#more like iron my heart fucking shut

[scarlet-being]

Never have I been so glad to be home alone than now while finishing Iron Widow because.

The sheer volume at which I screamed.

Needless to say the neighbours came to check of I was being murdered and I didn't even know how to say no because THIS BOOK IS FUCKING KILLING ME

[dollfacefantasy]

neglect kink with older leon???!!?!? like… you’re super horny whining and begging for his attention and he’s just. completely ignoring you. maybe he eventually lets you cockwarm him but he’s still ignoring you… the only way you know he’s enjoying this is because he’s still hard… no sounds or nothing. you’re so desperate for ANYTHING a kiss, a touch, literally any words at all but he’s just focused on his work!!! maybe daddy kink because everything needs daddy kink… maybe, like, you did something bad so this is your punishment… i don’t know… maybe he gives you the attention eventually or not!!!!

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: you've been bad, but you never seem to learn from spankings. leon has to try something new to remind you why you should be a good girl.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, cockwarming, masturbation, overstimulation, daddy kink, praise/degradation, age difference, dom/sub stuff (rules, punishment, etc.)

word count: 6.2k

a/n: you're so right, everything does need daddy kink <3 thank you for the request, love. i hope it's what you were wanting. i imagine post-DI leon for this so he's a bit older, but i just used DI for the pic. anyhow, reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi

Your deep breaths and soft whimpers had overtaken the quiet murmur of the tv in your bedroom. An old movie played on it, one you had seen time and time again. It no longer had your attention. Instead, you’re focusing on playing with the pulsing bud between your legs. Your fingers thrum back and forth over the sensitive spot, hips pushing down against the mattress as sparks fly in your belly.

Technically, you weren’t supposed to be doing this. It was one of the rules you agreed to when Leon had approached you with some things he wanted to try out for your sex life, just a small set of guidelines to play with. ‘No touching yourself without daddy’s permission' had been listed among others. He counted each one on his fingers as he did, and you nodded your head and looked up at him with your sweet set of eyes. The same set that now flutters with ecstasy as you played your forbidden game. But as long as he didn’t know, it was fine, right?

Your heels dig into the blankets beneath you while your breasts rise and sink with each inhale and exhale. You feel that hot sensation between your legs, the tightening cord, the boiling pleasure. You’re about to let it loose until you hear the front door open and shut, keys clatter on the table, and the familiar grunt Leon does when he slips his shoes off, using the tip of one on the heel of the other.

You nearly miss these little cues because of the rain clashing against your windows, but in a stroke of luck, you catch it all and tear your hand out of your shorts at light speed. Leon’s just walking into the bedroom as you drape the blanket over yourself. Shifting around a little to get comfy, you then gaze up at him, putting some tenderness into your eyes in hopes of throwing him off your scent.

As he gets closer, you take in his appearance. Little droplets of water on the shoulders of his jacket from the rain outside. Shiny hair fresh from the shower he took this morning, shaggy bangs hanging down into his face. Tired glaze over his eyes, work must not have been a walk in the park. 

Once he approaches you, he raises his eyebrows, and for a second, you’re sure you’ve been found out. But all he does is sit next to you on the edge of the bed and run a hand over your head. His eyes fixate on you as if he’s studying your features. Your heart pounds, waiting to hear the words belt, over my knee, or sore & stinging leave his lips, but they don’t.

“Been having a nice day, baby?” he asks you, petting your head a few more times.

“Mhm,” you respond. Innocent enough.

“That’s good. What have you been doing?” he asks. Oh fuck.

“Um, just watching a movie,” you answer.

“Yeah? That all?” he continues. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Pretty much. It’s all rainy out. Don’t really feel like getting out of bed,” you say with a casual shrug.

He nods. It seems like an approving gesture, but you could swear there’s a little knowing glint in his eyes. Maybe that’s just your imagination. Hopefully, that’s just your imagination.

“Alright. I gotta go finish up some work for a while, just wanted to check on you first. Keep being a good girl for me,” he tells you. He gives you a small pat on the ass before getting up and walking out of the room as quickly as he had entered.

Your body relaxes, and your pulse descends to normal levels. Maybe you did pull it off. Heist of the century in your book. You settle in to truly just pay attention to the tv for now, but it’s not as simple as it should be when you’re still so pent up. You’d just breached the threshold of release, before you were torn out and back to reality. You could feel the slick that had gathered between your legs, the ache in your clit calling out to your fingers.

The thought of continuing does cross your mind. It would be so easy. Without any suspicion on you, all you would have to do is clamp a hand over your mouth and rub slower so the bed didn't creak. Plus, when he went in his office, he usually worked until the evening anyway. You could cum and be done with it before he had the slightest idea.

No, no, no. You told him you’d be a good girl. You wouldn’t wanna break daddy’s heart by being bad, right? No, you wanted to make him proud. You resign to wait until he wants to play with you. He always did; you can’t recall a night he left you wanting. So you lay on your side, eyes focused on the blue-tinted screen across the room, and keep it together.

But hours go by. And then more hours go by. You keep yourself occupied, marathoning nearly an entire franchise of movies, eating, going on your phone. But none of it fills the Leon-shaped void inside you.

This was the longest he’d ever been in that office. He never worked in there into the night. He always told you that he tried to spend as little time in there as possible. That’s time that could be spent with his good girl, that’s what he told you. Only you hadn’t been a good girl today.

You shake your head, and tell the stupid little voice inside to zip it. He seemed tired, remember? This is probably just an extension of that. He knew he’d have to come home and be in his office all day. It was all a coincidence, this whole thing. There was literally no way he could know what you’d been doing. But daddy knows you better than you know yourself.

Oh god. This was like some form of torture, you’re sure of it. Self-inflicted, or was it really? He was the one who’d made you this way. Whatever. Enough was enough. There was no reason to be paranoid. You could literally just go ask him. Sort this out and soothe your anxiety, so you can go back to waiting patiently like the good girl that you are.

Pushing the covers to the side, you slide out of bed and head down the hall to his office as thunder crackles outside. A gentle push on one of the French doors leads you into the room you rarely entered. Despite that, you liked it in here. Leon’s desk faced away from the door, towards the window that looked out onto the street. The curtains were drawn now, brown fringe overlapping with the spare cushions on the window seat below it. Some bookshelves lined the walls perpendicular to his desk, though you never had the time to actually check their contents.

You walk a few paces into the room. Your eyes cast over to him. He doesn’t even look like he’s doing much for someone working into the night, but who are you to judge? You step over a crinkle in the rug to stand in front of his desk. Your hands rest on the hardwood as you gaze at him over the monitor of his computer.

“Hi,” you say simply.

He nods. A movement so vague that he could’ve told you his head twitched, and you’d believe him.

“Whatcha doing?” you ask.

“Work.”

You stare at him for a moment. Sure, he wasn’t normally super chatty, but he also wasn’t usually so clipped. He knows.

“How’s it going?” you say.

You’re met with a shrug. You have to up your efforts.

Circling around his desk, you position yourself behind him and wrap your arms over his shoulders. You drag your nose against his cheek like an affectionate kitten and kiss the skin a few times.

“How much longer you gonna be in here?” you ask. Your voice remains gentle and undemanding.

“A while,” he grunts. The clacking of the keyboards starts up again, and his eyes remain locked on the documents in front of him.

“But you’ve been in here for hours,” you point out and feign a pout.

“And I’ll be in here for even more if you keep bothering me,” he says with a little gesture that wasn’t fully shrugging you off but at the same time was shrugging you off.

Ouch. Your pout was no longer feigned. You stand up straight and walk back to where you stood originally. He still doesn’t spare you even the smallest of glances.

“Can I stay in here with you?” you ask hesitantly.

“If you want to,” he says. Wow. Not that he wanted you to, no. If you wanted to. Sure, people could call you sensitive for being upset about that, you don’t care. You’re tempted to leave with a huff, slamming the door behind you, but now you’re even more curious if he was aware of your illicit afternoon activities. You kinda hope he is at this point because at least that would give a reason for his icy attitude.

You walk over to the one other chair in the room. Yeah, there was the window seat, but as pretty as you’d made it for him, decorating it with little throw pillows and cute coverings, it wasn’t very comfortable. You plop down on the corduroy cushioning of the beaten-up seat in the corner. with a sigh. Bringing your legs up over the armrest, you lean back against the opposite one and scan the room out of boredom. Your feet swing back and forth absentmindedly as you puff breaths of disinterest from between your lips.

You really try to give him time to finish, but it feels like he’s taking actual eternity. Also, it sounds like he’s barely doing anything, and now you are going to judge because he’s cutting into your precious personal time with him. You stare at him for several minutes, keeping your eyes locked on his face. Unlike any normal person who’d get uncomfortable, he just continues “working.” Finally, you crack.

“How’s it going?” you ask.

No response.

“Are you almost done?” you try again.

Nothing.

Your eyes darken, your frown growing. “Leonnnnn,” you whine.

And still absolutely nothing. You have one more weapon in your arsenal. If this doesn’t work, you know you’ll just have to pack it up for the night.

“Daddy…” you whimper, using the softest voice you could manage, the one that always shot right through him. You jut your bottom lip out a bit more and put that pleading in your eyes. After this, all you have is literal tears, and you’re hoping it doesn’t go to that point.

Leon knows this, and he doesn’t want it to get that far either. He finally spins his chair in your direction. His eyes land on your face. He has to repress the smirk rising to his face over your neediness.

“Funny how that name seems to always slip out most when you want something,” he replies.

At least he wasn’t ignoring you anymore. “All I want is your attention…” you say, keeping up your sweet performance.

“Oh yeah?” he taunts, “Tell me, baby. Were you thinking of daddy today when you were home alone?”

Your eyes dart away from his face, but you force them back. You couldn’t blow this by being too obvious, so you respond with a simple nod.

“I thought so, princess. What else would have had you so riled up today when I came home? It wouldn’t be because you were breaking one of your rules, would it?” he asks. His tone was obviously leading. He knew. You were so desperate for him though that at this point you were starting to think a spanking wouldn’t be that bad. At least it was some form of physical contact to sate you.

“I wasn’t riled up earlier,” you say quietly with a little shrug.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re not lying are you? Cause that’s another rule. Two broken rules in one day. That wounds me, babydoll,” he says.

“I’m not breaking any rules. I’m being honest,” you say.

“So you being all squirmy, hot skin, heavy breathing; that wasn’t you being riled up? Is daddy imagining things now? Do I not know what my girl looks like when she’s aching for me?” he asks, “What she looks like when she’s been trying to solve her little problem herself?”

Finally, he unveils his reasoning. You freeze and stare at him, trying to think of what to say. Even though you wanted attention, there was still that innate part of you that hated being in trouble. You’d much rather be perched on his lap to be loved on like the precious thing you were.

“I don’t know what you mean,” is your weak attempt at an excuse. He laughs and leans back in his chair, the old springs creaking with his motion.

“Did you put your fingers inside or just play with that pretty little clit?” he asks, eyes boring into you as he goes for the kill.

“Just my clit…” you mumble and look down.

Shaking his head again, he turns back to his computer. You watch him, expecting him to start in on you again. To lecture you about your impatience. Tease you about your borderline pathetic need for him. Take you over his knee and crack you on the ass while making you repeat each of your rules back to him.

But none of this happens. Instead, this man just goes back to straight up ignoring you. Your jaw drops and a confused whine comes from your throat. “Daddy, c’mon. I’m sorry,” you say.

He resumes typing, fingers gliding over the keys and eyes fixed on the little words appearing in front of him. You groan in frustration and sink back against the brown ribbed fabric of your chair. You glare at him from your place, trying to telepathically will him into entertaining you again. You must be lacking in mental communication though because he doesn’t change what he’s doing at all. One of your thighs crosses over the other, unintentionally giving your pussy a little friction.

That’s what made this all the more frustrating, you were still unsatisfied from earlier. You should’ve just made yourself cum like you wanted. You’d be in trouble either way. You could only hope he’d take it easy on you now for having chosen the former.

Different scenarios run through your head for how you want to play this. A spectrum of possibilities lies in front of you. On one end, you could just leave. Keep whatever dignity you had left, cut your losses, and go to bed. On the other, you could be over the top. Hop in his lap and smother him with a flurry of kisses before he could object. Either one would probably only earn you more punishment, so you try to think of a middle ground. A way to continue the game.

As you think, your right hand lazily runs up and down your chest. Your middle finger coasts over the area spanning from the valley between your breasts to your navel. Taking your lip between your teeth, you decide to start here. Your fingers move to your tits and round your nipples. The buds harden into small peaks beneath your shirt. You pinch and pull at them gently, and your cunt flutters in response to the teasing. You shift your hips up before shimmying your shorts off and letting them drop to the ground beside your chair.

You reposition yourself next to sit properly in the chair. Your heels come to rest on the plush cushion as you spread your legs and expose your damp panties to him. Not that he bothered to look.

Now your fingers moved down there. They pet your most sensitive area over the thin, wet cloth. Your breath hitches as your fingertips brush over your clit. You press down a little harder and make a soft breathy whine. His eyes flit in your direction, but they don’t linger. Take what you can get, you guess.

You slide your digits back down and massage your dripping entrance. The fabric becomes more wet as you rub it on your slick folds. Your middle and ring finger move in tandem to stoke the flames down there and to ensure the fabric is completely soaked. Once that mission is accomplished, you lift your hips for the second time to remove this garment. Only you don’t drop it to the floor. This time you toss them in his direction, landing them on his desk, lace half covering one of his wrists, half covering a section of his keyboard.

The sound of typing halts, putting the room into silence, spare the raindrops splatting against the window. His eyes remain stern and not on you. Without even looking down, he wads the panties up and shoves them in his pocket. The sound of typing resumes.

“Daddy,” you huff, “I got ‘em all wet just for you.”

He still doesn’t acknowledge you. You let out a growl of sorts and narrow your eyes at him. Your fingers slip through your arousal coating your center. You pay more attention to your clit now that it’s exposed.

“I just missed you so much today. I couldn’t help it,” you reason.

You whimper and squirm in your chair as you start rubbing faster. Your eyes are still locked on him, watching for the slightest crack in his resolve. So far there are none. You continue toying with yourself.

“I was thinking of you the whole time,” you whimper, “That should count for something. I was imagining your hands and your eyes looking down at me. I was pretending I could hear your voice.”

He remains unaffected. Your head tilts back against the plush cushioning as your hips rock in place. You mewl softly which soon turns into a long, drawn-out whine. Finally, he shifts in his seat a little, and you know right away it’s cause he’s starting to get hard.

“I just love you so much, daddy. Can’t control myself when you’re not around,” you say, further chipping away at the little dent in his stoic facade.

Your moans increase in volume as does the slippery sounds coming from your fingers moving through your slick. That feeling from this afternoon is starting to come back. Pleasure builds in your abdomen, one piece stacking on top of the other. You’re shaking more, voice getting less even with each little cry of joy. He finally turns to look at you when you start doing that thing you do when you’re about to cum, the ultra-specific puff of your chest that rolls through your abdomen to your hips. His eyes capture yours, unamused with your antics.

“If you cum right now, a spanking is the only kind of attention you’ll be getting until you learn some self-control,” he tells you.

In an instant, your fingers sputter to a stop. Your mind bounces back and forth on what to do like a metronome. But as always, your craving for Leon’s approval wins out over every other option. You remove your hand from between your legs and even sit up, closing your thighs. Maybe now, he’ll see you’re being good and cut you some slack.

Yeah, right.

He goes back to his computer. Again. You’re about to lose your mind or explode, you aren’t sure which will come first. Standing from the chair, you start walking to his desk. He still didn’t look at you! How rude, you’d think that the touching yourself rule was his favorite or something even though you knew it wasn’t. That title belonged to the rule that let him pick your outfit whenever the two of you went out.

A few paces in his direction, and you’re back right where you started. Arms looped over his shoulders, nuzzling your face against his cheek, and kissing the side of his head. “I said I’m sorry daddy,” you say softly, “I’m really really really really sorry. I know I was a bad girl, but only for that.”

He grunts and scoots closer to his desk, away from your embrace. A noise of exasperation leaves you, and without thinking, you roll the chair back a couple inches and embrace him again, only tighter. A grin rises on your face when you see the bulge that had formed in his lap.

“Pretty please? I’ll take whatever punishment. I don’t want daddy to be mad at me anymore,” you plead and give him some more pecks on the cheek. You knew you probably looked ridiculous, pantless and visibly horny, but that wasn’t a true concern at this moment in time.

“Go to bed,” he states simply, “I’ll deal with you later.”

That wasn’t good enough. You wanted him now.

“Daddy,” you whine, stretching out the last syllable. You lower yourself to your knees and slink down in front of his chair. “C’mon, I said it like a million billion trillion times. Can’t we just kiss and make up?”

He stares down at you, not impressed with your show of submission. He was playing harder than usual. He knew that wouldn’t deter you though. You squish your cheek against his thighs as your hands creep up his legs.

“Do I have to make a special apology?” you ask, looking up at him with puppy eyes.

He pushes your hands away as they reach his thighs. “Quit it,” he growls, “Let me finish my work and maybe we can work something out.”

But you don’t quit it. You move yourself closer to one of his legs, preparing to put on a little show for him if need be. Your eyes don’t quit and neither does the pleading expression on your mouth.

“But I need my daddy now,” you huff, “I-”

And that’s it. You’re cut off by Leon reaching down and yanking you into his lap.

“Such a fuckin’ brat,” he grunts, “Ready to hump my leg like a bitch in heat cause I don’t give you attention for a couple hours.”

You squirm a bit as his hands rub up and down your sides and squeeze your hips. He stills you with a firm slap to your ass. Both of your eyes gaze into the others, the small spheres swirling with arousal, annoyance, and adoration.

“I just missed you. I would’ve left you alone if you weren’t so mean to me,” you point out.

“Who says I have to be nice to you? You don’t get to decide when you wanna listen based on that,” he says and pulls you to his chest. You lean in against the muscular expanse while his hand snakes between the two of you to get at his button and zipper. “Your job is being a good girl. Not just when you feel like it. Not only when daddy’s giving you kisses and calling you pretty. The only time you stop is when I say, and that didn’t happen today did it? Am I imagining things again?”

“No,” you agree reluctantly, “But I-”

“Cut your yapping out. I’ve heard enough. Give me some quiet or I’ll put those panties to good use,” he threatens.

As your lips fall shut, you hear the tug of his zipper and feel him shift as he takes himself out. Now you’re really quiet, more from anticipation than obedience.

“Now I’m gonna let you sit on my cock, but that’s it. No squirming, no ‘getting comfy,’ no whining, no ‘but daddy.’ You act up too much, and I’m truly sending your ass to bed for the night.”

You look up at him and nod, not even speaking because you didn’t want to cut your chances at dick off before they started.

“Good,” he says.

One of his hands helps elevate you so that he can position his length underneath you. The tip slips through your folds, already soaked from your prior escapades. He doesn’t tease too much, wasn’t interested in hearing you beg right now. He’d heard enough of that for tonight. He pushes you down onto it. His mouth twitches, and he sucks in a deep breath as he feels the warmth of your walls engulf his cock.

You slide all the way down with ease. Looking back at his face again, you feel the insatiable urge to give him a little kiss. If you did that though, would that be one of the things you aren’t supposed to be doing?

“Daddy… can I have a little kiss first?” you ask.

He merely shoots you a look that tells you don’t push it.

With a final look of defeat, you nestle yourself against his chest, head on his shoulder so you can look up at his face. He was so focused. If you didn’t know you were here, you never would suspect he’d be up to this level of multitasking.

You let out a sigh. It was nice being full, but you still yearned for more. You were really trying to be good though, so there wasn’t much for you to do. Minutes tick by as you try in earnest to think of a potential solution. To make matters worse, at a certain point, after you’d been on his dick for a while, his hand starts roaming your back. A soothing touch that made your walls flutter around him. He knew it would too, you could tell from that little smirk on his face.

Trying to focus on the positives, you mentally study every feature of his cock that you can feel. It’s so deep, he’s resting right against the spot that could drive you wild when properly battered. It pulsed rhythmically, twitching slightly when your muscles would contract or release around his shaft.

You’re actually doing better than expected, letting your mind wander. But then, he’s the one to move a bit under the guise of necessary readjustment. The whimper that falls from your lips is inevitable. He shushes you, and you mutter an apology, but that simple movement was enough to reignite the fire in your belly.

You bite your lip, the neediness in your eyes intensifying. “Daddy?” you whisper, testing the waters.

Nothing.

So he had gone back to this? Not if you could help it. You don’t bother speaking again. Instead, you move the tiniest bit, rolling your hips as you act like you’re shifting to alleviate a cramp. To your shock, he doesn’t say anything, just shifts his hips a bit in return.

You glance up hopefully. Maybe he was going to ease up, but he just didn’t want to verbally admit it. You move a little more, but this time, you’re a bit too zealous in your attempt. His hands grab your hips and dig into your flesh, keeping you in place.

You’re so pent up and frustrated. Your forehead thuds back onto his shoulder. “Ple-”

“What did I say?” he asks.

“But da-”

“What did I say?” he asks again and tightens his grip.

“I just wanna cum,” you whimper, “It hurts, been achy all day.”

“Oh it hurts, does it?” he mocks. He jerks your hips to give you some fleeting friction while maintaining his control. “What is it about today that’s making it so hard for you to listen?”

“I-” you start to defend yourself out of instinct but can’t actually come up with anything. “I don’t know.”

“That’s right you don’t. So quit acting like you do. You think with that slutty little pussy, and then act like you don’t need daddy to make the decisions. It’s a little disappointing, babydoll,” he scolds.

Your eyes flicker with every stage of grief as he says this. That’s literally the worst thing he could say. He could call you any name in the book and you’d brush it off with an eyeroll or a “hmph.” But disappointing? That was evil. That word could worm its way into your heart and weigh on you for days.

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly in a desperate attempt to remedy, “I just… I’m so pent up. Can’t think with my head when my pussy keeps distracting me.”

“Oh, poor baby,” he mocks with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

“That’s why I have to cum,” you plead, “I need it. It’s not even the same when I do it. I should’ve just waited. I’m sorry.”

“You need it?” he repeats, “So fuckin’ spoiled. I give you some dick even when you don’t deserve it, and it’s still not enough. I gotta train some gratitude into you next.”

“You’re the one who spoils me,” you pout.

“Oh, so it’s all my fault? So you’re saying I shouldn’t be so easy on you, huh?” he challenges.

You shake your head as fast as humanly possible, now set on backtracking your fuck up. But it was too late. “No, I was just sayi-” you start before he cuts you off yet again.

“And just when I was about to start fucking you too? That’s a damn shame,” he says.

Your eyes widen, and you shake your head more. This had gone from a slight improvement to a downward spiral.

“I mean, why would I bother now? All you care about is getting to cum. Don’t care about all the work daddy puts in to make you feel good the entire time,” he taunts, “If that’s the case, then go ahead. Cum. Take what you want, but don’t you dare move those hips.”

Your look of anguish evolves into that of confusion. You don’t really want to question him right now, but you’re unsure of how you’re supposed to follow that command. “I can’t…” you say softly.

“Why not?” he asks.

“Not enough,” you answer.

“Then make it enough,” he growls, “You were having so much fun today with those fingers. They don’t work anymore?”

Oh. Your face feels hot as the realization dawns on you. You shyly bring your hand to your center and awkwardly fumble with your clit. You look at him, silently begging to ride him.

“You can do better than that,” he responds, “You were putting on such a show earlier, so don’t act like you need my help all the sudden.”

Shamefully, your fingers pick up some speed. You whimper as the pads of your digits rub over a sensitive spot. The whole time he’s still inside you. It felt kind of weird, but still good. You weren’t going to complain. Your upper body twitches a bit, but he holds you straight up, making sure you're looking at him while you work.

“That’s it. How’s it feeling, baby? Is it as good as when daddy does it?” he taunts.

“No…” you whimper, “It’s ok.”

“Aw, well, it’s gonna have to be good enough for now because it’s the only way you’re cumming.”

You groan and whine at the statement. It was the truth, but that didn’t mean you wanted to hear it. You start circling faster and flicking your hand with more urgency. Your head falls back at the sensations as a breathy moan floats from your lips. He squeezes your hips again as you tighten around his cock from the euphoria you brought yourself.

“Look at that. Think you’re gonna be able to cum all by yourself?” he teases.

You nod. Your hips rock involuntarily as the pleasure ramps up, but his grip keeps you stationary. Little gasps like the ones from earlier when you were in the chair escape you. Your fingers move almost like they’re automated.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Please can I finish?” you whimper, “Wanna cum so bad, daddy, please?”

“I already gave you permission, baby. Guess you really wanna show me how good you actually are,” he chuckles.

You can’t even say anything back before the switch flips inside you and release tears through you. Your back stiffens up and a strangled rope of moans come out of you. Your hips jerk harder than before, giving you brief brushes with the head of his cock. He sighs contentedly as you flutter around his cock and provide him with a muted sense of bliss.

You’re still riding it out when his hands are no longer just holding you, but rather, beginning to bounce you. You feel it in your cunt before your brain even catches up with the general motion of your body. It’s because you’re still so sensitive. The tingly stab pulling a quiet shriek from you.

“Daddy, gimme a break,” you whine.

“What? Daddy doesn’t deserve to finish too? Is that what you think? You just get to have your fun, and leave me to deal with it. That’s not how it works, princess,” he says.

“I’m not- I didn’t… I just can’t… it’s too much,” you struggle to get out between the whimpers coming from you. He keeps bouncing you, groaning as that hushed ecstasy blossoms into an encompassing euphoria. The noises of him sliding in and out are nearly louder than all the whining and moaning you’re doing.

“You can take it,” he grunts, “I’ll say when you’ve had enough.”

You cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain as his hips start to meet your hips guided by his hands. A deep groan rumbles in his chest as your cunt’s constant contracting massages his length. After a while, it feels like you’re almost numb down there. The fire still rages in your belly, but your actual pussy has been beaten into submission by your boyfriend’s cock. He watches your face as he moves you, relishing the way your eyes are getting glossy with a cocktail of tears, both of overstimulation and relief.

“So pretty for me, sweetheart. Gonna be even prettier when you cum again all over my dick and milk me dry,” he grunts.

“Uh huh,” you moan without thinking, head wildly falling back and forth in what’s supposed to be a nod.

Soon enough, his chest and belly are tightening up. He knows the end is near and pistons into your cunt extra hard for the finale. You wail and grip his biceps for support as you explode. You didn’t ask to cum this time, but being so close to his own release, he couldn’t really find it to care.

He keeps going through your orgasm, practically making you sob in pleasure. You feel impossibly tight, warm, and wet. And when he sees how your precious face is getting tight too, scrunching up as you reach the peak of the peak, he can’t hold it off.

His fingers dig into your hips so hard that you feel like the future bruises are already there. Your eyes are rolled back in advance as he fires his cum deep inside you. A goofy smile graces his features as he pumps it in, enjoying the waves of pleasure that wash over him throughout. And the whole time you’re pulsing away through your own release. 

You look even dumber than he does, silly smile not just on your lips, but visible in your eyes too. You’re whimpering, extra whiny and a higher pitch. He rubs your skin to remind you he’s right there. He can see your head coming back to reality as the whirlpool of ecstasy subsides.

“Oh that’s it, there’s my good girl,” he coos as you finally reach the end of the high. His hand rubs your back in long, even strokes. “So proud of you, sunshine.”

A dreamy, self-satisfied grin comes across your face. His words were the best drugs while you were in this state, and the tone of his voice only made them that much more addictive.

“Such a good girl,” he repeats, “Now how ‘bout you give daddy a kiss.”

Eagerly you boost yourself towards his lips to connect in a hazy smooch. You’re a bit sloppy with it, but he expected that and found it cute. Of course you were dizzy. He just fucked you stupid. Once you pull away, he strokes your hair and smiles at your blissed out face.

“Aw, cutie. Looks like it’s time for you to head to bed,” he says as his fingers move to rub your cheek.

“You too. I wanna cuddle,” you say, locking your arms around him.

“Mhm, I’ll be right behind you. I gotta finish up the last of this. Now that I don’t have you distracting me, it should only take about fifteen minutes,” he teases.

“That’s like a million years, and I already had to wait all day,” you sigh dramatically.

“Then I’m sure you can handle a few more minutes,” he says and rubs his nose against yours, “Don’t start getting mouthy with me, little love. I still have those panties I can easily turn into a gag.”

With a playful glare, you get up on wobbly legs to make your exit, dizzy smile still plastered on your face. You start to stumble to the door when he calls out to you.

“Wow princess, not even going to say good night to daddy? I expected better from my baby,” he chides teasingly.

You roll your eyes while smiling and return to him to smack one final big kiss on his lips. “Night daddy,” you say with a small giggle.

He smirks at your clear happiness. As you turn to leave, he swats your ass. “I’ll be right there. Bet you’ll already be passed out by the time I get there,” he says as his fingers start working the keyboard again.

“I’ll be dreaming of you though,” you tease before going out the doors and down the hall to your bed.

[surielstea]

Plaguing Dreams

Based on this request!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader (mates)

Summary: After a particularly jarring dream, Reader is unsure how to separate it from reality.

Warnings: Mentions of adultery | happy ending | crack fic | mostly fluff | slight hurt/comfort

1.5k words

"Please, baby it's not what it looks like!" My mate scrambled from our bedroom, the one I had entered only to find some foreign whore who I hadn't recognized in my bed, with my husband.

I didn't quite know how to process it. I slammed the door shut in his face, my breath stolen from me at the sight.

The door swung open, revealing Azriel, this time with a shirt on.

"Baby, cmon," He reaches his hands out towards me with bunched brows. But once the shock subsided, anger took over.

"Don't, baby me. Are you fucking serious?" I looked at him with wild amusement in my eyes, my breath shaky as I attempted to calm it.

But deep down I didn't want to be calm, I wanted to rage and scream at him until my anger echoed like an incessant, permanent ringing in his ears.

"I swear to you, it's not what it looked like," He lowered his voice, his hands coming towards me like I was some rabid animal on the side of the road in need of taming.

"Swear to me? Like you swore an oath on our wedding day?" I ask, entirely consumed by my fury that was only multiplying the more and more he silently stared at him.

"For The Mother's sake Azriel, not what it looks like? You and another woman were naked in our bed. Ours." I gesture between us to stress my point.

"We can figure this out," His hand found purchase at my arm. My brows knotted as I looked down at the touch. Something was off. I couldn't put my finger on it, I just, sensed it.

"What is there to figure out? We're fucking done." I spit at him.

"C'mon baby don't be like that," He sighed as if this was boring him, like I was a chore for him to be dealt with.

"Do you hear yourself? You sound fucking insane," I grit out, pulling at my arm but his grip is iron. "Let me go."

"Once you calm down, I will." He said coolly and my rage doubled over. Calm down?

I looked down at his hold on me, the area around his grip now reddening. That's when I realized, he bore no scars, the ones his wretched half-brothers gave him were simply gone.

I look at him confused, blinking at him in pure bewilderment. Was the rage getting to my brain? Hadn't his hands been scarred? "Hey look at me," He demanded and despite myself I did as he said, meeting his grey eyes. Wait— no hadn't they been hazel? I shook my head, unsure who this was that stood in front of me but it certainly wasn't my mate. "Us Illyrians can't stay with the same girl for long, but you knew that from the beginning didn't you lovely?" He cupped my cheek with his free hand, the feel of his hands without scars sent a shiver down my spine. It made my skin crawl and my heart ache. "You knew I'd tire of you eventually, isn't that right?" He beamed, spinning on his heel back to our bedroom door that was left ajar, the nude female still lounging in our bed.

His lack of wings sent a wave of unfamiliarity through me and suddenly this stranger didn't look anything like the male I knew, not one bit. From the way he moved to his all-too-smooth voice.

"Go on and get out of here, you bore me."

I gasped, sitting upright in my bed. It had all been a dream. A stupid, unrealistic dream. I blinked, rubbing at my eyes and erasing the feel of sleep from them. Blindly I reached towards Azriel's side of the bed only to find it empty. My anxiety spiked but it quickly decreased when I noticed his pillow was still warm.

I release a soft sigh as I clamber from our mattress, running my hands through my hair once or twice as I make my way out of our bedroom.

The nightmare was burnt into the back of my head, a searing tattoo that was growing infectious. I groaned, rubbing my head in agony as a migraine seeped through the cracks of my skull.

I stumble into the dining room, in search of a glass of water only to find my mate leaning over the stove, making breakfast.

Shadows curl around my ankles and he turns to look at me.

I decided I no longer was thirsty. "Good morning," He smiled softly but I only spun on my heel and trudged into the sitting room. I could still feel his eyes on me. "Did you sleep well?" He asks, stepping slightly out of the kitchen to watch me slump onto the couch, shrugging in reply to his question.

His brows crease but he nods and returns to the kitchen.

I folded my knees up to my chest, winding my arms around them tightly as I thought about that dream. He was hard to look at the same, I know I was being irrational, who he is in my dream has nothing to do with reality, but my mother was a seer, maybe the ability to see visions was passed down to me.

Azriel peeked his head out of the kitchen to look at me. "Breakfast is ready," He informed and I slowly nodded, my mind elsewhere.

He frowned, leaving the kitchen and approaching me. "Is everything alright?" He tilts his head, squatting down in front of me and taking my hands in his, the familiar feel of his scars makes me remember how foreign it felt in my dream. I knew it wasn't him, and practically I should just let this go. But I can't get the image out of my head.

"Where were you last night?" I manage to get out, squeezing his hands, memorizing those scars that I’ve never been so grateful for.

"I was at Rita's, with you and Cass," He said with a concerned expression. "Are you feeling okay baby?" He brings the back of his hand to my forehead.

I veer away from his touch and stand, moving past him, striding towards the kitchen. "I feel fine," I murmur while grabbing a plate from the cupboards.

"My love," Azriel sighs, shadows slinking up my calves as he wraps his arms around my torso, pulling me into his chest. I lean into the warmth as his lips come down to the junction between my shoulder and neck.

"I'm begging you, tell me what's wrong," He said into my skin. It wasn't fair of me to do this to him. "Let me make it up to you, whatever I did let me fix it," He pleads and I shake my head.

"You didn't do, anything," I sigh while building a plate of homemade food, by the Gods he had been kind enough to make me breakfast. "I just had a stupid dream, that's all." I pat his hand that was splayed on my abdomen, silently dismissing him.

He only clung to me tighter. "Don't do that," He lifts from my neck. "Don't ignore your feelings for my benefit, tell me what's on your mind," He said, his voice calm as his arms loosened, allowing me to turn around to face him.

I look up at him, into his hazel eyes that I often found myself drowning in. Who he was in my dream is not who stood in front of me now. I take one long breath before muttering, "You cheated on me."

His brows lift, his lip curling as if even the idea was preposterous.

"In my dream, I caught you with some other girl— it's kind of a blur but, it just, affected me," I shrug, brushing it off, and his scowl deepens.

"You know I would never even think about doing anything close to that—" He begins to wind himself up and my shoulders relax, smiling slightly as he looks just as disgusted as I must've in my dream.

"Az," I cup his jaw, my thumbs rubbing along his sharp cheekbones. "I know, I know you," I smile. "It shouldn't have gotten to me," I shake my head.

He intertwined our hands and brought them to his lips, softly kissing each of my knuckles in order to shut himself up.

"If I could, I'd kill whoever that guy was in your dreams," He hummed, and an amused smile spread across my lips.

"He didn't have your eyes," I shake my head, inching closer to his lips. "Didn't have your scars." I sling my arms around his shoulders. "Not even your wings," I purred, running a nail down the membrane of his impressively large black wings.

He looks at me with a raised brow, his eyes gleaming with something more primal.

Suddenly he hoists me up into his arms, taking me out of the kitchen and carrying me down the hall. I giggle, halting my teasing on his wing.

"Breakfast will get cold," I protest and he only shakes his head.

"Let it, I need to show you that you're the only girl I will ever want," He stated and my grin widened, as I kissed up his neck softly.

"Sounds good to me," I murmur as he lays me down on the mattress.

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[matchingbatbites]

I've been thinking about this post by @foulwitchknight for like three days nonstop, so thanks for the brain worms.

It's after dark when the knocking starts on the trailer door, the sound frantic enough to make Eddie anxious as he pulls himself up off the couch and goes to answer.

He isn't expecting to find Steve on the other side, but his surprise at seeing his boyfriend is squashed when the scent of distress hits him, acrid and bitter on the back of his tongue.

Eddie barely gets out a "Baby?" before Steve is babbling, clearly distraught about something.

"I didn't know, Eddie, I swear. I didn't have anything to do with this and it's- My dad, he just fucking does this shit without even talking to me about it and-"

"Stevie, sweetheart," Eddie cuts in as he reaches out to grab Steve's biceps, trying to ground him a bit. "What are you talking about, baby? What's going on?"

Steve whines, low and forlorn, and offers something to Eddie. The newspaper is crumpled from the iron grip Steve had on it, but Eddie takes it and smooths it out a bit. He scans the page, trying to figure out what could have Steve so worked up, and then he sees it.

Richard and Catherine Harrington are proud to announce the engagement of their son, Steven, to Jack Wright, son of Donald and Linda Wright.

There's more after it, something about honor and business, but Eddie doesn't care about the details. He just looks up at Steve with a soft "Is this real?"

Steve nods even as he shrinks in on himself and mutters a broken "I didn't know," and Eddie can't help it. He grabs Steve again and pulls him inside, into the tightest hug he can manage while he kicks the door shut behind them.

Somehow he gets them back to his room and on the bed, needing to hide his Omega away in his den, needing to keep him safe.

"I don't want him, Eddie," Steve mutters into his collar, his own grip on the Alpha nearly crushing - but Eddie wouldn't have it any other way. "Want you, just you."

Eddie presses his face into Steve's hair, breathing in his marzipan scent, sweet once again now that the burnt edge to it has faded. "I know, sweetheart. We'll figure something out, I promise."

Nails dig into Eddie's back through his thin t-shirt, and then Steve is pulling back just enough to look Eddie in the face. "Give me your bite."

"Steve-"

"Please, Eddie. We were already planning on it, and- I don't want them to even have a chance to take me away from you. You're my Alpha, and I want to be your mate more than anything in the world. Just- please."

Eddie's heart swells and all he can do is nod before swooping in and kissing Steve, hard and desperate. The Omega responds so beautifully under Eddie's touch, and it takes no time for them to strip off their clothes, no time for them to touch and push and press until Eddie is joined with his beautiful mate-to-be.

He can't help the way he rambles as they move together, a litany of "Gonna bite you, baby. Gonna mate you, pup you, give you anything and everything you want."

Steve whines and squeezes where their hands are laced together in the bedding beside his head, a low mantra of "Please please please," falling from his lips.

They hit their climax together and Eddie sinks his teeth into the meat of Steve's neck, into the mating gland that rests under the skin. He groans at the taste of copper and almond that floods his senses, and barely registers the pinch of a bite on his own neck.

Eddie weeps as the bond snaps into place, and Steve isn't any better, fat tears falling down his face as they lay there and bask in the feeling of completion. Of knowing that they belong to each other, that nothing and no one can ever separate them.

They wake up early the next morning and take their time packing Eddie's things, trying to stall until Wayne arrives home from his shift. The man knows something's up the second he steps into the trailer, and it's a long, tearful goodbye full of promises to call and visit before they're climbing into Eddie's van.

They're on the road when Eddie reaches over to take Steve's hand in his own and squeezes it gently. "Hey. I love you," he says, sparing a glance over at his Omega, his mate, his Stevie.

He gets a gentle smile and a soft "I love you too," in return, and that's really all Eddie needs.

[harrysweasleys]

38. “stop, please don’t cry.” with Eddie Munson please and thank u bestie <33

a/n: EDDIE MY BELOVEDDDD i haven’t written for him in a little while, sad times. i miss him. thank you for sending a request!!! <3

proving it

Eddie messed up.

Big time.

He didn’t need anyone to tell him, anyone to rub it in. He just knew he fucked up.

That night, while you had been waiting at the restaurant, patiently, dressed in Eddie’s favourite maroon dress, he had been busy with a spur of the moment campaign. Completely forgetting that the two of you had dinner plans.

When he got home that night and saw his uncle’s button up shirt ironed on the back of the couch, his heart dropped. So low he swore it was in his feet. He grabbed the phone with shaky hands, muttering shit, fuck, fuck, shit, even though he knew you wouldn’t pick up.

He’s messed up quite a few times before, but he’s never been this panicked. By messed up, it’s always been things along the lines of; he forgot there was an exam, he forgot to put gas in his uncle’s car. Never with you. Never to hurt you.

He felt like the biggest douchebag in the world, and Eddie knew a lot of douchebags.

“Please pick up, please pick up,” he muttered to himself, eyes squeezed shut as the dulcet tones rang through the phone. The longer they went on for, the more Eddie was certain you wouldn’t pick up. That you were sitting there in your bed, gorgeous hair splayed across your pillow in that dress that damn near brought Eddie to his knees.

“Fuck,” he cursed, slamming the phone and hanging up the call before he rushed to the bowl by the trailer door, scattering through everything to find his keys. He wasn’t even sure if he was wearing shoes or not as he rushed out the door, barely getting the car started before he was slamming his foot on the gas and reversing like hell out of the trailer park.

He probably wouldn’t admit this to you because he knew you’d scold him, but he was definitely speeding and definitely not stopping fully at his stop signs as he charged over to your place. Even though he arrived in record time, it felt like the longest drive of his fucking life.

As he pulled into your driveway, he realized how clammy his hands were. He was nervous. Utterly petrified. Because you — you were the best thing in his life and he fucked up.

He was shaking as he got out of the car and looked up to your bedroom window. Your light was on. You were up there.

Eddie was used to sneaking in and out of your bedroom, but never like this. His heart was beating so fast he was certain his ribs would be bruised. He was practically stumbling over to the lattice against the wall of your home, worried he’d fall off once he started climbing.

Once at the top, he peeked into your bedroom to make sure you were alone. And sure enough, you were. Sitting on your bed in a large hoodie with your legs under the blanket, you sat staring up the ceiling.

It crushed Eddie’s chest and he couldn’t help but knock on the window right away. He really had no time to waste.

You jumped, nearly falling off the bed as you clutched your hand to your chest, glaring over at the window with squinted eyes to see who was there. You relaxed a bit when you saw who it was, but your features turned into an expression of annoyance in less than a second.

“Come on, baby, please let me explain,” Eddie’s voice was soft, but it was easy to hear through the window of your quiet room.

You stood off the bed and walked over, arms crossed after you unlatched the window.

“I’m only letting you in so you don’t fall to your death. That would be awkward to explain.”

Eddie was grateful as he opened the window and hopped inside, out of the chilly Hawkins night air and into your bedroom. He had been here many times before and he knew it down to every last detail, but he couldn’t even be bothered to look around. His eyes were on you and only you.

His breath was snatched from his lungs as he noticed the slight redness around your eyes.

“Are you going to stand there and stare?” you flipped yourself back down on the bed and looked up at him, “Why didn’t you show up to dinner? I looked like an idiot, Eddie. I’m pretty sure the old couple next to me were talking about how sad it was the whole time. They wouldn’t stop giving me pity looks.”

Eddie’s hands were still shaking as he made his way over to your bed and sat on the opposite end, not trusting his own legs to keep him up at the moment. He was about to collapse.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice came out raspy as he tried not to blurt out a hundred apologies at once, “I’m so, so fucking sorry, baby. I don’t know what happened. I just got so distracted and the guys were pressing about this campaign and—,”

“It’s fine.”

Your voice sounded so quiet that it stopped Eddie right in his tracks. He had planned a hundred things to say to you on the ride over, and each one had ended with him practically on the ground begging for your forgiveness. He didn’t expect this. For you to be brushing him aside and pretending like you weren’t hurt. Hiding your feelings from him because you were so upset.

That, he thought, hurt more than anything.

“No, it’s not,” he pressed on, wanting to lean across and hold you so close, “It’s not okay. I’m the world’s biggest idiot. I really am. I’m so sorry. I swear, I will make it up to you. A hundred dinners. I’ll take you out for a hundred dinner dates and… and I’ll even bring flowers each time.”

You let out a small laugh, and reached up to rub your eye so quickly, Eddie almost missed it.

“No,” his voice cracked as he lost all sense of restraint and leaned over, hand under your chin and scooping you close to him, “No, stop, please don’t cry, I’m so sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry, baby.”

“I’m mad,” you leaned into his touch, warming his heart, “But I’m not crying.”

He pulled away from you just a tad, raising his eyebrow in an I-don’t-believe-you kinda way.

“Not crying anymore.” You corrected.

That didn’t make it any better, but Eddie didn’t say that. He just pulled you against his chest and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“You’re everything to me, you know that, right? You’re everything and I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there for you tonight. I really don’t know how it could have slipped my mind. You’re the only thing I’m ever thinking of, especially when we’re not together. I was thinking of you all day and I just… I really don’t know how I could have missed it.” He was talking to you, but most of these words were really just his internal thoughts. He still can’t believe he forgot date night.

“These things happen, Eds, it’s fine,” you fiddled with the hems of your sleeves, toes wiggling in your fuzzy socks. His heart did a little jolt at the nickname.

“Yeah, but I don’t want them to,” he spoke so quickly he thought you might not even understand him, “I want you forever. I really do. I can’t imagine my life without you and if this is the end, I get it. I don’t blame anyone but myself, but I just wanted to be good for y—,”

“The end?” your eyebrows were furrowed as you cocked your head to the wide, “End? I’m not going to break up with you.”

His reaction was visible. His shoulders slumped in relaxation and his chest let out a massive exhale like he had been holding his breath since he arrived. Even his eyes warmed up and colour returned to his previously pale cheeks.

“Oh, thank god,” he couldn’t stop the words from coming out, “I was so scared. I thought I had unforgivably fucked up.”

He reached out his hands to rub them along your legs, the sweatpants warm to the touch from being cocooned under the blanket for probably a good while. It was comforting. On the way over, he had a moment of worry that he might never get to feel your touch or your warmth again.

He almost crashed the car.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. You did fuck up,” you pointed a finger at him, but there was no hostility in your glare, “But it’s not a relationship-ending mistake.”

He nodded, “I know. I know. But all that matters to me is that I have the chance to redeem myself. To make it up to you.” His voice was still shaky with nerve, but the raspiness had faded away. He was calmer. Reassured.

“Better get started, Munson,” you leaned back into the bed and tucked your legs under the pillows, “I’m expecting a shower of affection and love for the next little while.”

He chuckled, taking off his shoes (that he did actually have on) and sliding into bed next to you, “I’m pretty sure that’s more thrilling for me than you. But I will gladly and willingly show you how I feel about you every second of the day.” He reached under the blankets and grabbed your hand, cold fingers linking with your warm ones, “Can’t have my princess forgetting my love for her.”

You grinned at his words and he felt kind of like the grinch in that scene where his heart grows three sizes larger.

Eddie would never get enough of you and he was going to spend his whole life proving it.

[calliopesdiary]

escapism.

MINORS DNI - 18+ NSFW

band!poly!marauders x leadsinger!fem!reader

wc: 1.2k

warnings: this fic contains: smut, punishing kink, degrading kink, finger fucking, manhandling, being tied up, daddy kink

summary: when you and the boys get into a slight disagreement, during one of your shows you sing a song you KNOW they don't like you singing. and lets just say you get a... stern talking to.

contents: fem leadsinger!reader, i don't know how to write smut..., bassist!remus, drummer.james, guitarist!sirius, cussing

a/n: as i've implied previously this is my first attempt at writing smut, so Imk if its good!!

YOU KNEW THIS WOULD END BADLY... your boys were going to be pissed at you, but somehow you couldn't find it in your heart to feel guilty or bad. they hurt your feelings, so you'd just hurt them back.

it was certainly not the right way to go through this.

but there was something so thrilling about it, about singing this song. up on stage. with thousands of people to see. and you could bask in the glory of pissing off your boyfriends.

was it really your fault? the feminine urge to sing this song was overwhelming and... let's just say you had totally recorded it behind their backs. when you first showed Remus the lyrics he was skeptical.

"Love, I admire the tempo but don't you think it's a little too dirty for our genre?" You knew he was probably just jealous about you saying those kinds of words for everyone in the world to hear.

James was next, and James could be blunt.

"I adore the intro, sweetheart. but I don't like you talking that way unless its with us." you remember him shrugging.

Sirius, ohh god, Sirius.

"No."

"Why-"

"I'm not letting you play that at a show.

bingo, they were jealous of the lyrics they were hearing.

so when you had that argument, you knew this was the perfect way at getting them back.

the show started out as usual, playing the normal set. but not making eye contact with your boys.

you set up a track before you went on.

"You guys can leave the stage now." you looked up at James.

"Aren't you going to leave aswell? your body needs rest-"

"I'm fine, I had coffee." You snarked, stepping back onstage. the crowd cheering for your return.

"Alllright... this last song- honestly isn't pg at all and i'm probably going to get murdered for this but-"

the track starts, the boys can hear it from backstage. Sirius is pissed, sexually.

"sleezin' and teasin', i'm sittin' on him-"

"all of my diamonds are drippin' on him."

"i met him at the bar- it was 12 or somethin'"

"i ordered two more wines cause tonight i want em'"

"that bitch-" Sirius slurs.

"a little context- if you care to listen."

"just a heartbroke-bitch, high-heels six-inch."

"in the back of the nightclub, sippin' champagne."

you had done it, sang the whole song with the audience going absolutely insane. and your boyfriends were pissed to say the least.

after you had finished, you wandered off stage when you got lectured.

x

“WHAT THE FUCK was that??” Sirius barked, and you slowly turned to face him.

“it’s my choice was i sing.” you scoffed, trying to walk away until James’ iron grip locked around her wrist.

“you do not get to walk away, y/n.”

“and?”

“since when do you not care what we think?” Remus inquired, though he couldn’t really resist the amusement of the stunt his girlfriend had just pulled.

“since i decided that i didn’t give a fuck on what you blokes think about what i sing in public just because you’re jealous.”

oh yeah, you fucked up.

all the boys had to do was give eachother a look and James started pulling you along to the hotel you had been staying at.

“guys—“

“shut up, y/n.”

you rolled your eyes.

“you know, we can punish you right here right now for all of london to see if you keep this shit up.” Sirius hissed.

“i—“

“shh..” Remus’ nimble fingers and palm locked around your lips for the remainder of the walk.

you peered around at your surroundings and stumbled uncomfortably in your heels.

and you severely wished your panties werent seriously (haha, get it?) soaked.

once you arrived at the hotel and got into your room, you knew it was over.

a quick shove onto the bed and the rummaging through a suitcase was all you needed.

“g-guys let’s talk about this—“

you attempted to reason with them, while you wanted it (you couldn’t ignore the ache between your thighs).

“you disobeyed us, so this is what you get.”

James tugged the tough rope around your wrists and hung them above your head on the bedpost above you.

“now, tell me, y/n. if you really don’t want this, then why are your panties so wet?”

Remus asked innocently, leaving you to become a stuttering mess.

“i—… erm.. it’s—“

“that’s what i thought.”

Remus’ cold and scarred fingers wrapped around the waist band of your panties and tugged them down your legs.

“so fucking wet for us, puppy.”

he commented, before engulfing two of his fingers into your wetness.

you shuttered, your head thrown back in a pleasured manor.

“you like this, huh?” James ran his lovely fingers through your hair and tugged gently.

“s-stop…” you squirmed hopelessly, and all Sirius could do was pin you down.

“we’re just helping you learn a lesson, pup.”

“this’ll teach you not to disobey us, understand?”

you couldn’t answer, not since Remus ducked down and his lips locked around your dripping clit, sucking on it selfishly.

“Siri asked you a question, puppy.” James reminded cruelly.

“y-yes i- i understand—“

“good.”

he was quick to remove your shirt and bra, as he brushed his thumb against your sensitive nipple.

“ohfuckk— R-Remus f-fuck..” he very much enjoyed the sound of you moaning his name.

“let it out, puppy.” James stroked your restrained arm.

Remus had his hand in his trousers, his damp fingers wrapped around his hardened cock.

he stood up, his hair disheveled. he tugged his trousers down and took out his erect member.

“R-Remus..” you wished you could say that you didn’t want it.

“come on, puppy. you can take me.”

“can you take Moony, babes?” Sirius rested his chin against your thigh.

“y-yes..”

“good girl…”

Remus fucked into you thoroughly, by the time an hour had gone by you weren’t even sure how many orgasms you had in that time.

They took turns, pounding into you with their cocks.

“you’re such a slut for us, puppy.” Sirius stated, cupping your ass as he kept a nice rhythm.

he loved the feeling of your walls clenching in onto him.

“d-daddy…” you whimpered, your tiny little sobs earned nothing but cruelty.

“you’re just a stupid slut, isn’t that right?” James went back to sucking on your thighs, littering marks all over.

once Sirius was done that had been three rounds for each of them, and you had fallen so deep into your subspace.

obviously having three amazing boyfriends, they had amazing aftercare.

you practically collapsed onto James, feeling utterly helpless. Sirius stroked your hair gently.

“did we go to hard, puppy?” Remus caressed your tear-stained cheek.

“n-no i-im sorry…”

“y’just gotta listen sometimes, princess.” James kissed your forehead lovingly.

“we were a bit jealous.” Sirius admitted sheepishly, tucking some of your hair out of your face.

“everything hurts.” you groaned, leaving James to pull you into his lap.

“would you like a bath, princess?”

you nodded tiredly, your eyes still glossy.

once you were cleaned up, you fell asleep quickly. swaddled between Remus and James with Sirius’ iron grip locked around James’ waist.

Your head rested on Remus’ chest, falling asleep to the lovely rising and falling of his chest.

so… was it worth it?

yes, yes it was.

[sourlove]

YANDERE KING 👑 (GN READER)

TW: OBSESSION, YANDERE THEMES, INSANITY

a/n: thanks for all the notes everyone! i'll try to write and post more!

Yandere! King who was a good and benevolent ruler and loved by all who encountered him. From his good looks, to his amazing battle prowess, to his diplomatic skills, there was nothing he lacked or wanted for. Instead of squandering the kingdom's resources like his predecessors, he expanded the kingdom and improved the lives of his people.

Yandere! King who journeyed up the Black Mountain by himself to slay the dragon that had been tormenting the kingdom for years! Unfortunately, that came with a severe consequence.

Yandere! King who was cursed with the dragon's dying breath to never know peace until he learns to love. No one knew about that last part but the King and the dragon. They wouldn't understand it. Only an ancient and wise being would be able to look into the noble King and see a cold, empty heart.

Yandere! King who was tormented by whispers and screams only he could hear, corners haunted with bloodied corpses only he could see and nightmares that left him screaming and clawing at his own body.

Yandere! King who was tormented more by the fact that as the curse ate away more and more at his sanity, the chances of him learning to love (what a cruel word that had become) became slimmer and slimmer.

Yandere! King who didn't believe in love. He had married a princess and sired children with her simply because he had to. That's what kings did. She was a good choice: docile, pretty enough to fuck, and smart enough to know when to keep her mouth shut. But the curse had made being around anyone, especially her and her brats, unbearable. Love? What a foolish notion. He would rather die a mad man than let himself be swayed by something so flimsy, so weak.

Yandere! King who wished in the dead of night for something or someone to save him. He didn't want to live like this. He didn't want to die like this. Disembodied voices chased sleep away and the once proud King wept in misery.

Yandere! King who stumbled into you by chance. It was a regular day for you as you went about your business, travelling on the road to sell herbs and potions when you were knocked down by the kings carriage as he passed by. You kicked up a fight with the guards, lashing out at their brusque handling and one of them made a crude comment about you. In your blind rage, you fished a potion from your satchel and threw it.

Yandere! King who came out to see what the commotion was and was suddenly struck with a dark, viscous liquid that clouded his vision and made him stumble back. You were immediately forced to your knees as you stared at the King himself wiped your potion from his face. Your life was definitely over now, you thought miserably.

Yandere! King who finally turned to see his attacker and halted to a stop once your eyes connected.

Yandere! King who looked around frantically, checking and listening for anything, anything, while everyone else watched him with confusion and worry. Had the King finally succumbed to his curse? Or had you worsened it?

Yandere! King who turned to you, shaking and whispered ,"You've cured me. Y-you- the voices- the voices are gone...they're all gone!" He refused to let you leave. He snarled at his guards to release you and begged you to enter his carriage and go to the palace with him.

Yandere! King who announced that his savior had lifted his curse. The people cheered as he dragged escorted you to stand next to him, where his queen should have stood, and kissed you on both cheeks. "From now on, I will dedicate my life to repaying my debt to you."

Yandere! King who threw a feast in celebration and forced you to dance with him all night. He praised your talents and beauty to all who would listen, never giving you the opportunity to slip away from his iron grasp.

Yandere! King who pleaded with you to stay. When you adamantly refused, he stopped pleading and ordered you as your King.

Yandere! King who soon realized that the curse slowly creeped back to him after he was gone from your presence for a few minutes. Instead of filling him with sorrow, the King could only smile widely. Now you had to be with him, to sleep next to him, to stay with him, to love him, until you drew your last breath.

Yandere! King who appointed you as his new concubine. The queen was outraged but he paid her no mind. She was lucky he didn't divorce her, for political reasons, and her opinion never mattered to begin with.

Yandere! King who would burn down the entire kingdom to hunt you down if you escaped from him. So be good and don't kick up a fuss, alright? All you have to do is be a good pet and stay next to him, living luxuriously with the world at your feet.

You're his savior after all.

READ PART 2 HERE

[ode2rin]

it has become an awful pattern of habit how much itoshi sae always shows up at your doorstep only when he wants to. 

“don’t go out with oliver.”

and here he was again, like a recurring relapse that happens every single time you thought you’re doing better. the kind that hits when you think you're finally making progress, that momentary flicker of doing better before it all crumbles.

and you were. you’re doing good, doing better, but god, does it hurt like hell when he pulls stunts like this.

it was a relentless tug-of-war, a game he played so unfairly, leaving you with no rules, no defenses. you were damn sick of it. 

“really?” the word escaped as a scoff, a blend of disbelief and irritation coating your voice. “you're showing up to my place at this hour just to say that?” 

a drawn-out exhale left sae's lips at your reaction, the scent of alcohol accompanying it—a scent foreign to the sae you'd known. was he drinking? itoshi sae doesn’t drink – or at least the sae you knew would never let a single drop of alcohol taint his flesh. 

“just don’t. he’ll hurt you.”

a bitter laugh escaped you, “you're one to talk about hurting people, aren't you?”

if you didn't know better, you'd mistake the look he shot you for something resembling an apology mixed with regret. but no, you knew that those eyes can never hold such, not for you, not for anyone.

“news flash, itoshi. you don’t have the right to decide who i can or cannot go out with.” 

“don’t i?” 

his challenge lingered in the air, a question not constrained by words but driven by conflicting wills, a daring meeting of gazes that had been evaded until now.

you're so fucking unfair, itoshi sae.

“leave,” you spat, your grip on the doorknob tightened, fingers almost digging into the cool metal. 

“don’t i, y/n? do i not have a right to you?”

“please, sae. just go,” you murmured, eyes squeezed shut, a trace of tears threatening to break free.

“— because you have all damn rights to me that it fucking terrifies me.” 

and there it was.

the vulnerability he so fiercely and stubbornly concealed, laid bare for you to witness. it slipped out like an admission, raw and unguarded.

sae's insides churned as your gaze bore into him, the intensity of it feeling like a searing heat that left him exposed, his thoughts laid bare. it was as if you were looking at him as if he had grown a second head, an incredulity mirrored in his own disbelief at what he had just blurted.

but it’s the truth, a truth etched not in alcohol-induced haze but in the sobering clarity that you, ever loving you, terrified him. 

“you– you terrify me," his words stumbled out, like he was admitting a secret he never meant to reveal. “you’re the first thought that comes to my mind, and the last one before i sleep. i feel you everywhere, your presence, your absence — it terrifies me, y/n.” 

he ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration that echoed the inner chaos he couldn't quite contain. the sting of alcohol just added to the jumble of thoughts, like mixing a cocktail of emotions he wasn't prepared to deal with. 

sae had never been great with handling drinks, and here he was, wearing his heart on his sleeve, a little more vulnerable than he’d intended. 

after all, a body so foreign to alcohol can only handle so much.

and it's ironic how that also applies to sae's acceptance of your love – like a liquor he's not used to, but still very much would like a taste.

he knew he had absolutely no right to show up here; he had no right to stop you from going out with another man; he had no right to claim a part of you, not after he shattered your heart because he was afraid of his own.

he knew that, but itoshi sae is selfish. he wanted you, terrifyingly so. he hoped — prayed, even—no one will ever have you the same way he does. 

and he meant that in the most selfish way possible. because, time and time again, itoshi sae was selfish, even more so when it came to loving you.

“it terrifies me,” he carried on, a touch firmer this time, his gaze unyielding as it held yours, “how much you consume me, and it frightens me even more how much i would let you.”

“then just let me, you stupid asshole.” 

the words burst out of you, a declaration that felt like a leap of faith. your arms instinctively reached out, embracing him as if to underscore your determination. you had caught his confession like a lifeline, and now it was your turn to throw your heart into the mix.

“and you have all the damn rights to me too,” you murmured against his lips.

the truth is, he doesn't deserve you, not in the slightest. but god, you want him to— so bad. and after hearing what he said, you knew he wanted the same thing too.

you wrap your arms tighter around him, and it's like fitting together two missing pieces. you missed this, missed him. no amount of trying will ever relieve the longing. because truth be told, hearts aren't great at playing hide and seek; that much can be seen from the way you’re both holding on to each other.

“i'll love you slowly, until it's not scary, until you get used to it,” you whispered, forehead pressed against his.

in the quiet space between your whispered words, sae felt the world shift beneath his feet. 

love with you wasn't meant to be frightening. love with you wasn't meant to be all-consuming.

love with you, he realized, only needed to be exactly like this— your fingers against his nape, a smile curving your lips, and the assurance in your gaze that promised better times ahead.

“i’ll get used to it.” maybe the words came off wobbly, but he couldn’t care any less now; it was a promise.

“you better.” you let out a chuckle, genuine this time, and it took just one chuckle for sae to realize that everything will be just fine. 

[extra]:

“sae?”

you pull his attention, sensing his wakefulness from the lingering kisses he peppers on your skin. the same man who laid bare his heart to you was sprawled within your sheets, his breathing gentle against your neck.

though his lips stay sealed, the comforting squeeze of your hand relays that he was listening.

“where did you hear that i’m going out with oliver?”

a brief pause, followed by a scoff. way to ruin a moment, sae’s inner voice grumbles at the timing of your question. why bring up another guy's name now, especially when he's shirtless and right above you? the nerve.

“doesn’t matter.” he dismisses your question. 

yet, there's something oddly satisfying about riling up the usually composed sae, it’s one of your life’s greatest pleasures. and so, you press on, unable to resist the urge to tease. 

“come on, now. i want to know what made my cold and grumpy sae to show up at my door at 2 am, professing that i terrify him,” you pushed, meeting his irritated glare with an arched brow. “— and don’t give me that look. those were your words, not mine!”

tch. he clicks his tongue, fully aware you won't let him live down his confession. “got it from shidou. he told me right before asking me to drink with him.”

as those words escape sae’s lips, you burst into laughter, leaving him to wonder if he broke you with last night's late-night affection.

“what’s so funny?” he raises an eyebrow at your sudden outburst.

“shidou tricked you into drinking with him, love. i turned down oliver without a second thought. we didn't even get close to going on a date,” you playfully reveal, your grin growing. “i kind of mentioned that to shidou. we share gossip occasionally, you know.”

sae froze at what you said, and he didn’t need no damn mirror to see that he was turning red from the embarrassment and realization that he had been lured to drink.

“i’ll kill him.”

“and i’ll thank him.” may shidou get all the dopamine he so cunningly desires. 

note. i also don't know what this is so don't look at me now :P i'm throwing tomatoes at myself

[neiptune]

it’s valentine’s day, you clown

cw: 1.2k wc, blank blogs don't interact, something something your volleyball superstar boyfriend tooru flies home to surprise you only to pass out on your bed, this is my first ever hq fic and it's a complete coincidence that it's about him please be nice and don't make any assumptions

thank you @moondust-lore for reading this 🤍

His breathing stays regular and quiet as you crawl onto the mattress. Your bed is still somehow comically small and far from ideal to accomodate that unique ensemble of long limbs, sturdy muscles and swooping brown hair. Yet his sleep is serene, features relaxed that fill your chest with warmth that almost prompts your fingers to run through smooth locks. How have they not been rendered thicker or dry by the sea salt yet?

You’re careful as you snuggle closer to his broad back, not really wanting to wake him up. A small smile creeps onto your lips at the thought of how tired he must’ve been, couldn’t even bother to properly slip underneath the covers, knocked out in seconds. Flying all the way to Japan, travelling for almost 24 full hours to surprise someone must do that to a person.

The shock has worn out, the sensation of your heart being one second from bursting and exploding into a million golden confetti has dimmed. Now your head feels clear enough for your mind to be focusing on the important stuff, the mundane thoughts you didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on for months are a messy but colorful vortex. Would he like the usual for dinner? Does the uniform or any shirts need some ironing? Yes, yes, Tooru favors dry cleaners because they’re practical and he’s rich but you desperately want to contribute. You want proof that he’s home, actually home. With his big designer suitcases and wrinkled shirts and ridiculously expensive glasses and a smile that still shifts your world’s axis.

You allow yourself to scoot closer, until your nose brushes against his shoulder. He radiates a comforting  warmth and smells nice as always. Of sunscreen, beaches, the cologne you have bought for his birthday. As you shut your eyes, memories from the previous night start slowly blurring the edges of your consciousness and lull you to sleep.

“Shit! Fuck!” you jolt awake at the unexpected profanities, the last thing you remember dreaming about including tanned skin and a much more peaceful scenery made of rolling waves and golden, powdery sand.

“What… what’s wrong?!”

Oikawa Tooru is looking at your with what could be only defined as a glare. Eyes squinted, accusatory worry lines and all.

“You let me sleep? Why were you sleeping too instead of waking me up? It’s late!” his pitch gets higher with each word and by the end of the fully formed sentence you’re grimacing. The awfully old digital alarm clock on your nighstand flashes a red 11:05 PM.

“I’m sorry!” you panic “I didn’t mean to fall asleep! I know it’s late but I can probably put something together for dinner anyway? Are you that hungry? Wait, actually, let me get something delivered and…”

Now he’s staring with an openly outraged look on his pretty face, which makes you think finishing the thought probably isn’t the smartest idea.

“You… don’t want me to order in? I mean, fine, you can pick any local restaurant or takeaway, I don’t really ca-”

“Are you stupid?”

Ok, well. That feels unfair.

“I already apologized for falling asleep, no need to be a jerk” now you’re squinting your eyes at him. One eye. The other is being relentlessly rubbed.

“You’re right” he sighs and his massive shoulders slump, head hanging low like a wounded animal “it’s not your fault. I’m the dumb one. Couldn’t even set an alarm”

“I think you’re blowing this out of proportion, we can still eat something. If you’re worrying about your sleep schedule, I’m sure I can find some sleeping pills or…”

Oikawa looks at you, exasperated.

“That’s definitely not what I’m worried about”

“What the hell are you worried about, then?”

“It’s valentine’s day, you clown”

You blink back your surprise, his fond eye roll not easing the heat that takes over your face as realization finally dawns on you. “That’s… that’s why you flew here?”

Tooru leans forward to lightly flick your forehead. A car passes down the street, the light bleeding through your shades brightens the room for a moment and you catch the sincere amusement in his eyes.

“Yes, darling dearest. That’s exactly why I flew here. I was also supposed to make plans, take you out on a proper date, rob a flower shop from the inside out instead of passing out and drooling on your favorite duvet”

You stare back at his comical frown for a few seconds more before falling back into your pillows with a chuckle.

“Glad you think this is funny and not irredeemably gross. Stop giggling, let me think. I’m gonna go buy the most expensive champagne bottle and pick dandelions along the fucking sidewalk if I have to, and then-”

“Tooru”

“What?” he’s already swinging one leg over the edge of the bed “I’ll be quick”

“You’re here”

Oikawa snorts.

“Yes, I’m still here. Now, if you could kindly let go of my shirt…”

“I don’t want any of those things. You know I don’t want them”

He huffs and air comes out of his nose. “Yeah, I know. But I wanted it to be special” his tone is petulant but you recognize the real thing vibrating underneath, the genuine disappointment.

“It’s already special because you’re here. The only thing that could make it extra special is you filling this cold, empty spot next to me” you pat the covers with a lenient smile and Oikawa allows himself three seconds, three entire seconds to sulk and flash you those big, wet, sopping eyes with a pout that makes him less of a volleyball superstar and more of a kicked labrador puppy.

You welcome his painfully heavy body on top of yours, sharp angles and hard muscles that somehow melt perfectly in your embrace. He’s holding you so tight, head buried in the crook of your neck, soft hair tickling your cheek.

“I’m sorry” Tooru murmurs the apology quietly and seals it into your skin. You know he truly is, devastated as he always gets when something doesn’t go according to the plan. Always one for grandiose gestures and loud displays of affection, chasing whatever it takes to validate how he feels just in case the other person needs proof, always additional proof heaven forbid they feel neglected or get bored. His confidence wavering, his mind always running 100 miles an hour. Am I doing enough? Am I still enough?

“I love you” you reply for good measure and his arms tighten around your body.

But do I deserve it?

“Thank you for flying across the planet to get to me” you smile into his hair before kissing the side of his head “I missed you”

“I’d fly across the solar system to get to you” he’s smiling too, it’s in his voice.

“Corny” with a grin, you pinch his cheek until he looks up with an exaggerated, pained groan. But before he has the chance to protest, you take his disgustingly pretty face in your hands. 

“Wherever you fly from, I’ll be there to welcome you home”

Tooru smiles into the kiss, chases your lips when you relax back into the pillows.

And I’ll spend my life trying to deserve it.

Good thing he has at least five different Havanna Alfajores variety boxes somewhere in one of those suitcases. And two tickets to fly back to Argentina.

[gabrielapazlima]

Why do i ship Cuddlejump⚡️❤️

(Hoppy hopscotch x Bobby bearhug)

And how i see their dynamic being like!

if you guys follow me for a while you guys may already noticed my very normal adimiration for the ship between hoppy hopscotch and bobby bearhug from the smiling critters...its not like they are 90% of my art gallery and that i cannot shut the fuck up about this ship hahaha right?

well,yea,i really,really,REALLY like them- its a ship that i pratically came up with first than anyone and somehow other ppl ended up found of them....but why? Why does Gabriela da paz lima is so normally obcessed with the ideia of a green tomboy rabbit n a red carebear being a couple?

At fist you may think "Uhh it is probally because of the classic tomboy tough girl x soft girly girl archetype right?" and yea,i can see why ppl think that is a very famous lesbian ship dynamic i respect ppl that are solid into them bc of it.... but its deeper to me than that...first i want to talk abt hoppy n bobby's solo characters first!

Hoppy Hopscotch⚡️🐰

ngl when i entered this fandom she was like,my favorite...i still love her tho

she is basically the energetic tomboy of the group acording w her official descreptions,she is also know as THE big motivation force of the critters,always pushing them out their comfort and have a very adventuous n positive spirit-

BUT she have very noticeble characters flaws as well,not only she is quite loud but she tends to be bossy n really impatient,being described as someone that can be "handful to deal with",and before the book release she is literaly the only critters with her character flaws listed-

i always liked how her personality is kinda complexish in comparassion to other critters,she is clealy have a good heart,very loyal n likes to help the others (which we can see in her cardboard line) but she can come up as rough n "overwhelming" in the way that she does it,she doesnt have the intention of hurt or being mean but she still comes as rude due her lack of patience n understanding( cof cof autism) of ppl's limits-

i really like her i feel like she is SO underrated:( you guys have to STOP make her a bully,she is NOT like that.)

Bobby bearhug🐻❤️

i love bobby so much that is not even funny,she is my kin baby-

she seems to be the typical shallow love girl at first sight but...theres so much more abt this carebear....

in her descreptions she is basically the mom friend of the group,she is here to keep her friends together not matter what,she is very phisically affecionate,she is emotional inteligent being very patient n understanding ( which is kinda of what hoppy lacks 👀) n her compassion don't limits itself to only hed friends but to things,places n basically any living thing-

she seems to be pretty much the perfect girl right?...well yea almost....and then theres her voice lines that give a very tonal shift to her character....

"i love you to the moon and back!im CRAZY about you...im lost without you...i been lost a long time....please take me with you this time....you'won't leave,will you?!"

at first it seems some kinda yandere shit but reading more and more deep in that,it sounds so desesperate n sad tbh...i seems like she is not thay confident by herself n DEEPLY fears the abandoment...which is...very ironical for HER character...

"But these lines are about the bbis destiny" yea i know but these lines are ALSO reflected in their cartoon personalities,like kickin being scared n hoppy being impatient...it very likely that is ALSO linked to her canon personality as well...which also makes me think in what amber said about her...

Damn thats....so relatable...i always try my best to be there for other ppl but im always so hard to myself when i know that i should not....thats a perfect irony to the "love character"...

she does not have that much of strong will for herself,she does not love herself in the same way that she loves everyone...she feels weak and defenceless n unwanted being at her own because she doesnt feel enough...

fuck,im crying...They will NEVER make me hate you,bobby bearhug.

🐰⚡️About Hoppy n Bobby's relationship🐻❤️

you see...they are both are very complex girls that love to support people on their own distinte ways,hoppy is the more of phisical support crittet while bobby is the emotional support critter- they deeply care about their friends and they want see them trying news things...i would say that they both valorize support over anything,thats their main atribute-

but they are also deeply flawed in very different ways,hoppy is impatient,bossy n can come off as rude bc of her lack of caring side....also very reckless as consequence....(kinda the reason of why she died) Bobby is very emotional dependent which causes her to panic over the ideia of being alone n doesnt like trying to push herself to do anything when she is feeling too alone( that also can be the reason of why she died)...

they flaws n qualities...weidly compliment each other well...hoppy needs more emotional inteligence n more understanding,not only of other ppl's limits but her own limits.... Bobby needs strengh will and motivation due her deep insecurities and self loath,she can be stronger than she is at her own,and hoppy can show that to her-

i feel like they dynamic is really strong and be summarized as "Besides all our differences,we value the same thing and in the end of the day,i really need you"

i just REALLY love comprimentary duos + opposite atract sorry- call me basic bitch.

💚More of their dynamic plus personal headcanons❤️

i like to think that hoppy would be sighly unconfortable with bobby's affection fowards her at first but she is slowly beggins to enjoy it and reciprocate it-

i also like to think that they would be the ones to come up with the group's activities together,hoppy tries to do batshit insane stuff but bobby tones them down to be safier-(they MIGHT go into lil fights abt it)

also hoppy really enjoys bobby's anger/tough moments because she is surprising REALLY strong but she always never show it-

hoppy also tends to be emotional but she nevr shows it util bobby find it by her own and she ended uo breaking her tough girl persona in front of her(which of course bobby accepts)

Bobby,hoppy n kickin were kinda of a trio and they basically the over loving girl,the cool "chill" guy and the hyperative dumbass...it fits them...

i have a MILLIONS of stuff to say about them but i would be here forever sooo i hope you guys have enjoyed my yapping about cuddlejump:)

BYE!!!

[theemporium]

hi!! i have a potential blurb request - Oscar having that "oh my god i love her" moment with reader

ily and i hope you're doing well <33

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

It hit him at the most random, mundane moment—which was ironic, considering it completely turned his world around.

He was still fighting the lingering effects of jet lag when you invited him over to hang out. He knew Mark would have wanted him to be responsible, to sleep and not fuck up his sleep schedule any further. He was still getting used to how taxing the life of a Formula One driver was, and he underestimated how heavily travel and jet lag would play into that.

But it had been so long since he had seen you. And maybe it was guilt or maybe it was his own selfish desire, but he found himself throwing on a hoodie and sweatpants, grabbing his keys and heading to your place before the universe somehow stopped him. 

It was no different to the million other days you hung out together. Absolutely nothing different that he had come to expect in the last fifteen or so years you two had been friends. He showed up, knocked four times, waited for you to open the door and settled himself on his side of your coach whilst you did the same.

There was nothing special about the day, or the moment. But it still hit him like a freight train.

“Do you want popcorn? I got the salty flavour from that brand you like, the one that fits into your diet.” 

That was all you said. Twenty-one words that somehow managed to send the boy spiralling as he turned to gape at you, his body melted into the couch to the point he didn’t think he could get up if he tried. 

And there was you, sitting there as you smiled and waited for his response. You didn’t even look different, just lounging around in some shorts and a hoodie with his number on it. Your hair was a mess, you had even made a joke about it when he first came in. And the bags under your eyes told him your sleep schedule was probably as shit as his was right now, probably from staying up to watch the races. 

But, fuck, Oscar thought you looked so pretty. 

You had always looked pretty to him, but this was something else. This was a whole new level. This wasn’t just an appreciation of your looks, this was a full kick to the chest that screamed ‘oh shit, this isn’t platonic’. You just looked so cosy and comfortable and domestic, and Oscar could almost let himself imagine that this was a sight he got to see every day, that he got to wake up to, that he spent forever with. 

Because Oscar Piastri was in love with his best friend and he hadn’t even realised until now, until this very fucking moment. 

“Do you not want popcorn?” You asked, creases forming between your brows as you furrowed them together. He had the strongest urge to smooth the spot with his thumb.

“Uh no, yeah,” he cleared his throat and gave you a sleepy, slightly strained smile. “Popcorn sounds good.”

Your face brightened. “Good, I was gonna make it anyways.”

He watched as you stood from the couch, making your way towards your kitchen. He watched you walk away as his heart pounded in his chest, as he pressed the heel of his palm against his ribs like that would calm him down. He watched as you rambled on, oblivious to the existential crisis your best friend was experiencing. 

There was a voice in the back of his head telling him he should say something, that he should tell you how he feels. You two don’t lie to each other, or hold back on anything. He knew he should have told you. But that selfish desire returned and Oscar had the strongest urge to keep his mouth shut for one more night, to enjoy the rush of feelings overwhelming him until he had to tell you.

He couldn’t imagine a life without you, so he let himself have tonight just on the off chance his feelings were the start of the end of your friendship, just in case he lost you forever.

.

[abbs-writes]

talk too much | Spencer Reid

Warnings: kidnapping, torture, lots of bad language, Spencer gets angry and can be kinda mean, reader talks way too much, crying, uh lots and lots of angst and idk what else

Authors note: hey so, a while back I had a different account (ive had many different accounts) but it was something along the lines of gizmo-writes or gizmo-writes-sfw and this was posted on there but my accounts have been deleted since then, so if it seems familiar it might be but I can confirm it's by me, it's been sitting in my notes lol

"Guys! Guys! I got something!" Garcia rushed into the conference room, setting her laptop on the table and turning on the tv. There you were, completely out of it, obviously with the way your head lolled back. You were heated up, bruised badly and your head was bleeding but you were obviously so out of it that you didn't even notice. "Where is this coming from?" Hotch asked as Garcia shook her head, "I-I don't know, it's pinging off to many towers, whoever is doing this is- is using so many different encryptions and firewalls." (genuinely don't know tech terminology im so sorry if this took y'all out of it I apologize) She was shaking, so worried about you she wasn't sure she could think straight.

Spencer was the same way, but he knew he couldn't think straight. The way you looked, where you were, reminded him so much of how Tobias Hankle had treated him. Every single aspect that he had tried so hard to forget was coming back to him now. The abuse, the drugs, the cravings. He held onto the chair with an iron grip, knuckles turning white. He didn't want to see you like this, he didn't like the thoughts running through his head right now. He didn't wanna see the abuse you were going to endure, he didn't want to hear your tortured screams. This was his own form of torture.

You really couldn't feel anything but you figured that was for the better. Your head rolled to the side, your eyes were open but everything was so blurry you couldn't even see. You could make up an outline of someone, someone tall. For a moment you felt joy, you felt safety. "Spence?" You said. But it was spencer, he was on the other side of a screen and when he heard his name, his heart broke. He wanted to be able to yell at you, tell you that it wasn't him, tell you to run even if you weren't sure if your legs could move. But he couldn't, he just had to sit there and watch.

"Not quite," The man said, walking closer to you so you could see him. Your eyes narrowed as you realized the man in front of you truly wasn't Spencer and was in fact some psycho. You jerked in your restraints, trying to punch whoever was in front of you but yet you couldn't move. "Good try," he chuckled coldly. "Jesus christ," you murmured, looking down to see your hands tied to the chair. "You're begging for someone who doesn't exist honey," the man said. You rolled your eyes at that, "seriously? Why do you care if I beg for someone you don't believe in? Besides i wasn't begging I was-" You were cut off with a sharp slap to your face.

Spencer really wished you weren't so catty sometimes. Sure, he liked it sometimes, especially when you were able to stick up for yourself or him when someone said something rude. But right now he was begging you to keep your mouth shut. "Was that really necessary? You could've just told me to shut up-" once again you were slapped again. "Shut the fuck up!" He yelled at you. "Okay!" You yelled back. Spencer cringed, "why won't she just be quiet," he groaned. "Spence, she's trying-" JJ started but Spence stopped her, "I don't care what she was trying! She knows better than to fight back when she's unable to physically fight! All this will do is get her in more trouble!" He said, slamming his fist on the table as he watched you. "Kid, she's a smart girl." Derek tried to say but spencer shook his head, "She's not being smart right now." He said.

Spencer was right, you weren't being smart and deep down you knew that but god, you were so fucking angry. Angry at yourself, angry at the man in front of you. You don't even remember how you were taken, you don't remember what you did for this to happen, all you knew is it had to somehow be your fault. "Finally, she shuts up," the man said, grabbing your face and making you look up at him. "You're much prettier when you're quiet. Does your boyfriend ever tell you that? I bet he does because you can never seem to just shut the fuck up," he spat. You clenched your jaw at the mention of Spencer. "How the Fuck do you know about my boyfriend?" You asked, looking up at him angrily. "Why? Does that bother you when I mention him? Does it make you angry that i know about him?" He asked, squeezing your face to the point that it hurt. "Don't fucking touch him," you spat at him making the man pull back and wipe his space of your spit. "God, you're really fucking dumb aren't you?" He said. "Still smarter than you," you said.

Spencer couldn't watch this, he couldn't watch you dig yourself into a hole that he wasn't sure you'd come out alive. His jaw clenched as he watched you be tased, your head falling back as you cried out in pain. "Oh my god," Garcia said, shielding her eyes. Spencer forced himself to watch, he had to know, he had to see what happened so he would know how to help you when you got back. He needed to know, despite the fact that these images would be engrained in his brain forever.

"This isn't helping, we need to figure out where she is and I don't know how watching this will help." JJ spoke, half tired of watching you be tortured and half wanting to actually find you. "I don't see anything identifying in the background, no windows, no pictures." Emily pointed out. "She might say something if she knew he was filming. She may know where she is." Derek pointed out. "She can barely even see straight and with how much she's talking she might not even make it through the night," Spencer muttered. "Spence!" JJ said. "What?! I'm right! I love her but she never shuts the fuck up and right now it may cause her death but yet she's still too fucking stubborn to just shut the fuck up and pay attention," He spat. He was angry, he had every right to be. but his anger was misdirected at you. He was mad at the unsub, mad that a man took you and was holding you hostage and torturing you. He wasn't mad at you, a bit annoyed but never mad.

"Spencer, you are not helping us right now. We understand you're mad but you have no right to talk about her like that." JJ said. Spencer just shook his head, jaw clenching. "As much as you may hate this Reid, we need you. And what we need is for you to watch, to listen, see if her or she says something that may give us a hint. Can you do that? Or do I need to kick you out?" Emily asked, giving him a pointed look. "I understand, i Can do that." He said through gritted teeth. He finally sat down and just stared at the tv. He was thankful you couldn't hear him, he genuinely felt bad about what he said but he couldn't even apologize to you because you weren't here.

Your head fell forward after being tased multiple times finally stopped. "Will you be quiet now?" The man asked. You nodded, reluctantly. You wanted to speak but you were in so much pain you couldn't. You were shaking, you couldn't even move your head with how tired your body was. "Good, finally." He said, "now you can get a good look at this." The man said as he walked behind you. He grabbed your head roughly by your hair, pulling your head back to look up. You tried to focus your eyes but you couldn't, everything was so blurry and your head had started to hurt. "Do you see that? They can see you. They're watching. God, that's what makes this fun, knowing they're watching you but they can't do anything to help. Isn't that fun?" He asked. You didn't respond and obviously that made him angry. He yanked your head back by your hair making you let out a pathetic cry. "Answer me," he demanded. "Thought you didn't want me to talk?" You said tiredly. "You're a fucking brat you know that? I don't know how anyone puts up with you." He let go of your hair and your head fell forward once again.

Spencer closed his eyes tightly, breathing heavily. This was torture for him and now he knew the unsub was enjoying it. The unsub knew this wasn't only torture for you but for them too and he loved it. He hated every second of this, he hated every time you opened your mouth. It pained him, he knew you were angry, it didn't take a profiler to see that, but he just couldn't understand why you wouldn't stop talking back.

"I have to go out, you stay put okay?" He said, pushing your hair out of your face. It was oddly tender coming from a man who had just slapped you, tased you and pulled your hair and not in the enjoyable way. "Gotta make sure you look pretty for your boyfriend," he said. He then grabbed his keys and left. You couldn't think straight, everything was setting in so slowly. They were watching, you kept having to repeat that to yourself till you would believe it was true. You tried to lift your head but it just fell back down. You groaned, angry at yourself that you couldn't even look at the camera. You had something to tell them, you had seen the unsubs face and they hadn't. He wore a black ski mask around you and know you knew why, he had been filming this.

"B-bl-blue eyes," you spoke slowly, tiredly. You needed to get this out before you passed out again. Spencer raised his head to watch you. "H-he has blue eyes and brown hair." You had to stop to breathe. "S-scar on his face, left side on his cheek. P-please understand I am okay, i am strong," you croaked out. Your voice was betraying you and you hated it. It made you angry, making you clench your fists. "I can take It.. i-i don't know where I am.. it's the woods- i-I don't remember how I got here. Please- just find me," you closed your eyes tightly trying to hold back your tears. You dug your nails into the wood of the chair trying to calm yourself and ground yourself. Spencer had to stop himself from crying too, "Garcia, did you get that?" He asked. "Yes- yes I did. I'm looking. I'm searching. Uh blue eyes, dark hair, scar- uh- Jeffery Golden," She said looking at Spencer. "Name and address?" JJ asked. "Sending now," Garcia said. The team stood up and were quick to leave, Spencer included.

Garcia kept watch on you, once the team left she broke down and started crying. She had to constantly remind herself that you were okay but it was hard, especially when she was watching you fall apart in front of her eyes. They found the man, Jeffery Golden. But the problem was, you weren't there, you weren't in his house nor his job. You weren't there and that scared the shit out of Spencer. They had the man but no clue where you were and if they didn't find you soon, you may not survive due to your injuries. Sure, he could see the ones on the outside but he wasn't sure about any internal bleeding.

"Where is she?" Rossi asked the unsub who was sitting across the table from him. "Now where's the fun in telling you?" He asked, smirk playing in his face. "If you tell us where she is, we will tell them you cooperated. Now tell us where she is." Hotch said in his demanding tone. "Where's the boyfriend? I wanna talk to him," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Absolutely not, you tell us where she is and maybe we will talk about a deal." Rossi said. "Here's my deal, you let me talk to the doctor and then I'll tell you where she is." He said, still smirking.

With that Hotch and Rossi walked out. "Let me in there," Spencer immediately said. "No, we don't know if he's being honest," Hotch said. "That doesn't matter, if he's willing to talk then I should go in there." Spencer said. "He just wants to mess with you Reid, he has said it himself that he enjoys this." Rossi said. "I don't care, this is our only chance. Please just let me talk to him. Please," Spencer begged. Hotch shook his head, "Fine, but the second it goes wrong I will pull you out of there." He said. Spencer nodded before walking into the room.

"There he is, the stunning Dr. Spencer Reid." The unsub said, relaxing in his seat as Spencer and Hotch walked in. "How are you? How have you been?" He asked but no one spoke. Hotch sat down, "Reid," he said. Spencer stared at the guy as he sat down. "Oof, someone is angry, how can you truly be angry over someone like her? If anything I think she needs this. Someone needs to teach her to keep her mouth shut, arent I right, Dr. Reid?" He asked. Spencer was unwavering, showing no emotion. "Where is she?" Was all he asked. "Oh come on, give me something Spence! I know you think of her the same way I do. An annoying brat who has never learned to shut the fuck up and look where it got her. She needed to learn her lesson." He stated. Still he remained emotionless. "You said if we brought him in here, you would tell us where she is." Spencer said. "I said that and I may have lied. But come on, admit it. You hate her just like I do." He said. Spencer slammed his fists on the table, "I love her! Tell me where she is!" He yelled. Hotch stood up, "Reid, out," he said sternly. "No, Hotch he fucking knows where-" Hotch cut him off, "Out!" He said louder this time. Finally, Spencer listened and left the room. "I got something! Y/n said something about the woods so I looked into him-" Garcia was speaking fast but still Hotch stopped her, "Garcia," he said. "I think I have an address." Garcia said. She then immediately sent the address to the team and they were quick to be on their way.

Spencer was the first to find you, of course he was. He was on a mission and the mission was finding you. "Y/n, y/n, im here," he said, grabbing your face gently and pulling you up to look at him. You groaned in response as JJ undid your cuffs. "Look at me, tell me you hear me, please," Spencer begged. "You're so loud," you muttered, giving him a weak smile as your eyes slowly opened. God, it was good to see his face. "I know, im loud, i talk a lot, I worry, but god, im so happy you're okay," Spencer said, stroking your face. "I wouldn't say I was okay," you spoke so softly spencer could barely even hear you. But for once, he was so happy to hear your sass. "I know, the ambulance is coming. We'll get you checked out and you'll be okay." He said. He was the only thing keeping you from freaking out, from worry about the extensive list of injuries you'd have. It just felt so good to be in his hands again that you didn't care about your pain or injuries.

The ambulance showed up but god you were grateful. You felt so close to passing out and you didn't want to. You wanted to see Spencer, you wanted to remember his face just like he could remember yours. You wanted to memorize him, you wanted to love him. "Hey, it's okay, I'm still here." Spencer said as he held your hand in the ambulance. "Spence?" Your voice was soft and hard to hear through the oxygen mask. You pulled it down with your shaking hand. "Hey, no, no, you need that," Spencer said, trying to put it back but you shook your head. "N-no, im so sorry. Im sorry i talk too much. I'm sorry I did this-" Spencer shook his head, "No, you didn't do this, this wasn't your fault." He said, trying to comfort you. "Yes it was Spence, I talk to much, I made him hurt me because I can't shut up. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'll learn, i promise," you began to cry. You tried to be strong but you knew you couldn't. No amount of sass would mask just how hurt you were.

Spencer hated this, no matter how many times he would say it, you would never believe it wasn't your fault. No matter what he would say, you would never be yourself again. You wouldn't be able to be sassy again, you wouldn't be as stubborn as you was. And he'd miss it, he'd miss every second of it. Every second of you talking back to him, every second of you being too stubborn to stay back with Garcia, he'd miss every single second of it and it broke him.

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: New Year’s Day*

————————————————————————-

Summary: After a day of misfortune, Joe wants more than just a kiss to ring in the new year…

Warnings: Smut

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine Universe: Just the Two of Us

————————————————————————-

December 31, 2023

(y/n’s pov)

I should've known the night would go the way it did.

It seemed like today, the universe was just not on my side. Earlier, when I was getting ready, the zipper broke on my new dress so I had to wear an old one. My curling iron quit working. I lost one of my earrings that Joe had bought me for Christmas.

The worst part was when Joe and I finally arrived at the New Year’s party at Sam’s house. Joe had just grabbed us both a drink from the makeshift bar Sam had set up in his kitchen. When he handed me my drink, I spilled it all down my cream-colored dress.

“It’s fine, baby.” - Joe

We were currently in the guest bathroom; I told Joe he didn't have to come with me, but he knew that was me asking him to follow me to the bathroom.

“No, it's not! There's wine all down my white dress!” - you

“Hey, calm down.” - Joe

His soft voice, which would usually calm me down, was only pissing me off more.

“Joe, just stop talking! You aren't helping.” - you

“Okay then. What can I do to help?” - Joe

“Go away.” - you

“Honey…” - Joe

I shot him a look that had him dropping his head and exiting the room.

Fuck, this is only making things worse. Sure my day isn't going the greatest but why'd I have to project that onto Joe?

The thoughts of everything that had gone wrong today mixed with the picture of Joe’s sad expression after I told him to leave, and before I knew it, tears were flowing out of my eyes.

——

Ten minutes later, there was a knock on the bathroom door. I didn't answer because you'd be able to hear the fact I was crying in my voice.

I stupidly left the door unlocked, so when the door handle turned, I panicked.

My shoulders dropped in relief when Joe walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

Watching his eyes scan my tear-stained cheeks, Joe’s gaze softened, and he rushed to pull me into his arms.

“Hey, hey, it's okay.” - Joe

I buried my face in his neck as Joe ran a big hand over my back, the other holding the back of my head.

“What’s wrong, baby? Just the dress, or is something else going on?” - Joe

“Today's not been a good day.” - you croaked

“I'm sorry… anything I can do?” - Joe

“Just be here.” - you

I cuddled myself into him more, internally laughing at myself for contradicting my statement just ten minutes ago.

“Jess let me borrow a dress from her closet. I grabbed one that I thought you would like and be comfortable in.” - Joe

Jess, Sam’s girlfriend, was a saint for that. I'll have to bake her some cookies as a thank you.

“Thank you.” - you

His sweet gesture somehow only made me cry harder, and regret for how I acted toward him earlier flooded my head.

“Why are you crying harder?” - Joe

“Because I was mean to you earlier.” - you

Joe’s laugh moved his chest, causing my head to shake with it.

“It's okay. I promise. I didn't take it to heart because I knew you were just not having a good day.” - Joe

“Good.” - you sniffled

“I love you.” - Joe

He pressed a big but gentle kiss to my hair, and I felt a smile spread on my lips.

“I love you too.” - you

We stayed intertwined for a few moments before Joe eventually pulled away.

His hands stayed on my waist, and in one swift motion, he sat me on top of the counter.

“Want me to fix your makeup a little?” - Joe

“Please?” - you

Joe rummaged through the cabinets till he found something that looked like it could take mascara stains off. It ended up being a makeup remover, thank god.

With my guidance, Joe got my makeup to look like it somewhat did before. While doing so, Joe whispered sweet nothings that had me forgetting all about today’s misfortune.

All that mattered was our moment together in our friend's bathroom. My time with this man.

I pulled out my phone from my dress pocket to change into the one in Joe’s hand and saw the time in the process.

“It's 11:45!” - you

“Gotta hurry then.” - Joe winked

After playfully shoving his chest, I bunched up the fabric of my dress and pulled it over my head.

Joe silently licked his lips before his mouth dropped open, his eyes never once leaving my body.

I was kinda confused as to why he was reacting in such a way when I got a glance of myself in the mirror.

My lace black bra matching the tiger-striped thong made from the same material. Joe had put it in the bottom of my Chrismas stocking, but I hadn't worn it yet.

“Holy fuck.” - Joe groaned

Maybe I should tease him?

“Shit, I got wine on my bra too…” - you

I unclipped the garment and pulled it off my arms, revealing my bare chest.

“Baby, stop teasing.” - Joe

His voice had dropped down an octave, gaining a whiney tone in the process.

“I'm not trying to do shit, Burrow. Control yourself.” - you

I scrubbed the bra and dress vigorously, Joe clearly ogling my bouncing breasts.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Joe reach down to his crotch to rearrange his forming erection.

“y/n…” - Joe

“What?” - you

I looked at him through the mirror to see his pouty lips and tented jeans.

“Make it quick, I wanna see the ball.” - you

Joe lept forward and grabbed my waist, pulling me into his arms and carrying me into the guest bedroom.

He laid me down on the bed and ran over to the door to lock it before returning.

My first orgasm came fast and hard, Joe using his talented mouth and fingers to quickly bring me to release as breathy moans of his name left my lips.

“God, I need inside you.” - Joe

The digital clock on the nightstand read 12:50.

“Make it quick, Joseph Lee. I don't wanna miss the ball.” - you

Joe stood up and pulled his shirt over his head before shoving his sweatpants and undies down to mid-thigh.

“I'll show you two balls.” - Joe

His attempt at “sexy talk” had me busting out laughing.

“Stop! I'm trying to be sexy here!” - Joe

“Boy, you don't have to try. Just get on top of me.” - you

Joe did as I said and crawled on top of me, his big body equal parts hot and overwhelming.

“You want me?” - Joe

He grabbed his erection and ran his tip through my slick folds. Joe’s eyes were blown wide with lust, his deep voice intoxicating.

“Fuck yes.” - you

With that confirmation, Joe slammed his entire length inside. Both of us moaned as my walls clamped down on his lengthy member.

“You're soaked. So fucking tight.” - Joe

“You can move.” - you breathed out

Joe nodded and immediately set a fast pace. His only thought in mind was my pleasure.

“Feel good?” - Joe

“Joe!” - you moaned

“Mm? Does it? You like it?” - Joe

Moan after moan left my lips, Joe wasn't slowing down either, and his tip was abusing my cervix.

“Yes!” - you

Joe looked down and watched his thick cock move in and out of my heat, feeling himself get closer to release.

Wrapping my legs around Joe’s waist to allow him to get deeper, his eyes met mine, and a shiver went down my spine at the look in them.

“Wish I could stay inside you forever.” - Joe

His dirty praise had me inadvertently arching up into his chest, Joe didn't mind though, he thought the opposite.

“Fucking love you.” - Joe

I got too distracted by the sound of our friends downstairs to return the sentiment. Seems like we were getting closer to the new year.

Joe noticed my attention falling somewhere else and a weird feeling fell over him. Is she not enjoying this?

“Why are you listening to them?” - Joe panted

“I- dunno.” - you

“Listen to us, baby. Fuck, you can hear how wet you are.” - Joe moaned

His statement elicited a moan out of me that I swore came from my toes.

“Joey, fuck.” - you

If it was even possible, Joe moved his mouth closer to my ear, whispering anything he could think of that would drive me wild.

“Listen to my cock move inside you, y/n.” - Joe

“I'm- gonna… cum!” - you

“Atta girl, pay attention to me.” - Joe

My walls were repeatedly squeezing Joe’s cock, each time drawing a small moan from his lips.

“Feels so good.” - Joe groaned

I let out a borderline scream when Joe began sucking on the sweet spot on my neck while rubbing my clit with his thumb.

The sounds of skin slapping skin, along with the wet sounds of Joe moving in and out, seemed to be magnified ever since his statements.

After one specifically hard thrust from Joe, I came around him. I was practically seeing stars as he continued thrusting inside of me.

“Want me to pull out? Easier to clean up.” - Joe

He had to really focus to grit those words out, and I could tell.

“God no. I wanna feel you.” - you

Running my hands up the muscular surface of his back, I laced my fingers into Joe’s hair as he moaned into my mouth.

“Shit… I can't- fuck!” - Joe

Feeling his rush to get as deep as he could had my walls fluttering around Joe’s cock, still not through my orgasm.

Joe continued thrusting as his face contorted from pure pleasure, his climax coming almost as hard as mine did.

“Fuck!” - Joe

With a loud grunt, Joe toppled over on top of me.

Both of our chests heaved, and the only audible sounds were the ones of the ceiling fan and our mutual heavy breaths.

After a minute or so, Joe gently pulled out and flopped over onto his back next to me.

Our fingers intertwined, and we both had deliriously blissed-out smiles on our faces as we stared up at the ceiling.

When we heard the noise downstairs, Joe and I moved our heads to face each other.

“5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Happy New Year!!!”

Slowly leaning in, Joe softly kissed my lips as his hand that wasn't holding mine rubbed my naked back.

The kiss lasted a few sweet seconds before we pulled away.

“Happy New Year, baby.” - Joe whispered

“Happy New Year, Joey.” - you

Joe pulled me against his chest, our cheeks pressed together as I ran my fingers through his hair.

“I love you.” - Joe

“I love you too.” - you

A content sigh graced my lips when Joe gently squeezed me.

“No one else I'd rather start ‘24 with. Being your boyfriend is the best privilege, and I'm so thankful to have you.” - Joe

My heart swelled at his confession, but before I could reciprocate something startled the both of us.

“Everything okay?! You guys have been in there forever! Missed the ball and everything!” - Sam

“Yeah! We're uh- getting the stain out of her dress!” - Joe

“Oh okay! Let me in so I can show you where the stain remover is!” - Sam

Joe and I frantically looked at each other before looking down at my bare breasts and his uncovered cock.

“Give us a second!” - Joe

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Authors note: those mullet pics gave me motivation for this

Request for this fic;

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

an ocean in a world full of puddles ◦ Chapter 1

-After being brushed off by Chan once again, you are stuck waiting in the lounge room for him to arrive. What are you going to do when it isn't Chan that arrives, but instead Felix? And it feels like you've known him for years."

words ◦ 5k

genre ◦ series, angst, fluff, the beginning of a wild ride

warnings ◦ chan is painted in sort of a negative light because he is always busy, felix is sort of shy around you at first, but lowkey flirty near the end as he starts to get more comfertable, theres a lot of fucks in this, i keep calling yall im dumb im sorry, fem!reader, felix calls her a lady once,

a/n ◦ The strikeouts are intentional to show how chaotic the reader's mind is and how she feels like her emotions are so invalid she has to just erase them away. I'm sorry if this isn't what you expected. I found myself struggling to describe certain aspects of this and was quite disappointed by the outcome (but please do not let this deter you. If anything, read it and let me know what you think/what I can change. Plus, I know the other parts are going to be way better than this).

also i listened to heather while writing this up until the phone number bit... then i listened to slow down by chase atlantic...do with that information as you will

A VERY VERY SPECAIL THANK YOU TO THESE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE that helped me through the different struggles and stages in this fic I thank most of my unnecessary errors being fixed because of them @yongbun, @jeonginsleftcheek, @luvtak

masterlist ◦ a loved lived in between the stars and the sea

The human condition: a soul filled with passion, but not a mouth to spill it into.

It was ironic really.��

Your soul was filled with passion, but you had a mouth to spill it into.

That mouth just didn't want your passion- 

Your fervor-

Your ardor-

Romance practically coursed through your veins, your blood cells shaped like the hearts you saw the world through. 

Chan was filled with passion.

Chan was filled with ardor.

Chan was filled with romance.

But Chan didn't want poetry-

Chan spilled too much soul into songs. 

Songs that made him too busy for you.

The two of you saw the same goal, but spoke different languages- 

Your love was often- 

Lost in translation. 

You shout, frustration poking in the pit of your stomach painting the car red you dig the pencil into the words scratching them out so hard you cut holes in the page that sounded so stupid

all of this was so stupid

your feelings-

stupid

your issues-

stupid

the thought that Chan was anything other than perfect-

stupid

Why couldn't you just be content with everything you have? So many girls would pay to be in your place, tripping over each other just to be in his presence, and yet, what, you're unhappy because you spoke different languages? 

What the hell does that even mean?

You were trapped inside an inescapable box, the sharp edges of your unrealistic expectations like shackles that cut into your skin, bleeding with a passion only ever found in fiction. 

Why were you always stuck?

stuck in the stars, stuck in the sea-

stuck in this stupid line of stupid traffic, waiting for a stupid meal that Chan probably will be too busy to eat with you, writing some stupid piece of poetry that was about as poetic as the rotting innards of unidentified roadkill.

stupid

stupid

stupid

“Finally,” you mumble as the car in front of you inches up, allowing you access to the next window. You politely bow, grab the trays from the worker’s hand, and drive off.

Your life quickly turned from the hope of a story to the reality of a routine. The road, the walls, the button your finger grazes as the doors to the elevator slam shut, the number of steps it takes to get to his room, the feel of cold metal underneath your palm as you open the door, the same hunch of his shoulders, the same glow of his laptop, the same empty look in his eyes.

the same

the same

the same

Most of your relationship is spent looking at him like this.

"Hey channie," you say, setting the food down on the empty spot beside his keyboard.

"Hi, love." His voice is nothing more than the ghost of a mumble, blending with the click and shift of his mouse, moving different blurs and blobs of color on the screen. Chan tended to get tunnel vision when he was working, even if that meant you were left stranded in the shadows of his forgotten responsibilities. 

"I um brought you dinner." you clear your throat, pointing lamely at the boxes beside him like he couldn't clearly see they were there. He perks up, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours. 

"Oh baby, thank you." The tension in his shoulders melts. "I'm sorry, you know how busy I am sometimes; right now it feels like I'm drowning in work," he chuckles, absentmindedly shifting in his chair.

you're always busy

You push a smile through the tangled ball of suppressed emotions climbing up your throat.

"I know you're busy, but do you think I could eat dinner with you today...please?" Your stomach twists in painful knots. It was pathetic really, the way you begged for attention like a needy dog more than a doting girlfriend, but you were desperate, scrambling to fan a flickering flame that felt long sputtered out. 

stop

You knew what you were getting into when he asked you out—the stress, the anxiety, the workload, the long hours. Chan was always upfront and honest about the struggles of being an idols girlfriend, never wanting to veil your eyes from the harsh sting of realities rays.

then why does it still feel like your soul is burning?

He flicks his gaze to the screen, guilt gnawing at his core. There was so much to do in the day and just never enough time to do it. "I don't know, I don't really have a lot of time right now..." He mumbles, picking at the seam on his shorts apologetically, "Do you think you could wait about 20 minutes? I'm kind of on a roll here."

When your relationship was first blooming, your spirit would often shatter with those words, but pain only holds power when it isn't welcome, and as long as you are loved by him, you will accept the feeling with open arms. 

"I'm going to go sit in the lounge room then." You try to keep the disappointment out of your tone, but it leaks through the cracks echoing in your chest, radiating in palpable waves. You clench your jaw, picking up your tray of food.

does he not care?

"Okay," The squeak of his chair indifferently swiveling back to its previous place echoes in your ears. Louder than anything you've ever heard. 

he didn't even kiss you

1 hour 45 minutes and 13 seconds

That's how long you have been waiting in the lounge room for Chan to walk in the door.

that is how long you've been wallowing in a sad pathetic heap staring at your uneating supper

1 hour 45 minutes and 15 seconds now

16 seconds

17 seconds

You spin around when you hear the door creak open, anticipation fluttering in your stomach, only to plummet when you see Felix standing in the entrance, too busy shoveling a fork full of noodles in his mouth to notice your presence.

Felix was a familiar face, mostly associated with sweet smiles and bouncing eyes; you have only ever talked to him on a handful of occasions, possessing the basic relationship of hellos in the hallways and smiles when you enter the same room, but besides the couple times where he offered you some of his freshly baked brownies or told you which room Chan was in, you haven't actually had a conversation with the boy.

You groan, dramatically deflating in your seat.

Of course, it wasn't chan

Felix yelps, his heart leaping in his chest, only to wrap around his bones, doing trapeze tricks inside his ribs when he lays eyes on you—why, out of all the days he could have seen you, it was on the one day he was least ready, and the way your whole body slumps like a deflated balloon, it becomes crystal clear you weren't exactly jumping up and down to see him either.

Does Cupid have a vendetta against him or something?

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know anybody was in here," he stutters awkwardly, running his fingers through his hair like he was trying to fix it without a mirror. Disappointment quickly brews into guilt watching the way his eyes shift, hurt drooping his shoulders down. 

"No, I'm sorry, it's not like that; I just thought—" You falter. What the hell did you think? Sorry, but I thought you were my boyfriend who left me here all by myself, and like usual, my stupid, hopeful heart really believed this time was going to be different. "You were someone different." You sink into the couch, a dull ache spiderwebbing through the chasms in your chest.

"Let me guess." His eyes crinkle with sympathy. "Chan."

You glance down at your ribs—some silly part of you really believed your shirt had blossomed with the crimson stain of your sorrows.

"How could you guess?" you mutter sarcastically, picking at the skin of your nails. Why did it seem like everybody else got the memo that if you were to search the thesaurus, your name would be the first word under forgotten?

"Well, really, it was a toss-up between you being with him for the past 5 years and the fact that he has been glued to his computer for the past 5 hours," he grins. "Pick your poison."

Your gaze drifts back to the couch that sits idly in front of you, lonely in the middle of the room, out of place, without the implant of another person's body.

"W-Well," he starts, shifting his bowl in his hands. "Do you... I don't know, want some company...maybe."

He's so awkward, so unsure, like a baby deer wobbling on unfamiliar legs, struggling to stay upright. You tilt your head, your lips pulling up into an adoring grin; you never really noticed it before, but he was sort of shy. You had a terrible tendency to take your time observing people unintentionally, causing discomfort to the victims of your restless brain—assessing in silence.

His ears burn when your eyes gloss over with an opaque glaze. His heart drops only for those silly little butterflies that always appear when you are around to swarm their wings around the lump growing in his throat.

Well, that was a bust.

Why couldn't he just be normal around you?

"O-Or not, that's fine too. I-I get it; you're probably l-like waiting for Chan or whatever. I-I can go get him if you would like." He jerks his thumb behind him, forgetting he was holding something for a second, stumbling to catch it right before it falls. You snicker, biting your lips to contain your laughter. His eyes flutter shut, scrunching his nose in embarrassment.

He was cute

Why haven't you talked to him before?

"No, please sit down," you lazily gesture to the couch in front of you. "It's not like Chan's going to be coming down anytime soon."

He sighs, his whole body melting with relief, practically forming into the couch when he shuffles over, adjusting himself to comfortably sit with his legs wide and his head tilted down. He picks up his fork just before whispering, "I'm sorry that he kept you waiting," and stuffing his face. You smile, the sight all sorts of endearing. The amount of food stuffed into his cheeks puffs them out, forcing his mouth into a pout that's smeared with red sauce. For a moment, you almost forget that you're supposed to be groveling, but why would life want to let you live when instead it could remind you constantly how much it sucks?

"I'm used to it." You learn to live with the absence of air when your hope always causes you to suffocate.

"You shouldn't have to be," he murmurs, his hand politely veiling his mouth while he chews. He's staring at his food like his noodles were an impossible labyrinth he's forced to escape, completely oblivious to the cataclysmic sentence he just uttered. Your jaw drops, stomach fluttering with butterflies, butterflies that you could’ve sworn burned out a long time ago. When most of your time is spent in a constant state of apocalypse, you forget the side effects of a romanticism, felt before your soul was littered with the echos of war.

"Oh?"

"Are you not going to eat?" He questions, forehead creased with concern as he gestures to the food that was currently burning a hole in the table. You stare at him stupidly, mouth ever so slightly agape. Did he not notice that there were swarms of zombified insects burrowing their way into your belly, kaleidoscopes charred wings creating panic in your pounding heart?

(cookie interruptions: I was today years old when I found out that a kaleidoscope was the technical term for a swarm of butterflies)

Why was he making you feel so jittery?

"Oh," you blink, giving an imperceptible shake of the head—a weak attempt to gather your disoriented thoughts.

Honestly, you had forgotten it was there.

"I was waiting to eat with Chan..." You mutter through the tufts of wool still stuffed in your head, wrapping your fingers around the tray, but when you pull open its flappy lid, your lips pull into a sneer glaring at the congealed sauce and cold noodles. You weren't surprised that your food had spoiled over the 2 hours you had been waiting, but it didn't make the frustration that bubbled in your gut any less apparent either. "But clearly, that hope was shortlived," you scoff, chucking the useless tray back on the table. 

Felix clears his throat, adjusting himself in his seat. He often found himself tiptoeing on the edge of insanity, always rewriting the words he wanted to say, terrified you had written a line in the sand the waves had washed away.

You were a star with a heart tied to the sea, where he would have more success breaking the bond of the moon than turning the tides of the ocean that suffocated your soul.

So for now, he will coast the cosmos alone, waiting for the day you will finally look his way.

"You can have some of mine... if you want," he whispers, shyly scooting his cup over to you. "It's salmon-flavored; it's really good."

"Are you sure?" you blink, utterly flummoxed.

"Yeah, of course!" You swore you could trace the stories of the sky in the gaps where his freckles glowed.

"Thank you; I promise I won't eat too much," you joke, pulling out your fork. "I don't mind it, really. I can always make more as long as you're eating I'm okay," he grins, sliding his hand out of the way to allow room for yours, grateful for his generosity; you bite back a smile, digging into the hot noodles; a spicy flavor pulled straight from the sea explodes on your tongue as soon as the food meets your lips.

You swear you just tasted heaven's gates.

"Holy shit, this is delicious," you moan, rolling your eyes back in your head.

"I'm glad you like it," he smirks. "It's my special recipe."

"So you do more than bake, huh?" you waggle your brows lightheartedly, though you were sort of impressed by his broad palette of skills. 

"You know that I bake!?" He was still recovering from the shock that you even knew his name—the way he often dissolves into the wall when you enter the room.

"Of course, I know that you bake; I always have to eat at least half of the plate of brownies Chan brings home." You giggle, picking at the noodles, wanting more but feeling guilty for hogging the whole bowl.

"Oh, I'm full," he stretches, rubbing his stomach like a stuffed cartoon character. 

"Are you lying?" Cynism was a side effect of being a creative romanticist—your artistic brain didn't limit itself to only forming one conclusion, while the stories that ended up on paper were solely portrayed as having happy endings—you knew this philosophy was neither sadistic nor realistic, for even if the fictional characters made up of the fluid of your mind betrayed each other, what would a human, evil in its rawest form, do to you?

well that was melodramatic

"You know you're a very skeptical person," he jests, pulling his lips ever so slightly up.

"I'm a hopeless romantic; there's a difference," you state, stuffing your face when you finish studying him down to the very twitch of his right calf muscle.

"Aren't hopeless romantics supposed to be happy-go-lucky all the time? Seeing the world through rose-colored glasses and stuff?"

"You know we are called hopeless for a reason," you snort, unrealistic standards were more of a curse than a blessing.

Scratch that, having unrealistic standards is just a curse

“Being a hopeless romantic is like being an ocean in a world full of puddles.” Your soul speaks like his fingertips have felt its walls a million times before “devastating.”

He stares at you gobsmacked, blinking like you just hit him over the head with a mallet. Your mind kicks into gear, anxious little butterflies flipping on the switch for damage control.

that must have sounded so self-centered

"I-I didn't mean, like, in a cocky way, I'm better than other people. I just meant it's impossible to pour my passion anywhere because everybody else doesn't have room to take it. If anything, I-Im the bad one in this scenario.” You stutter, sporadically shaking your hands, worried that the misconception is going to create a concrete opinion. He quickly waves you off, seeming anything but bothered. 

“An ocean in a world full of puddles that's pretty deep,” he implores, treating the words like age-old wine to be sipped with both time and deference. “You know you should really consider being a poet 'cause that like moved my soul.” Only Lee Felix can make humor sound so honest. 

Why was he so ...amazed

"I like to think I'm a poet." Your cheeks are painted red as you bashfully tilt your head down. 

but right now not so much

“You can't think you're a poet,” he chuckles. “If you ever wanted to read somebody your stuff, I would be happy to help…Maybe it could fix your uncertainty." Something twinkles in his eyes, something nervous yet desperate, something you couldn't quite pinpoint while your stomach was sprinting in circles—the mere thought of showing somebody else your poetry was the equivalent of slicing your heart in half and presenting it to the world on live television.

basically, something that will never happen never ever

"No, no, no, it's nothing like that. I don't really write poetry per se; I just write my..." You trail off.

What do you write?

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he reassures, his warm smile cooling the icy anxiety that crystallized around your core.

Why do you do this to yourself??

Stupid Felix and his stupid power to loosen your lips-

stupid. stupid. stupid.

To be a poet is to be vulnerable; no great art is ever created comfortably. 

Fuck it 

“I write my dreams,” you blurt, peeking out through your clenched eyelids to see if Felix caught the spit of a sentence; clearly, he did the way he lifts his brows thoughtfully. 

“Elaborate”

A man of many annoying questions you see 

“Why,” you groan, sinking into your seat almost comically. 

"Because I want to listen to you," he laughs like whiskey and wine, both husky and rich. You choke, your heart imploding into a million tiny, rose-shaped pieces.

"Nobody wants to listen to me ramble on about hopeless fantasies that will never come true," you sputter, still trying to reshape your rose-shaped shatters into something that resembles an organ. 

"I do."

Oh well, there they go again, forming right back into roses-

He made all of this seem like a complex game of chess, every move of hesitance quickly countered by a block of honesty.

From the moment you could write, you found out that paper was not volatile the way people were, how you could erase a word written but, in time, in life, you cannot erase a sentence said—that philosophy stuck with you, forever rendering you apprehensive to vocalize your feelings.

Maybe it was your soft spot for the stars that made you speak, but either way, when your mouth opened, it felt as though all your past doubts had washed away, and for once, you were free.

"I have always held onto my dreams through the tip of a pen, existing in between the lines of my poetry. But I don't write about deep philosophical pearls of wisdom; I write about love, passion, beauty. I write about coffee and cream, roses and vanilla. I write what I think romance tastes like, how the contrast of the most iconic confessions has been written in the rain, a usually gloomy, grey thing completely transformed through the lenses of love…" You sigh, tilting your head against the back of the cushion in bliss.

"I write the way I want to love, for I know it's the only way to quell my heart's aching urge to live anywhere but reality."

He stares at you eerily still, blinking once, twice, three times."

Why wasn't he saying anything?  

Perhaps you were drunk off Felix's promises, or the cracks Chan created in your chest made you bleed with a passion only ever reserved for your poetry. But either way, you felt naked—exposed under his exploring eyes.

"What?" You croak, picking at the sleeve of your shirt.

Why did everybody act like you were crazy?

Was there something wrong with you?

You are floating in the asteroid belt, a thousand tiny rocks hovering around your head.

"Maybe you're just not looking in the right places." There’s a deep intensity in his eyes, a million roaring waves crashing against each other; you run face-first into a meteor, bouncing around the surfaces of a weightless space.

How many brain-altering revelations could Felix bestow before your brain cracks?

"You know, I haven't even told my friends that," you deflect. It was a dangerous game, diving too deep into your thoughts, and right now, with him—with that statement, danger could quickly bleed into destruction.

"So, I'm not your friend?" Clearly, Felix catches on to the sudden swerve of the conversation, how he eases into it with such grace, jestingly poking your knee.

"This is the first time I've ever had a real conversation with you," you scoff, poking him right back. His jaw drops in faux offense.

"You know, I just gave you my food. I think that deserves an upgrade into friendship territory," he states matter-of-factly.

Two can play at that game-

"I don't have your number; usually friends have each other's number." You place your elbows on your knees. He has been playing a metaphorical game of chess with you this whole time, his pawns moving ever so slightly forward. He forced your hand, the comfortability in your eyes making openings on the board you never meant to create. His rook, his bishop, his queen—they kiss the place right below your king.

You had one more trick up your sleeve-

You were a creative romantic whose moves were nothing less than a story, and you were going to be damned if you let your king be captured.

Now, where's the happy ending in that?

(cookie interruptions… I dont know what this is nor why i am so dramatic but hey what can you do ALSO LISTEN TO SLOW DOWN BY CHASE ATLANTIC I BEGTH OF YOU )

He leans forward, pressing his tongue against his cheek. The fabric of his shirt stretches across the hard ridges of his abs—

No, stop it, bad y/n. 

"Do you want it?" He leans his head ever. So. Slightly. Forward  

"Maybe I do."

"Maybe I'll give it to you," soft, smooth voice- 

you narrow your eyes,

"What will Chan think?"

"It doesn't matter what Chan thinks-"

"Tell that to Chan-"

"Maybe I will." His lips-

"You know, if Chan saw us here right now, he would not be very happy." You suck your teeth.

Check-

He scoffs. Moves his bishop. 

You're right back where you started. 

"You're not his pet."

"Yeah, but I am his girlfriend." Block.

"Those two words are not synonymous," he says. Moves his queen.

Too many openings, too many moves, too many pieces on the board.

Too many outcomes.

Do you even still want to play?

Weren't you the one who started the game?

You bite your cheek, his eyes burning like molten amber, glinting in the overhead lights.

Should you have really asked for his number?

What would Chan think if he saw it in your phone?

Who were you kidding? He would actually have enough time to look at your phone.

"You know," he leans back, extending his arms to drape across the couch, pushing his thighs ever so slightly apart. Gone is the man with smiles like sugar; determination wisps across his face like spits of fire, overtaking every feature."If I give you my number, I'm going to have to help you unlearn your engraved cynicism." He's closing in on you, moving all his pawns in one fair swoop. You're surrounded, swarmed.

"You can't ungrave something it's scientifically impossible." You shift your king. One last dying breath-

Before- 

"I can try."

Checkmate

And like every person of honor does when they have nobly lost a battle they created- 

You run away. 

“I have to admit, as much as I loved this conversation, I really should be going,” you say, picking up your tray of forgotten food to chuck in the trash, leaving Felix's bowl on the table. He jumps up, scrambling to pick up his mess while you dart out the door, tossing the tray in the can just outside the room.

“Wait,” he gasps, stumbling to catch up with your speed. Your finger, out of habit, moves to press the button to the elevator doors—that is, before he catches it, his warm hand wraps around your wrist.

“Now, what gentleman would I be making a lady get her own door?” He bellows, voice deep and low, a sound echoing through his chest as the fabric of his shirt kisses your back. He’s so close, so close, so—

How long has it been since you've been touched? 

Heat. You're drenched in it, painted in it, enveloped in it.

His hand grazes your skin as he slides up your wrist, his finger extending to press the button.

Your breath hitches.

Body shutters. 

Every atom erupting in flames. 

The elevator doors slam open-

Your brain clicks back into place-

“Will I be seeing you again?” Your hot, so hot. He’s hot, so hot. Breath—it tickles your ear. Disoriented, so disoriented.

“I still don't have your number,” you manage to utter, slipping into the doors. His face will be the final thing you see as you descend down the shaft, lifelessly walking to your car where you will go home, go to sleep, and start your routine all over again. He smirks, flicking his eyes to your pants.

“Yes, you do.”

I do? 

The doors inch shut, and a small, teeny-tiny part of you wants to wrench them open, pull him in, force him into the stanzas of your story. You are tired—tired of waiting for your life to begin, tired of repeating the same vicious cycle.

But that wasn't you talking- 

That was the hopeless part of your personality,

The unrealistic-

The fiction- 

Life wasn't a game and reality wasn't a book. 

You had a good thing going wth Chris and you were going to be damned to ruin it just because of one fun conversation.

You reach one finger into the back pocket, feeling around for what Felix could have been talking about.

There's no way.

Your skin brushes across a smooth surface—something that definitely wasn’t there before.

There's no fucking way.

You pull it out.

It's pink and folded and definitely written on. You unfold it.

XXX-XXX-XXXX. Just in case you ever need an editor or a friend.

Oh well, fuck the game. He just flipped over the whole damn chessboard.

Read Chapter 2 here

[darkshelbyfiction]

Debt Paid (Thomas Shelby Blurb)

Warning: Non-Con, Virginity Loss, CNC

It was a Friday afternoon when you were sent to Thomas Shelby's office in Birmingham and you felt like lamb led to the slaughter, ready to be devoured whole. Your father's debts had piled up high – so high it blackened your mother's delicate complexion and buried your little brother's innocence from a pauper's upbringing. 

You had to settle these debts with nothing less than your innocence and purity. That is why you stood at the threshold of Thomas Shelby's office, your whole being shivering, your lungs collecting dust instead of air.

You could see that Shelby's office exuded rich mahogany furniture, intricately crafted wooden carvings on the walls, and large floor-to-ceiling windows offering views of Peaky Blinders territories below. Yet, despite the grandeur, it reeked of death and decay. Much like Shelby himself.

You stepped inside, softly like a cat, skulking into his presence.

Shelby looked up from the ledgers he was looking over, his dark hair falling into his piercing eyes. He was an intimidating sight, with a muscular frame and an air of authority that surrounded him like a cloak. You felt yourself shrinking before him, wishing you could be swallowed up by the large Turkish rug beneath your feet.

"You are quite a picture of innocence, eh" he said almost aggressively, causing you to shiver. "Come closer, Love," he ordered and you didn't move at first, rooted to the spot by fear and disgust.

"Please sir , I beg you not to do this. I will find another way, I promise." You said tearfully, uncertainty painted all over your face.

He didn't reply but rose from his seat, and you stumbled backward, trying to put distance between the two of you. But he moved swiftly, with a predator's grace, closing the space with each step.

He closed the door behind him and locked it, the metallic clatter of the key echoing in the silence that followed. Your heart hammered, fear gathering in your chest.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, squeezing your eyes shut as you walked towards his desk, shivering quietly. 

"Don't be sorry," he murmured back, so close behind you that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. You felt his hand on your shoulder, turning you around. You opened your eyes and looked up at him, terror written all over your face.

"Now, I don't have all day, so I need you to be a good girl and bend over my desk," Thomas Shelby ordered you , his voice cold and detached. The room spun around you as his powerful hands spun you roughly around. The air smelled of cigar smoke, whiskey, and beneath that, something you couldn't quite put your finger on—submission.

Thomas Shelby's office made you shudder, with its rich mahogany outfitting and the countless rows of books lining every available wall space. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the sprawling, prevailing Birmingham cityscape. It rendered you powerless beneath his iron grip, more vulnerable than ever.

"Please Mr Shelby. I don't - ," you whimpered, your voice wavering in desperation, but you were cut off by the gangster's hands who pushed you down against his Mahagony table.

"Sshh, quiet now," Shelby muttered darkly into your ear as he pushed you down, making you bend over against his desk. "Stay nice and still for me, Love."

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you began as you nodded in defeat while the much older man lifted up your skirt.

His calloused hands yanked your panties down your legs like a man possessed, causing you to wince in pain. His fingers found their way to your aching virgin hole causing you to stiffen and squirm beneath him. The sensation was foreign, as he slowly pushed his index finger into your dry hole.

"Fuck, Love. Your hole is so small," Thomas Shelby sneered as he continued to force his finger into you, drawing blood.  The smell of iron filled the room, but he didn't seem to care. His grasp tightened around your wrists, making you gasp at the pain.

A wave of disgust and shame washed over you as he pulled his finger out and wiped it on his handkerchief, before placing same on his desk. The white fabric was stained with blood — your blood.

You then heard the man undo his belt , followed by the loud sound of his zipper leaving you trembling as you waited for him to assault you. The clicking sound of his belt was oddly loud in your ears, and every second seemed to stretch on forever. The thought of what Shelby was about to do to you made you queasy, and the entire situation started to feel surreal.

He grabbed one of your thighs and pulled it towards him, taking his place between your legs. Thomas Shelby's erect manhood touched your behind, feeling hot and smooth against your porcelain skin.

"You know, I've been wanting to fuck you since the moment I laid eyes on you," Thomas Shelby growled before placing a hand on your cheek.

He then licked his fingers and slowly rubbed them against your dry pussy lips, wetting your hole with his spit.

"Good girl. Nice and quiet now ," Thomas Shelby whispered gruffly, positioning himself behind you and aligning his manhood with your tight entrance. "This might sting a little," he warned as his coarse, raw length poked delicately against you, teasingly. Your heart pounded in your ears as he began to apply pressure, pushing inside your dry hole without an inch of yourself prepared.

A sharp, painful intake of breath escaped your lips as Thomas Shelby finally entered you with a steady thrust. Your inner walls stretched wider than ever before as he drove himself deeper inside, your blood smeared on the tip of his shaft.

"That's it, Love. Fuck," he hissed, pulling back almost entirely and slamming harder into you. The sound of your bones meeting ripped through the room, obliterating any sensible thought. Every thrust was more excruciating than before.

Tears flowed freely from your eyes, staining the polished mahogany underneath you as you strained to break free, but Shelby kept you pinned in place, brutally pounding your aching, battered hole.

"You are so tight, Love. Bleeding all over my cock," Thomas Shelby groaned as he continued to ravage your inexperience.

With every piston-like drive, the pain intensified, yet your feminine core trooper on, responding to the intrusion with a rhythmic trembling.

And so it continued, Shelby plowing into your tightness like an untamed beast, indifferent to the silent wails you tried to silence. His crown hit your cervix with each thrust, making you feel like your insides were on fire, and your voice continued to grow louder, sobbing from the pain.

"Please, no more. It hurts, it hurts!" you cried, trying to escape the agony by inching away, but there was nowhere for you to go, caged and cornered by his overpowering presence.

"I am almost done Love!" He responded, like this was some sort of natural, everyday activity that you should be forced to put up with. Your pain seemed to excite him more, and his thrusting grew more vigorous and relentless. You were just a body to him, a hole to fill, a source of pleasure.

"Just hold still for me now so that I can fill you up with my cum, sweetheart," Thomas Shelby commanded hoarsely, his grunts and moans reaching a frenzied pitch. 

He took his time, savoring the sensation of your hot, wet pussy gripping him tightly. He closed his eyes and groaned, shuddering as he felt himself getting closer to reaching his orgasm.

"Fuck , yes, Love. I'm almost there. You're so fucking good," Thomas Shelby muttered through his gritted teeth, gripping your hips even tighter as, finally, he stilled.

He let out a low groan and you could feel the warm rush of his release as he filled you up, each spurt of his cum igniting another gasp of pain from you. He stayed there, buried deep inside you, as he caught his breath, before slowly pulling out.

You felt the mix of your blood and his cum drip down your thighs, leaving an undeniable mess on his expensive rug. Shelby stepped back, allowing you to stand up, wobbling on your feet. 

He then handed you his handkerchief and ordered you to 'clean up'. Numbly, you followed his instructions, your hands trembling as they tried to remove every stitch of him from your body. 

"Good girl ," Thomas Shelby commented, walking casually back to his desk and, after you finished cleaning yourself up, Shelby dismissed you with a flick of his wrist. "See yourself out," was all he said, as he returned to his papers, the loss of his attention sending you stumbling back to reality. Physically broken and emotionally decimated, the door slammed abruptly shut behind you.

[darklordofthesimp]

Dissonance (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader)

Part of the "Anything" verse but can be read as a standalone.

Summary: When a mission-gone-wrong leads to a confrontation, Ghost confesses the way that he feels. 

A/N: Get a load of the fucking ART OH MY G O D 

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Mutual Pining || Tension 

Warnings: Graphic Language 

Disclaimer: Sunshine is Gender Neutral as always, however I am looking to start showcasing fan art as the cover pieces on fics and it will always be up to the artists discretion to decide what they want their Sunshine/Saint/Birdy to look like.

Like the characters? Birdy Masterlist || Saint Masterlist

Such amazing Ghost x Sunshine fan art by @hiskonigin honestly leaves me breathless every single time I swear to God.

___

The mission had gone terribly wrong. 

You felt like they always were, these days. Any task or deployment that started off well, started off controlled, they’d fall to pieces the second pressure was applied. It wasn’t all of them, though. Just enough that it had become noticeable to Price and the team. For the life of you, you couldn’t figure out the issue. 

But, as you stood nose to nose with the Lieutenant in the shared kitchen, you were beginning to see the common denominator. 

“I’m not doing this with you again, Riley,” you snapped. “I’m fucking sick of this conversation.” 

Simon’s fists clenched by his side, “I say when this conversation is done, not you.” 

Your eyes narrowed, grinding your teeth in an attempt to keep your mouth shut. You’d been warned by Price about your insubordination but the urge to risk it all was at an all-time high. Simon Riley was insufferable. 

“Yes,” you ground out miserably, “Sir.” 

The officer took a step toward you, unrest buzzing beneath his skin. You could feel the discourse running in his blood, you could sense the unreasonable rage that burned in his chest. You knew it because you knew him on a plane that nobody else would understand. You’d related to him. You’d experienced it all, too. 

“You’re a fucking pain in my ass,” he snapped.

Yet… every time. Every time. 

Rejection pinched your heart but the feeling was almost hollow. You’d been hurt by Simon so many times that you could almost say that you were numb to it. It’s not as though you were chasing his approval, it was that you were never going to earn it. You couldn’t get civility, you couldn’t get anything from him. 

You were tired. 

Things had changed, everything had changed since the incident. You’d been kidnapped, held ransom, beaten and battered, and then left to die in favour of your teammate. It was ironic that Simon had been the one to save you; it felt like he regretted it some days. 

The fire that burned beneath the skin had dimmed and you felt out of place. There was only so much you could take and you could feel that breaking point creeping up on you. It was foul that you were treated with the same hostility as König, your only crime was being brought onto the team. 

Your only crime was that you weren’t Birdy. 

“Okay,” you rasped, nodding your head. “Noted. Am I dismissed?” 

Simon took in a deep breath, eyes steady on yours. He didn’t waver and you knew that he had more to say. There was always more venom with Simon, quiet with others but angry with you. Always so angry. 

“Dismissed.” Ghost confirmed. When you turned on your heel, the man spoke up from behind you. “First parade tomorrow is 0700 at the gym with Birdy and König for training.” 

You whirled around as fast as you’d gone to leave. “Sorry?” 

Simon barely blinked. “You heard me.” 

“I have the day off tomorrow,” you snapped, “we all have the day off tomorrow.” 

The officer only shook his head. “Learn to follow orders and you’ll earn a day off.” 

Your chest burned, blood rushed to your head and you wanted nothing more than to just scream. You wanted to grip Simon by his stupid shoulders and shake him until that fucking mask fell from his face. You wanted to beat on his dumb fucking chest until you knocked some sense into him. 

“I’m sick of this, Riley.” Your voice shook as you raised a finger. “I’m fucking sick of this.” 

“Imagine how I feel, Sunshine,” the LT drawled, turning to leave like he hadn’t just ruined your night- like he ruins every night. 

You couldn’t breathe. The sensation of being alone, of being rejected over and over by the people that are meant to be the closest to you. You’d never stopped experiencing that particular pain. From your parents to your first few units, and now, to this. 

To the 141. 

To Simon Riley. 

“I won’t be there,” you rasped. The words escaped from between your lips before you could catch them. “I’m not going.” 

Your Lieutenant shifted his body to face you again, eyes square on yours. You couldn’t care less about the murder in his eyes, you couldn’t care less about the chill drifting along your spine. You didn’t care about anything anymore. 

If they wanted to treat you like some erroneous outsider, then you would act like one.

“What?” It was low, almost whispered, but you heard him loud and clear. 

You glared up at him, moving forward until you were only inches from him. You could taste his unrest, the shift in his body language, you could almost hear him grit his teeth. You didn’t care. His upset meant nothing to you, he meant nothing to you. 

“You heard me.” You dared him to do something. Anything. “I’m not doing shit for you people anymore. Especially you. I’m never doing anything for you again.” 

“That’s what you’ve been asked,” he snapped, “your job and nothing else.” 

“I’m trying!” You all but shrieked. You felt the tether to your calm demeanour beginning to slip from your fingers. “I’ve been doing nothing but trying and it’s never enough for you.”

Your lips trembled as you gasped for air. Adrenaline was rushing through your system and you prayed that he wouldn’t push you over the edge you teetered along. You felt the unfamiliar tingle along your nose and cheeks, the tell-tale signs of angry tears. 

Don’t say anything, you begged internally. 

But, if there was one thing Simon was good at it was disappointing you. 

“If you have to try that hard then maybe you’re in the wrong place, Sunshine.” 

Something inside you snapped.

Tension slingshotted from where it had been building in your chest and landed straight onto your tongue, tasting of venom and fury. Rage washed over you, tears spilling from your lashes as you pushed a finger into his chest. 

“Maybe I am.” You finally admitted to your own fears but you wouldn’t be conceding peacefully. There was too much you had to say, too much spite poisoning your lungs to leave it there. 

“Maybe this is the wrong fucking place,” you nodded, “because it’s just a fucking high school in here. Everyone’s fucking someone, everyone’s in love with someone and everyone hates someone.” 

The LT said nothing as you pushed him hard, stepping back from the force beneath your palms. 

“I can’t do anything right because I’m not Birdy,” your voice was warbled as you shouted, thick with tears and anger alike. “König can’t do anything right because of a mistake from the brass, Birdy can’t recover because they’re being babied, and you can’t be unbiased because you want to fuck Birdy!” 

“What?” Simon hissed, but the word was lost on you. You hadn’t even heard him as you pushed him again and again. He let you shove him, let you gain ground on him until his back was pressed against the wall. 

“And you!” Your voice cracked beneath the volume. “I’ve done everything for you, risked everything for you!” 

“I never asked you-” 

“You didn’t have to!” It was a sob. It was a confession. 

Simon’s jaw fell slack from beneath his mask. 

“I’d do anything for you,” you finally fell to a whisper. “We both know that.” 

The man took in a shuddered breath from beneath your palms. He was pressed hard into the wall with your hands splayed across his chest as though readying yourself for another attack. 

But then they fell slack. 

Then they left his body completely. 

He shivered at the loss. 

“I hate you,” you took a step back, body shaking from emotional overload. You had so much more to say, so much hatred built up over the months. There was just no energy to deliver them anymore.

And, the more you thought about it, maybe it wasn’t hatred. Maybe it was just hurt. 

The realization that you would never be loved, never be accepted- the understanding that you would never be the first choice. Always an afterthought, always a hindrance. 

A self-sabotaging menace that no one could tolerate. 

“You’re right. I don’t belong here.” You affirmed, sorrow forming a pit in your stomach as you finally came to understand. “But, I want you to know that you made this every inch as miserable as it’s been, you selfish cunt.” 

The insult fell like a gavel between you. 

You half expected Simon to yell. You almost wanted him to. A reaction would be better than the silence filling the small space between you both.

The air grew heavy with tension the longer the quiet continued. Your fingers twitched at your side, the understanding that this was the end of it all. The end of the farce that he’d put on in the hospital, the short pretence of caring. 

You supposed people did crazy things when lives are at stake. 

Maybe he only pitied you when he’d spoken those words, the sentence you’d been hanging onto for weeks. 

“I would follow you anywhere. We both know it.” 

The only thing that Simon followed you with was dissonance.

“Nothing?” Your voice cracked and wavered. “Got nothing to say?” 

Simon didn’t move, didn’t say a word, he didn’t even blink. You supposed you’d been expecting too much. The man never gave you anything when you needed it, when you were desperate for a sign. His silence was infuriating. 

“Yeah,” you said, wobbly and broken. “Of course, you don’t, you fucking coward. Never do when it matters.” 

You took another step away from him, forcing yourself to detach from the situation. The longer you stayed the longer you craved a response, you felt like he owed it to you. But no one is entitled to anything and you sure as fuck weren’t about to let yourself fall into that mentality. 

The man before you brought out the worst in you. 

As you were readying yourself to turn around, Simon Riley finally spoke. 

“Are you finished?” 

Your jaw fell slack. “Excuse me?” 

Ghost pushed himself off the wall, inches from you in what felt like a second. You could barely catch your breath at the sudden proximity, the overwhelming sense of being in his presence. The feeling of being on the back foot beneath him, rather than the one in control, was intoxicating. 

“I said,” he repeated, stormy eyes bearing into yours, “Are you finished?” 

Each word was enunciated, a pause in between that felt like a beat on your chest every time. You were, in all honesty, flabbergasted. There was no better way to put it. 

You couldn’t even string together a sentence to come back at him with, really. The audacity that it took to reply to everything you had said with such an arrogant question made your blood simmer beneath your skin. 

Simon took your silence as a confirmation that you were, in fact, finished. 

“Can I talk now, Sunshine?” He growled, stepping closer into your space as if there were any more room for him to fit. You receded, feeling as though you were gasping for air that wasn’t tainted by the taste of him. “You gonna let me talk?” 

You said nothing as he walked you backward, desperately wanting to dig your heels into the ground. When your back hit the wall you looked up at Simon with wide eyes, hands hovering over his chest. 

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna talk now,” the LT deliberated mockingly, nodding his head as though he’d given you the choice. The sarcasm dropped from his tone when he spoke next. “You have no fucking clue, Sunshine. You’re a fuckin’ clueless idiot, is what you fuckin’ are.” 

Tears burned in your eyes, collecting on your lash line against your will. Had he really trapped you against a wall just to shatter you further? Did he really hate you that much? 

His gloved hands came to grip your own and you flinched away, the back of your head thudding against the drywall. Simon’s eyes narrowed, pressing your trembling fingers against the thin shirt covering his chest. 

You could feel his heartbeat. To your shock, it wasn’t steady. 

His heart was racing. 

You met his gaze once more, watching as his eyes trailed the lone tear on your cheek. 

“You’re an idiot.” He repeated but, this time, his voice was a whisper. “You have no fucking clue.” 

You wanted to say something, anything. You wanted to believe what he implied, you wanted to hold onto it with the hope that you’d had so many times before. 

Unfortunately, vague confessions and sweet nothings weren’t enough anymore. 

Simon knew it, too. 

“I can sit here correcting half the shit you’ve said,” he shook his head. “But I’m not gonna bother ‘cos I agree with you.” 

Your heart dropped.  

“Don’t look at me like that, let me finish.” Simon rasped, his fingers tightening against yours. “You’re right about it all, ‘bout it being a fuckin’ high school. König wants Birdy, Price wants Saint, Soap wants Gaz, and everyone’s a fucking bitchy cunt to someone on the team.”  

You blinked at the last couple that he’d mentioned. 

“But,” he shook his head, gaze heavy on your skin. “I’m not targeting you because I don’t think you belong. And I don't. Want. Birdy.” 

You made a small noise, embarrassment burning flush along your neck. You cast your eyes to the side and took in a shuddering breath. 

“I don’t give a fuck who you want-” You began, the lie falling shakily from your lips. 

“Yes, you do.” Simon interrupted sharply. You looked up at him quickly, ready to defend yourself. “Because I give a fuck about who you want, too.” 

“Why?” You blurted, heart thrashing in your chest when he shoots you a pointed glare. 

“Come on, Sunshine, don’t play dumb.” 

“Then don’t be a coward, Simon.” 

The LT raised a brow, gripping your hands tightly at your words. The beating beneath your palms picked up in speed, reminiscent of a racehorse sprinting towards the finish line. You’d never have picked his anxiety if you were just watching him, those dead eyes unwavering. 

Maybe, that was why he let you feel it… feel him. 

He wanted you to know, he wanted to show you in the only way that he could- in the only way you would trust.

Simon Riley was laying himself bare. 

“I give a fuck because,” he paused, loosing a shaky breath. He blinked, finally. Those blonde lashes fluttered as his eyes scoured the features of your face, building the courage to spill his honesty to you. “I give a fuck because I want you, Sunshine.” 

There it was. 

There it was. 

You were frozen, suspended in time with your hands on his chest and your face inches from his. The taste of his words lingered on your tongue as you took him in with every trembling breath. 

“I give you a hard time,” Simon nodded, “I do. You put yourself in these fuckin’ situations to save me and I can’t do anything to protect you.”

And, as if someone had turned on the lights, everything suddenly became clear. 

The time he’d been so furious that he barged into your room after a mission to berate you. “I could have lost you,” he’d said, “You would have died and it would have been on me.” 

That shattering incident where you’d fought in the kitchen, “I don’t need you to save me!” Ghost had snapped, smacking your cup from the table. “I don’t need anything from you.”

And, of course, this mission. This whole debacle had started because you’d recovered him from an ambush. 

“This whole time…” You rasped, “I thought you hated me.” 

Simon scoffed, the sound bitter on his tongue. “No. I just hated the way I felt. The way I feel.” 

You opened your mouth to speak, your fingers pressing into the skin of his chest. These months had you doubting yourself, had you wondering what you could have done so wrong to deserve this treatment. The embarrassment of wanting someone that couldn’t stand you was crippling. 

But now… now as his eyes bore into yours, begging you to say something wordlessly. The way his body was on edge, waiting for your response, fearing your rejection. How could you be asked to articulate anything? How were you meant to formulate a sentence? 

You wanted to tell him how you felt, you wanted to tell him everything. 

You wanted him. 

But the craving to put your hands on his skin, to taste his confession on his lips, to show him what he meant to you, it was overwhelming. You wanted him to understand how you felt in a way that he’d never doubt, in a way that would explain why you were constantly risking yourself for him. 

You knew he understood when his hands moved to grip your waist.

“Oh, my God.” 

You leapt away, your body thumping into the wall as the spell broke between yourself and the Lieutenant. 

“Oh, my God!” Birdy said again, hands coming up to their eyes hesitantly as they stumbled back and forth in the doorway. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” 

You groaned, dropping your chin to your chest as you pinched the bridge of your nose. 

“Relax,” Simon coughed, his fingers trailing along your skin until they fell by his sides again, slow and hesitant. “Just- We were debriefing.” 

You could hear footsteps approaching from down the hall and the urge to throw yourself out the window grew exponentially. Out of all the times for these two idiots to make an appearance, they had to pick the most paramount moment. It was as though they were the main characters and you were simply a side-plot, cursed to never be able to develop further than the main story-line.

You glanced up at Ghost who offered you a similar expression, unimpressed. 

König cast a shadow over the intruder as he rounded the corner to the kitchen, undoubtedly investigating the commotion. His eyes fell on Birdy first, watching as their hands came up and down from their face, unsure whether they were allowed to look. Then, jade eyes moved to observe Ghost who hadn’t moved from his position posted next to your flushed body. 

“Oh…” König murmured, realization slowly dawning as he returned his gaze to Birdy. “Oh.” 

Gigantic hands reached to gently but firmly tug on the back of the stumbling sniper’s shirt. He offered an apologetic wave as he began to drag Birdy from the room, the latter still sputtering embarrassed atonements. 

“It’s okay,” you slipped out from your space between Simon and the wall. “I was just leaving anyway.” 

You quickly moved towards the door, wiping away any remaining tears from your face roughly. Just as you reached the exit, you realized that you’d left the man hanging. What if he thought that you were rejecting him? What if he went back to hating you? 

What if you missed your chance? 

You paused, turning to look over your shoulder. 

Simon was already watching you, eyes soft and his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. 

“Don’t worry,” he offered. “I’ll catch up, Sunshine.” 

You hid your smile as you turned back around and continued. 

You left the room embarrassed, sure. But, you also left with newfound hope and a promise. 

You left with the promise of Simon Riley.