That is not one bite. That’s like, 6 at least!” You slouched back onto Soobin’s chest, keeping up your pretend grumpiness after you had finally agreed to give him just one bite. Truthfully, you had prepared the ramen more for him than you in the first place. You just wanted to see him eat well after practice. But it was always fun to tease him. Admitting that you carefully prepared them for your boyfriend would make you look unbelievably whipped. Which you were, but you weren’t about to admit it out in the open.

“Here, open up.” Soobin said, holding the chopsticks up for you, feeding you the bite of ramen carefully. Maybe he was just as equally whipped. You whipped your frown off your face and snuggled closer to your boyfriend, enveloped by his fresh scent and warm skin. 

“I can’t believe Beomgyu got to see you more this week than me. It’s not fair.” You sighed, thinking back to the past couple of days. Even when Soobin didn't have a schedule, he’d busied himself in the company building with Beomgyu, playing games or writing lyrics. 

You had nothing against the younger member, you were as close to him as you were any of Soobin’s friends. But nothing hit you quite as hard as the loneliness you felt when Soobin was away from you. It felt nice to be back in his arms, knowing that there was nothing left for that day that would prevent you from falling asleep and waking up next to him. 

“Where’s my goodnight kiss?” Soobin asked once you were back in his arms after doing the dishes. 

“Right here.” You smiled, cupping his cheeks to bring his face down to your lips. As always, Soobin’s lips tasted heavenly. And, just like always, Soobin was the clingier of you two. He chased your lips every time you pulled away, causing you both to giggle. Countless soft pecks were placed around your face until his head hit the pillow and he gathered you up in his arms, close enough to hear his relaxed breath and steady heart beat. The rhythm lulled you to sleep, head resting against his chest and your back blanketed by his arms.

↳ txt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @90steele,, @ddeonudepressions,, @minholing,,

@wolfmoonmusic,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @blossominghunnie,,

@amara-mars,, @wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,, @heavenfilm,,

@sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @sxmmerberries,, @talking-saxy,,

@nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @stannwjnss

[author-ssi]

Daddy ~KNJ

➜Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

➜Genre: Smut, (Slight) Fluff (in the beginning), One-Shot

Warnings: MAJOR Daddy kink (in case, it wasn't clear already from the title), reader is basically drooling over DILF Namjoon, age gap (Namjoon in his 30s, reader in her 20s), breast play&fingering&praise (Namjoon is an absolute service dom - don't even try to change my mind!), vaginal sex (reader rides Namjoon) [18+ MDNI]

➜Word Count: 3.7k

➜Summary: Namjoon had been searching for someone to care for his son for months and months, to no avail. Until the moment he saw you crouched on the ground, helping his son tie his shoelaces with a smile so pretty on your face. That's when he knew you'd be perfect for him... and, for his son too.

"Seungmin-ah, it's time to go to bed! Come on, sweetie".

If you were keeping count -which you were- that'd be your 5th attempt to usher the cheeky three-year-old over to his room.

"But Koya doesn't want to sleep yet... Look, he is full of energy!".

Seungmin swings the plushie around, almost hitting you in the face with it. You let out a huffed chuckle glancing at the clock on the wall.

It's almost 9 o'clock and he's the one who's full of energy...

You'd expect that after running around and playing with him all afternoon long, by the time his bedtime came, he'd be sleeping like a log.

"I'll tell you and Koya a fairytale so you both can go to sleep".

You pick him up and sit on his bed, laying him down and pulling the blanket over him.

Thankfully, he settles down, cuddling his Koya, close to him.

Taking the book of fairytales from the bed table, you flip over to the page of his favourite, Kongjwi and Patjwi.

... Or as you prefer to call it Korean Cinderella with a twist.

Seungmin claps his little hands excitedly, burying himself further inside his blanket, focusing his attention solely on your words.

Reaching out to offer him an affectionate pat on the head, you begin to recite the fairytale, smiling fondly at the thought of how much your life has changed ever since you got the job of babysitting this adorable little toddler.

~Four Months Ago~

Judging from how hard it had been for you to get an apartment in NYC, you were already prepared to face the same difficulty in finding yourself a job.

Little did you know, it'd be as easy as taking a walk in the park.

Literally!

Walking in the park, that one cloudy afternoon, was all it took for you to run into little Seungmin and his dad.

And oh, his dad...

Mr. Kim Namjoon.

A Korean-American.

CEO of a public education company.

Single father to Kim Seungmin, after his wife left him a year ago and ran off to Europe with another man.

Honestly, who in their right mind would even think about leaving this man for another?!

You still remember how in awe you were upon seeing him...

His tall frame towered over you and his son as he stood above you, clad in a black turtleneck that perfectly highlighted his muscled chest and wide shoulders.

His face bore youthful features and yet his eyes brought out a sense of wisdom and maturity.

The polite smile he wore, not only betrayed the dimple that appeared on his cheek but his refined manners too, as he offered you a hand to help you stand back up.

Looking up at his entrancing eyes, you accepted his hand and slowly rose to your feet.

"Daddy, look!".

The little toddler's voice finally enabled you to tear your gaze away from his father.

Seungmin pointed at his small feet, with a bright smile on his face.

His father furrowed his eyebrows puzzled, which rushed you to explain.

"His, uh, his shoelaces were untied and he was running around...

So I thought I'd tie them for him!

You know, so he wouldn't get hurt-"

"Thank you for doing that".

The man offered your hand a small squeeze in gratitude, before finally introducing himself.

You hadn't even noticed he was still holding your hand!

Hastily returning the handshake, you forced yourself to withdraw your hand introducing yourself as well.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Kim".

It felt proper to address him like that, since he seemed to be quite older than you...

Mr Kim slightly cleared his throat and offered you a small nod before turning to his son.

"Why don't you tell the pretty lady who helped you, your name as well, hm?".

You sucked in a breath and bit your lip in a desperate attempt to hide how much that affected you; a man as handsome as him addressing you as pretty.

Thankfully, the cute toddler in front of you was the perfect way to get your mind off of it as he raised his hand towards you.

"Hi, I am Seungmin!".

You noticed he was offering his hand for you to shake, just like he had seen you do with his father.

"Hi, Seungmin!

It's nice to meet you, I'm Y/N".

You resisted the urge to swoon at the sight of his small hand enveloped in your own.

So cute!

"And what else do you need to say to Y/N?".

"Thank you".

You shook yourself insisting it was nothing and adjusted your back on your shoulder, mentally preparing yourself to bid farewell to the two of them.

"Let me buy you a drink, Y/N; as thanks for helping Seungmin".

Your eyes widened at Mr Kim's unexpected suggestion.

"Oh no, you don't need to do that-".

"I insist".

Well, how could you refuse when he looked at you like that?!

And so, you ended up playing with Seungmin at the playground, while Mr Kim went to get the both of you something to drink.

You were pushing Seungmin on the swings when Mr Kim returned with a hot latte in each hand, offering one for you to drink.

Next thing you knew, you were sitting on a bench with probably the most attractive man you'll ever get the chance to lay your eyes on, drinking your latte and watching over his son continuing to play at the playground.

"Thanks again for helping Seungmin out.

I was too busy talking on the phone...

I should have been keeping an eye on him but work is just-".

He groans in frustration, before letting out a long sigh and turning to you.

"Never mind that now, tell me about you".

You purse your lips in thought, rummaging through your brain in an attempt to find something about you that's interesting enough to share with someone like Mr Kim.

"I'm just a girl, trying to survive college while looking for a job".

You shrug before taking another sip of your latte.

Meanwhile, the moment those words left your mouth, Mr Kim turned to face you with a knowing smile.

"Well, that's a happy coincidence".

And that's when you were offered the job of babysitting Mr Kim's son. And even though, you truly loved looking after little Seungmin, you couldn't help being even more thrilled by the prospect of spending even just a little time around a man like Mr. Kim.

~Present Day~

"And so, the new Mayor married Kongjwi, the owner of the shoe.

Now, you'd think that they got to live happily ever after…

But that's not the end of this story!

Jealous of Kongjwi's happiness, her stepsister Patjwi drowns poor Kongjwi in the stream.

Patjwi then disguises herself as Kongjwi and starts living at the palace as the mayor’s wife.

However, one day Kongjwi appears in her husband's dream and tells him about her tragic fate.

The mayor is shocked to learn this and starts desperately searching for his wife's body.

After months and months of endlessly searching, he manages to discover Kongjwi's body in the stream.

He cries cradling his wife's body close to him before leaning over to offer her a kiss farewell.

Yet, with that kiss, Kongjwi is brought back to life.

Once they both return to the town, the Mayor puts Patjwi and her mother in a dark prison and that's when he and Kongjwi finally live...

Happily ever after!".

You huff merrily closing the book and putting it back to its place before turning to Seungmin.

Alas, the story didn't seem to bring the toddler the drowsiness you'd thought it would, so you decide to simply leave him to play around in his bed hoping that at some point he'll tire himself enough to sleep.

You take the baby monitor with you and walk out of the bedroom, trying hard not to laugh at the kid scolding his plushie for not going to sleep.

Heading over to the kitchen, you start making yourself a warm cup of tea.

After carefully, pouring yourself a cup, you settle on the living room's couch and check the baby monitor sighing in relief when you see that little Seungmin has finally fallen asleep.

As you take a sip of your tea, you open your phone to check your Instagram for any messages.

After replying to your bestie's "where are you?" with a simple "babysitting", you quickly engage in conversation with her since the both of you have nothing better to do right now.

Soon, her texting gives way to an incoming call, which you're more than happy to answer.

Time goes by without you taking notice until you realise that you've finished your tea.

Abandoning your snuggling on the couch, you walk back to the kitchen in order to wash the used kettle and mug, having put the phone on speaker and placed it on the table behind you so as not to get water spilt on it.

"So... Is the Daddy hot?".

You roll your eyes at her sudden, crude question with a slight scoff.

She was never the kind to hold back on those types of conversations and thirsty comments, yet this time you decide to humour her and just play along.

"Well...

Let's just say, I wouldn't mind calling him Daddy too".

You hum cheekily and your best friend gasps.

"That much huh?".

"Oh trust me... He's a Dilf ".

You bite your lip, slightly embarrassed by yourself calling him that.

Your best friend lets out a hum and you're certain she also has a teasing smirk on her face.

"Hmm, no wonder you were so thrilled over a babysitting job".

You shake your head chuckling, as you stretch your body to put the kettle back in its place on the top shelf, before starting to wash your mug next.

"No no, I really love looking after his son. Seungmin's the sweetest!

Having Mr Kim around is just..."

"A bonus".

She finishes your sentence for you, giggling.

"But really, why don't you shoot your shot?

You know, flirt with him, show off your boobies".

Her saucy tone makes you roll your eyes.

"I'm not showing off my boobs to my boss!".

"You were the one who wanted him to be your Daddy...

Anyway, what I'm saying is-".

Waiting a moment or two for her to continue, you place the clean mug in its place.

When she doesn't, you assume that the signal must have been cut off so you wipe your wet hands on a towel before turning around to grab your phone and call her back.

Oh.My.God!

Your eyes almost pop out of your skull and your body freezes on the spot at the sight of none other than Mr. Kim himself leaning against the table where your phone is placed, his hand hovering over its screen.

"M-Mr. Kim! I-I didn't realise you were back home!".

You stumble over your words, feeling your cheeks burn red from the embarrassment.

The only thing that's left for you to do now is hope that he probably hasn't been home long enough to hear the entire conversation, or else you're most definitely fired.

Mr Kim smirks, the amusement clear on his face.

"I thought you'd prefer calling me Daddy".

You gasp, wishing for the earth to open up and swallow you whole right now.

He heard everything right from the start...

Well, there goes your job!

"I-I... It's not what I meant-! I was just, uh, joking! I-!"

You know your attempts at justifying yourself are futile.

You know that there's nothing redeemable you can say for yourself.

But you don't want to lose this job!

Yes, you need the money too but spending all that time with Mr Kim and Seungmin...

You can't bear the thought of never getting to see them again!

"Y/N..."

Your staggered breath catches in your throat once you realise how close to you Mr Kim has gotten.

He has placed his hands on either side of the kitchen counter, trapping you between them.

"Mr Kim-".

You look up at him in question, only to get lost in his eyes.

His large palm comes to caress your cheek, his thumb slightly stroking the soft skin.

"Mr Kim".

A low groan rumbles in his throat as he presses his mouth against yours, more fiercely.

You utter again, before his lips suddenly connect with your own and your mind goes blank.

"Do you know how much I had to hold myself back whenever you called me that?".

You let out a small gasp when you feel his other hand start to fondle your breast.

A wanton cry slips past your lips when his fingers brush over your pebbled nipple.

"Do you know how many times I wished you showed these off to me, and me only?".

His words barely register, you mind still remaining blank from the unforeseen pleasure.

You latch your hands onto his wide shoulders as he lifts you off the ground, wrapping your legs around his waist and having you sit on the kitchen counter.

"Do you know how long I wanted to hear you call me Daddy?".

His hand pushes your hair back, revealing your neck for him to bury his face into, leaving a trail of wet kisses on your warm skin.

You slightly throw your head back, your mouth parting in pleasure, while your hands run through his dark hair.

Both of his hands slowly start kneading your breasts as he lifts his lips from your neck, drawing them close to your ear.

"Go on baby, say it...

Let me hear that pretty voice of yours call me Daddy".

Your brain short-circuits at his words.

You honestly can't fully process what's happening right now.

Yet the words leave your mouth with no hesitation.

"Daddy".

It's as if a switch flipped in Namjoon's mind.

"Oh yes, that's it, baby".

He growls, quickly discarding your blouse and bra off of your body before leaning down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth.

You mewl as he starts to suck on it and your legs press against his hips, urging him to touch you where you need him most.

"Daddy, please".

He lets your nipple out of his mouth with a 'pop' and he stands up straight, slightly towering over you.

His hand disappears inside your pants, touching you over your panties as he looks down at you, his eyes clouded with desire.

"Is that what you want Daddy to do, baby?

Rub your pussy for you".

You pant closing your eyes as you nod at him urgently.

"Words, baby... I need to hear you say it".

"Yes, Daddy please rub my pussy".

And that's exactly what he does...

And he does it so well...

"Eyes on me, baby".

His deep voice coaxes you to open your eyes and gaze upon him.

Namjoon marvels at the sight of you, panting and trembling in pleasure but it's not nearly enough to satisfy his need for you.

He needs to see you come undone now, just by his fingers.

Gingerly pushing your panties to the side, he licks his lips before he inserts two of his long fingers inside you.

"Oh, D-Daddy!".

You let out a gasp, feeling yourself already full with just two of his fingers.

The thought of what it would feel like to have his cock enter you next, sends shivers down your spine.

His other hand rests on your hip and when he begins to move his fingers slowly in and out of your wet slit, Namjoon holds your body still as you can't help but squirm from the building pleasure.

"Now baby, I want you to focus on my voice".

You don't get the chance to respond to his words.

A breathy moan rips past your lips, your nails desperately digging into his back when you feel him curling his fingers inside you.

Namjoon lets out a pleased hum before he leans over to huskily whisper in your ear.

"I'll start counting and once I reach seven, you're going to let go and cum for your Daddy, like the good little girl you are".

"One...".

His fingers start to pick up speed, while he continues to move them in and out of you.

"Two...".

His other hand starts roughly groping your breast again, making you whine softly.

"Three... Four...".

His fingers curl intensely inside you, sending jolts of pleasure throughout your whole body.

"Five... Six"

"Daddy, I'm going to-!"

"...Seven".

You let go.

A sweet, little cry resonates in the kitchen when you cum on his fingers, but Namjoon keeps moving them, steadily letting you ride out your orgasm.

Once your body relaxes, you let yourself lean towards him resting your head on his chest with a small hum.

Embarrassment threatens to creep up on you as the gravity of the situation comes down on you.

And yet, when your mind runs back to Namjoon's previous words and touches, you instantly admit to yourself that there's no going back for you now.

You want him.

Namjoon grabs your chin, forcing your eyes to look up at him.

He relishes your blissed-out expression and smirks when he detects the insatiable desire still reflected in your eyes.

"Tell me what you want, baby".

His deep voice tears up all your remaining inhibitions.

"You, I want you inside me Daddy".

You run your palm through his clothed chest before starting to unbutton his shirt.

Namjoon lets out a low chuckle, shrugging his suit jacket off of his shoulders.

"Such a good girl, using her words for me".

He swiftly lifts your body off of the kitchen counter and carries you over to the living room.

Your legs stay wrapped around his waist as you finally remove his shirt off of him.

Having his strong arms hold you like this, your sole focus remains on discarding his clothes.

Licking your lips at the sight of his well-built body, you let your hands wander all over it, mapping out his chest, his waist and his shoulders.

Namjoon sighs in satisfaction, before carefully placing you back on the ground, leaving you to stand in front of him topless.

He slowly takes a sit at the edge of the couch behind him and his hands reach out, pulling down your pants and undergarments for you.

Soft moans release from your lips, as he starts to ravish every part of your body with wet kisses and sensual touches.

"Daddy".

You whine, your knees slightly quivering from his heated affection.

"I know baby, Daddy will give you what you want...

Just wanted to take a moment and cherish that beautiful body of yours".

He mutters glancing up at you with lust-filled eyes.

He raises his hips slightly, taking off both of his pants and boxers with one swift movement before leaning back on the couch, resting his arms on the back of it.

One of his fingers points to his lap and your gaze zeroes in on his erected length.

"Go ahead baby, I'm all yours".

You gulp, hesitating for a mere moment before your neediness overcomes you, urging your body to move on top of him.

His hands immediately find their way to your hips, holding onto them firmly to help guide you, as you slowly sink yourself down to his cock.

"Don't rush, we've got all the time in the world".

Namjoon's hushed whisper is soothing and it momentarily distracts you from the slightly painful stretch of his cock.

But the moment you bottom out, a pleasurable heat spreads through your entire body.

Your hips slightly stagger as you itch to start moving them against him but Namjoon's hands keep them still.

His face draws close to yours, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, his hot breath mingling with your own.

When he pulls away, his forehead touches yours as he looks deep in your eyes.

"Now, give Daddy a good ride".

Your back arches when his hands roll your hips setting up a steady pace for you to follow.

Once he's made sure you're able to keep up on your own, his hands wrap around your waist hugging your body close to him.

The way he holds you is so erotic; it makes you melt in his arms, hugging him back and letting him relish your unrestrained moans while you ride him.

Namjoon lets you chase your orgasm, simply enjoying the feeling of having you so intimately close to him.

His fingers run down your spine eager to watch goosebumps appear all over your skin.

Yet what takes him by surprise is your walls fluttering around his cock as well.

Namjoon groans throwing his head back, pleasure painting over his expression.

The sight of him losing his composure because of you urges you to pick up the pace, bucking your hips faster against his.

"Oh baby, you make Daddy feel so good...

Come on, won't you cum again around Daddy's cock, like the good girl you are?".

"Ah y-yes Daddy, I-I'm gonna cum!".

His half-lidded eyes are focused on you and you only.

The intensity of his gaze is enough to send you over the edge.

You bite your lip, in an attempt to muffle the shriek that leaves your mouth before your orgasm finally washes over you.

The pleasure your second orgasm brings you is even more intense than your previous one...

So much so, that when the afterglow settles in, you can't help but let your body slump on top of Namjoon's.

Snuggling against his slightly heaving chest, you gather up the courage to look up at him bashfully.

"Um... Mr. Kim-".

Your call for him gets interrupted by his mouth claiming yours in yet another passionate kiss.

Kissing you roughly and deeply, he doesn't draw back until he leaves you breathless.

His fingers brush through your hair tenderly but the look in his eyes is strict and his tone is absolute when he whispers to you.

"I thought we'd already established that from now on, you're only addressing me as Daddy".

[artyandink]

that’s my man (and my woman)

Summary: Your kids are curious little buggers. Asking questions about everything and anything under the sun. So there comes the complications of when your kids ask you if you’ve fallen in love before. How will you explain everything? Time to put your imagination to use.

A/N - I’ve been putting out a lot of sexy fics recently. Why not some fluff?

Song Inspo: Style - Taylor Swift and Perfect - Ed Sheeran

It took so long just to get two human beings to eat breakfast.

“Charlie, Sam, breakfast!” You called up the stairs, sighing after you did. Your hands were on your hips in true mom fashion, and disbelief and faux-regret was your adrenaline high this time as you wondered why exactly you had kids. That you loved to death despite their poor eating schedule. “Come on, I made pancakes.”

The thundering of little feet on the stairs told you that you had two incoming hurricanes.

Your seven year old boy, Sam, and your five year old girl, Charlie, appeared at the bottom of the stairs with broad smiles, crashing into you for a bear hug that knocked the wind out of your sails. You laughed as you hugged them back, giving a few pats of their head each. “Hey, there. Ready for breakfast?”

“Is there syrup?” Charlie asked eagerly, running and hopping into a high chair, grabbing her plate of pancakes and bringing it to her with a familiar lick of her lips and happy, twitchy grin. Sam had gotten his father’s hair, while Charlie had gotten yours. But the eyes were swapped around, and it was always a point of laughing. Not one child could be more like one or the other.

Arguably, both kids had their father’s dimples and smile. So yes, he could stake his claim.

“And whipped cream?” Sam added with a toothy grin.

“Raspberries?”

“Blueberries?”

You shook your head with a chuckle; such chatterboxes. You opened the fridge and a cabinet, getting out the maple syrup, whipped cream and strawberries. “Not too much, ok?” You passed the toppings to them, and with a chorused ‘yes, mom’, they proceeded to completely disregard your orders. It made you shake your head again, huffing out a breath when all sense of scolding them disappeared once you saw the golden morning light hitting their little heads as they squealed and laughed.

Kids. You loved them to bits.

“Mom,” Charlie asked through a bite of pancake and whipped cream that smeared over her mouth, “have you ever loved someone before?”

The question startled you slightly, but you grabbed a kitchen towel, cleaning her lips with a soft smile as she shied away with a shriek of delight, little bunches waving about wildly. “Course I have, sweetie. But only once.”

“Ooh, tell me, tell me!” She giggled, while Sam cringed a little, muttering a small ‘gross’ that got a sharp glare and pout from Charlie. Out of care for his little sister, he shut himself up.

You took a slow breath in to give yourself time to think, leaning on the counter and putting down the paper towel. “Well, it started a long time ago. When I was twenty six, all young.”

“That’s old.” Sam wrinkled his nose in confusion. You scoffed lightly, because it damn wasn’t, but he was just a kid.

“Behave, Samuel.” You ruffled his hair with a laugh. “We met at my old job. 4th October, 2006. He had his brother with him. Now, I thought he was trouble. He had a leather jacket and one of those really fancy, loud cars and he was very popular with girls.” You reached out to tickle Charlie’s side, which had her squeaking. “But he was likeable, and charming, so I wanted to bump into him more often.”

“Was he cool?” Sam perked up, suddenly very interested. “He sounds cool.”

You pinched his chin affectionately. “The coolest. But our job was very tiring. We went through a lot of big stuff, like I told you in your bedtime stories. There would be vampires and werewolves and fairies of all kinds, but he and I would always save the day. And if we didn’t, we’d save the next day.”

“You saved the world!” Charlie exclaimed, making an aeroplane with a pancake bite on her fork. The action sent a flutter of warmth and love through your chest. For your family. Something you thought you’d never have.

You nodded, guiding the bite to her mouth gently before your hyperactive child sent the fork flying. “That’s right, gumdrop. We saved the world.” It was like telling a story, of you and your prince. “I couldn’t help but love him. He’d call me sweetheart and hold me tight. He’d look at me with a wide smile on his face, just for me. And he told me I was the one he was looking for.”

“That’s corny.” Sam piped up, but he also had a wide, goofy, dimpled grin on his face. He leaned forward. “So, where is he now? Did you two leave each other?”

“Well, he-” The sound of the door opening and closing echoed through the house, followed by soft padding steps and heavier ones not so far behind.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!” A familiar voice called, the deep one which always had your stomach doing flips. That you heard murmuring sweet nothings in your ear every damn day. “C’mon Miracle, stay still- attaboy. Such a good boy.”

“That would be your father.” You sighed, not in a disappointed way, but a lovesick teenager way because hearing the word ‘sweetheart’ from your husband’s mouth never got old.

Your husband. Damn, you didn’t think you’d make it to that point. Not when Chuck was still a threat. Or even that rebar that Jack saved him from.

Your kids shrieked happily and practically flew off their high chairs, sprinting towards their dad, who was busy taking off his jacket in the hallway.

Dean Winchester. All 6’ 1” of flannel and denim, but this time with burden-free smiles and lit up looks.

When he saw his two munchkins, the jacket was off in a flash and he’d bent to one knee in order to absorb the impact of two koala hugs. “Aw, hey, squirt number one and two. Hope you didn’t give your mom much trouble.”

It felt so much better than the impact of a punch. Indescribably better.

“Dad!” The two giggled at the same time, accepting two kisses on the forehead each while being smothered by their dad’s strong arms. Warm and comforting and no longer instruments of destruction.

They’d always be somewhat like that, Dean thought in the back of his mind. The seed of doubt sowing in again.

Then Dean saw you in the hallway, and his brain forgot to work, doubts forgot to sow and crept into the dark corner it came from. You, his wife (he never got tired of the way that word rolled off his tongue), Mrs Winchester, standing there all pretty looking at him with those eyes of yours that always saw through his crap and often jackassery.

Dressed up in his undershirt, your sweats with the last few winks of sleep yet to go from your eyes, but still working yourself to the bone to make sure your kids had a good meal. A far cry of the days where he’d look up, see you covered in blood that wasn’t yours, adrenaline-pumped with that sexy fire in your eyes, machete in hand instead of that ring he bought around your finger.

He preferred this look on you. It meant you were safe.

Dean watched as you gave Miracle an idle scratch before ushering the kids into the kitchen, then walking up to him and wrapping those gorgeous arms around his neck, gorgeous eyes twinkling and your gorgeous lips stretched into a smile.

The whole nine yards, apple pie and picket fence of gorgeous and it was all his. All his personal heaven.

“Mrs Winchester.” He murmured, nudging your nose with his as his arms circled your waist, drawing you in and gripping your hips with both underlying possessiveness and a tender glow in those emerald eyes. Your soul soaring and low, warm vibrations in your body increasing until it was at the frequency of his. Syncing you both.

“Mr Winchester.” You giggled softly as you let your lips meet his once, pulling back. Then you couldn’t help yourself, letting them meet in holy matrimony again. And again. And again, over and over until you were both mentally and physically restraining yourselves due to your children being in the next room.

“We have to stop.” Dean chuckled, his hand tangling in your hair as the other inched down from its place on your hip, taking yet another hit of your honeyed lips.

“We do.” You whispered back, meeting his ministrations with the slow massage of your thumb against his scalp from where your fingers ran through his hair, your other hand on his chest.

Over his heart.

“Hard to when y’looking so pretty, darlin’, and you know it.” He huffed, nuzzling your nose before dipping to press a slow, hot kiss to your jugular. “Wearin’ my shirt too, hardens the bargain. And these sweats, god, you know what they do for your ass.” As if to punctuate his point (and sentence), he gave a quick, firm slap to it. “Ain’t makin’ it easy for me here, baby.”

“Dean!” You squeaked, giggling. “Our kids are in the kitchen.”

“Lil’ buggers. My sex drive’s arch nemesis.” He groaned against your neck, but listened anyway, taking his hand off your ass and cupping your cheeks, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead, then hairline. “C’mon.” You two made your way to the kitchen, where Miracle then padded over, rearing on his hind legs to paw at Dean’s jeans for attention. He obliged, bending down to ruffle Miracle’s golden coat.

“Hey, boy.” He whispered, fingers doing good work to give Miracle the love he was whining for. “I love you a lot, ok? But I’ve got a wife, a very sweet, very sexy…” Dean gave you a once over with a lick of his lip and a quick bite of the bottom one, “wife. And I wanna get her in bed today, so don’t ruin this one for me. All respect given. Alright?”

A small whimper of affirmation.

“Attaboy.” Dean gave Miracle a quick scratch behind the ear before straightening up.

“C’mon, mom, tell us what happened to the cool guy!” Sam insisted, which had Dean raising an eyebrow at you in question. Cool guy? Who, what, when, where, how, why?

“Yeah, the one that stole your heart and put rainbows in your eyes!” Charlie added, making a heart with her tiny hands.

Dean smirked, leaning against the counter by his hip. “Oh? Who stole your heart and put rainbows in your eyes, honey? Do tell.”

“First of all, I did not say that.” You chuckled, raising a finger.

“You don’t have to. It’s all here.” Charlie pointed to her own eyes with an intense stare at her finger and a cute pout. It almost had you melting. “But tell us!”

“Oh, fine.” You rolled your eyes playfully with a laugh, then took Dean’s hand and kissed the battle-scarred knuckle.

The gesture making Dean internally melt and externally making his eyes fill up with hearts and his lips twitch into a warm smile.

“I married him.” You said softly, your eyes mirroring the same look.

“Damn right.” He chuckled, leaning forward and meeting your lips in a sweet, slow kiss. Free from the stress of an Apocalypse or a battle. That tasted like coffee and toothpaste rather than beer or whiskey and had no rush. His hand cradling your cheek while yours gently cupped the back of his head. Breathing in his body wash that wasn’t low grade anymore. You still had the unlimited credit cards, so you had more time for things like these. The little things.

You became absorbed in everything Dean, the kiss not as passionate as when he’d dipped you and took your breath away in front of a crowd of hunters on your wedding day but still had the same meaning. The whispers of the vows you two had choked out through tears. He became absorbed in you, in the sweet taste of a croissant on your tongue and your floral scent dizzying and overwhelming his senses in a good way. It was you he was feeling. It felt like you, so real, so safe. It felt like home.

“Ewwww!” You were interrupted by Sam and Charlie, and you broke apart, foreheads pressing together with a soft laugh coming from the both of you.

His hand on your waist, yours carding through his hair. Comfort, assurance, something you both had been deprived of for fifteen straight years. You wouldn’t let being Mrs Winchester go. Not now, not ever.

Mrs Winchester. Never got old.

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[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ NAPPING WITH THEM.

fandom. honkai star rail

pairings. blade, dan heng, gepard, jing yuan, welt x gn!reader

content warnings. sfw, sleeping/napping with them, sharing one bed, written in lowercase, not edited/proofread

word count. 0.8k

notes. i literally word-vomited this after my first final exam, please don't expect too much ;-;

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ blade. 

blade isn’t a napper, too busy with his work and often too energized to even sleep properly at night. but when he does, it’s only because you ask him to join you. and even then, when you fall asleep in minutes, he lays wide awake while you sleep peacefully in his arms. he doesn’t even bother with trying to sleep, simply closing his eyes, and enjoying the peace he has when he’s with you.

it has only happened a few times, where he fell asleep, and you had to wake him. he doesn’t like the feeling, not quite asleep but also not quite awake. it dulls his senses, something he hates, yet he doesn’t complain. blade could never complain or refuse to join you during your naps, not when you snuggle up to him with a small smile, happy to be close to him.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ dan heng. 

dan heng is a chronic napper. With his irregular sleep schedule, he has to catch up on sleep, or else he can’t properly function. so, it’s no surprise that he can fall asleep the moment his head hits the pillow, curling together while the astral express continues to drift across the stars. sometimes he drags you with him, seeing those dreary, dark circles under your eyes and decides that both of you need some rest.

even when he’s with you, he curls together, this time around you, as if he’s a dragon hoarding his treasure. it keeps you warm and assures him you’re safe, bodies hidden behind that flimsy blanket of his. not that it’s needed, when his room is properly heated and he himself always runs warmer than most... and then you sleep, duration varying, depending on the amount of sleep you try to catch up on or if one of you is needed. but it already happened that the two of you slept a whole afternoon away and when you woke up, you just stayed in bed, simply because bedtime was in a few hours anyways.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ gepard.

despite being busy with being a captain of the silvermane guards, gepard often takes naps. not those long afternoon naps, where he sleeps for hours, oh no— the longest time he ever napped were 45 minutes on the dot, always waking up the moment his alarm rings. you on the other hand enjoy longer naps and always grumble when he leaves the warm bed.

but it’s enough for you, when you fall asleep with him, sharing warmth beneath the thick blanket. his soft snores are a lullaby to you and help to calm your mind, drifting off to a well-deserved sleep. and when he tangles your hold from him to go back to work, he always kisses your cheek to soothe your complains. he would return into your waiting arms, he always does.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ jing yuan.

taking an afternoon nap with the general is rare. but when it happens, you don’t nap alone. the purrs of his giant white pet lion and chirps of his little songbirds lull you into sleep. snuggled close to jing yuan, your head is on his chest, while his arms are wrapped around you. napping with him is a cherished comfort, the tender closeness making you blush, but you don’t deny your enjoyment of it. you know he enjoys it too, always falling asleep with a soft smile on his lips.

and when you wake up, hair tousled and eyes bleary, you can’t believe that this man is yours. yours to love, to hold and cherish. he looks pretty like this, guards down and body pliant, undeniably pretty. moments like this are rare, even rarer than these naps together, so you hold them close to your heart, making them a treasured memory.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ welt. 

welt frequently naps. often for one or two hours, to catch up on the sleep he lacks. you never join him to fall asleep with him, since he never tells you that he wishes to nap. but you know he likes to wake up with you in his bed, snuggled close together and quietly snoring your exhaustion away. sometimes you miss his naps, often busy with your own work, but often you join him, slip beneath the covers and warm your cold limbs up.

and when he wakes, he never leaves the bed immediately. instead, he watches your relaxed face, listens to the soft breathes leaving you, letting himself drift and simply enjoy the moment. sometimes he falls asleep again, sometimes he does not. it doesn’t matter to him, not when he can enjoy waking up next to you.

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ARKHAM MAID 2023

[miss-conjayniality]

♡ SUB!ENHYUNGLINE AS SERVICE TOPS ♡

genre: smut (+ fluff)

pairing: sub!enhyungline x femdom!reader

word count: 2930

warnings: mommy kink (heeseung), cuddlefucking (heeseung), face sitting/face riding (heeseung & jay), daddy kink (jay), mistress x servant/slave (jake), reader wears bdsm attire (jake), bootlicking/foot fetishism (jake), mentions of rope play and chastity cages (sunghoon), slight objectification of all four of them if ya squint, overall themes of power dynamics (i made all four of them extreme simps for reader), reader is afab and uses fem gendered terms

A/N: god….this took fucking FOREVERRRR to finish. I had to rewrite jake’s section SEVERAL times cuz it was harder than expected to combine mistress kink with soft subby service tops. It’s ironic because you’d think that such a pairing is a walk in the park to write about. but the reason it was difficult is because mistress is normally depicted as such a ‘hardcore’ kink while service tops mainly operate in the realm of ‘softness’. funny enough…after overcoming the severe writer’s block i had for jake, i now feel very inspired to write an in-depth fic about jake’s portion.

heeseung.

heeseung is such a shy, sweet little thing. so sensitive. he’d do anything for mommy. whenever he isn’t being a mischievous brat, he’s the most soft-spoken sweetheart ever. he’s head over heels for you. he’s super affectionate and always wants to cuddle with you. there isn’t a single moment where he doesn’t want his arms wrapped around you (or your arms around him). heeseung loves the warmth of your embrace and believes it to be the most magical place on earth.

he’s a loving, caring boyfriend who admires all that you do for him. the dictionary definition of a gentleman. he too wants to give back to you tenfold. heeseung is the kind of man who will beg and plea to please you. he’s eager to make you happy and is drawn to the thought of you using him as your pleasure dispenser. he just wants you to feel good :( there’s no feeling in the world he loves more than seeing his stunning mommy flooded with all the orgasms she deserves. pleasing you is what pleases him.

heeseung is the epitome of a soft sub 🥺 he’s a very attentive and receptive lover. he’s yearning to get his hands on you whenever he can. he loves seeing your expressions whenever you’re getting pleasured by him. and if he ever detects any form of discomfort from you, he stops.

he’s the type to get very soft, mushy, and cuddly and would totally be into cuddlefucking. showering his mommy with so much love and appreciation. and even crying when cuddlefucking because he’s just so thankful to have a lover like you.

“thank you, mommy. thank you for taking care of me. for loving and respecting me. for showing me what real love is, and so much more. you deserve the entire universe.”

heeseung seems like he’d be highkey into face-sitting. it gives him the opportunity to inundate you with bliss while also fulfilling some of his softer masochist thoughts. he wants you to fuck his face until he can’t think coherent thoughts anymore. he’d moan so much under you that you feel the sensations of his whines up your pussy.

“mommy can you pleeeeease sit on my face?”

his desperate pleas continue, “I so desperately wanna get a taste of you while you suffocate me with your pretty pussy. please i need it so much. it’s killing me. it’s all I’ve been wanting all day”

it’s hard to resist the pull of your lover’s desires. heeseung is such a good boy to you. after all, who could possibly resist his dreamy doe eyes? you’ve teased him enough with the distance and finally start giving into the relieved tension. as the two of you are about to head to bedtime, heeseung has a different type of “bed” time in mind. one that involves less sleeping, and more pussy eating.

jay.

i will FOREVERRRRRRRR stand by the submissive dilf!jay agenda!!!!!! he’s the epitome of a simp husband who loves his wife deeply. he has his bratty moments occasionally. but 90% of the time, jay is suuuuuuch a good daddy for his little princess. jay lives to serve you. on every level. making sure you always feel safe, protected, and cared for. he loves preparing mouth-watering açaí bowls for you, giving you foot rubs while you sip the delicious mango smoothie he made for you, letting you use his credit card to buy those pretty n’ pink satin VS robes that have been on your wishlist for a while, carry all your luxury shopping bags while you strut like a bad bitch on the way to his car, have spa days with you, do each others’ makeup and play dress up, and of course….follow your every command.

princess gets what princess wants. all jay wants is for his princess to be happy 🥺 he can’t stand seeing you sad or mad. if you wanna be eaten out or have multiple orgasms, jay will happily let you use him as your fucktoy. you may have many toys that he has bought for you before. toys you can use while he’s away. but no “toy” could ever compare to jay himself. he himself is THEE sex toy. his hair. his chiseled face. his toned, honey-glazed, dusky body. his calming voice accompanied by his smooth moans. his delicious intoxicating cock. the way he so greedily eats you out and fingers you. the way he kisses your entire body and worships it like a goddess. your pleasure is his pleasure. that’s the mantra he goes by. you’re the star of the show.

you may seem like a perky n’ chirpy bimbo at first glance (which you are, of course 😚💅🏼). but beware. there’s so much more to you than that. you may be the living personification of pink glitter, but you’re also lethal & deadly. jay may be the physically stronger one of you two, but you’re the psychologically stronger one. therefore, you dominate him just off emotions alone. just a simple “please daddy? 🥺” with a puppy dog pout is enough to have him at your whim because a good daddy is one who submits to his princess. good daddies follows their princess’ orders and spoils her with all their might.

you really inspire him to open up (both his feelings AND his legs). the moment he opened up to you about being a submissive, he initially felt a wave of embarrassment. after all, who could possibly ever expect a cold, chic, manly gentleman like jay to even consider being a sub? you’d be surprised. once he heard you express approval of such a kink on him, it felt like a breath of fresh air. it’s not easy to become vulnerable about such a thing.

jay never believed in conforming to traditional norms of masculinity where the man is an obnoxious chest thumping caricature who thinks that being “dominant” is the only way to be masculine. he believes a truly masculine man is one who has the guts to be vulnerable and make bold, unorthodox decisions that go against the grain of what society expects from men. he’s well aware of his hot daddy dilf essence. but he isn’t your conventional daddy. no - he’s a submissive daddy. a daddy who serves the princess and gives her that ‘princess treatment’ she deserves.

as jay kisses and caresses your entire body, he showers you with praise and observes your expressions closely.

“princess, you have the most gorgeous body to ever exist and I want to take in every bit of it,” he vocalizes as he fingers you. “sometimes, it’s hard for me to believe that i’m in the presence of a lovely lady like you. daddy always wants to be good for you.”

his fingers penetrate deeper and his gaze darkens as he sees the sly smirk forming on your face.

“even when i’m at work, all i can ever think about is how my pretty princess is feeling. you deserve to be spoiled. don’t ever listen to anyone who shames you for being a spoiled brat or gold digging whore. they misunderstand the love we have for each other”

jay takes the fingers out of your pussy and replaces them with his mouth instead. the tent in his pants only grows stiffer and inundates his mind further. your heat possesses him to submission and he gets absolutely lost in your dripping slick.

“a good husband always submits to his wife. and i take great pride in submitting to such a bedazzling pretty princess like you.”

as he attacks your pussy with his sweet, loving kisses, he innocently looks up at you with the cutest pout ever and asks, “p-princess….am I p-….pleasing you right?” 🥺

jake.

jake is the sweetest, most wholesome boyfriend ever. he has the most heartwarming love for physics, dogs, his family, his friends, and of course……YOU - his mistress. he’s a nerdy little simp who caters to your every whim. all the other nerds envy him for having a drop dead gorgeous gf like you.

jake’s unwavering adoration for you shines through in every gesture and word. his chirpy demeanor is the most endearing quality about him and you think he’s the absolute cutest because of that. he possesses the kind of cuteness that makes you want to pinch his cheeks and shower him with kisses. you love him with all your heart and he loves you tenfold.

in vulnerable moments, jake finds solace in your embrace, relishing the safety and security that your presence provides. he trusts you implicitly, surrendering himself completely to your care and guidance. your approval means everything to him, and he achingly seeks to earn it through unwavering devotion and obedience.

can he be a brat? certainly. jake has his moments when he likes being tamed by his ruthless, sexy mistress. but the majority of the time, he’s mistress’ good little boy.

despite his “nerdy” tendencies, jake possesses a mischievous streak that emerges when he wants attention from his mistress. he might playfully tease you or engage in witty banter, reveling in the opportunity to provoke a reaction from you. yet, beneath his playful facade lies a deep-seated need to be controlled by you. he is a slave to your desires.

throughout your relationship, jake’s submissive nature became increasingly intertwined with his geeky identity. he has a borderline scientific obsession with your body and wants to know everything there is to know about it. he’s longing to discover what pleases you and how to best serve the needs of his mistress.

his love for you is like the gravitational pull of a black hole – inescapable and infinitely powerful. every moment with you feels like a scientific discovery, unraveling the mysteries of love and desire. your dominion is his north star. it guides him through the darkness and into a place of boundless subservience.

servitude is jake’s middle name. his respect for you extends beyond mere words and gestures. he delights in showering you with thoughtful gifts, whether it’s a handcrafted origami flower or a meticulously prepared home-cooked meal. each gesture is a testament to his boundless affection and desire to make you feel cherished.

one might assume that a wholesome nerd like him isn’t into anything freakish or wild. however, the opposite actually rings true. after all…he IS a scorpio man….

you see, jake has a HUGE weakness for you in black leather, latex, pvc, etc. because he knows that once you’re in your kinky attire, there’s no going back. i could totally envision jake being into something like bootlicking. picture this - you sitting on edge of the bed with your pretty OTK black leather boots on, and he licks those boots from the top of the knee all the way to the bottom.

or even better…..you going, “jakeyyy I need help putting on these boots 🥺👉🏼👈🏼”. and jake, being the servile prince he is, is more than willing to take the time tie every intricate knot of your boots. it’s a sensual sight for both of you. he’d also love to do the same thing with your other bdsm attire like fishnets, corsets, etc. because he adores “helping” you put them on.

jake is definitely a body worship guy. he wants his mistress to know how beautiful she is and how much he loves her. he wants you to know he’s always there to pamper you when you need it. all soft and kissy. 🥺 to him, just your mere presence is orgasmic. he feels that the moment you’re scantily clad, his brain is scrambled. even when you aren’t touching each other, you dominate him on a deep, emotional, symbolic level. he’s deeply fixated on you. it’s as if you casted a spell or induced deep hypnosis on him. something about you makes him want to obey you and carry out all your wishes. through it all, jake remains your loyal companion and devotee.

as jake finishes tying every lace to your sexy OTK leather boots, he adorably looks up at you, welcomed by your sultry, penetrating gaze.

“embracing my role as the slave to your desires ignites a spark within me that surpasses the excitement of any laboratory experiment,” he declares as he hugs and kisses your boots, “and i am more than eager to undergo every trial and test in your presence.”

jake begins the bootlicking from the bottom up, his sly smirk never leaving his face. the way he so confidently makes eye contact with you while licking away drives you fucking crazy. this man is so freaky and you love it. taking his sweet time with each foot.

as he makes his way up to your knees, he kisses and caresses them both with gentle, tender softness. “with every command you issue, you rewrite the laws of my existence, molding me into the perfect servant for you, my mistress.”

sunghoon.

don’t be fooled by his intimidating, stone cold front. because beneath it all, sunghoon has THEE softest, mushiest heart ever. he rarely falls in love. but whenever he does, he falls HARD. and you were the one who shook his world and lit up his universe. sunghoon is often afraid to display such a raw, vulnerable side of him to others. after all, love is tough and scary. and sunghoon’s personality is widely misunderstood by others. there’s more to the surface than you’d expect.

but something about you makes him want to unveil himself bit by bit - both figuratively and literally. you make sunghoon want to surrender himself to you. he will move the earth and sky for you and is merely putty in your hands. he’s protective of you like a knight & shining armor with his queen. he will treat his lover like a living deity. he views you as a goddess and is the type of man to get down on his knees for you, hug your legs, and bow down to you the same way ancient civilizations revered goddesses. that’s the level of power you possess over him.

in your presence, sunghoon’s tough exterior melts away like ice in the sun. you become the center of his universe, your light guiding his every step. he finds solace in your embrace, comfort in your presence, and strength in your love. with you, he discovers a vulnerability he never knew existed, yet he embraces it willingly, knowing that you hold his heart with the utmost care. your influence over him is undeniable, like a force of nature bending to your will. sunghoon becomes not just a lover, but a devoted servant to your happiness, ready to move mountains and cross oceans to ensure your well-being.

sunghoon is such a simp for you in a way that would leave heejayke shocked. so much to a level where it’d put soft boyfriend heeseung, submissive dilf jay, and geeky simp jake to shame. they’d never expect someone like him to get so lovesick. they’re so used to his icy facade that they’re unaware of the fire beneath. it takes a special type of person to awaken that out of him. no one could ever foresee such an esteemed man of logic and restraint behave so irrationally for you.

goddess - that’s what sunghoon addresses you as. because it’s true! your dual nature of being kind & nurturing, yet fierce and ruthless is reminiscent of how ancient goddesses could bless or hex you in an instant. it’s what he respects about you. you possess the depth and breadth of the divine feminine. whenever he looks at you, he sees you as someone who commands respect.

and i just KNOW he’s one of those subs who repeatedly says “thank you thank you thank you” over and over when inundated by pleasure from his beloved. 😢 sometimes he feels guilty for receiving it all because first and foremost, he gets off on getting you off.

sunghoon is intrigued by the idea of you with black heels, stockings, a short skirt, etc. while those big, buff, beautiful arms are tied behind his back and you pull him in to suck your pussy. he likes when he’s fully naked and you’re (somewhat??) clothed. it puts on a specific power dynamic that he very well gets off of. he’s willing to bare it all for you, both symbolically and literally. sunghoon is totally the type to cry happy tears of gratitude while he messes with your pussy. he loves it when you have your way and you do whatever you want to him.

he gets off on situations where he can’t touch himself but he can touch you. such as his arms tied back as mentioned earlier, OR a chastity cage so that he doesn’t jerk off while he gets you off. you honestly don’t mind if he jerks off while pleasuring you. you find it hot. but he insists on the resistance anyways because he believes that such a buildup leads to a more intense climax for both of you later on.

just imagine….him with a sweet, pouty face and his loving words towards you as he kisses your thighs and dives into your slick with his lips…..

“mmm…m-my beautiful love goddess,” he cries. “thank you. thank you so much. i am all yours. i exist just for your pleasure. i hope you realize how much I love you. you’re my everything.”

tears start dripping down his eyes because of the immense gratitude he feels for you. the act of eating you out gets him into a deep trance. once he starts, he just can’t stop.

“goddess….your existence is a blessing. i worship you because your presence illuminates my world. i surrender completely to you, devoted to fulfilling your every desire.”

[drabblesandimagines]

Bedtime Tales

Gale of Waterdeep x reader, established relationship

--

You, rather poorly, attempt to bite down on a yawn, and Gale can’t help but frown as he watches you scoop yet another spoon of coffee into your mug.

“Darling?” He asks, tentatively.

“Mm?” You reply over your shoulder from the counter – waiting for the water to boil.  

“I am aware you prefer your coffee on the strong side, but surely four spoons will suffice.”

“Four?” You look down – the mug is half full of grounds - apparently unaware of what you were doing. “Oh. I must’ve lost count.”

“I noticed.” He gets to his feet then to stand behind you and wraps a gentle arm around your waist, pulling you back against his chest before stooping a little so he can rest his chin upon your shoulder. “What’s going on in that sweet mind of yours, hm?”

“Nothing.” Another poorly concealed yawn.

“Did you not sleep well?”

You hesitate for a moment and consider a lie – it would be harmless, wouldn’t it? – but you lack the energy to put in the effort.

“I don’t think I did at all last night – just tossed and turned until dawn.” You’d felt tired, running errands all around Waterdeep the entire day but your mind hadn’t settled, jumping from thought to thought.

“Oh, love...” Gale presses a long kiss against your temple and relishes the feeling of you finally relaxing into his hold. He wished he could whisk you back off to bed, a day of cuddles, wrapped up in blankets but - as the clock chooses that moment to so cruelly chime - he has a cohort of students awaiting his teachings at Blackstaff Academy.

“You should go.” You turn and press a chaste kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

He takes a moment to brush a stray piece of hair from your face, concealing a frown at the dark rings under your eyes – perhaps this was not the first night of poor sleep you’d suffered – and smiles. “I love you more.”

--

You’d been quiet through dinner, despite Gale’s open-ended questions to try and get conversation flowing. He’d suggested the two of you retire earlier tonight than you usually did and you hadn’t protested. After a teasing kiss goodnight, you’d rolled onto your side, chasing sleep…

It’s the sound of a stifled sob that wakes Gale with a start.

“Darling?”

The sound stops with a hiccup, as you press your face deeper into the pillow, hoping he’ll drift back off to sleep.

No such luck though as Gale only murmurs a cantrip to light the lamps surrounding the bed with a soft glow.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You sniff, rubbing your eyes with the heel of your hand. “I can go sit on the balcony and-“

He grabs your wrist, worried you’ll vanish in front of him. “You will do no such thing – I’d never dream of it. Please, what’s the matter?”

“I don’t know.” You take a deep, exasperated breath. “I’m just… I’m so tired that I’m beyond it. My eyes sting from being open, they sting even when they’re closed, but I just can’t sleep. There’s too many thoughts in my head, it’s worse than the damn tadpole.”

“I could cast sleep-” He reaches for your hand.

“No.” You answer, abruptly, and he’s a little startled by the aggression in your tone. “Sorry. I know you would mean well by it, but from having it cast upon me in the past… it was never a pleasant nor restful experience.”

He frowns, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. There’s so much he needs to learn about you - still a little guarded about events that transpired before him and the nautiloid.

“My apologies, my love. I did not mean to bring up any bad memories.”

“No, I know.” You squeeze his fingers. “I’ll be all right.”

He mulls for a moment, before an idea comes to mind. “I might have a cure. No magic required either.”

You smile, still tired, but gather enough strength to tease. “But you love magic.”

“Whilst I am rather fond of it, there are proven alternatives to such quandaries as this.” He shrugs. “When I was a young boy, trying to read every book known to man, my head too grew busy with thoughts. Though perhaps I was just too excited to sleep, I think we should still give it a go.”

“What is it?” You roll over onto your side, clutching the pillow to your chest.

“My mother used to read to me and, if you’ll permit me, my darling, I would love to do the same for you.”

You squeeze the pillow, casting your eyes down. “Mm, I’ve never been much of a reader before bed.”

“Ah, I have noticed.” How could he not? There was only one side of the bed that had a stack of tomes piled high besides it. “But being read to is quite different, I assure you. Would you care to try?”

You consider the idea for a moment. “All right. There’s nothing to lose, I suppose.”

“And, hopefully, sleep to gain. Hm, what do I have that would suit…?” Gale turns to the side, scans through the pile, before snatching one from the middle with a deft hand - you’re surprised the whole thing doesn’t topple. “Perfect. One of my childhood favourites, in fact.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And you still read it?”

Gale shrugs a shoulder, half-heartedly. “I like to indulge every now and again.”

“What is it?”

He turns the cover towards you – a fine leather tome, purple, with gold lettering. “The very creatively titled Baldurian Tales of Wonder. It’s a collection of short, whimsical stories – happy endings guaranteed.”

He places the tome between the two of you before turning slightly and fluffing up his pillows. Once seemingly satisfied, he sits up a little more and spreads his legs. “Come, get comfy.”

“You want me to…?”

“Mm-hm. You’ll want to see the pictures, naturally.”

“Naturally,” you repeat. “Not anything to do with you wanting me cuddled against your chest.” Gale does not respond, only raises a knee with a gentle click so you can slide over and nestle down against his bare chest.

He slides his knee back down and picks up the tome, resting it on the blanket covering the two of you, and flipping to the first tale.

“Once upon a time-"

“Are you going to do voices?”

He chuckles – it rumbles comfortingly through your back and you unconsciously relax once more into his embrace. “Would you like me to do voices?”

“Did your mother do voices?”

“She… tried her best.”

“Voices, please.”

He presses a kiss to your temple. “Voices it is.”

He begins to read, slowly and softly, being sure not to get too carried away with the characterization of certain characters. His voice is comforting, reassuring, and though your eyes still sting, you try your best to focus on the words and pictures in front of you, your mind finally becoming quiet, your eyes beginning to close…

Gale does not even make it to the end of the first story when he hears your breathing change, though he continues to read it aloud.

Just to be sure you’re truly asleep, that is, not because he wishes to finish the tale.

---

I had a bad day and I wanted some cuddly fluff x

[cheesesoda]

resident evil men as parents!

a/n: i had this idea randomly so i wanted to write some headcanons 💪 lmk if you wanna see the girls as parents! (i might edit these headcanons and add more later too)

cw: slight mention of smoking and alcohol

genre: fluff, headcanons/blurb

______________________________________________

leon kennedy

leon is a girl dad!

cried when she was born

from when she was born until age 1 he would just go into her room at night and watch her sleep

he spoils her fr

youll come home late from work (well past her bedtime)

there they are making ice cream sundaes in the kitchen

he participates in tea parties and he enjoys it

he tells even MORE dad jokes now

very protective

tries to drink less after his daughter is born

chris redfield

chris is a girl and boy dad!

i think he has 1 boy (older) and 1 girl (younger)

like him and claire

was in awe when his kids were born

“oh my god she/he’s so small”

auntie claire babysits all the time

teaches his son to play football

honestly i think he’d be protective of his daughter but not as much as the others because he would teach her self defense from a young age

ethan winters

ethan is a girl dad! (which we already knew)

we already know what hes like as a dad but i’ll still write a bit for him

100% cried so hard when his daughter was born

best husband and father

definitely bought every brand of diapers because he didnt know what to get

hes very affectionate and caring to his daughter

i don’t see him as the type of dad to kill any guy who speaks to her once shes older

if someone breaks her heart tho mans just might kill

albert wesker

wesker is a boy dad!

very calm when he was born

not very affectionate

he does care he just doesn’t show it very well

luis sera

luis is a girl and boy dad!

i think he’d have 2 or 3 kids

if he had 2 kids, he’d have 1 girl (older) and 1 boy (younger)

if he had 3 kids, he’d have 2 girls (oldest & youngest) and 1 boy (middle)

definitely sets a very high bar for how his daughter/s should be treated

teaches his son to be a gentleman definitely

loves all his kids so much

smokes less after his kids are born and would rather die than expose them to cigarette smoke especially when they’re babies

carlos oliveira

carlos is a girl and boy dad!

you cannot tell me this man does not want a village of children

he would probably have 4 kids

i think he’d have 3 boys and 1 girl

has the biggest soft spot for his kids

he’s very non-toxic masculine with his sons

he always tells them he loves them, hugs them, etc.

he also has tea parties with his daughter