#maw boyfriends at work

[jeffbytes]

what if i brought back my Monsters at Work selfship and also introduced it to tumblr for the first time

meeee x Tylor Tuskmon my walking coat rack

(1st pic is an old collab between me and mod bun of @fluffyselfships all the rest of the artwork is mine from 2021)

[wreckrinho]

Duncan really looked at Roger being silly and fucking suspicious and thought:

" oh yeah it's definitely not him. ITS T Y L O R "

[potato-on-your-head]

Debris rained from the sky, mangled remains of the invading spaceship falling to earth.

The flashing red portal narrowed. The nose of the hulking ship cleaved cleanly off, slamming into the ground with a thunderous boom.

Silence fell.

Lois stood next to Jimmy, waiting with bated breath for something – anything – that would indicate Clark was alive.

A lull. Nothing. And then the clouds parted as a triangular object sailed downward and dug itself into the ground, carving a jagged path through the open field.

Lois’s eyes roved across the impact point. The dust began to clear. She spotted Clark lying in the center of the crater.

Her gut clenched. There was no way he could have survived that. Could he?

Lois felt her feet carry her, drifting and dreamlike, out of the rows of corn and into a clearing with a better vantage point.

Clark was bloodied, bruised, broken. His battered body lay prone, turned on his side with his limbs splayed out in front of him.

He wasn’t moving.

And then, from the left, she saw it.

Her father.

Pointing a gun.

Right at Clark.

She bolted.

Keep reading

[shotmrmiller]

your superior finding out about the secret praise kink you didn't know had a name because you'd always been called an over achiever, a goody two shoes. never gave anyone any trouble, nose burrowed in a book since you had knobby knees and a library card.

you'd thought it normal that the apples of your cheeks burned when praised after giving your teacher the drawing you'd made for them the night before. that heat spread from the center of your chest up when your first boyfriend/girlfriend whistled at the sight of you outside of uniform. that warmth settles in your belly when you get a pat on the back from your platoon leader firm enough to force the air out of your lungs because you'd disassembled and cleaned a glock with the ease of a professional.

apparently it wasn't.

after weeks of training with the fabled task force, weeks of sharing elbow room with the team, weeks of soaking up the dizzying praise from the captain ("did real good out there, eh? can always count on you." you didn't question the throb betwixt your thighs, taking care of it with a cute little bullet like you've always done since joining the military)

you're confronted by the worst of the lot. ghost catches you in a break room, your back to him, hands clutching a cup of coffee that's more sludge than liquid, its warmth barely seeping through the styrofoam.

his figure fills the doorway, shoulders nearly brushing the frame. your first thought is that his brows aren't twisted together and he lacks that cold, blank look in his eyes so your death isn't in the nearest of futures. the second is that when he's not fully covering his face, the outline of his jaw is quite visible, looking sharp enough to cut.

then he crosses his sculpted arms over his chest, seams straining against the expanse of his muscles, head tipped to the side.

he moves with the keen curiosity of a predator sniffing around a newborn fawn, gaze intense yet inquisitive, assessing your every detail with a menacing interest.

"you ever gonna tell me you've a praise kink, bird?" the question sends a chill through your veins before turning into a fiery rush as it races at twice the normal speed.

praise kink? no. surely not. doesn't everyone like to receive compliments?

"sure. i don't mind gettin' told i've an impressive cock but that's bed talk. you look ready to bend over 'nd show us how slick tha' pretty cunt can get over a rufflin' of hair and a couple of empty words."

that has you positively reeling, fingertips cracking the cup in your hands, pulse on your neck fluttering. you feel a cornered, skittish animal, ready to flee lest your life come to an end in his maws.

but as usual, the cruel man more creature than person, twists the knife he's dug into you with a certain ruthlessness only he can muster.

"so be good for me, eh? love your praise? earn it."

you've always been an over achiever, proven once again by the way you take him to the root in one long, broad stroke with any complaints at the sheer size of him resting firmly behind your clenched teeth.

"tight little thing, spread open over me like you were meant for it. for me." he runs a gloved thumb over your swollen bottom lip. "there's tha' look. drivin' me bloody insane when you gave kyle tha' molten gaze. none o' tha' now, yeah?"

he creeps his ungloved hand down to circle your pearl with the spit-slick pads of his fingers, drawing in a sharp breath when your walls flutter and constrict around his cock at the feel of something other than your toy giving you the relief you need after a hard day's work.

"bloody fuckin' 'ell."

ghost claims a fistful of hair, pulling you closer to him, his breath warming the stinging, throbbing mark he bit onto the delicate skin of your neck. the shuffling of feet right outside the door snap you out of your daze, fingernails sinking into the bulging muscle of his chest but he has none of it.

he uses your hair to direct your focus back onto him and even though he'd only given you a leading tug you felt some strands of your hair come off with a pop.

"easy. can't see your pretty face when i'm fuckin' ya if your lookin' away."

your expression twists into what you hope is bliss when he bucks his hips, your whimper drowning out his groan when he hits on something new.

something you want him to keep hitting.

"exactly like i'd thought."

everything else blurs together after that, and only when you're back in your room using a warm cloth to clean yourself up do you remember the other things he'd rumbled.

(inside o' ya, make you mine-)

(-get 'bout bein' with anyone else-)

(-ll to myself-)

you touch your tender pussy with gentle fingers at what he'd said in the end.

(leave tha' f'me, he swipes your hand away, i'll get ya there, pet.)

if price's compliments take a nose dive off a cliff you don't notice because you're getting your daily fill of them and ghost after dinner every night. kyle keeps them to one word and soap likes to tempt fate as always.

[sanguineterrain]

Hey! Can I request a Clark x reader where they're dating but reader doesn't know Clark is superman. And then superman interacts with them for whatever reason and is flirty bc that's his person!!! But reader is like ☝️ hey buddy back off. I'm HAPPILY taken

this is such a cute request!!!! Argh!!!!

clark kent/superman x gn!reader. fluff, brief danger but r is okay. superman flirting with you but he's dating you? he's just a goober. i lub him <3 PLEASE feel free to imagine maws!clark. I feel like this is very himcore 🥰

****

Being a florist in Metropolis is good work. Lots of people still buy flowers, which is great. Many actually buy bouquets for Superman and leave them on display as support. Poppies, yellow tulips, and cornflowers. They're one of your favorite arrangements.

The downside to being a florist in Metropolis, however, is that on occasion, your flower display ends up the target of a killer robot.

You're not sure why that is. Mostly, you wish people would stop building killer robots.

You've gone outside to see what the commotion is about when you're grabbed by a metal claw. It squeezes hard, almost cutting off your air. You squirm in terror as the robot stomps down Main Street, crushing cars and asphalt in its wake.

"Help!" you scream when you catch your breath, and the robot squeezes you harder.

A dizzying blur of red, yellow, and blue zips past you. You think of your flowers.

The blur cuts through the metal like nothing. The robot begins to collapse, twitching and groaning. Its metal creaks, grip loosening on your body.

You hardly fall before Superman is there, cradling you to his chest.

"I've got you," he says, tucking you close.

You look up at him, and he beams at you, like saving you from a killer robot has been the best part of his day.

Come to think of it, Superman came to your aid surprisingly fast, even for him.

And he holds you... intimately. Like you've known him for years. Your heart picks up.

"Uh," he says, cheeks flushed. "Are–are you okay?"

You smile politely, arms around his neck. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you, Superman."

He nods, flying down the street. "Good. I'll get you back to your shop and clean up the flowers."

You tilt your head. "How do you know I'm a florist?"

Superman looks at you, blue eyes wide.

"Oh! I... uh, I've seen your arrangements all over the city. They're beautiful. I'd never forget that they belong to an equally beautiful face."

Goodness. If Superman is this forward with everyone he rescues, it's no wonder your flower arrangements are in high demand.

"I'm flattered," you begin, and Superman once again aims that grin with the power of a thousand suns at you. "But, respectfully, I'm very happily taken, so I would appreciate it if you'd keep this rescue professional."

Superman raises an eyebrow. To your surprise, he smiles wider.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't realize you were taken. My sincerest apologies. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

"No, it's alright. I'm honored, but you couldn't pull me away from my boyfriend even with your super strength."

Superman's cheeks turn pinker. He sets you down in front of your store with the utmost care, not letting go until you have your bearings. He takes a step back, rubbing his neck. The gesture makes your brain itch. You don't know why.

"Well, uh, he must've done something right if he's lucky enough to be with you."

"Luck has nothing to do with it," you say fiercely. You don't know why you're so indignant about defending Clark's reputation to Superman. It's not like Clark will ever hear about it.

"No?"

"Not at all. He's an incredible person, kind and smart and loving, and if anyone's lucky, it's me."

Superman makes an aborted gesture to take your hand, then redirects and awkwardly pats your arm instead. You squint at him. He quickly moves away.

"Ah. Sorry. Well, I doubt that. I bet you're equally spectacular."

"Oh. Thank you."

You primly take his hand and give it a good shake. Superman bows his head and laughs.

He takes a step back, eyes bright like you've just made his day.

"Well, I wish you the best with your boyfriend. I'm sorry for being so forward. I've seen your Superman bouquets; your reputation precedes you. I make it a point to know reputed people in Metropolis."

"I can't imagine I'm very high on that list," you say.

"Ah, you'd be surprised. Besides, I never forget a face."

Superman darts behind you and moves at neckbreaking speed to clean up your partially maimed flowers. In three seconds, it's returned to its former glory.

"Well, uh, I'll be seeing you," Superman says, hands clasped behind his back. "I mean, I hope not in a circumstance like this! Th-then again, when else would we see each other? Scratch that, I hope there's no reason for us to cross paths because that would mean you're in danger. Uh, but I don't mean that in a bad way! I just—"

You snort and reach over to take a yellow tulip from your display. You give it to Superman, who takes it like you've just handed him a newborn baby.

"I'm still taken," you say. "But you're very sweet, Superman. Take care, alright?"

"Yeah," he says, tucking the tulip into the strap of his cape. "Yes, you too. Goodbye!"

He soars away, the tulip like a star on his cape.

Superman is handsome and kind, no doubt. But he's certainly no Clark Kent.

[luveline]

If you’re doing requests could you do KBD during Halloween?

uncle Eddie makes sure Steve has the perfect costume. mom!reader

Steve smiles at himself in the mirror. Wren, in his arms, smiles back. 

“We look handsome,” he says, lifting her so her face is level with his own. “I look handsome. You look beautiful.” 

“Hi,” she says. 

Steve turns down to her. “Hi, baby.” 

Avery climbs onto a chair and waves at the mirror. Her fairy princess dress is shiny blue. “Hello.” 

Beth climbs onto the chair after her, wrapping her arms around Avery’s shoulders. “Hi!” she says, force of her greeting sending her pirates hat careening to the floor. 

“Are you ready?” you call from upstairs. “Everyone still has their shoes on?” 

“Dove doesn’t,” Avery says. 

“Tattle!” Dove cries, a picture of fury in her kitty cat onesie, her glued-on whiskers twitching fiercely.

“Well, you don’t.” 

“My toes are warm,” Dove whines, thrusting herself at Steve’s legs. “Daddy, she’s telling on me.” 

“I know, and now you’re telling on her. You’re my little band of tattle-tales, I don’t love it.” Steve smooths along Wren’s face with his finger and takes in a breath big enough to fill his lungs. “Can you let Beth put your shoes back on?” 

“No.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

You fit Dove into her shoes and get the kids to the car. Four car seats is tough work but nothing you can’t handle, and you’re still in chipper spirits when you arrive at the Munson house. It’s decked out in cobwebs and great big spiders made of tinsel and bendy framing, carved pumpkins leading up the steps with fleshy teeth and candles unburned in their maws. Wren gives a comical gasp when she sees it all, a tad scared but quickly soothed when you pretend to be scared too. 

Beth races up the steps first to knock. 

The door opens a slither. 

“Who goes there?” a dark voice asks. 

“Uncle Eddie, it’s me!” Beth says quickly. Her excitement again sends her hat to the stone patio beneath her cons, but she doesn’t notice it, vying to squeeze through the door and see her favourite uncle. 

“I don’t know any Me’s. You’ll have to come back another day, I’m waiting for my very favourite troupe of little girls.” 

“It’s BETH!” Beth shrieks, “Come on!”

“Bethany?” Eddie pushes the door open, unsurprised when Beth throws herself full force into his legs. “Why, you look dastardly. How very scary of you! You have a parrot!” 

The fake parrot glued to Beth’s shoulder waggles. 

“His name is Sherbet.” 

“Wow.” Eddie gives her a hug, his eyes blowing wide over her shoulder. “Oh, wow! Ave, you’re a princess with wings! And Dove, meow.” He grins at Steve. “And your dad is what, Frankenstein’s monster? A zombie?”

“Dad doesn’t have a costume,” Beth says happily. 

“Are you sure?” 

Steve encourages Dove over the threshold, four wrapped plates of sandwiches and finger foods balanced in the other hand. “That’s not funny. What are you supposed to be, anyways?” 

“I’m a vampire, duh.” Eddie slips a pair of fake fangs into his teeth. “I vant to suck your blood!” 

“Ew, Uncle Eddie,” you say. 

“Don’t think you’ve escaped me, second favourite Harrington,” Eddie says, frowning as you slip around him. “You owe me a hug.” 

“Creep,” Steve says. 

“With pride.” Eddie takes the plates from his arms and somehow, the Harrington troupe makes it safely indoors, no further costume parts fallen nor lost. 

There are more people here than Steve expected, Eddie’s friends, their kids, even Eddie’s elusive boyfriend sits out in the open. 

“What are you supposed to be?” Dove asks him with a grin. 

He turns his head to show a painted bite mark on his neck. “Victim.” 

“He’s a dead guy,” Eddie tells her, helping her where she’s struggling to sit in one of the barstools. “Alright, babe, dad said last year we partied too hard, so here are the ground rules. No pixie sticks, no soda, and no climbing on the kitchen counters. If you follow these rules, I am being allowed to give you a Hershey bar the size of your dad’s massive head. Deal?” 

“How big?” Dove questions suspiciously. 

Eddie goes to the cabinet. Inside, there’s more candy bars than one person should ever have purchased in one go. He pulls out a huge one and holds it nexts to Steve’s head, laughing when Steve bats it away. “Huge.” 

“Dad, dad, can I go play with Milly and Joe?” Avery asks. 

Steve was hoping she would. “Sure, baby. Good manners, okay?” 

Avery whizzes off to find Gareth’s kids. Beth stays by Steve’s side and he forces himself to believe that it’s him she wants to be with, not Eddie. “You don’t wanna go play?” Steve asks her. 

“Not yet.” 

You appear again where you’d been missing with Robin in tow. Steve grins at the sight of her, though he’d spoken to her on the phone last night, and seen her the day before at home. “Buckley!” 

She’s wearing a black dress with a belt and her hair is teased into a short cloud. “You aren’t wearing your costume?” 

Steve moves Beth around unthinkingly. “Yeah, it still smelled like vomit. Wren had too much yoghurt. Rob, you really look like Madonna. Your makeup is–”

“It’s trippy, right?” Eddie asks. 

“Mora did it. It’s like, face sculpting.” 

“It’s weird.” 

“I like it,” you say, Wren on your hip giving an agreeable gurgle. “I like your real face more, but this is cool.”

“And where’s your costume?” Eddie asks. 

You frown down at your nice dress. “You can’t tell?” 

Eddie falls for the trip in your voice and attempts to backtrack, only realising that you’re kidding when Steve laughs. 

“The baby got sick on both of us,” you say, turning Wren so everyone in the kitchen can see her face. “But that’s okay. She’s so cute, she’s forgiven. Aren’t you, gorgeous? You didn’t mean to eat all that yoghurt, daddy just kept feeding you.” 

Steve holds his hands up in surrender. “I feed her every day, I know how much yoghurt she can handle.” 

“Clearly not,” you croon, shooting him a loving smile. “You did save us from those awful costumes, though.” 

“Oh, worry not,” Eddie says, “I figured something like this would happen, and I’ve prepared.” 

Awesome, Steve thinks, groaning as Eddie takes his wrist into his hand and begins to pull on him. Knowing Eddie, Steve’s end up dressed as a demon with giant horns, or a fairy. 

The reality is much, much worse. 

“Hey, look at that! It still fits!” Robin laughs. 

Steve looks down at his little sailor’s uniform and sighs. “Barely,” he says. 

“Say the slogan!” you demand. 

If it were anyone else, Steve would refuse, but you’re sitting at the breakfast bar with Wren tucked under your chin, so he takes a deep breath and straightens his white hat. “Ahoy ladies,” he sighs. “Would you like to… uh, set sail on this ocean of flavour with me? I’ll be your captain, I’m…” —his voice drags reluctantly— “I’m Steve Harrington.”

[magniloquent-raven]

Day 4: Supportive Boyfriends

and for my next (LATE, SO LATE) @bucktommypositivityweek contribution. KITTEN FIC.

(read on ao3)

**

The 118 doesn't have a baby box.

In fact there aren't any in the state of California at all. Buck looked it up, after Maddie's postpartum episode. When half his family was missing and there wasn't much he could do besides wait and... think about things.

So he thought about safe haven laws. Read up on the training seminars for first responders who want to be better equipped to deal with hand-offs. Read a bunch of other stuff he sort of wishes he hadn't. Spent the next week haunted by articles about abandoned children.

He considered talking to Bobby about it. Only partly to ask him if they should get a box for the firehouse. Partly because Buck wasn't sure how he felt about the whole thing, and Bobby always seemed to have answers. But he never worked up the nerve to broach the subject.

And now. Bobby's not captain anymore, and Buck really can't imagine Gerrard giving a shit about any of this.

So, they don't have a box. But.

Well, this isn't a human baby. It's not like the same rules apply.

Buck has to wonder if wires got crossed somewhere, because. Someone left a kitten. Outside the firehouse.

Buck was just going to grab something—he can't remember what—from his Jeep, when he spotted an unlabelled cardboard box on the pavement, up against the side of the building. His first thought was bomb.

Until it meowed at him. A tiny, high-pitched peep of a meow.

Kind of scared the shit out of him, if he's being honest.

There's only one. All alone in the box. A poofy grey thing wriggling around half buried in an off-white towel. Like a very ambitious dust bunny with big round blue eyes and skinny legs. It wobbles slowly over a fold in the towel with all the effort of someone scaling a mountain.

Buck crouches next to the box, and pokes a finger inside.

"Hey, buddy," he murmurs, holding very still while the kitten inches towards his hand and squeaks. It's unclear whether there are teeth in that little maw. That means it's really young, right? Too young to be left alone for very long.

Shit, how is he going to explain this to Gerrard? He's still got, like, 12 hours left on his shift, but someone has to feed this thing. How long can kittens go without food?

Oh, it does have teeth. Really teeny ones. They're ineffectively poking his knuckle.

Buck fishes his phone out of his jacket—with the hand that isn't currently being drooled on—intending to go to Google for answers. How to figure out how old a kitten is. How often do kittens need to be fed. Do cats get separation anxiety. He has a million questions.

Only he doesn't pull up his browser. He calls Tommy.

It's a whim. Barely a seed of an idea. But when he unlocked his phone the first thing he saw was their text history (he'd been complaining about Gerrard off-and-on all morning, and Tommy had been sending random updates about all the chores he'd been getting done—his last message was a picture of a mop with no context) and he just thought... Tommy will know what to do. Not in so many words, more a feeling. Comfort and certainty, just from seeing Tommy's picture in a little bubble at the top of his screen.

"Evan?" Tommy answers almost immediately, and there's a subtle undercurrent of worry in his tone. Buck winces. Right, calling out of the blue while he's at work would look. Bad.

"I'm okay!" He says quickly, all in one breath. Then pauses. The kitten squints up at him, meowing again, long and loud. Its whole fluffy face scrunches with the effort.

"...What was that?"

"Uh. That would be why I called, actually."

—

Gerrard is less of an obstacle than Buck feared he'd be. Because he's holed up in his office doing paperwork when Buck sneaks in with the kitten, and Buck's decided he has no intention of letting him know the cat was ever here.

Tommy promised he'd come get her.

Buck didn't even really ask, and wasn't planning on asking. Didn't have any plan whatsoever, in fact. He just wanted to know if Tommy knew anything about taking care of kittens, and suddenly Tommy's voluntarily sacrificing the rest of his day off to scope out vets and pet supply stores and whatever else Buck's helpless little friend might need.

He hung up hours ago and his insides still feel warm and goopy about it. He can't stop thinking about the gentle fondness that softened Tommy's voice after Buck explained the situation. Buck would wrap himself up in it like a blanket if he could.

Tommy's getting so kissed when he shows up.

In the meantime, Buck's sitting upstairs, working his way through the dozen or so tabs he opened up after googling kitten care.

He thinks the one he found might be around three weeks old (ears not quite unfurled, can't sheathe claws yet, legs unsteady but mobile). And possibly a girl. She did not care for being picked up and turned over, and the indignant squirming made it difficult to tell what's going on down there. But he's almost certain he's right.

She was shrieking up a storm about it, and he was worried if he took any longer she'd alert Gerrard. (She didn't. She did, however, draw the attention of about half the firehouse.)

"You are disgustingly cute," Chimney coos, scratching under her chin with the tip of one finger. She's lifted her head as high as she can and her eyes are squinted happily. Buck can hear her purring from across the room. "Yes you are. Hen, can you get a picture of this?"

Hen pulls out her phone. "Sure... why?" She asks, leaning over his shoulder to snap a picture and eye him with mild suspicion.

"Jee. She'll wanna see when I tell her about my day."

Her expression softens to a smile. "I'll text it to you." She taps her screen a couple times. "Just had to make sure you weren't planning on calendar campaigning again."

Chimney grins. "Nah, my calendar days are behind me. The only person who gets shirtless pictures of me now is my wife."

"Gross," Buck says without conviction. He narrows his eyes at the site he's scrolling through, swiping away a Join Our Mailing List! popup. "You guys don't think she's cold do you? Are her ears warm? It's only, like, 70 today and we don't know how long she was out there."

Hen and Chim exchange glances, and then, disturbingly in sync, look from the cat to Buck. Chim gives her ear a perfunctory poke, which she does not appreciate as much as chin scritches, "She's fine, man."

Hen waves a hand at Buck when he opens his mouth again, "We're medical professionals. And in my medically professional opinion. She's fine."

"Okay, but—"

"Hey guys, look who stopped b—uhhh. Is that a cat?" Eddie slows to a stop at the top of the stairs, blinking at the kitten on the couch. "When did we get a cat?"

"Couple hours ago," Buck says, still frowning at Hen and Chimney. "Where have you been?"

"I found him polishing the engine."

Buck shoots out of his seat. "Tommy!"

He only half-hears Eddie muttering, "Favouritism," as he scuttles around the chair to meet Tommy halfway between the stairs and the sitting area. Tommy has just enough time to smile—and it warms Buck, like it always does, with a spark caught in his chest for safekeeping—and say hi before Buck's on him, palms clapped on either side of his face, smushing their lips together.

He makes a bit of a show of it, dramatically swooping in, because he knows the big smacking MWAH will make Tommy laugh, and he likes the way that feels rumbling against his chest.

Buck taps their noses together. "Hey," he says, savouring the mirth sparkling in Tommy's eyes for a second before kissing him again, properly this time.

His brain goes sort of fuzzy when Tommy's palm cups the back of his neck.

Someone in the distance wolf-whistles.

When they finally come up for air Tommy asks, "What was that for?" a little breathlessly, which is doing things to Buck.

"Mmn...y'know. For being you."

Tommy raises his eyebrows, kiss-reddened lips curling fondly. "Okay."

"Hey, Tommy. Good to see you," Chim calls in a very pointed way.

Right, public setting. Workplace. Friends watching. Buck exhales slowly, and tries to think about anything other than how much he wants to bite that bit of clavicle peeking out of the collar of Tommy's shirt. Like the fact that Tommy's hands are warm, and he's sort of rubbing his fingertips over the short stubbly bits of hair on the back of Buck's head, and Buck's lips are still tingling a little, and—no wait, not that either.

Tommy pulls away first, which is probably for the best, but also very sad. The corner of his mouth twitches like he can see Buck thinking it. He curls his index finger and gently taps Buck's chin with the knuckle before he turns to the group.

"Howie," he says, not even pretending to be contrite in the face of Chim's mock-judgement. "Hen."

"Tommy." Hen fails to contain her smirk.

Some time during all the kissing, Eddie moved over to the couch. He's sat next to the kitten, watching her attempt to groom her paw with all the grace of a toddler who's only a little bit sure they know how to hold a brush. She keeps starting and stopping at random intervals, sometimes licking the cushion beside her, sometimes sticking her tongue out at thin air.

She's so cute it makes Buck's chest hurt. It's a little much while he's still loopy from making out with his boyfriend.

Then Tommy goes and crouches next to the couch so he can get eye-level with the kitten while she sniffs his hand, talking to her all calm and soft with smile-lines crinkling his cheeks, and. Buck might need to lie down for a bit. Like, on top of Tommy, preferably.

The kitten seems to like him too, and he really can't blame her when she crawls up Tommy's sleeve to perch on his shoulder.

She looks so much smaller cuddled up on Tommy. He reaches up to steady her, and she's almost entirely obscured by his hand.

God, is it wrong that he's getting a little hot under the collar about that? He just looks so strong and competent and at the same time, like, gentle. Buck knows how it feels to be touched tenderly by those hands, and apparently just seeing it happen does not affect him any less. In fact it's only added dimensions to his desires.

"I should probably get going," Tommy says, bringing Buck back down to Earth with a resounding splat.

He opens his mouth to protest, then closes it. He's right. The last thing Buck wants is for Tommy to have another run-in with Gerrard, and they don't know how long the old bastard's gonna be occupied.

"Mhm, run while you still can," Chimney pipes up. "Before our dear old captain smells an opportunity to ruin someone's day."

"He does seem to have a sixth sense for that," Eddie adds sullenly. Buck makes a note to ask him what that was about. Later.

"I'll walk you out," Buck says, trying not to sound like a pouting child. He's fairly certain he fails, because Tommy laces their fingers together and gives his hand a comforting squeeze.

He says his goodbyes, the whole time being careful not to dislodge the kitten while she crawls across his shoulders.

Buck goes through the list of kitten care basics he memorized as they make their way to the parking lot. It's...more than he thought it was, honestly. It starts to feel overwhelming as he goes on, and on, and on. He's running out of time to get it all out, and he feels like it's just now sinking in his huge this responsibility that he's dumping in Tommy's lap is.

"You're sure you don't mind taking her?" The question bursts out of Buck before they make it to Tommy's car. "W-we didn't really, I mean. We talked about it over the phone, but..."

"Yeah, now that I've seen her she does seem like a real handful."

The kitten yawns, and curls up into a tiny grey ball in the crook of Tommy's neck.

Well. Alright.

"It's just, t-they need a lot of attention when they're that young, and I kinda just, just dropped this on you."

"Evan." Tommy gives him a look. "Are you worried that you baby-trapped me?"

Okay, when he puts it like that. Maybe a little bit. But also now he's having complicated yearning feelings that he really should not be having this early in the relationship.

Buck's pretty sure he looks like a deer in the headlights right now, because Tommy's doing his damnedest to pretend he isn't laughing at him.

He tugs Buck's hand, leading him the rest of the way to his car.

The backseat is full of cat stuff. Containers of milk-replacement powders, and a shiny plastic litter box, and toys, so many toys, baggies of fake mice and feathery things, just. So much stuff. Piles of it.

"I called up a friend who used to foster kittens. She had a lot of advice. And then I got a little carried away."

"I, uh. See that," Buck laughs breathlessly.

"Over the phone, you sounded like this meant a lot to you? And I think I got really attached to the idea of...this. Taking care of her for you. With you." He sounds hesitant, like he's trying not to say too much, and Buck can't stand it—

"I love you so much," he says in a rush.

"Well, good," Tommy purses his lips around a smile, eyes bright and crinkled at the corners. He reaches up to his shoulder, like he's absent-mindedly checking to see if the kitten's still there. "Wouldn't want her to grow up in a broken home."

Buck huffs a laugh.

"And I love you too."

[mrsshabana]

𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅!𝐆𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎 ⛧ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

꒦꒷‧₊ Summary The full moon has made your werewolf boyfriend go completely feral. But not with instincts to kill. Instead, his instincts are telling him to breed you. ꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, 18+ MDNI, hunter/prey, size difference, vaginal sex, creampie, breeding, biting/marking, knotting ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 1.7k words. I've never written anything like this before but I tried to go out of my comfort zone and try something new! I hope you all enjoy it!

༺ Art ༻

⇢ Chapter one ⇢ Chapter three ⇢ Kinktober Masterlist

A wave of relief washes over you when you realize that Gyutaro doesn't intend to kill you.

You know that you still need to tread lightly and that one wrong move could lead to you getting hurt. Or worse, him changing his mind about keeping you alive. But you do feel a little better knowing that killing you isn't his priority right now.

However, his other priority is still quite concerning. The obvious arousal your werewolf boyfriend is feeling hasn't gone unnoticed.

Feeling his member rub against you as it's barely confined by his pants sends shivers down your spine. The size of it rivaling that of your forearm.

To say it made you nervous would be an understatement. Not just because he's big, but also because you've never been intimate with Gyutaro before. The furthest you've ever gone with him was kissing, and maybe cuddling if that even counts. The thought of finally having sex with him for the first time gives you butterflies.

And Gyutaro has wanted to mate with you ever since you asked him to be your boyfriend. He was ready to take that next step and officially mark you as his. But he knows humans don't move as quickly as werewolves, so he put his instincts aside. However, now that the full moon is out he can't help himself.

Rutting against your thigh and yelping as if the lack of release is physically hurting him.

"Gyutaro..." you mutter as you roll your fingers through his long hair and scratch behind his ear. Causing his eyes to roll to the back of his head in bliss. Momentarily calming down from the worked-up state he was in.

For a moment it feels like you're petting your sweet boyfriend instead of trying to calm an angry beast.

"I know it hurts," you coo as you slowly trail your hand down his body, "I want to help you." His hips buck when the palm of your hand gently caresses his member. You can feel it throbbing under the thin layer of his pants.

His ears perk up and he suddenly wraps his arms around you, picking you up as he stands. Slinging you over his shoulder and carrying you like a princess that's been kidnapped by a terrifying monster.

"Ah!" You gasp at the sudden motion. But as suspected your boyfriend says nothing, just panting and growling as he carries you away.

You wish he would speak to you, let you know that he's ok, or at least tell you that he won't hurt you. But this full moon has turned him completely animalistic.

He takes you to a strange hollow cave nearby, neatly tucked away behind tall trees.

Gyutaro sniffs the air before placing you on the ground. It isn't ideal but it's much better than outside where there were probably ticks and who knows what else.

You don't have much time to relax though, because Gyutaro is quick to pounce on you again. Tugging at your clothes with his teeth, ripping them off of you.

"W-wait!" you whine, trying to stop him but he doesn't listen. Snarling as he ruins each piece of clothing until only shreds of fabric remain around your nude body.

"Don't be so rough, Gyu!" You say as you try to push him away. But he quickly catches your hand in his mouth, a feral look in his eyes as his fangs bear down on your skin. Biting down hard enough to send a warning, but not quite enough to break the skin.

"O-Ok, I'm sorry," you slowly pull back your hand, and he opens his maw allowing you to do so.

He looks like your boyfriend but his playful attitude is gone, you can't forget that or next time he might give you more than a warning bite.

His fluffy ears fold back as he leans forward, towards your neck, and begins licking and nibbling your skin. A soft moan escapes your lips as his long flat tongue glides along your neck and up to your jaw. His sharp teeth gently bite your most vulnerable area. Usually when hunting he goes for the neck, sinking in his fangs and tearing apart flesh. But he's gentle with you, saying in his own way that you can trust him.

Being careful not to move too fast, you gently reach down. Gliding your fingers through the silky soft fur that trails down from his belly button. Going further until your fingers reach his pants, or what's left of them.

But there's no saving them from Gyutaro's claws. As once you try to remove them he's already reaching down to help.

The tattered fabric falls off of him, revealing something that can only be described as monstrous.

Staring down at it with a mixture of awe and fear, watching as it throbs - eager to fulfill its goal of delivering his seed to your womb. Every instinct within his body screams at him to breed you, that it's his only purpose.

"Make her your mate, she's perfect." "If you don't claim her someone else will." "Breed her. Breed her. Breed her."

And he can't help but listen to them.

With a deep guttural growl, Gyutaro flips you over and grabs your hips. Roughly pulling them up and into the air so he has full access to what he craves most.

You yelp as you're abruptly moved like some kind of toy. Squirming under his grasp, but his large clawed hands have a strong grip on you. The size of his hand reminding you of your vast size difference even though you can't see him in this position.

You can hear him lick his lips in anticipation as he looks down at that sweet breedable cunt.

There's nothing you can do. You have to submit to him and if you don't then he will force you to.

He eagerly positions himself and starts thrusting forward, though his eagerness hinders his effectiveness. Repeatedly his cock misses your entrance. He digs his claws into your flesh as he begins to get frustrated. But after a few attempts and repositioning his hips, he achieves his goal and slides into you.

His size prevents him from entering you fully at first, but even though only half of him is inside you still feel completely full.

He howls in excitement.

"G-Gyu," you whimper, "Please... be gentle."

Your pleas go unheard as he thrusts at a sporadic pace. As if his only goal is to fill you up with his seed and nothing else in the world matters.

Your tight human walls weren't meant for him, but that only makes it more pleasurable. He's more than twice the size of what you humans are supposed to take. And both of you can feel it.

Your walls are so impossibly tight around him, and the fit only gets tighter as he shoves inch after inch of himself inside of you until he's as far as he can go.

Tears flow from your eyes and your legs quickly give out. He holds tightly onto your hips as your arms barely keep your face from hitting the ground.

Drool splatters on your back as he picks up the pace. Only pulling out a third of the way before thrusting back in again. He can't bear to be away from the tight grip your pussy has on him.

By this point, all of the aches and pains in your body are drowned out and all you feel is undeniable pleasure. His thick length rams into places that were never meant to be touched, and your body can't handle it.

Constantly shaking in his grasp as you're forced to have orgasm after orgasm. There's no point in counting because it seems that with every couple of thrusts, he manages to force another one out of you.

Your slick splattering on the floor, splashing against his rutting hips, and staining the patch of fur above his cock.

And the sounds are just as obscene. Not only the slapping of skin but also the screams and cries that you can't hold back. The animalistic howls that echo from him turn into yelps as he gets closer to climax.

A large knot already formed at the base of his length. You don't notice it at first, but he does. And it's a signal for his body, his instincts telling him what to do next. It's programmed into him like an unbreakable code.

He leans forward and bites down on the back of your neck. Hard enough to leave a mark and to keep you from moving.

Somehow you manage to reach up and tug his ear with one of your numb arms. You want to tell him to stop, that it hurts, that you're afraid he might bite down too hard and kill you. But you can't manage anything but screams and moans as he pounds into you.

If you were able to look down you'd see the shape of his cock protruding from your belly. Sliding in and out ferally, his intentions clear.

He thrusts harder, harder, and harder. Desperately trying to fit that knot inside of you.

He snarls, tightening his grip on your neck. With a pop, he finally succeeds. You feel like you're being ripped apart and stretched past your limit as the swollen knot is forced into you.

Immediately his hips are stuttering, his fur stands on end, and his cock twitches. You didn't have enough room to fit his knot so you definitely don't have enough room to fit all that cum he's spurting into you. But the knot prevents any from leaking out, so your body adjusts. You feel your stomach bulge as he fills you impossibly full.

Finally, he claimed you. He feels like he succeeded as a wave of pure bliss washes over him.

His body shudders, and a soft whine escapes his lips as he lets go of your neck. Gently setting you down, he lays on top of you. The two of you still connected.

Your vision is going in and out, the pressure in your abdomen worsening as he puts his weight on top of you.

"Ngh, Gyu... h-heavy," you whimper as you try to wiggle out from under him.

But as soon as you start moving, he's yelping frantically as if he's in pain.

"What?!" you gasp, reaching over to pet behind his ears in an attempt to calm him. "Did I hurt you...?"

And that's when you notice that he's still inside of you. His knot not showing any signs of deflating any time soon.

Your eyes widen as you realize that the two of you are stuck.

[seaspringangel]

a place along the flowers — tartaglia

summary: you give your loving boyfriend the greatest birthday gift of all time in a field of flowers.

word count: 1.9k

content warnings: fem!reader ✦ reader wears a dress ✦ childe is called by his birth name ✦ outdoor sex ✦ fingering ✦ biting ✦ creampie ✦ some possessiveness ✦  pet names (love / good girl / baby) ✦ childe is a needy feral freak but that’s why we love him 

notes: belated bday gift for the ginger-haired menace <3

In the summer haze, Ajax laid his head in your lap and breathed you in.

Flowers surrounded the both of you, but to him, you were the meadow's loveliest one, a perfect bloom for his flaming, hungry teeth to tear into.

Because for every berry he ate from your fingers, Ajax was determined to leave behind a small, stinging nip with his teeth, soothing each little nick with nectar-sweetened kisses.

“If you keep on doing that,” you grumbled down at him, his long legs stretched out in the long grass without a care, “I’m shoving these berries down your throat and leaving you here.”

Ajax grinned up at you then, his smile as saccharine as the berry juices staining the corner of his mouth, a celebration of summer blotted much like blood.

“Sorry,” he murmured, but his tone was as light as the summer breeze playing in his hair. “Guess I’m too hungry.”

You squished his face, making his freckles bunch together like a cluster of starry apples. Ajax only peered up at you innocently, his eyes sparkling. He truly was as adorable as he was irritating, and you thought about taking a bite out of him as revenge, but you knew doing that would only thrill him into acting up even more. 

“And annoyingly spoiled. You’re lucky it’s your birthday,” you snapped, but you still dutifully lowered a berry to his lips, waiting. Ajax wasted no time, darting his tongue out and licking the treat from your sticky fingers—no better than a starving dog that wanted nothing more than to shred your flowered dress into pretty ribbons and clutch the ruined tatters as a prize between his salivating teeth. 

But even when your boyfriend acted this greedy, you couldn’t help but feel something unspooling inside you—something syrupy and warm, as if you were laying in a patch of cozy sunlight.

Until you felt his damn teeth nip at you again.

You quickly retreated your fingers from his maw and clamped a hand over his mouth. You glared down at him. “Next birthday, you're getting a muzzle.”

But Ajax knew how to soften you up just as he knew how to agitate you. He pressed a kiss as soft as petals to your palm, and you felt yourself unfurl, warmth spreading sweetly and slowly like honey through your veins. 

Ajax then grabbed your hand and kissed the inside of your wrist, feeling the lively thrum of your pulse against his lips. “And keep me from kissing you everywhere? I didn’t know you could be so cruel.”

You roll your eyes, but that doesn’t stop the blood from rushing to your cheeks; that doesn’t stop him from peppering more kisses on your arm, looking up at you adoringly. “You know, there’s a certain gift you could still give me before it gets dark and we head home…”

Heart fluttering at his suggestion, you watch the sun sink behind the hills, slowly blanketing the world in silky shadow. “And what makes you think you deserve that?” you scoffed.

One second you watched the sky brighten with the glitter of lantern lights; the next second your world was blurring over, and your boyfriend was hovering above you, trapping you beneath him. 

Backlit by the fading golden light, Ajax’s eyes were clouded with devotion and desire for you, bluer than the sky he mounted you under. You felt his hardness against your thigh, felt his cock throb against you, and your stomach became alight with a thousand crystalflies. “I think I can work for it,” he said, smiling down at you and you feel yourself warm instantly.

When Ajax smiled at you, it was like the sun shining beyond the white fleece of clouds. 

Dimpled, warm, and sweet, he had that boyish smile that leaves golden dust over everything like a ray of sunshine, making the day much brighter and your heart so much warmer. 

But he also had a smile that could burn hot enough to start a forest fire—flickering and wild and unrestrained, but still so beautiful that you couldn’t help but lift your palms to feel the scorching heat kiss your flesh. 

When he looked at you with that kind of reverence blacked by the flames of his hunger, you didn’t have the strength to deny him what he wanted; so when he requested to eat berries from the palm of your hand, you indulged him, and when he began to stroke you from your knee up to your thigh with bruising fingers, you let him; and now, when he yanked at the ribbons that tied the bodice of your dress together in his fervent quest to fuck you in the warm, darkening air of the meadow, you had no choice but to grant him his wish.

After all, he was the birthday boy, and who were you to keep the present he yearned for the most away from him?

Ajax's kisses left a fire trail, open-mouthed and searing, from your collarbones to your neck to your lips. You moaned as he roughly palmed your breasts through your dress, and you felt his urgency, his utter hunger, burning beneath his skin like an inferno. 

“I’ve been waiting for this all day,” Ajax groaned against your mouth, a desperate, sultry hymn that made your heart race and heat rush to the aching place between your thighs, already weeping with your desire. “I’ve been wanting you all day.” 

Trapped in the arms of your wild lover, the one who’ll scatter your sweetness among the grass like petals, Ajax tore your dress down, exposing your breasts to his mouth. It was like a feast, with him latching onto one nipple and sucking and biting until it bruised plum purple like the night sky before repeating the same action to the other. Pain and pleasure sparked to life in you like the lantern lights up above, twinkling gemstones encrusting the night sky.

When his fingers slid into you, you gasped into his mouth; his strokes were fast and vicious but electrifying, pushing deep inside of you and hitting that heavenly place that yearned for his brutal caress the most. You felt hot all over as if you had swallowed the sun. But Ajax was the sun, igniting you from within, his touch and kisses spreading like wildfire over your body. You desperately wanted to be consumed; you wanted to be razed down, leaving nothing behind but shifting ash at his feet. 

And you did melt away to nothing beneath him, your vision flashing white and bright when your body shook as you came undone upon his fingers, pearling them with your wetness. You clung to him, trying to catch the breath that he stole. 

“Ajax, please, please,” you whimpered, and Archons above, you wanted him inside you; you wanted him to sink so deeply into you that you didn’t know where he ended and where you began, entwined forever with each other in this hazy summer dream.

Ajax chuckled, nuzzling against the crook of your neck. "Please, what, love? What do you want me to do to you?” 

You were not above begging at this point. “I want you to fuck me, please. I need you.” You ground your hips against him in need, but Ajax just looked down at you, his sunny smile edged with something darker. 

“Wanna clean me up first?” He said, brushing the fingers that were inside of you against your lips, urging your mouth open, your wetness shimmering on them, an opalescent string catching the light from the moon, much like precious dew drops clinging to a flower.

You opened your mouth and took in his fingers, your essence coating your tongue with its husky sweetness. Ajax groaned as he felt your tongue wrap around them, hungrily licking him clean with grazes of your teeth. You were no better than him from moments earlier; you both were wild, wanton things that desired nothing more than to bite the hand that fed you. 

Letting go of him with a lewd pop, Ajax’s fingers were shining bright with your saliva, and he reverently rubbed his lips against them, leaving behind a gleaming shine of your essence on his mouth. 

“Good girl,” Ajax murmured, kissing your forehead softly. “You taste sweeter than berries.” His fingers gently caressed your wet folds, his eyes dark with wonder. “You’re already so wet for me. You want me that badly, huh? Do you know how much I want you?”

He grabbed your hand and pressed it firmly against his crotch, making you feel the hardness of his cock beneath your palm, the precum dampening the fabric of his pants. With his guidance, you unbuckled and pulled down his pants, revealing what you craved most—his cock, red and weeping at the tip, desperate for the sweet relief only you could give him.

Lifting your legs onto his shoulders, Ajax’s grin burned bright, full of ravenous, flaming need. “I want everything to hear how much you want me,” he growled, lining himself up at your entrance. “From the sky to the trees to the flowers, I want everything to hear how much you need me.”

Ajax thrust into you abruptly, roughly, passionately, and you arched your back at the intense pleasure of finally, finally being filled to the point of breaking. His body covered yours, pinning you beneath him like a pressed flower, attempting to envelop you completely.

“You feel so good,” Ajax breathed deliriously against your neck, thrusting as deep as he possibly could into you, bottoming out before pulling back to go even deeper. “You’re so fucking tight.”

His name escaped your lips in strangled gasps as you sank your nails into his shoulder blades, overwhelmed by the warm air licking at your burning flesh, the pleasant friction of the flowers and grass scratching your back beneath you, of Ajax’s cock thrusting ruthlessly into the depths of your slick walls as you rocked against his brutal rhythm. 

The lewd sounds of wet skin against wet skin created a beautiful, sinful harmony with the wind whistling through the trees, filling you with a brightness that outshone the lantern lights sailing through the sky above, a destructive flame roaring to life within as you hurdled toward your climax.

Ajax growled a dark, thundering sound that sent shivers through you, making your walls clench even tighter around him. You could feel he was close, too—his muscles stiffening, his pace becoming more erratic and desperate. 

“Cum, baby, cum,” Ajax breathed in your ear as you babbled incoherently, your stomach tensing and tensing with pleasure, “Let yourself go, I got you, I always got you.”

And so you let yourself become undone. 

Vibrant, blinding colors spotted your vision as your orgasm seared through you, your bones melting away with what was left of your senses. Ajax unraveled too, long ropes of his cum coating your walls in its warmth and he bit down on your shoulder, burying the sounds of his release into your skin as his rutting into you slowed down. 

You vaguely felt the pain, but you might as well be weightless, your soul soaring away with the lanterns floating in the sky.

You felt Ajax’s love weep out of you, dribbling languidly down your thigh, wetting the earth beneath you. Ajax’s face swam into view, lovingly flushed. He collected his seed seeping from you with his fingers, spreading it around on your battered folds. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, entranced. “Beneath me where you belong, all my cum leaking out of you…”

Through the haze of your vision, you could see your blood blotted on Ajax’s mouth like a crimson cloud, and he licked the ichor from his lips as if were berry juices. 

tags: @tetsuskei ✦ @houseofsolisoccasum ✦ likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, i hope you enjoyed <3

[whereserpentswalk]

You're a vampire. Nobody around you know, some suspect but they don't know. You understand that you're privileged to be able to hide it, there are vampires with maws of sharp teeth, or bat's wings, or other inhuman features, that mean they'll never pass as human. All you have is unusually pale skin, and small fangs, and you can use makeup to hide the first one. People just don't notice, and it doesn't feel like a big deal, because you make it so they don't suspect, so they never ask, so you never have to lie with words.

You have to make it so you look especially human to make people think you aren't a vampire. You wear bright colors, never black, anything people would consider "cute" but not too sexual, things that make you look small and harmless. You don't express interest in anything that seems too vampiric, like any horror media, or the type of music vampires like. And when you have to, you'll look down on vampires in ways only humans do, you couldn't be safe if someone asked why you had sympathy for them, so you don't, you don't look down on them too much, just a casual socially acceptable amount.

And you have to feel certain amounts of pain. You stand out in the sun, you can't always avoid it without revealing what you are, and it hurts, it burns your skin, its bad for you, but showing what you are is worse. You refuse to eat food of course, but you can't tell why, people must think you're starving yourself. But there's always an excuse, even when you're shamefully looking at the waiter, thinking about how he would taste.

There's something shameful about wanting to drink blood and knowing you can't, thinking about what it would be like to taste your friends. It feels like you're hurting them, with these desires that you can never tell them about. If you ever did tell them it would feel like a betrayal. When you saw your first boyfriend naked you felt so sorry about wanting to do that to him. Things didn't work out with him of course, it was impossible to be intimate, your genitals are dead and useless, and there was no way to tell him how much pleasure you'd get just from having him touch your mouth, your teeth, your gums...

There's a jealously you have for monsters who are open about their inhumanity. Vampires of course, but even seeing ghouls, or werewolves, or demons who are out of the closest, living their lives without secrets, being friends with each other, getting to do all of those oh so stereotypical things, it's a strange sense of envy. You used to tell them that you aren't like them that at least you're civilized, but it's all melted away. Sometimes you wish your body had never been able to pass at all, that you looked so inhuman that you could be truly doomed to always be seen as a monster.

Of course, there are just as many times you're reminded of why it's safe for you to stay this way. When you see how vampires and other monsters are talked about by those around you. When you see induvial monsters turned away from somewhere because they're 'dangerous looking'. When you hear what some religions have to say about your kind. Even just the side glances, and desire for distance, that so many seem to have when there's a monster in conversation. The worst-case scenario when someone is targeted by a monster hunter. Even if your college has a lot of monsters, even if your city is relatively accepting, you know you'll never be 100% safe. And you tell yourself that you can avoid all of that.

You were turned into a vampire pretty recently, right out of high school. Your parents seem accepting only on the condition that you're quiet about it. Part of it is that you're not ready for your human life to end yet. You're not ready for everything that you once were to fall away, and not ready for your last chance to have human friends to disappear.

There's a girl in one of your classes who you think is a werewolf, she hides it but not perfectly. You wish you could say so much to her, you wish you could talk to her. You think she wishes the same. You share glances, those glances say so much.

[pfhwrittes]

hey hey don't think about soap becoming estranged from his family after MW3 okay. don't think about the gaps where his memories of pulling his sister's hair or chasing off scummy boyfriends should be.

don't think about the way he stares down at his maw's mince and tatties and pushes the plate away because he doesn't remember it being his favourite anymore.

don't think about his dad trying to make a joke about the local football club with his wee boy and it falling flat as johnny stares because he should know which one it is.

don't think about the way his maw's hand shakes when he hands back his granny's rosary because that pish never worked before.

don't think about johnny staring at the picture of him in his dress uniform that's on the mantel and wondering where that man went, okay?

[jeffbytes]

Jeff sneaks through doors and collects trinkets from the human world. decides to gift one to his boyfriend he he

old art from 2021

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

The Scent of Missing Buttons

Astarion centred || implied Astarion x gn!Tav || ao3 || Masterlist

Rating: M ; +18Word Count: +2.9k Warnings: prostitution, sex work, sex trafficking, PTSD, suicidal thoughts, no graphic description of sex act

He thought about his old brass buttons as he let the couple have their way with him. His doublet had thirteen buttons, if he recalled correctly. Six he had found on the floor. There was no way of telling where the others were. They had probably rolled under the bed or were lost in the gaps between the splintered floorboards. He would dare another attempt at retrieving them when these brutes were finally done with him. Going back to the master without either of them was simply out of the question. 

a/n: phew, that was hard to write. Don't forget to hug your vampire boyfriend today.

Neither the loud human nor the scrawny half-elf sitting on each side of Astarion cared about how witty or charming he was. All he had to do was sit still and smile while he endured the dirt-stained fingers messing up his carefully coiffed curls. The sweaty hand resting heavily upon his knee. The stench of days-old sweat radiating from their bodies.

Astarion gave the gawking half-elf a crooked smirk for no other reason than to loosen the building tension in his jaw.    

His marks usually came to him, and that night had been no different.

Astarion had noticed the couple looking over at him from the bar ever so often, giving him toothless grins while he’d pretended to sip on the cheap ale the tavern was pouring out en masse. 

Admittedly, the unkempt couple wouldn’t have been his first choice of company, but the night had been approaching eerily fast and Astarion could seldom afford to be picky. 

And so he’d met the couple’s shamelessly lewd looks through heavy-lidded eyes, giving them an inviting smile in return. 

It had taken them embarrassingly long to stumble over to his table, greeting Astarion with the stink of alcohol on their breaths. They must’ve started their night out drinking well before sunset—Astarion rather hoped to get it over with them fast.

Maybe they were already drunk enough to skip business and just follow him back to the master, he mused as the half-elf’s uncoordinated hand tried and failed to locate his groin. 

But then the human let go of his hair; Astarion could feel her sour breath tickle his ear and knew they wouldn’t let him get off the hook that easily.

He tried to subtly lean away from the human, but she was already dragging her coated tongue along his elongated helix.

Astarion shuddered in disgust.

“So much more sensitive than his,” the human panted. Her stupid delight was evident on her face as she indicated the half-elf who was barely an inch short of crawling onto Astarion’s lap.  

“You’re the prettiest thing we’ve ever seen,” she continued, mistaking Astarion’s visible disgust for arousal. Or maybe she was just ignoring his displeasure. 

“We want you.” 

All too easily, Astarion forced his well-constructed mask back over his features. 

Grinning, his fingers curled around the human’s bony wrist as he stood, pulling her with him.

“Wonderful, because I know a place where you can indulge in me all night long,” Astarion purred. “Somewhere quiet—just for the three of us…” 

The human giggled, though her partner eyed him with a slight hint of contempt.

“Our bed will do, filliken,” the half-elf mumbled as he manoeuvred himself off the bench they’d abandoned him on.

Astarion tensed.

Whore…

Even this piss-drunk mutt had taken only one look at him and known him for what he was.

Astarion had half the mind to bare his fangs, rip out the bastard’s throat. Decorate the dingy tavern with his innards. Paint the walls red. 

The human would come next. He would tear off her little ears and shove them down her stinking maw and, maybe, if he was lucky for once, some of the patrons were emboldened enough to drive a stake through his dead heart. 

From a distance, Astarion could hear the clock tower strike thrice and the master’s voice came to his mind.

Do not disappoint me again, boy…

The vampire spawn wet his lips, swallowed down his anger and lust for blood until they mingled with the soaring hunger in the pits of his stomach.

A moment passed. 

Astarion smiled. 

“Lead the way, then, darling.” 

The couple brought him to a cramped attic room right across the street. 

Dark mould grew on scratched windowpanes and it smelled as if the chamber pot hadn’t been emptied that morning.

Somewhere inside the walls, Astarion could sense a small colony of rodents scurrying to and fro.

He tried to focus on the erratic symphony of their heartbeats as he eyed the colourful range of fluids staining the sheets of an unmade bed.

It would be over soon—at least for that night. 

Astarion would deliver these two fools to the master in no time. Maybe he would even get a little treat for a job well done—a fat rat, or even a small dog, if he was being very good. 

And then he would rest in the shadows. Close his eyes to the buzzing city above, imagine the sun caressing his skin as it tenderly reduced him to ashes. 

The attic door slammed shut behind the human.

Astarion knew he would never feel the sun on his skin again, not even for the short moments between pain and salvation, because as much as he was a whore, he was an even bigger coward.  

He stood still as greedy hands began tugging at his clothes. 

The human giggled stupidly as her cross-eyed partner tried to undo the brass buttons on Astarion’s doublet. It was a rather pathetic sight, and before Astarion could assist him, the cursed half-elf ripped the doublet open. 

A curse ready on his lips, Astarion watched as his buttons went flying across the room. 

He doubted the master would afford him new ones any time soon; worse yet, he surely would be chastised for being so careless with his clothes again! 

Fuming inside, Astarion pushed the half-elf onto the bed and sank to the dirty floor where he crawled around to collect the buttons closest to him. 

“What a cute little pup,” the human laughed right above him. 

Her hand clawed at his locks again, and Astarion could feel humiliation merge with the seething mix of anger and hunger and hatred and disgust and—

Astarion pocketed whatever buttons he could retrieve, then rose to his full height.

The human’s hand fell away and her laughter stopped as Astarion crowded her against the rickety bed frame. 

She looked up at Astarion with round eyes. Perhaps, somewhere in the back of her booze-clouded tiny little brain, she recognised the danger she’d invited into her greasy bed. 

Astarion ran his knuckles along her jaw before his fingers curled tightly around her chin. She shivered. 

“Why don’t you two cosy up and just watch for a moment?” Astarion purred. “You like a good show, don’t you?”

“We like so much more than that,” she breathed, her eyes glassy with arousal instead of fear. 

Astarion almost scoffed. Stupid bitch.

“So much more you shall have.”

The human ran her calloused fingers over Astarion’s lean forearm before she eagerly joined her partner on their bed. 

The couple took in every part of his body as he undressed himself. 

They liked that he took his time because they didn’t know that, with every article of clothing that fell away, Astarion imagined ripping them limb from limb. 

A finger here. A foot there. The eyes that had seen entirely too much… 

Oh, how he hoped the master would make them suffer later. 

Allowing himself an honest smile, Astarion tossed his smallclothes atop the rest of his clothes and crawled onto the bed.

The doomed couple groped him roughly, drew their sharp fingernails across his skin. Used him. 

But that was quite alright; their night would end so much worse than Astarion’s. 

He thought about his old brass buttons as he let the couple have their way with him. 

His doublet had thirteen buttons, if he recalled correctly. Six he had found on the floor. There was no way of telling where the others were. They had probably rolled under the bed or were lost in the gaps between the splintered floorboards. He would dare another attempt at retrieving them when these brutes were finally done with him. 

Going back to the master without either of them was simply out of the question. 

Neither the wicked human nor the crude half-elf laying on each side of him cared that his well-timed groans were purely performative, that their touch made his skin crawl. All he had to do was please them, lure them away to their death. 

All he had to do was survive another night. Another year. Another century of nothing but pure shit.

How he wished it would end. Time was running out.  

Don’t you dare disappoint me again, you useless dirty thing…

The half-elf came first, then the human. It had taken them long enough. 

Astarion was quick to pull his shirt back over his head as the human watched him intently—he was sure she wanted another round. Good. This only ever played right into Astarion’s cards. 

The half-elf was a problem, though. He’d passed out the moment the last of his spend had added another stain to the nasty bedsheets. 

Astarion barely refrained from rolling his eyes; they would have to wake him, and that soon. They had places to be and daybreak was approaching fast. 

Astarion gave the human a crooked smile as he put on his breeches. 

“You’re very skilled, handsome,” the human said, taking the bait.

“Likewise, darling.”

She returned his smile as she untangled herself from the bedsheets and sat on the corner of the bed, never letting him out of her sight. 

Astarion slipped into his doublet. So far, he hadn’t spotted another missing button.

“Why don’t we repeat that—there’s a place I’m dying to show you. If we leave now, I promise you it will be unforgettable…”

The human’s smile widened.

“No.”

No?

Astarion wet his lips.

For a moment, he thought he’d misheard. 

No.

It wasn’t like this hadn’t ever happened before. But because it had happened before, Astarion’s hands began to tremble ever so slightly. 

No meant trouble.

No meant failure.

No meant punishment.

“You see, we don’t fuck the same thing twice,” the human said, that arrogant grin still plastered across her hideous face. 

And then she tossed Astarion some coins—laughably few coins at that. They wouldn’t even buy him some cheap ale from across the street.

Astarion was too stunned to catch the coins. They rolled around his feet before they dropped to the floor with a final mocking clink.

He stared at the dirty change, even spotted one or two of his lost buttons among them.

“Pick them up.”

Astarion’s eyes met the human’s, who licked her lips. 

She wanted him to crawl again. Like a dog. Like trash. Like the rat in a cage that he was. 

Astarion turned and fled from the attic room. There was nowhere to go, though; the city’s dirty streets only lead to one end.

The clock tower struck five times. Far in the distance, the sky turned indigo. 

There was no time to find another victim, Astarion knew, as he prowled the shadows.

But he couldn’t return empty-handed, either. 

Astarion considered dragging some passed-out drunk from the next alleyway back to the master. It wasn’t too bad a plan, wasn’t it? 

But the master liked his playthings sharp. He wanted them to be aware of what he did to them. He so delighted in their screams.

And if those poor fools couldn’t scream, Astarion’s screams would have to make do instead. 

In fact, they were the master’s favourite. 

Come to me, boy.

“Shit. Shit. Shit!”

Astarion should’ve gone down on all fours and crawled at that bitch’s feet; begged her to come with him.

He was a fool. He was so fucking stupid. He deserved any punishment the master deemed fit. 

He couldn’t do anything right.

Astarion shot another look over his shoulder, fearing to see the sky having changed colours again. 

But instead of being painted with dawn, the sky… tore open?

People started to scream. They ran from the flying ship that had appeared out of nowhere. Its tentacles chased after them, picking them off the streets one after another. 

Astarion should join the fleeing drunks and alley cats, he thought. 

But, really, what could be worse than what was waiting for him at the master’s feet? 

Astarion stood still; he could be very good at that. 

And unlike the master’s punishment—unlike the nightly humiliation that was his cursed existence—it was over in one blissful moment.

Neither the annoying wizard nor the nosy cleric sitting on the opposite side of the dying campfire cared that they were interrupting Astarion in his plan of bedding you. That night, he’d already endured yet another long-winded retelling of the young warlock’s heroic feats. Listened to the prickly warrior loudly sharpening her blade. Suppressed a laugh at the fiery tiefling’s silly joke. 

He wanted to be alone with you. Look at that cute little smile that had only needed one glass of watered-down wine in order to grow this wide. Subtly close the empty space between you and him sitting side by side on a smooth wooden log.

He wanted to breathe in the herbal fragrance of your soap without anybody watching.

The first thing Astarion had ever noticed about you was that, even covered in the blood and grime of your enemies, you smelled nice.

It had taken him days to figure out that the pleasant scent surrounding you didn’t emit from your washed hair or reasonably clean clothes. Once Astarion’s raging hunger had been sated enough, he’d even understood that it wasn’t your delectable blood that made his head spin.

No, your subtle yet unique scent simply lingered as naturally on your skin as the sunlight did on Astarion’s face these days. 

It was just you that smelled good, and it slowly drove him mad.

Astarion’s plan was simple enough. All he had to do was please you, weasel himself into your bed and good graces. Only then was he as safe from the master as he could possibly be out here in the wilderness. 

But you just had to make this difficult; you didn’t fall for his charm and flirtations. Instead of swooning, you just frowned at him whenever he tried to seduce you—and gods was he trying. And failing.

If he were to lean over and bluntly propose sex to you right then, he was sure you would reject him. The very idea of both excited and terrified him at once.

The wizard and the cleric only excused themselves when the sun’s first golden fingers started to part the night sky.

Astarion watched them vanish into their respective tents, finally leaving you alone with him. 

He stole a glance at you and found you already looking at him. 

Maybe this was his chance. Astarion couldn’t afford wasting another night, not when the master was breathing down his neck at any given time.

“And what are we two pretty things going to do with the rest of the night, darling?” 

You scoffed. “Night? It’s almost morning.” 

“Ah, you’re quite right, of course. With the right company, one can lose track of time so easily, no?” 

“Indeed,” you yawned. “Now let’s get some rest, Astarion. We have a long day ahead.” 

Astarion wet his lips. 

Shit.

What was wrong with you? 

What was wrong with him? 

If he couldn’t even get his stupid little plan right, then maybe he deserved his master’s wrath. 

Astarion picked up a crooked branch and poked around the fading embers.

If you didn’t want his body, then what use did you have of him? He was just some idiot. A whore nobody wanted to fuck. He was—

“Oh!” You exclaimed, suddenly. “I forgot!” 

Astarion, trying to not let his growing desperation show on his face, watched as you excitedly produced something from your pocket. 

You scooted closer to him; your knee brushed against his thigh and your smile grew as you looked up at him. Instinctively, Astarion breathed in your scent.

Then you opened your hand, revealing thirteen buttons. 

The rising sun reflected prettily on their golden surface.

Astarion tensed.

“What’s that?”

Your cheeks reddened, looking as if you’d just scrubbed them clean down by the river. 

“Your doublet—it doesn’t close properly, doesn’t it? So I thought, well…buttons.”

When Astarion neither reached for the buttons nor said anything, you slowly let your hand sink.

“I could sew them on for you,” you offered sheepishly. “I’m sure they’ll look very nice on you.”

Throwing his now broken stick aside, Astarion rose to his full height.

“I don’t want them. Go to bed. We have a long day ahead,” he said courtly before he all but fled to his tent.

The sun burned on Astarion’s skin but didn’t reduce him to ashes. He never was afforded any luck.

He watched you walk far ahead of him, leading your companions through the woods. This far back, he could barely catch your lovely scent. 

Not for the first time that day did he wonder what those buttons you’d offered him would’ve cost him. 

Wouldn’t any price have been worth it?

Astarion had been a fool again. 

He should’ve just thanked you, watched your quick little fingers close the chasm in his chest with nothing but some thread and pretty buttons. After that, he should’ve pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek. Take you into his arms.

That’s what he wanted to do, if he was being honest.

But he hadn’t done any of this. His doublet was still shoved to the very bottom of his pack and he hadn’t looked you in the eyes all day.

Because as much as Astarion was a whore, he was an even bigger coward.

That was all to him there was.

The vampire spawn looked over his shoulder but couldn’t see much of what lay behind. 

The golden sun was too bright in his eyes.

As usual, all he could do, though, was endure.

Tag List

@spacebarbarianweird @bardic-inspo @kawaiiusagichansan 

[muzanswaifu]

Yandere! Rengoku Breeding Kink HCs

18+

Afab! Reader

Holiday gift for one of my patreon members!

Request: "Can I nsfw request Yandere!Rengoku kyojuro breed/impregnate Reader please? Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! 🎄🎉🪅🥳💕"

NSFW Warnings: Yandere, Smut, Non-con, Drugging, Kidnapping, Roofies, Obsession, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Multiple Creampies, Cockwarming, Breeding Kink, Pregnancy Kink, Impregnation, Unsafe Sex, Baby-trapping

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Rengoku has oh so dreamed of this day, the day he’d have you sprawled out on his bed, drugged out of your mind from the little pill he’d slipped in your drink at a bar earlier

It had been quite difficult to convince your friends that he was your boyfriend, but it’s not like they could refuse him when he was so charming and knew so much about you, things not even they did

You were lucky, you know, lucky that it was only him who had taken advantage of how easy it was to track you, you would’ve been in danger had it been someone else! But don’t worry, he was not some psychopath, his only objective was to care for you, love you, own you

You mewed softly into the sheets, rolling over to squint into the dim, intimate lighting of his bedroom, even if it had been bright enough to see, your vision was blurred, obscured by your own doped brain

He cooed at your struggle of movement, brushing your glazed hair back and leaning over to seal his lips over yours, the kiss was sloppy, more tongue than anything as he drooled into your mouth, he’d wanted for so long to embrace you, pure love radiating off of him despite his cruelly perverted actions, when he’d finally pulled away, a string of saliva stretching between your tongues

Kyojuro had already checked you out for quite some time in the club, but in here, so close to each other, his eyes scavenged across your figure yet again - the slip of your sleeve down your shoulder, your bunched up skirt, the tight cling of your dress - his groin ached at the sight of you so… ripe, so ready to be taken advantage of

Saliva built on his tongue as he peeled the useless clothing from you, savoring the way your breasts and ass spilled from the taut material, your naked bodice twitched with the sudden chill, head shifting side to side in your confusion, you were too dazed to care about anything but what you could physically feel, and he was quick to give you something to focus on as he spread your legs apart

His chest bloomed as his ears were filled with your pathetic whines and moans, gifts exchanged for his service to your innocent heat, his ravenous tongue had already found its way to your center, pressing kiss after kiss to your delicate hole, thanking the gods for this glorious meal

Kyojuro relished the pure taste of you, licking stripes against your entrance and chancing his tongue inside, working you open in the most gentle way he could manage

It was only when you gave a long whimper and crossed your ankles behind his head that he’d realized his ignorant mistake of your neglected bead, pulling back he could see how needy she was, swollen and pulsing for attention, desperate to be spoiled with love

He sucked her gently, groaning at the feeling of your hands fiercely clutching his blond mane, your legs further weaving him closer

It didn't take long for you to come like that, gushing into his mouth and letting out a silent scream of ecstasy

You didn’t have the strength to crawl away as he continued feasting, boneless as he flipped you to your front and pulled your legs off the bed to eat you from behind with the same hunger as before, not even giving you a moment’s rest as he lapped at you like a starved man

He felt high off his mind as he drank from you, as intoxicated as you were perhaps, and this wasn’t even the best part of what he’d had planned

You felt a hint of something strange, embarrassment?, as you came this time, spewing out juices across his maw as he teased the side of your throbbing nub with his tongue, it felt dirty to have lost control of your functions and stained his face, despite the excitement that clearly painted his expression as he licked his lips clean with a manic grin

Kyojuro stepped back, admiring his own work of your dripping and thoroughly eaten pussy, his pants had been loosened long ago, but only then did he start stroking himself, preparing to give you what you so needed and deserved

You were none-the-wiser as he mounted you, pressing the tip of his cock at your fluttering hole, you were already given up, drooling into the sheets and weakly clutching at them in anticipation for whatever came next

He nearly thought this was dream, doubting his own vision of you in the perfectly arched breeding position that he’d always fantasized about, praying for the day he’d get to fill your belly with his litter, marry you somewhere in the mix of it all, he didn’t really care which came first

But you were really here, he mused as he began pushing in, your cosseted cunt gladly taking in the first few inches before pushing back in resistance, he’d already anticipated the struggle, well aware of his own dangerous size

Thankfully, you didn’t make too much of a fuss, only weakly yowling and sputtering as you were stretched past your limit by a man who you had certainly never suspected to be in this position with, nor would you have ever guessed your body could accommodate such a thing, but here you were, filled to the brim and bulging with a cock that pushed at your womb with the same obsessive goal as its owner

You had to be made for each other, your little pussy doing such an amazing job of coddling his cock, already frothing around his shaft with your sweet cream, he licked his lips remembering the delectable taste

Kyojuro hardly had to move to stimulate himself, your walls already pulsing around him and milking him for his potent seed, he could feel your legs shake under him and wrapped an arm under your belly, pressing his hand against the protruding bulge in your belly and making you whine

He took his time molding you to him, gently canting his hips back and forth to get you used to the feeling of being properly filled, as you deserved, but the moment your strained cries turned to moans of pleasure, he could no longer stop himself, rolling his hips deep, flawlessly curling into your sweet spot with every agonizing stroke

His arms held your hips up to meet his as his patience to crouch down to meet you deteriorated, he could no longer wait for you to succumb, determined to show you the vast range of his skill and power, to show you just how amazing he could make you feel, to show how perfectly he could care for your needs, even if you might not remember any of this tomorrow

He groaned deep as he filled you with the first round of seed, surprising even himself as the cum had suddenly escaped from him before he’d even realized he'd peaked, the pleasure of your cunt so heavenly that he’d been at his highest from the beginning

Hot cum pooled into you, not yet spilling as he stilled his hips as deep as possible inside you, he didn't want even a drop to be wasted, intent for it to catch now, if his research was correct this was your fertile week

You mouthed at the blankets, your body trembling with the overstimulation that you had no chance to escape from, feeling a hot thickness fill your belly in waves, you could feel the object twitch inside of you, snapping at your most sensitive spots as if it were easy

He gave a sigh once his load had emptied, gingerly pulling himself from your welcoming heat only to flip you over to see your front, he wanted to see your face when you came with his cock filling you up with another fresh batch of sperm

You began whining again as he filled you, your weak little hands clawing at the beast that crawled on top of you, grabbing at his wrinkled shirt and balling it in your fists, it didn't help that he had started flicking at your clit as well, rubbing slow swirls that had what was left of your brain reeling back into itself

Your body betrayed you without question, furiously clutching at his shaft and spraying him yet again with your release

Kyojuro beamed at your cunts eagerness to take everything he had, his pace quickening as he chased his own climax yet again, desperate to give your womb more of his thick, hot cum

He came for the second time that night with his eyes locked on your tiny hole swallowing every inch of his cock, a creamy ring of semen frothing around his base as he pumped another fresh load into your tummy, spraying it directly into your womb

You let out a practically pornographic moan, your voice wanton and cracked as you sobbed, drool pooling down the sides of your mouth while your head lolled back, the warmth felt so good, swimming inside your belly and sending waves of euphoria all throughout your being, your clit throbbed from the lack of movement so you tried to hump at him, but his strong hands held you firm and still, keeping you in place so his seed wouldn’t spill out, but your attempt at rebellion irked him momentarily

In the future, he'd make sure to train you more thoroughly on how to behave in the bedroom, how to present yourself to him after he got home from work, how to keep your legs spread and pussy exposed for him to eat after a long day, how to stay still and submissive for him to hold you down and breed you until his balls were empty, how to warm his cock all night without letting any of his precious cum spill out

But for now, he’d do all the work and let you enjoy how good being impregnated felt, he took a hand off your hip to massage his balls, just to make sure he gave you every drop, he chuckled as you slurred at him, muttering stupid, sweet nothings as your hips tried yet again to brush against his, he humored your impatience, brushing his thumb lazily over your swollen clit, and another gush of your juices drenched his thighs

Even as he came down from this climax, he knew he still had several more rounds in him, far too pent up to let you rest just yet

He wanted you bursting with his seed when he was done with you, so not a doubt could be had that you were carrying his child, rengoku wanted your thighs painted white, you pretty cunt stuffed with cream, and even your mouth given a taste of his essence, tainting your entire being with his love and devotion

He slammed his lips into yours as he built up his pace for the next round, holding your jaw still with a hand as he cleaned up the drool from your lips with his tongue, laughing when you scrunched your nose and turned your face to get away from his intimate grooming, the man uncaring as he continued his work anyway, licking with wide, wet strokes all over you like an animal

He had you every way imaginable that night, every position, every surface, every innocent inch of your body, leaving you a heaping pile of sweat, spit, and, most of all, cum, caked and drying on your skin and especially between your legs

Rengoku worried he might have killed you after he’d given his last pint of seed, your body falling to a limp and cold state of silence, yet your breaths were evened, proving your resilience

He didn’t bother cleaning you off, far, far too pleased with the outcome of your divine image covered head to toe in his babies, your mouth open and drooling into the pillow with gentle pants, you nearly sounded like you were purring

Kyojuro kept you tight his chest, wrapping your limbs together like pretzel dough and pulling your leg over his hip to keep his soft cock locked inside of you for warmth, but even without it your body burned from his simmering flesh, hot to the touch and practically steaming in the cold air of the room

He wasn’t so delusional as to expect your reaction tomorrow to be happy, in fact, he pretty much expected the opposite, quite positive that you’d freak out or try to escape, but he’d already planned ahead, having prepared a safe room for you to be kept in, heavily equipped with as many furnishings and comforts as there were tracking devices and sound proof barriers, the next room over was already set up as a nursery

He had hope you’d give in quickly with his good care, praying you’d see how perfect your life would be with him treating you as his goddess, after all you’d already had the time of your life tonight and you hadn’t even given him consent!

But he was willing to give you time either way, certain with himself that you were meant for each other, meant to spend the rest of your lives pleasing each other and creating life together

Kyojuro would spend every day to get your requited love, but, at the end of the day, it wouldn’t have stopped him from having you regardless

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[merakiui]

we have discussed clingy, codependent boyfriend azul, but now allow me to present to you: scummy, sleazy floyd.

(nsfw + female reader)

scummy, sleazy floyd who you meet at some club deep in the shadowed corner of the city. he smells of alcohol and cigarette smoke, and he’s leering lasciviously as he leans against the bar, blocking your view of another guy who’d been attempting to strike up conversation. he doesn’t bother to hide the fact that he’s interested, and you only let him stay because he keeps you on your toes with his witty and blunt retorts. you tell him you’re not looking for a quick fuck and his lips spread in an easy grin and he answers with: “and i’m just here to hold hands and make friends.”

he buys you a drink; you gaze at the flashy silver and gold adorning his fingers when he passes the cocktail to you. some of those rings look expensive: bejeweled with the brightest gemstones and glittering with sterling silver. his sleeves are rolled up; he’s got tattoo sleeves of what looks to be various marine creatures, all predatory with their curling tentacles and sharpened maws. his ears are pierced, too, and so is his tongue. not that you’re looking at his lips, but when he smiles his entire face lights up. one moment he looks pure and sweet with his broad grins; the next he looks as if he’s just undressed you with his gaze alone. and under the dim, sensual neon lighting, something about the latter look has you rubbing your thighs together in anticipation.

you talk to him as you drink. horrifyingly enough, he’s good company. you almost wish you’d come with a friend so you could have an excuse to leave. it’s not that you’re uncomfortable. it’s just that you weren’t expecting to find someone here who’d genuinely listen to you—and not just so he can wheedle you into sex! he’s a rare specimen, or maybe you’re just too buzzed to see through the deceptively appealing haze that’s fallen over him.

“so why are you still here?”

“cuz you’re fun to talk to.”

“but don’t you want to fuck?”

“do you?” he smirks at your flustered sputtering. “don’t ask for somethin’ you don’t want.”

“huh…”

“you’re cute.” it catches you off guard, but then so does the nickname he throws out next. “like a little shrimp. think i’ll start callin’ ya shrimpy from now on.”

“please don’t.”

“too late.”

you quirk an amused smile and reach out to shove him away. he doesn’t budge. not that you put any force into it. you don’t want him to leave. not yet.

“you never gave me your name.”

“ya never asked.”

“okay, smooth talker, what’s your name?”

he smiles, gleeful mismatched eyes flicking to your fingers as they curl around the handle of your empty glass. he gazes at you next. “floyd.”

“nice to meet you, floyd. i’m (name).”

“s’pretty, but i still think shrimpy sounds better.”

you roll your eyes and angle your body so that you’re facing him entirely. you know you’ve been sitting here for quite some time now because suddenly he’s the only one you want to look at. maybe it’s the alcohol, but you feel so stupidly incoherent when you stand on unsteady legs. it takes you a moment to balance on the wedge platforms, and floyd offers a muscled arm for you to lean on. you grab it and squeeze his bicep out of drunken curiosity. he’s strong…

he’s eyeing your mini skirt and fishnet stockings with sharp eyes. you know it’s bad news; you know you shouldn’t get carried away like this, especially since you just came out of a very vanilla, very normal, very non-sexual romance. but that relationship didn’t work out; this one…is different. it’s not a relationship. it’s a hook-up. it’s temporary. it’s not permanent.

your eyes tell him all he needs to know. he giggles as he guides you through a tight hall to the bathroom. the music is a muffled hum now, bass reverberating through your rib cage as if it’s a heartbeat. impatiently, he pushes you into a stall, not bothering to lock the door. you scramble for purchase when he shoves you up against the wall. it’s been graffitied with all sorts of nonsense: magicam usernames, some circled and others crossed out, phone numbers, dirty words, incoherent scribbles of poorly drawn penises… it’s filthy and you wouldn’t fuck even your worst enemy in a place as horrid as this, but tonight it feels right.

you fumble to grab his shoulders while his hands hike your mini skirt further up your hips. it feels fast and slow all at once. is this happening? are you even alive right now? did you pass out from the alcohol? is this a dream? his voice brings you back to earth next.

“changed your mind?” he teases, pressing his thumbs into your sides to gauge just how plush your waist is. and from what he’s feeling he seems to approve, for he squeezes you playfully. the coolness of his rings settles your overheated nerves.

“s-shut up…”

“ya ever had sex before?”

it takes a long minute for you to process that, but once you do you hurry to respond. “of course i have!”

“liar.”

“’m not,” you mumble, shaking your head.

“yeah, yeah. lemme guess. you want it, but you’re too scared to take it.”

“…not true.”

he barks out a laugh. “ya serious? really? that’s it?”

you push his face away. he’s still laughing.

“that’s not true!”

“ya ever use any toys?” at your limp shrug, he throws his head back and whistles. “man. why’re you even here? what’s an inexperienced thing like you doin’ in a club?”

you stare hard at the floor, suddenly ashamed. “i… i wanted to lose it…tonight…”

or something like that.

“don’t ya have someone special who can take it? not that i ain’t special, but ya know… s’different. a partner or somethin’ like that.”

“there’s no one.”

floyd hums as if he’s considering something before promptly lowering to his knees. he doesn’t seem to mind the sticky floor, but then he’s more focused on the space between your legs. he winks when he catches your gaze, lips peeling to reveal rows of sharp, pearly teeth.

“then i’d better treat ya extra special tonight.”

you don’t object. he wasn’t expecting you to.

maybe if you were more sober and level-headed you might find the sensation unusual. but his tongue (and the cold metal of his accompanying piercing) feels so unfathomably good against your clit. he braces himself against your legs, strong hands wrapped firmly around your thighs as if they’re garters. his nose is buried in your crotch while he angles his head to lave his tongue over your slick pussy, leaving you a shuddering, gasping mess above. you grab at his hair, tugging teal strands to keep yourself afloat amidst inebriation and waves of tantalizing pleasure, each crashing into you as if you’re a poor, fragile sailboat on a vast, tumultuous sea.

he’s the best (and only) fuck you’ve ever had, so when his tongue flashes into your pussy you throw your head back against the stall and wail, your stomach untying its many knots as you come undone. you’re a mess, shuddering and panting, reduced to nothing before something so… so… great? perfect?

something so floyd.

and while you grind against his mouth he laps eagerly at your wetness, unbothered by the shower he just endured. he’s laughing when he pulls away, voice raspy and thick with good-natured mischief.

“shrimpy’s so easy…”

you scowl at him, but it falls apart the moment he licks his lips.

“you’re just too…”

“yeah?” he nods, encouraging you to continue. “too what? you can say it.”

you almost don’t want to give him that satisfaction, but then he’s pinching your clit and you’re melting against the stall. suddenly being vindictive is the least of your priorities.

“t-too good!”

“see? shrimpy knows the right words.” he rises to his feet in the cramped space, shucking his trousers as he goes. they pool at his ankles, momentarily forgotten. you stare at the outline of his half-hard cock against his boxers. “good girl.”

that... wow. okay. that’s…something new. you don’t want it to hit, but it does. and you hate that it does. you try not to let it show, but he’s so eerily perceptive despite all of the carnal lust and physical attraction. how he’s even able to focus all of his attention on you while he lazily works himself in one hand is beyond you, but then you surmise he’s likely had plenty of experience and so by now he knows the basic steps by heart. it hurts a little—that you’re not his first, that you aren’t anyone special to him, that you’re just another body he’s pinned to a dingy stall wall—but you don’t dare let your sentimental feelings spoil the mood.

you watch him roll a condom on one-handed and—god, even his dick is pierced—your anticipation couldn’t be any more palpable. he rocks himself against you, his leaking cock pressed to your stomach. he pokes at an area just above his tip.

“you think it’ll go all the way up to here?” he hums while you try (and fail) to say something coherent. “only one way to find out, yeah?”

“mhm…”

floyd laughs. “don’t go gettin’ dazed on me now, shrimpy. i haven’t even put it in yet!”

he turns you so you’re facing the wall and lifts one of your legs. the position stings for a moment, but then his dick is prodding at your pussy and if you had any doubts now they’re all washed away when he snaps his hips forwards, filling you all at once, so much that the breath is punched out of you and you crumple against the wall. you scramble to grab onto something, but he keeps you plastered to the wall, one hand curled around your waist and the other holding your leg up so that he’s fucking you at an angle. each thrust pushes you up against the stall, and you howl like a mutt in heat, no longer worried about slipping.

it’s so gross. you’re tacky with sweat and your panties are soaked through, and every time he connects his body to yours you can hear the lewd squelching of skin on skin. it’s vile and loveless, but god it’s good. everything about him is temporary; he’s not your forever. you know this, but for tonight he’s your temporary and that feels like a dreamy eternity.

he fucks you like you’re the only one left in this world, and your lashes flutter against your cheekbones, vision whiting out. you shudder through your orgasm, sobbing pleasured relief, and it takes just a few more well-aimed thrusts until he’s spilling hot, groaning lowly in your ear.

he stays pressed to you for a few seconds, rolling his hips slowly as if riding out a glorious high, and you blink rapidly as you return to yourself. he waves his hand in front of you and, stupidly, you reach out and clasp it tight. his fingers entwine with yours. temporary, you remind yourself.

it’s sweaty and sticky and so unbearably hot when he separates himself, slipping out with ease. you almost lower yourself to the ground, exhausted and in need of a bath, so he supports you with one arm while he tugs the now-filled condom off.

floyd peers at you with glazed eyes and leans in to kiss you on the cheek. it’s the cherry on top—a job well done.

“you got a friend nearby?”

“what?”

“someone to pick ya up.” he tries to clean you, balling toilet paper and using it to wipe you down. it doesn’t really work. you still feel filthy even after he’s adjusted your panties and pulled your mini skirt down. it’s the effort that counts, though. “shrimpy’s not really in the right mind.”

“i’m in the best mind, thank you and fuck you!”

“kinda did that last one already.”

he lets you tear yourself away from him. as he observes you clinging to the wall for support, he fits himself back into his boxers and yanks his trousers up.

“gimme your phone.”

“no way. you might do something weird.”

floyd rolls his eyes. “lemme call ya a ride. you need it.”

“ooh, chivalry isn’t dead…”

you pass it to him after fumbling to unlock it. floyd spends an awful long time typing, but before you know it he’s calling someone. you listen to him as he talks, his voice a playful drawl. alcohol aside, he definitely rearranged your guts and your brain. it’s a wonder you’re still conscious.

“hi, jadeee. do me a favor, yeah? will you come pick us up? we gotta drop shrimpy off at her place.” there’s silence; you strain to hear the person on the other side. “nah. s’just a little lady i met tonight. she’s cute. maybe your type if you don’t mind sloppy seconds.” there’s more silence; your skin prickles when you realize he’s talking about you to whoever this jade person is. “kay, so you’ll pick us up?”

the exchange lasts another minute before he’s hanging up and sliding your phone into your pocket. you’re relieved when he tells you he’s found you a ride home because it allows you to mumble your address before you lose yourself to exhaustion entirely. you don’t remember the ride home or how you even got into your apartment or what your roommate said when a mysterious man carried your unconscious body inside like you were a sack of flour he’d slung over his shoulder. but when you wake up the next day, hungover, sticky, sweaty, and still tired, you aren’t spared the details from your roommate. it’s a story you find hard to believe.

you, going out to a club and hooking up? as if. you can hardly fit a dildo inside without tightening up out of fright.

but before you step into the shower, you check your phone for any proof. sure enough, after scrolling through your contacts, there’s a new one. his name is floyd. you stare at the number and it all comes rushing back.

horrified, you text him: why is your number in my phone?

he responds minutes later: thought u might want it.

well i don’t want it.

then delete it :p i’m not stopping u, he writes back.

you stare at his message long enough for those three dots to return.

he sends another message: gonna take a guess and say u wanna keep me in ur phone :)

you hate that emoticon. there’s nothing to smile about.

i’m going to delete you after my shower!

we’ll see

you shut your phone off. you hate that you allowed yourself to get so swept up last night, but most of all you hate that he’s right. you do want him to stay. at least now you have a means of staying in touch. not that you’ll utilize it! but…

it never hurts to talk every now and then, right?

[mundrakan]

Prompt: Monster

@wolfstarmicrofic - 141 words

Sirius had thought he was safe. It had worked before, dozens of times. Running with the wolf on four legs. For Prongs, for Wormtail, for him too. Now he was even his boyfriend, and just this morning Moony had pensively looked at him with a dreamy smile. “You know... werewolves mate for life.”

So how could it be that said werewolf now pushed him to the ground, closing his maw around the scruff of his neck, deeper and deeper, until Sirius felt the skin break? How could the mighty beast hold him down with such brutal abandon?

Just when Prongs shoved Moony off, the answer was right there. Sirius bolted in between the wolf and the deer, before his best friend could put himself into danger once more. Then he ran, Moony right at his heels.

Werewolves mated for life indeed.