#my chest hurts a little about it tbh

[goodplace-janet]

,

[tvuniverse]

Listen i just want to preface this by saying I don't even personally hate Tommy, but that's not really the point i want to make so here goes nothing.

The way a lot of people act as if it's impossible to dislike him because the characters have moved on so so should we, right? and that's the thing right here, as poc we're always being told to move on. We can't express our feelings, we can't hold grudges, we can't complain about issues without making it something more than it is, we always have to just... move on.

I know people are going to say it's just a show, it's not that serious, but the issues it touches on and the way fandom speaks on those issues are.

I've seen a lot of comparisons between Tommy and other mains, how each of them are flawed and have screwed up one way or another, and you're right, but it's still unfair to compare him to them. We've seen each of the main characters experience guilt, or be ashamed of their action, we've seen them apologise, put in the work to actually grow, and they have. There's not enough time in an episode for us to see that for side characters. In this case, Tommy didn't do any of the above and that's normal, he was a plot device to show some very real societal issues, and especially what people of colour/women might go through in the workplace, and once he served his purpose he didn't get much more beyond a few scenes where it seemed like everything was fine between him and chim/hen. It would be more appropriate to compare him to the buckley parents, (who appeared in more or less the same amount of episodes) like if people suddendly started saying no one is allowed to hate them because they got their redemption, their kids more or less forgave them, they more or less tried to be better parents. And yet it's still not enough for a lot of people, because how they treated their children, the shit they've said to them, hits a little too close to home for a lot of people and so no matter what the show says or does, they'll still be mostly hated by the audience, and that's more than okay. But if margaret buckley is your favourite character than by all means be my guest. And listen, i love this show, it's all about hope, and it means everyone gets a redemption arc, as short as it is (sometimes even just a sentence lol), but we won't always be satisfied with these arcs, especially if they don't feel proportional to the hurt the characters may have caused to our mains, so we'll all have different reactions to them.

I swear liking a morally ambiguous/grey character says absolutely nothing about you, but making excuses for them, antagonising people who might dislike them (for good reasons) or acting like suddenly triggers don't exist for people, does say something about you. One of my favourite characters is literally the worst person ever, an actual bigot, but i won't ever write essays about why people are not allowed to dislike him actually because he's my babygirl.. i very much understand why people would.

All of this to say, everyone will have different opinions about Tommy. Some might love him, some will be completely neutral or at worst slightly uncomfortable/bothered by him, and some will straight up hate him, and all of these are fine. Live and let live, love whoever you want to love, and hate whoever you want to hate, but please stop trying to dictate how others should feel, i'm begging. And this really does go both ways.

[king-spite]

.

[johanthefriskiestofbits]

oooooo please tell me (who knows nothing on the subject) about orv swap au

hehehe. hehehehehehe. hehehehehehehhehehehhheheheh <- guy who is so normal

the premise of orv swap au (name has yet to be finalized) is this: what if kdj and yjh swapped narrative positions (reader <-> character) but very little else? what if a video game player enters a time loop to save his favorite character from dying over and over again and also to end the apocalypse?

admittedly it's not super fleshed out yet (a lot of the changes this premise would introduce are still not hammered out yet) but here are some points under the cut (novel spoilers ahead!)

orv swap au starts with pro gamer yjh who feels :/ abt his job, but hey, it pays the bills. despite (or maybe because of) his relative popularity as a pro gamer and networking with the agency/sponsors/people to impress, he's kind of isolated in a way that's detrimental, a facade of someone he's not whenever he's on camera

something to play around with is the idea of agency? maybe this yjh doesn't feel like he has any and has his hands tied between the lifestyle and being under public scrutiny and not having enough of a support system to leave everything behind. maybe he doesn't know what else he would even do. maybe he's aimless and drifting with nothing to hold on to.

his favorite video game is what i've been thinking of as World's Hardest To Play Indie Game (not based on difficulty but just on the experience of consuming it) a boring, exposition heavy, player-hostile, poorly designed, slightly buggy mess of a barely-playable game: twsa, a game that was not finished upon release and experiences with sporadic updates every now and then.

the ending tree to this game is so convoluted its insane. also theres no save states so if you die (very likely) u restart babeyyy.

twsa (video game) does have multiple endings, all of which happen when kdj, your main character, dies. some are farther into the apocolypse than others, some paths require meta knowledge of future events or character actions or items or whatever. the "true ending" is either analogous to the original 1863: kdj makes it to the end at the cost of everyone he loves, or hsy's modified 1863: kdj makes himself enemy of the scenario to secure a way out for the kimcom remnants.

there's branches on the choices tree where everyone dies and everything sucks and is bad forever and theres choices to make where kdj gets to make a family and they don't really get to settle down but they can get pretty close to it among the ruins of the apocalypse. through all his testing, yjh finds that these endings are nice but peter out - to get to the end of the apocalypse yjh has to claw his way there inch by painful inch, through betrayal and sacrifice, and he still cant fully get past it

i originally wanted to finagle a yoohankim 3 way swap but i couldn't figure it out. swap aus are a lot easier to work with when they're even numbers, at least to me, so this au features a ysa who is a video game company employee by day and by night she really has become god this time (and also a terrible indie dev). and this is how jungdoksang can still win !!!!

also yjh's coworker from Real Life hsy :) i haven't decided if she's like an employee for the same agency, or if she's someone else in the gaming circles that yjh interacts with sometimes (in my heart theyre in like some sort of discord server together), or something like that but she's around. whatever she does she is twitter cancelled for something. to me.

the only other character swaps are lsk and yma. yma is yjh's estranged sister (in broad strokes there's a vague bad parent situation going on here) (they used to be close until they drifted apart and slowly started hating each other [there is an abyss between them that neither of them can bridge]) (he feels that she betrayed him and threw him under the bus so he left [maybe he gets kicked out]) (she feels that he abandoned her to whatever situation they have going on [he didn't even try to take her with him]) and he has to find her when the apocalypse starts. yjh older sibling to yma gives us a whole different little dynamic to explore from kdj ysk (there's different levels of responsibility and guilt and blame when you're talking siblings that are soooooo interesting to me. sorry that i see any set of siblings and immediately try to figure out how to make them worse)

lsk is kdj's mom who appeared into existence at some point with kdj and they were both just adults. that's weird isn't it. oh well. i guess she can become a transcendent later too for funsies

everyone else stays in the same configuration of Real Person vs Character to me this is a very important aspect

this point has no precedent with the swap, nothing particular that would change to cause this, but it would be so funny if lgy was a little gamer boy who is an avid yjh hater. hates that guy. shows up to competitions to boo him. tunes into yjh's silent no-mic speedrunning streams to mald in chat but yjh +mods don't ban him bc its kinda funny.

anyways the apocalypse starts when yjh and his coworker/fellow gamer hsy are on a train to twitchcon and lgy is also there (also headed to twitchcon) and he brings bugs because he likes them but also to sabotage yjh specifically. its just funny if this happened. you understand

instead of having reader-related skills and abilities, yjh's skills are video game player based! he gets flavor text insight on people, location, and items, things like that. notably, he has the ability to reset, to bring himself back to the beginning of the apocalypse

orv swap proper follows yjh as the Player of the Game (Consumer of the Narrative) who lives hundred of lifetimes in this ruined-world-become-reality "replaying" [read: time looping through] the game to reshape it to save his fave character from self implosion (kdj with no dissociation is very prone to dying. all the time.). to revisit the idea of playing with yjh and the idea of agency, of creation, the only way to get past the apocalypse is to go off the beaten path, to choose options that weren't even there in the game. when in space, at his darkest point, yjh becomes a writer. in this story, at his darkest point, he has to become a creator too

please do not ask me how the epilogues go i dont know how the epilogues go (i don't want to throw yjh back into a train for milennia after he Just went through a thousand resets so i'm sending kdj for that but i havent fully planned how or why)

anyways, hope that helps!!! :)

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[eevenus]

⋆˚࿔ drabble!! 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - b.c.

I have thoughts and need to get them out of my head before I go insane.

genre: PURE SMUT TBH!!! MINORS BE GONE!! I WILL BLOCK YOU!!!

pairing: bangchan x fem!reader

warnings: chokeholds (sue me okay), a bit of degradation, rough channie 🥴, reader is called a whore once, size kink if you squint

a/n: I wrote this on my phone because I needed it out of my head NYEOW, I'm going insane over him. dividers by @sister-lucifer

(this is what I was writing to if you wanna listen along 😛😛😛)

✩ thinking so much about Chan having such a horrible day, and I mean absolutely retched. Maybe had some arguments back and forth with staff over a track he was really proud of, a dance practice with small fuckups just out of his control (loose shoelaces tripping him, stumbling over his words, etc), maybe even something as simple as all his anxieties and worries on new tracks and performances have manifested into a boiling anger he can't contain.

✩ he wouldn't want to say anything he doesn't mean, or hurt anyone's feelings, so he wouldn't talk much throughout the day if he can help it. Simple nods and "mhm"s to just get through it. A few texts from you ping his phone every now and then, he's short with you but responds nonetheless. It would almost make him angrier that he can't shake the feeling, I feel.

✩ so he'd try to blow off some steam at the gym, he always hit it on the way home so you wouldn't find it out of the ordinary. But he'd stay a little longer than usual. Trying so, so hard to just shake the feeling off so he can come home to you and relax. But he can't. It sits on his chest worse than any of his anxieties ever could. So he cleans up the area he was using, throws his things into his duffle, and heads home.

✩ he'd show up back to your shared apartment and throw his duffle somewhere out of his sight. His shoes discarded by the door and keys dropped somewhere next to them. And then you'd walk out.

✩ "Hi baby!" So sweet and so kind, already in your pajamas, waiting for him to come home. "Long day?" It was an innocent ask of course, but it clicked a gear in place in his mind. All that anger seemed to quicken the blood rushing through his veins, if you listen close enough in the quiet you'd hear his heartbeat.

✩ no response but he's just stomping his way over to you, and his hands grab your face to smash your lips together. It's messy, teeth knocking every now and then, moving from upper to bottom lip, a bit of spit would connect you when he finally pulled away. Leaving you in a bit of a daze. But before you could question the absolutely hungry look in his eyes his lips would be on you again.

✩ his HUMONGOUS arms would work to pick you up while keeping your lips connected, your hands in his curls as his wrap under your thighs. And he's walking you back to your shared room and his skin is just fiery hot, and he's deepening the kiss while expertly navigating his way down the hall. thank god you walked out and left the door open, because as soon as he is even near your bed he's tossing you onto it and climbing on top of you.

✩ discarding his tank top as you're ridding of your own, his lips moving after to connect with your neck. You'd swear you felt him bite and lick his away along like a hungry animal playing with its prey. And his hands are on your hips, squeezing so hard to keep you in place that it would def leave bruises in the morning.

✩ before you can even register it, you're both without clothes and he's got you on all fours. pulling you down onto his mouth that is just devouring you like your his last meal on death row, like you held a cure for whatever is making him act this way, not like you'd want him to stop.

✩ "Bad day?" You'd question with rutting hips and your hands gripping his hair, he'd simply mumble against you and pull you down further. "Take it out- oh god- on me." You didn't have to tell him really, but it was more like giving him a green light for doing whatever he needed too to blow off the steam that was so pent up. It was rare this happened, but you ate it UP every time.

✩ moments later, after he'd rip at least two orgasms out of you, he's sinking himself into you. Pulling at your hips to meet his, forcing an arch out of you with a flat palm pressing down at the top of your spine. with no mercy does he rut into you, so rough it was physically moving you forward. Your cries and moans muffled with your cheek against the sheets, though you'd have probably been muffled regardless as his moans and groans and growls would be just a bit louder. Feral even.

✩ and when your moans alone weren't enough, he'd slow himself just enough to lean down and wrap his arm around your neck. keeping a hand still on your hip to keep your arch in place when he lifts you up from the bed in a chokehold and returns to his previous pace. Your moans now cut-off whines and groans from the pressure, just enough to slightly bring pressure to your airways but not enough to make you lose all your air. A delightful euphoria of floating and the feeling of his cock pumping into you, you swore in this position he was kissing your cervix in the most delicious way. feeling floaty and so full. so full. (pushing the bde Chris agenda ok).

✩ "fuckin' take it." He'd growl in your ear, and though his arm stays around your neck his hand moves to hold your chin. Relieving the pressure as you take in shaky gasps, keeping you perfectly in place. "Yea? You're my fucking whore, mine- letting me use you, huh? letting me fuck my anger into you?"

✩ he'd be so far gone that he's just mumbling out the nastiest shit he's ever said, and just abusing your pretty little cunt all he wants. And when his growls turn to whines and gasps and groans of his own, his hand reaches between your legs and quickly circles your puffy pretty clit. Silently begging you to cum with him.

✩ ugh and he'd cum so much too. letting you out of his hold halfway through, to lay back against the sheets, but still pushing you through your own orgasm. It would take him a bit to register he's real again before he's pulling out and walking to grab things to clean you up, water, a snack, the works.

✩ "Better?" You'd incoherently mumble after, when you're all laid up together. Snuggled close and naked and safe and warm.

✩ "Mm. Sorry if I was too rough." He'd mumble back, pushing some hair behind your ear before promising to tell you what was bothering him first thing in the morning. But of course you never mind him that way, if you can help him.

✩ he'd apologize PROFUSELY in the morning when he notices your bruised hips and a few red marks of teeth on your neck. Doing his best to mend you. Draw you a bath. Snuggle you as soon as he gets home from the studio. Apologize again. And again. And one more time for good measure. cuz he's just too sweet, and even if he was pent up and needed to channel his anger in a (proactive) different way he could never actually hurt you and he'd feel awful if he ever did. Making sure you feel loved in every way he can in the following days. Cuz he's Channie and an absolute angel, who just loves a rough night every now and again. 😜

EEP KQJDJSNF there's my first spicy drabble, I just needed this out of my fucking head OMG. Need him to chokehold me so BAD KADJNDNF. this is probably a mess because I was trying to get a vision across without turning this into a 7k word fic okay 😭😭. Lemme know if y'all want more of this from meeee by commenting, liking, reposting!! Theenk yewwww ❤️✨🤞🏻

taglist: @possum-playground (taglist is open! Feel free to ask to be added to my general one or the one for my Bangchan series!! or if you'd like to only be added for non-spicy/spicy-only posts!)

[bluesidez]

[The Ideal Gaze]

lab tester: @ichigosluvrr 🩻

pairing: DadBod!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

summary: Miguel is feeling a bit out of your league, so you remind him that he’s just in your lane. 

content warning: established relationship (they’re married with kids!), domestic fluff, mild hurt/comfort due to Miguel being an idiot that does not understand The Female Gaze, some miscommunication between reader and Miguel, 18+ so MDNI, a little raunchier than I intended tbh but hopefully I presented DB!Mig well, body worship, heated tension, reader is like obsessed with Miguel’s new Dad Bod, deepthroat 😗, missionary position, unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP 🫵🏾), the word Ma as a term of endearment from Miguel to reader two times

word count: 5.3k, halfway proofread

a/n: Fulfilling this first because this was technically my first request! I added a few more elements (thank you Miguel server!), so I hope you don’t mind. There were no specific requests other than fluff and smut, so I went with the flow. I hope you enjoy! (Also, I found the original artist's post here!! Go give them some love!)

Your blood is pumping as you round the corner, only a few more steps until you reach the driveway. 

The jog today was pretty refreshing. There were no calls from work asking about things that could wait until 8 AM, no toddler fussing about waking up, and no child whining about getting homework done. It was just you, your FitBit, your steamy audiobook, and the lingering thoughts of meeting your husband’s eyes this morning. Lately, it’s been like a little game to rile him up. 

You’ve been married for a few years and a family of four for seven years with a sweet little girl, a second grader with the attitude of an old lady, and a precious little boy, a preschooler with keen intuition. With your lives being consumed with work and taking care of the kids, you feel like your relationship has been put on the back burner. Long gone were the days in which you two made love at the drop of a hat, fucking on anything that could hold you. Now, you were lucky enough to get a little dry humping.

It was getting depressing, and more annoyingly, frustrating, so you started to put your riled-up energy elsewhere. You were up at the crack of dawn making everyone’s lunches and going on occasional jogs, you were using your PTO for brunches with the girls and spa days, you had regular pilates classes, the real pilates, and most importantly, you were finding small pockets of time for yourself. 

From buying yourself small gifts to filling your Kindle with romance books to pleasuring yourself on the nights Miguel worked overtime. You were sure to keep yourself busy. All of that, and you still couldn’t get the thought of Miguel entangled with you out of your head. 

You heaved out as you stopped at the end of the driveway, taking a few breaths to calm your state. The book you were listening to was on a particularly enthralling scene and you wondered if it was something that Miguel would be interested in trying. 

You looked down at yourself and decided to unzip the top of your athletic jacket, letting the tightness of your bra and the fabric push your cleavage up. One smooth swipe of your clothes and you were walking to the front door. 

It was 6:40 AM, so there was plenty of time to have a little quiet moment with your husband. 

You walked into the kitchen and saw him standing in all of his glory. A newspaper in his left hand, because some things didn’t need to be digitized, a ���Best Papá Ever” mug in his right hand, black glasses on his face, and your favorite thing, a naked plush torso on display. 

In the first years of parenthood, his metabolism was through the roof. Despite him joining you for every snack, meal, and midnight dessert, he never lost that tiny little waist or those washboard abs. It wasn’t until your youngest was born and babbling that his appearance started to change. His arms became a mix of muscle and cellulite, his thighs were softer than ever, his chest was full and plump, and his waist widened gifting you with his soft belly and a happy trail that continued to his belly button. 

The early time didn’t stop the coil of neediness in your stomach from forming. 

“Good morning, hubby,” you say with a lilt to your voice. You walked closer to him, an extra bounce in your step, and leaned on the island. 

Sure enough, Miguel was peeking at your chest from over his glasses, mug hovering over his lips. 

You only smiled coyly, waiting for his response. 

“Good morning. How was your jog?” he puts the newspaper and mug down, folding his arms under his chest. 

You stared at his bulging arms, pressed-up pecs, and his tummy that moved with him and almost whined. 

“It was really good. Super nice and refreshing. Maybe a little warm,” you crossed your legs, impatient. “How’s your morning so far?”

“It’s better,” he says, making the short distance to crowd your space. He leans over you, hands going to the island. “My wife is here now.”

You smile at his words, hands itching to touch him but not wanting to ruin the stride. Instead, you look up at him and pan his lips. 

“I’m feeling better, too,” you whisper, waiting. 

Miguel leans forward to press his lips onto yours, the smell of coffee hitting your senses. You feel little fireworks go off as he starts to open your mouth. Everything felt just right in this moment. 

When his hand slid across your back, you almost jumped up to wrap your legs around him. You tilted your head and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could feel yourself slipping against the counter, but Miguel was right there to steady you. 

For what felt like hours to you after so long of a heated connection, the two of you made out on the kitchen island. Only some birds chirping, the occasional car passing by, and the hum of the washing machine could be heard next to the sound of you both breathing into each other’s lips

“Come with me to the shower?” you say, eyes heavy and pleading. 

You could feel Miguel tense up, back rigid as he moved back. 

“I better stay. Raul might wake up soon and he was having a hard time sleeping last night.”

Your heart dropped at the rejection. You were hoping that this would be the one, the moment that you’ve been anticipating for months. Some form of sexual connection. 

“Ok. I’ll be out soon,” you turn and go to the master bathroom, tugging the zipper down hastily. You felt a bit dejected and embarrassed, but you’re trying to let it go. Your mommy side knows that your youngest woke up in distress last night so it makes perfect sense that Miguel wants to be alert for his cries, but your wife side wants her husband back and can’t help but feel like he didn’t want you. 

With this brisk shower, you hoped this self-doubt and neediness washed away with it. 

You tapped your fingers against the desk, staring off at your computer. Work today was slow, which you didn’t mind because that meant you could frequent your watchlist, but your mind kept wandering off while watching some random K-drama. 

Last night, you woke up to what sounded like Miguel getting off in the bathroom. 

He got off work super late that day, so you took the initiative to get the kids to bed and go to bed early. 

What you didn’t expect was to wake up to the sound of his grunts coming through the bathroom door. 

At first, you were a little hurt that he didn’t wake you up to help him out, but then you were so overcome by the sound of him whimpering and moaning that you couldn’t help but pleasure yourself. 

He sounded so desperate and wanton, cursing every once in a while. You bit your lip as you imagined him right next to you, voice right in your ear. You wanted his weight on you. You wanted to feel his skin against yours. 

You lay in the empty bed rubbing yourself until you came, his noises stopping a while before you finished. You were hoping he would come out and see you so you prolong your orgasm to no avail, sleep coming to claim you before he did. 

When you tried to ask him about it in the morning, he kept avoiding your eyes, saying something about his stomach giving him the blues. 

You let it go then, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about it all day. 

In a spur-of-the-moment decision, you decide to text him a flirty message, running to the bathroom to take a picture to match. You waited a little bit, hoping that he could take at least a peek. 

“You look gorgeous, honey.”

Just gorgeous? Not hot? Not good enough to make him want more?

You scrunched your mouth to the side, asking if he could send a picture back.

“Baby, you know I can’t. I’m at work right now.” 

You huffed at that. You knew he was just in his lab by himself. There was plenty of time and solitude to take a picture. He used to send random pictures of himself all of the time. 

For the rest of the day, you were irritated, feeling slighted at the hands of your husband.

You took a break from trying to seduce your husband, tired of the pushback. You put your all into taking care of the kids and maintaining the house when you could.

“And how many sticks does that leave Cassie with?” you asked Gabriella. You both were at the dining table with her math homework sprawled everywhere while dinner was in the oven. 

“27!” she shouted, voice becoming more confident over the course of the math sheet. 

“Correct! You’re knocking ‘em out, girl!”

“Buen trabajo, mija,” Miguel said with vigor as he came by to kiss the top of her head. “You’re doing so well.” (Good job, mija.)

“Does this mean I can get a cookie?” she asked, quick to melt her father’s heart.

“Not before dinner, Gabriella, you know this,” Miguel bounced Raul in his arms, a little fussy and sniffly. 

“Please, papá!” she looked up at him with big brown eyes and a pout.  

Miguel sighed, unable to say no to her 9 times out of 10. 

He looked at you frantically, watching you snickering behind your hands, “You have to ask Mamá.”

Whenever he really wanted to say no, he used you as a trump card.

Gabriella’s shoulders drop as she turns to you, already knowing the drill.

“The answer is no. You can wait until after dinner,” you say, squeezing her cheek.

“You always say no,” Gabriella whines dramatically, slumping in her seat with her arms crossed, pout just like her dad’s.

“And you can always go to bed with no cookies,” you chide as you get up to go check on dinner. “Now go put your homework up and wash your hands, dinner is almost ready.”

She puts her papers back in her folder with the theatrics of a Broadway actor, sighing dramatically with each step she took to her room.

Miguel laughed at her actions watching her leave, “She’s just like her Mami when she gets like that. Fussy.”

You pause to put your hand on your hip, “No, she’s just like her Father when she can’t get her way. Whiny.” You open the oven and pull the lasagna out to the stove to cool a bit. 

“Well, I can’t say no to her just like I can’t say no to you,” he says, placing Raul at the table with a hand running over his soft hair. “You both have the same puppy-dog eyes.”

“You like leaving the hard parenting to me.”

“That is not true. I just tussled with a four-year-old to get him to take his cold medicine and made a promise of not one, but two bedtime stories,” he says, coming up behind you as you reached to get the dishes. He got them down for you instead, hand on your hips and stomach pressed against your back.

You bite your tongue in order not to will your negligent, horny brain from awakening. You didn’t have time for those thoughts, little feet were near, and every advance you gave him ended in failure. 

“Is he doing ok?” you say, referring to Raul he sat at the table with his head down, a teddy bear hugged against him as he pitifully moved his toy car back and forth. It was definitely a big shift from his usual talkative demeanor.

“We might have to go to the doctor again. His allergies are really acting up.”

You leave Miguel’s side to go squat down by Raul, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

You rubbed his back, trying to see if he felt warmer than usual and sure enough, he was burning up.

“My throat hurts, Mama,” he said, little voice just about gone. 

“Oh, I know, my sweet baby,” you say with a soft voice. “Do you want me to make you some alphabet soup?”

Raul’s face twists up, lip a little wobbly, “But I want some cheese noodles.”

“Hey, it’s ok!. You can have some lasagna. I just want your throat to feel better. Hot things will make it feel better.”

“The cheese noodles are hot, too.”

You smiled, “That’s right, the cheese noodles are hot, but I mean a hot liquid.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, hands squeezing his teddy bear as he thought, “Can I have hot chocolate?”

“Of course you can. Can I give you a kiss?”

He nods his head slowly and you lean over to kiss his head. You needed to get him under the covers soon. Before you could pull away, he wrapped his arms around your neck, snuggling up to be held. You couldn’t resist holding your baby, especially when you couldn’t take his pain away. 

You get up to see Miguel helping Gabriella plate the slices of lasagna on each plate and setting up the side salad. Your heart filled with joy watching them giggle over the stretchy cheese. It was moments like this that reminded you that you were taking the right steps, that this was the perfect little life.  

As they set up the table with the plates and drinks, you kept Raul in your arms, ready to help him with tonight's dinner. 

“Thank you for the food, Mommy,” Gabriella said with a toothy smile. 

“You’re welcome, baby,” you say, cutting Raul’s food up even smaller, not wanting him to struggle any more than he had to tonight. 

The table was quiet, save for Gabriella and Miguel smacking their food occasionally and Raul’s wheezy breaths. 

By the time dinner was over, Gabriella was buzzing in her seat for cookies, and Raul was close to falling asleep in your arms. 

You couldn’t ask for anything better. 

With Raul sound asleep, Gabriella tucked in bed, and Miguel watching cable, you had a moment to yourself to think. 

Did today’s small touches mean anything?

You stood in the bathroom moisturizing your skin after a hot bath. You said you were going to stop trying to fish for your husband’s attention, but if you were honest, today’s brief moment of connection did it for you. You couldn’t stop your thoughts once you were alone.

You decide to wear just a pair of panties and one of his old t-shirts to bed: a look that wasn’t trying too hard to get his attention, but you’re sure he’s going to notice it. 

You sat on the bed and decided to read until he came into the room. You hope you were giving a sexy girlfriend vibe. Your skin was all smooth, you smelled good, and you knew you looked good. 

When Miguel walks in, he pauses at the door to stare at you. 

“Why are you looking at me like that? Come to bed,” you say. 

Hook, line, and sinker. 

Miguel shuffled over, eyeing you from head to toe. He looked delicious in his tank top, fabric stretched in the best possible ways.

He crawled on the bed next to you, “My band t-shirt?”

“Yeah! It’s comfy.”

He rubbed his hand up your naked thigh and your nerves started to sing. Any further up, and you might just wet your panties from his touch alone. You missed it so much. 

He leaned over to kiss the juncture your neck and shoulder, your neck, your cheek, and then he stopped. 

He just…stopped.

“Well, I gotta go in earlier tomorrow, so I’m going to sleep early. Is it ok if I turn this light off?

You felt your throat dry up, “Yeah, ok.”

He got under the sheets and switched his lamp off, leaving you in the dark with the faint light of your Kindle illuminating the room.

“Goodnight, honey,” he said with a yawn. 

“Night.”

You turned your Kindle off and just sat in silence, his snores breaking the illusion of the dark consuming you. 

You’re starting to think the worst. 

You kept up a number of tactics subtle to glaringly obvious to appeal to your husband from changing up your perfume to what you would say was an amazing strip tease. Absolutely nothing is working. 

He kept listing off excuses from the kids to his job to his parents to his brother, anything to avoid an intimate session with you. He even chose a night out with his boys over a night in bed with you which was jarring because he always made you feel good before going out to have a good time. 

Did he not find you attractive anymore? You knew childbirth brought a lot of change, but you were still the same woman he met and fell in love with. 

Did he not love you anymore? He often praised you for being a good mom and his pet names never stopped, but after that, his declaration of love for you had been very surface-level.

Is he cheating on you?

You really didn’t want to entertain that thought, but your heart couldn’t take any more pain than it already had. 

So, one day when you say you’re taking the kids to the park, you drop them off at your mom’s place instead, hoping that if there was something going on, no little hearts would be broken once you unleash a beast in the house. 

You pull back in the driveway to see that he’s still here, just as you suspected. You make your way quietly through the house, inching closer to you all’s bedroom. 

Your heart almost stops when you hear the sound of Miguel’s voice, high and breathy in a way that should only reach your ears. You don’t think when you swing the door open, adrenaline pumping high.  

Miguel yells, scared to death but alone. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, voice frustrated.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?”

You look at the state he’s in, shirt up, waistband under his dick, and a mystery fabric in his hand. 

“Were you getting off?” you say, hands dropping to your side. “Do you…do you not love me anymore?”

“What?”

“Do you. Not. Love me anymore. You avoid me every time I’ve tried to initiate something with you. We haven’t made love in so long. You keep making excuses to not be alone with me. You don’t even want to do normal things with me like send pictures or makeout until we’re out of breath. I’ve heard you in the bathroom during the night and now you’re here doing the same thing, without me, your wife.” Your eyes start to water after it all, feeling utter defeat. 

“Cariño, this is a misunderstanding,” he pleads, voice distraught. “I do love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“Then why are you doing this to me?”

“Because,” he pauses, fixing his clothes to have some decency. “I…haven’t felt the greatest about my body.”

Your tears dry up as soon as the statement resonates, “What? What do you mean?”

Miguel sighs.

“Lately, it’s getting harder and harder for my old clothes to fit me anymore, I’m way too busy to hit the gym and more than anything, I think you deserve a man who’s a little less,” he gestures to himself, “let go.”

“Says who?”

He looks at you as if you’ve grown two heads, “Uh, everybody?”

“Well, who is everybody because I’d like to strangle them for letting you think that my husband isn’t good enough for me.” You walk deeper into the bedroom crowding Miguel’s space. “You’ll always be perfect for me. The vows I promised to you will not be broken over something so normal as weight gain.”

He looked like he could cry. 

“Why did you hide you were feeling this way, baby?” you hold his head in your hands scratching at his scalp. 

“It felt stupid and silly. You’ve been doing so well socially and physically, I wanted to see if I could fix it on my own before bringing you down with my problems.”

“Miguel O’Hara,” you say, gripping his jaw firmly. “I’m your wife. I might not be able to solve everything, but at the very least, you need to talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling, express yourself with words. Don’t hide.”

He wrapped his arms around you, sniffling, “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

You pressed a long kiss into his scalp, rubbing his back. 

“Oh my gosh,” you chuckled. “You were feeling so much internally, meanwhile I was practically screaming at you to fuck me. I thought you weren’t attracted to me anymore.” 

So much for communication. 

Miguel just burried his face in your chest while he groaned, “That’s the thing! You were driving me crazy with your tight little workout clothes and your lingerie. You looked so good, but I couldn’t get out of my own head. I’ve been…”

“You’ve been what?”

“I,” he got red in the face. “I’ve been using your underwear.”

You look down to Miguel’s crumbled up hand and it was in fact your underwear from the night you wore his band t-shirt, drenched in his essence.

Your stomach turned with excitement.

“So this is what you were doing in the bathroom in the middle of the night, hm? Using my panties? Giving them more action and attention than me?”

Miguel nodded, eyes hazy.

“Did it feel good?”

Another nod.

“I bet it did. I would wake up and hear you trying so hard to cum.”

You don’t know how, but his face got even warmer.

“You left your poor wife all alone, thinking about you on top of her until she came too.”

“I did?”

“You didn’t know?” you ask, playfully. “I was up all night imagining you walking out to see me. I wanted these arms to come and hold me.”

You squeeze at his arms on your sides. 

“I wanted your weight on me. I wanted your chest against mine.I needed you so bad.”

You move to sit in his lap, knees on the side of him.

“You do such a great job of being a father. This beautiful change in your body is only proof of your hard work and dedication. It’s proof of love for your family.”

Miguel only melted in your hands, face a cloud of emotion.

“I love you, Miguel. I adore you. I yearn for you. I want you.”

With every declaration, came a kiss to his lips.

“Can I show you how much I love you?”

“Please.”

With that, you took his shirt off and made your way down his chest. You lingered around his chest, holding his pecs as you kissed them all over. You couldn’t stop your moans as your tongue felt across the hairy planes of his chest, sucking and pulling on his nipples. Miguel shudders as you pay special attention to them, sensitive after not being with you for so long.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” you breathe into his skin. You slide onto the floor and just press your face into his stomach.

“You like it that much?”

“Love it. You look so yummy walking around. You could be just standing there and I get so,” you cut yourself off, trying not to overwhelm him with just how much you were feeling. “You’re hot, baby.”

You kiss down his happy trail to reach his pants, his stomach twitching. You tugged a bit too hard on his pants, causing him to laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” you say with a pout. 

“I haven’t seen you like this since we won that couple’s retreat.”

“Not my fault. You were all sexy up there, beating the other husbands with your big brain. It was doing something to me.”

You finished pulling and you could almost cry with joy when Miguel’s cock springs next to your head. The sound you make when you see it also has Miguel wound tight. 

Completely taken over by your neediness and desperation, you pull one of his thick legs over your shoulder, kissing and sucking on the skin while your fingertips dance around the entirety of his length. 

The display of strength shocks Miguel who drips and whines at your actions. 

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” he whispers. 

You cup him while you take his head in your mouth. It felt like pure bliss to have that familiar taste in your mouth. With the way you were humming, Miguel can tell that you were about to put him to sleep. 

You took no time letting your tongue stretch to take more of him in. Your cheeks hollow as you go further, one hand kneading at the thigh you were holding and the other switching from fondling him to wrapping around the base of his length. 

“God,” Miguel’s voice filled the room, the loudest it had been for the past few months. “I don’t think I’ll last that long.”

You let go of him and lick down the sides, “That’s because you’re too busy fucking other things instead of me.”

“’M sorry,” he whined as you went back down on him. “I-I was still thinking of you and, ngh, wanting you.”

“Mm hm,” your voice sent shocks down his spine as you didn’t let go. He moved his hips steadily, dick sliding in and out of your mouth and pudge occasionally pressing against your face. 

The faster he went, the noisier the sounds got. He moved his hands to your head, thighs eerily close to tightening around your face. You couldn’t have it any better. 

You dug your nails into his hips, throat contracting in order to take him in. Even with your jaw slacked, it’s been so long since you took him like this that you gagged more often than not. With every sound of your throat struggling, Miguel shouted your name, hands gripping tighter on your hair.

You could tell he was close by the way his thigh was tensing on your shoulder, so when he said the four words, you took him to the hilt, face completely pressed against him. 

“Shit!” he felt like passing out as he released into your throat. You swallowed as much as you could, but you couldn’t take it all, saliva and cum esxaping down your chin to his balls. 

He grunts when he pulls you off, chest moving sporadically. 

You lick your lips and let out a satisfied sigh, “Finally.”

Miguel could only chuckle as he laid back on the bed. You crawled on top of him, sitting on his thighs with a smile. You rub your hands on the skin of stomach, slowly getting to his chest, “I’m like, really wet right now if you want some more painties to use.”

He growled as he pulled you closer.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the P. “I really want you to do it in front of me. Maybe send me a video for the nights you work overtime.”

He had the nerve to look embarrassed as he wrapped his arms around your back, “I might be able to arrange that.” He kissed your lips to distract you from speaking on it further.

After Miguel returned the favor with his head between your legs, the both of you were enjoying a quiet moment together before having to go pick up the kids.

“I can’t believe you thought I was cheating on you,” Miguel said as you were drawing circles on his chest.

“Miguel,” you say, lifting your head. “I pulled all the stops. I did things that I knew you loved: the t-shirts, going commando, the flirty pictures. I even brought whipped cream to the bedroom and you told me ‘I can’t eat that, it’ll blow up my stomach,’ when you were literally in the kitchen taking shots of it the night before.”

“Ok. So I see how you might have gotten to that ludicrous conclusion, but did you not notice how much I’ve been staring at you?”

You clicked your teeth, “Yeah, but what does that mean when you don’t act on it?”

Miguel twisted his lip, “Will you feel better if I told you that your work pictures turned me on too?”

You pinched him resulting in a yelp, “I’ll feel better right now if you give me a shower round.”

He pulled you in his arms as he got out of the bed, “Let’s go before your mom calls.”

You giggle and swing your feet on the way.

After your afternoon of praising his body, Miguel emerged as his previous confident self. This meant more days with him walking around shirtless, more quickies in the morning, makeouts that ended in pleasure, him smacking your ass, you smacking his ass back, and sex. Lots and lots of sex.

Right now, Raul was down for a nap and Gabriella was enjoying her tablet time. 

You, however, were clawing at Miguel’s back like a cat as he pounded you into the mattress. 

“Fuck!” you shouted, eyelids fluttering as Miguel’s cock dragged across your walls. “It feels so good.”

“Quiet, mi vida,” he whispered. “The kids are in their rooms.”

You were quick to cover your mouth, moans muffled. It really didn’t matter because the creaks of the bed were just as loud as you. One change in position and the headboard denting the walls could be added to it. 

It was all too much. 

First, he woke you up with kisses down your body and a promise to lighten your load around the house. Then, he got the kids up and prepared breakfast with the help of Raul. Later while you were out running errands, he sent you a coupon for a spa that just opened up down the street and warm message. 

Now, he has you losing your mind with his hips slapping against yours, whispering praises in your ear.

“Miguel!”

“Hm? Talk to me.”

“I-I can’t-” your voice keeps getting louder unintentionally. He was so calm while he was reaching so deep inside. Your mind was hazy, wanting nothing more than him to keep going.

“You’re doing so good, Ma. You’re so good to me and the kids. You’re such a beautiful wife. Such a pretty Mama. Just wanna make you feel good.”

You felt yourself clench around him at his words, tears falling across your temples. He kissed your tears tenderly, strokes getting deeper. 

“M-Miguel,” you say with your heart full. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. So, so deeply,”

That was all it took for you to suck him in and scream into his shoulder, nails digging into his shoulder blades. His release was soon after, painting your walls with his lips pressed against your ear.

“Papá! You have to be more careful,” Gabriella fussed with her hands on her hips while Miguel was in the kitchen trying to make the family a snack. “You got hurt at work!”

Miguel paused and reached behind his back, fingers roaming over the healing scratches on his shoulder from his last session with you. 

You covered your teeth with your lips as Miguel turned to look at you with his eyebrows raised. 

“It’s ok, mija. Papá is tough!”

“But you gotta put something on it,” Gabriella said with a huff.

“Thank you for your concern, nena. I’ll get Mamá to take care of it, ok?” he ruffled her hair as he handed her a plate of bunny-shaped apple slices. “Now go sit with your brother and watch some TV.”

Miguel huffed as he walked up to the side of you with his arms crossed.

“What? You should put your shirt on!”

“That’s not what you said when you-”

“Hush and go get the aloe.”

Miguel snickered as he gave your lips a peck, “Yeah, yeah.”

Life was wonderfully sweet.

With that, my first request is done! As always, like, reblog, and COMMENT. Let me know how you guys feel! 🩵

[bobafetts-princess]

What Were You Thinking?

Summary: After saving civilians on a mission, Logan is furious that you almost died. (You didn’t almost die) He reminds you that he needs you in the most Logan-esque way possible.

Pairings: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Logan gets rough. Hair pulling, ass slapping, biting, Logan doesn’t handle his woman getting hurt very well. Dirty talk. Scott is annoying. Logan goes soft after he finishes.

A/N: If you’ve seen this on ao3, I’m the same person! I edited this so it’s a little different from my ao3 version. I like this a little more tbh.

The mission was successful. Everyone made it out alive and with minimal scratches. Well, everyone except you. You’d thrown yourself on top of civilians, trying to shield them from harm. You were a bontanokinetic, the ability to control plants, but you also had advanced healing. So even though you sustained major injuries from the bomb that went off 20 feet from you, all the civilians were safe and you were almost healed. You’d covered the civilians with plants and tree roots but only had time to cover your upper body before the blast went off. You took some debris full force, leaving you with deep cuts. Most of the them were healed by now, only the deepest still scars.

You weren’t sure that the civilians safety mattered to your boyfriend, Logan, as much as it did to you though. He always had so much adrenaline after a mission. He usually dragged you to the back of the plane and fucked you senseless to work it off. He would fuck you double when he got ahold of you this time, his fear taking the forefront. He wanted to fuck you to make sure you were real. Make sure you were safe in his arms and stuffed with his cock. He did the same when he had nightmares about you hurt or killed. He usually woke you, cock nudging at you, until he was sure you were awake. He’d plunge inside, fucking you until he was sure it had been a dream. Just a nightmare. It wasn’t real. Being buried deep inside you was the best way for Logan to bring himself back to reality. And boy, you’d fucked up this time. You were in for the most animalistic version of Logan there was.

“Are you alright?” Charles asked, hand soft on the inside of your elbow. You nodded at him, appreciative of the concern in his voice. They all knew what was to come and while they knew Logan would never hurt you, they always checked on you, to be sure you could handle him.

“LILLY.” You heard a deep voice shout your moniker and you turned towards it. Logan was striding towards you, lit cigar hanging out of his mouth. You rolled your eyes, you were fine, no one dead, the big bad in custody. He didn’t speak again until he reached you, grasping you roughly by the arm.

“What were you thinking?” He snarled, animal inside him beginning to take over.

“I was thinking I was saving some civilian lives.” You responded dryly, annoyed at his reaction. This was your job. Saving people from evil. There was always a risk with it. He needed to get over it. He began tugging you towards the helicopter, all the other mutants clearing out of your way as he thundered along.

“You could have gotten yourself KILLED.” He growled, spinning so that you were chest to chest. Even in your irritation with him you still reveled in the feel of his hard body against your softer one. He looked down on you, hazel eyes hard but laced with concern.

“I’m fine Logan, I heal nearly as fast as you do. It’s a scratch now.” You assured him, placing your hands on his chest. You moved his hands to your tattered jumpsuit leg, showing him the pretty pink scar that would disappear within the hour. His fingers trailed the puckered flesh, still sensitive from healing.

“You could have DIED.” He reiterated. His mouth crashed to yours, cigar in his hand now. His other hand grabbed the back of your neck to anchor you in place. A fire started to burn in your body and you couldn’t wait to get back to the plane. To let Logan work his frustrations and fears out, using you. You decided not to argue this time, to let him take what he needed. “I’m not losing you.” He said, his voice softer, but still a low and threatening rumble throughout his chest.

“Hey good job Lil!” A voice shouted at you from across the wreckage. “You saved the day out there. The way you handled all that debris being thrown at you? Amazing. You almost died! It was an intense moment.” Scott laughed, clapping you on the shoulder even though you were still chest to chest with Logan. The motion knocked you into him and it broke the calm over the two of you. Logan hardened, features distorted with annoyance and anger. He shot Scott a glare, mouth curling into a snarl. Scott knew that you were a sensitive spot for Logan so he’d take any opportunity to dig at Logan. Scott had never gotten over Logan’s little crush on Jean, even after the two of you had gotten together. So when the opportunity to push Logan’s buttons arose, Scott would always take it.

It didn’t make sense, he wasn’t reaping any rewards, except for keeping Logan away from Jean. Which hadn’t been an issue in at least a year and if you were being honest with yourself, wasn’t entirely Logan’s fault in the first place. The feeling had been mutual between them but Scott had a tough time seeing it that way.

Logan hauled you over his shoulder, cigar back in his mouth as he stalked towards heli-carrier that housed the X-Men on their trip back from a mission.

“Don’t you think you’re being dramatic?” You asked and only got an angry grunt in return.

“Don’t you think nearly getting yourself killed is a little dramatic?” He snapped as he walked up the ramp.

When Logan got dominant like this, it brought out his animalistic side and you ended up covered in his marks. He found your room, a shared one, and shut and locked the door behind him.

He flopped you down on the small bed, releasing himself from his uniform quicker than usual. He always went commando so he was standing before you completely naked before you even had a chance to blink. You moved to get yours off but he beat you to it, tearing the uniform with his bare hands. Charles was not going to be happy about having to replace yours, again. Logan did the same with your bra and underwear and while you thought he was being a touch ridiculous, it was also hot.

You were in for it rough this time. He was high on adrenaline, pissed, and worried. He didn’t hardly take any time to prep you, but it didn’t matter. You were so wet at the manhandling that when he thrust two fingers in you it wasn’t enough, you needed more. He replaced his fingers with his cock giving you enough time to adjust so he wouldn’t hurt you. You could hear his heavy breathing from above you, his nostrils flaring as he exercised every inch of his control. When you were ready for him you told him so and he gave you a few sharp thrusts to make sure. Logan wasn’t a small man in that area, thick and long, so he had to make sure you were ready.

Once he decided you were he started a brutal and relentless pace that only Logan could keep up with for an extended period of time. Your body heated at his dominance, the way that he chased his own release without worrying about yours. But that’s because he knew you would come either way. Your hand traveled down your body, reaching for your clit to give yourself a little extra pleasure. Before you could, your hands were pushed away, stretched out above your body as Logan’s fingers circled around it instead. His body was warm against yours, his thrusts hard and unending. His thumb circled the nub, his teeth marking your breasts. The pressure he put on your clit was intense and you pushed closer and closer to orgasm. His grunts and groans were increasing in volume and he sounded like a wild man, a caged animal. Your body ached for your orgasm, you could almost taste it, so when he bent to bite on your nipple you lost it. Screaming and clenching around him, your hips met his thrust for thrust until it was over.

Once you came down, he pulled out, flipping you onto your stomach. He crawled up your body, entering you again this time, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking your head backwards. The arch in your back allowed him deep, his balls slapping your clit with each thrust. He bent to bite his way across your neck and shoulder, pushing you closer and closer to another orgasm.

“Think again, little girl, before you try to sacrifice yourself when I’m around.” He grunted, smacking your ass to emphasize his point. His name was falling from your lips, punctuated only by your groans. His words were the only reminder about why he was fucking you like this. Even though you didn’t sacrifice yourself, it felt like it to him. Your hands were braced on the bed, but he grabbed them one by one, not releasing your hair. He pinned them behind your back and held them down. You were at his mercy, you were his toy. You didn’t have the strength to get him off of you but you didn’t want to. You loved when he pinned you. Made you helpless for him. This was your favorite way to get fucked by Logan, hard, rough, and fast. Your second orgasm was building, and when Logan bit down on your right shoulder you fluttered around him. His bites got rougher when he got closer and he usually broke skin when he came.


“Fuck. I’m gonna come in this sweet pussy.” He told you, teeth catching your ear and smelling your hair, his secret kink. He loved the way you smelled when you were turned on. His sense of smell was so strong that your sex pheromones always pushed him over the edge. You always knew he was close when he did this and you knew if you wanted to come a second time you’d have to work for it. But you were surprised when he let go of your hair and moved to focus on your clit instead. His circles the little bud, increasing his pressure with each pass. Before you knew it you were screaming your release, clamping down on his cock. It triggers his own orgasm and he roars, thrusting to the hilt and sinking his teeth in your shoulder hard enough to break skin. He empties himself into you, cock twitching in tune with your pussy pulsing.

“Fuck. That was fucking good.” He growled in your ear, rubbing his face against your hair to soak up your scent. He releases your arms, pulling you upright against him. “Don’t scare me like that again. I don’t want to lose you.” He admits. You nodded, your body aching from the marathon his body had put you through. He spun you, kissing you gently. “I love you.” He grunts, letting his softer side show. The two of you get dressed, stealing kisses and touches between layers of clothes. When you walk out to join the others, the bite marks Logan had left on you were only small scars, save the one that broke skin. It was red but healing, barely visible under your top.

Everyone eyes Logan warily, wondering if he’d worked out all his anger. He lays a hand softly on your hip, kissing your temple and you could feel the welcome sigh of relief from everyone else.

“Are we ready to go?” He asks, strapping you into your seat before he straps himself in. Charles nods at Scott and Storm and they start to take off.

[gojoest]

the one with the role play — gojo satoru

— your husband breaking character during role play after you mention the one thing you shouldn’t have

suggestive, MDNI, established relationship (you’re married), written with f! reader in mind but think i kept it pretty gn, alcohol (nobody gets drunk, just a super quick mention of it as a choice of drink at the bar), strangers at the bar role play (or a failed attempt tbh), based on this talk post of mine, wc: 1.3k

“hey, love”, satoru broke the silence while the two of you were folding the laundry one afternoon. (yes, the strongest sorcerer always helps his wife with chores)

“say, love”, you quickly responded, without looking at him.

“you know, i was thinking — we’ve never tried role play”

“that’s what folding clothes made you think of?”, glancing at him you chuckled, “interesting”, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

“we’ve done pretty much everything but that. you’re not curious?”

now was not the time to tell him that you had done this before, with your ex, and that it was fun. no need to remind him that you had other partners before him and make him lose sleep for days to come, like that one time when he found your diary from high school in the attic and read about all the crushes and boyfriends you had. it took weeks and a lot of coddling on your part (you even had to start a satoru only diary and write his name into little hearts) for him to get over it. so you figured you’d keep this little detail to yourself and take it to the grave. or it would be your husband taken to the grave due to lethal jealousy steaming from the fact that another man had laid his hands on you in the past.

“s-sure”, you stuttered, thinking back to that excruciating memory, then cleared your throat before continuing — “yea, we can do that, why not”

“good then”, he tossed the shirt in his hands aside and stepped closer to you. circling his arms around your waist from behind — one hand eventually resting over your chest while the other stopping at your navel and gently rubbing it — he possessively pressed you against his chest and hummed contently.

“someone’s very excited about this, huh?”, you placed your hand over his and tilted your head back to peek at him.

“oh? can you tell?”, he grinned, playfully pushing his hips against you.

“that giant thing in your pants poking me from behind is giving you away, i’m afraid”

“it’s your fault though”, his head craned down so his lips could reach your forehead and trail soft kisses down to the tip of your nose.

standing on your tip toes you raised your hands to cup his cheeks and pecked him on the lips. “of course, it’s my fault that you’re getting all hot and bothered in the middle of the day like some pervert”

“i always get hot and bothered thinking about you”, he pecked you back, then slowly turned you around (concerned that you might hurt your neck if you kept that position up).

“any ideas?”, you asked.

“8pm, the bar around the corner”

“we’re to enact the classic strangers meeting at the bar, huh? okay. anything else?”

“nope, let’s improvise”

[8:13pm, at the bar]

sitting alone on the stool at the bar counter, you kept playing with your now half empty martini glass, drawing circles with it on the surface. you felt a bit weird sitting here pretending to be single and ready to mingle. but oh well.

he was late. you took another sip of your drink and grabbed your phone to check the time again.

“next one’s on me”, a painfully familiar voice approached you from behind. “if you would allow me, that is”

he was late on purpose, you figured. waiting for you to almost finish your drink so he could easily start a conversation by using such a lame but still quite effective line.

“i don’t normally accept drinks from strangers”, you gazed at him, “but an exception every now and then wouldn’t hurt, i assume”

a puckish smile curved on his lips. “may i?”, taking his sunglasses off, he asked for your permission to sit next to you.

“sure”

you were quite impressed at how seriously he was actually taking this, not breaking character even for a second so far. he had made up a brand new persona of himself, introducing himself as “sato kouya” — the ceo of a leading pharmaceutical company, temporarily living in tokyo for the purpose of a big business project.

“enough about me though”, eyes focused on you, he leaned his elbow on the bar counter and placed his chin on his palm. “tell me about yourself — what’s a beauty like you doing alone?”

you giggled (he was just so cute right now). “you’re lucky that i am alone — if we had met a week earlier, i would’ve still been married”

his expression froze at your words. the smile from a few seconds ago was now bleeding into a confused, almost creepy, look on his face — his lips still stretched into a grin while his eyes told a different story.

“hmmm… how so?”, he spoke in a monotone, his grin slowly fading away.

it would be a lie to say his weird reaction didn’t concern you at all but you decided to brush it off, and continued. “you see, i just got officially divorced. my ex husband and i tried our best to keep the marriage going for as long as we could but we were simply not meant to be”, you sighed. “this was the best for both of us”

“no way”, satoru whined. “no fucking way”

“umm… excuse me?”, you tilted your head in confusion.

“i don’t like this”, his face giving you a dejected grimace — brows knitted, lips pursed into a pout and eyes filled with a mix of panic and sorrow taking over the blue in them and turning it into a darker shade. “divorced? not meant to be? don’t even joke about this”, he almost cried out. the thought alone rubbed him the wrong way, tugged at his heartstrings so intensely that it forced him out of character right then and there, putting an end to your little role play escapade (rip sato kouya, you will be missed).

“satoru”, you caressed his hand, “baby. love of my life. this is just an act, please get it together”

“oh”, he gasped in utter shock after his focus fell on your hand and he noticed you were not wearing your ring. “you even took your ring off? why would you do that?”

great, this was getting worse now.

“because of the role play”, you spoke each word slowly, stressing on the last two very carefully.

“but i’m still wearing mine”, he protested, pointing at his ring, “see? you could’ve still acted fine with your ring on and without bringing up divorce and not meant to be’s”, he cried again, a hangdog look splattered on his face.

“i didn’t want to play the cheating wife, that’s why i took it o—“, you were cut off by another dramatic reaction.

“cheating? CHEATING? you considered this scenario?”, his voice was hitting desperate notes at this point. you couldn’t believe he had lost all reason over a play pretend.

you pinched the bridge of your nose before you spoke, “okay, that’s enough. you’re being ridiculous right now. i’m going home”

he followed after you like a kicked puppy, whining all the way home. but you had to admit — part of you really loved the fact that he went completely out of his mind over something so silly, that he didn’t know what to do with himself just thinking about you possibly leaving him even in a made-up scenario, that you held so much power over him…

extra:

[later that night, in bed]

done reading for the night and ready to sleep, you placed your book on the nightstand and looked over at your husband sitting with his arms crossed next to you in bed.

“still not over it?”, you nestled your head on his chest.

“no. hurts like hell just thinking about it”, he mumbled.

“come on, stop pouting”, you pinched his cheek, “you can’t go to sleep with a grumpy face”

“yea?”, he glanced down at you, “sit on it then — it’s the only way to wipe that pout off of it”

[yearnlark]

.

[catiuskaa]

need you to [Lee] Know.

SUMMARY: minho loves you: to him, it’s as clear as water. Its only after he finds out that you’re starting to doubt it—he needs you to know just how much.

REQUESTED! here by an anonnie. I hope you like it, pookie, ‘cause I had fun doing this! <3

CW: slight hurt/comfort if you squint, but it’s just fluffy fluffy lino being really down bad and not knowing how to grasp it tbh which just gives me my serotonin dosis for the rest of the month lol

WC: 1.2k

A/N: also omfg kats posting two requests on the same day? that’s right baby, look at me go! 🤩🤩🤩

[🔅★🌼★🔅]

Minho was not the type to show his affection.

He comes off more like a shy kitten that slowly gets used to you, your sweet smell and how soft your touch feels, and then slowly opens up.

“But, uh… can I be real with you for a sec?”

It’s a feminine voice with a strong accent. He can hear it comming from your room, and the slight glitchiness of it makes it obvious that it’s a phone call set on speaker.

“Sure.” He can almost see you shrug, but he just closes the main door as soft as he can, pleading for the cats to stay silent for a little bit longer.

Minho can’t exactly place together why he’s overhearing your phone call. He knows who you’re calling, he can recognize Chan’s sister by her tone. But still, he keeps quiet, gently placing his bag down and silently taking his shoes off.

“I just— and don’t get me wrong, but, your boyfriend kinda seems… bored of you.”

What? Minho has to hold back a scoff, remaining as still as a statue next to the front door. He’s waiting for you to deny it.

“You think so?”

And then, he frowns, because you didn’t. Instead, your tone sounded hesitant. Dubious.

As if you weren’t sure if Minho loved you.

“You say he keeps cancelling your plans together. He has stopped making time for you. Like, girl, you can’t remember when was the last time he told you he loved you.”

Hannah pauses, and that only makes it worse, because it lets every word sink in.

“I uh, well. I ain’t gonna say that he should throw flowers at you every single second, but, uh, you know.”

He can only hear you groan loudly, almost picturing that cute motion you usually did when he meaningly teased you, taking your hair and covering your face with it.

“Can’t say anything for sure with him,” Hannah adds. “But, just by what you’re saying…”

Minho’s heart clenches tightly in his chest. He doesn’t want to keep hearing this... this nonsense. God, he loves you. And you… can’t see it? Frowning, he starts walking to your room, but his movements end in a halt, his hand just above the doorknob, threatening to grasp it and fully open the door.

“Girl, it’s gotta be late down there. Sorry this whole call was about me.” Your chuckle comes off slightly dry. “I’ll talk to you later, ‘kay? Go get some good sleep.” Your tone just screams how bad you’re feeling, and it just makes his chest swell with guilt that slowly creeps up his body.

Maybe he had been taking you for granted?

He opens the door as soon as you press the red button, sighing loudly after ending the call. When you see him, you jump in your place, startled by his presence, and you stand up awkwardly.

“Minho!” You say in a squirm. He can’t help but cringe slightly.

“No.” His tone sounds childish, like a petty toddler who didn’t want to eat the carrots in their lunch.

You frown slowly, the slightly wary grimace melting on your face, allowing a soft confusion to step in.

“No what?” You mutter.

He walks to you slowly, and grabs your hand, taking it to his chest, pressing it flat against his clothed skin, over his heart. You can feel his heartbeat, a not-too-slow rhythm: thump, thump, thump.

“Call me by a pet name. Any pet name.” He says, his tone equally firm and soft. “Call me by a pet name and say you love me.”

He’s serious, but god, so fucking nervous. His brain is slowly melting away because he’s so bad with words and he isn’t sure any action could be enough. He’s already blushing.

“I, huh… I love you, jagi.” You mumble, still confused.

And even if you don’t say it as fondly as always, or if your smile isn’t beaming like how it usually did, you can feel his heartbeat quickening.

“You can feel it, right?” His eyes are soft and worried.

Oh, God. You just know you’ve gotta be pouting. It’s hard to react with words, and the only thing you can fathom doing is linking your arms behind his nape and sinking your face on the crook of his neck.

“Min, I’m so sorry.”

“N-no, kitten.” He mumbles, hugging you tightly too. “I am the one who’s sorry.”

He breathes in, drowning in your soft fragrance. Home. It’s you, it’s warm, and he loves it.

He loves you.

So, he says it. He has to say it. He can’t not say it.

“I love you.”

And it feels so good to let it out that he chuckles. He has to say it again. “I love you.” And again. “God, I love you.” Just once more. “I love you so much.” He’s giggling like a fool, but he’s a fool in love, and that makes him blush even more. “I can’t not love you. Not loving you would turn everyday into Mondays. Like, I can get it tattoed if you want me to. I just. I love you so much that ‘I love you’ can’t even—.”

You move from his shoulder, now facing him, and you cradle his face, pulling him in a kiss that’s so sweet that threatens to give both of you type 1 diabetes.

“Y-you’re crying.” Minho mumbles, softly brushing the stray tears away with his thumb.

“It’s your fault, silly.” You sniff, giggling too. “How can you say stuff like that?”

Your heart is beating like crazy, the butterflies in your stomach are multiplying by seconds and in your cheeks glistens a bright and deep shade of pink.

You want to say it too. But in his own way.

So, you take his hand and settle it on your chest. Right above your heart.

It’s a rapid thump thump thump that Minho feels right away. He can’t help but smile widely.

“I super-mega-love you.” He teases, picking you up in between his arms.

You’re laughing, squirming in his hold.

“Lee Minho! Put me down!”

But he just grips your body tighter to his, and walking as if you weighted nothing, heading towards your bed, plopping you down there.

“Good girl.” He snickers, and you blush even further. Minho takes your chin tenderly and pecks your lips. For a moment, certain kind of idea flashes through his head, but he just kissed you again, following his previous thought.

He opens your closet with a toothy grin, and halfly eyes the window before picking up a random shirt, a grey hoodie that used to be his, a dark skirt and your thigh-high socks, going as far as to the suspenders for you.

He then turns to face you, his eyes glowing. He can’t wait to see you all dolled up. Minho feels like a teenager, and he loves it.

“You have twenty minutes.”

You blink at him, and you can’t help but smile, confused.

“I’m taking your cute ass to a date.”

It may not be an instant fix to the struggles to your relationship, but as you two walk down the beach, looking for colourful rocks that match each other’s eye colour, you know that he’s worth fighting for.

Regarding Minho, he happily hums to himself, eyes glued to your figure as you cackle and run in the beach, as you look behind you and giggle at the prints your boots leave in the humid sand.

He smiles, running towards you, tackling you and holding you in his arms.

He’s not letting go anytime soon.

~Kats, who always struggles to choose a picture for the fics because istg lino looks good in every single moment!!

[gay-dorito-dust]

I love all the things you write for the bat boys! So it just makes me wonder, how would the bat boys react to their partner doing the thing from tiktok where they’re all like “My boyfriend just told me he doesn’t love me anymore” all bc they told them that they couldn’t shop on Amazon anymore? 😂😂😂

I dunno what this was tbh.

Jason

Raises his brow at you the moment you say this, unamused. ‘Says the one who’s spending unnecessary amounts of money on 50cm plushies.’ He retorts.

You huffed as you crossed your arms over your chest. ‘Could’ve fooled me.’ You really wanted that 50cm hello kitty plush but Jason had to pull you away from doing so unfairly.

Jason groaned as he knelt in front of you. ‘Sweetheart, if I could I would give you all the plushies your heart desires, but you’ve got to think we’ve got limited living space and besides you were bound to get annoyed with how much space they take up sooner or later. I’m doing this for us, okay?’ He said as he searched your eyes.

You started at him for a bit before relaxing your arms. ‘Okay.’ You murmured.

Jason smiled, ‘do you take back your statement about me not loving you?’ He asked.

‘I guess.’ You replied, still not looking at him but Jason brought his hand to your chin and gently moved it so that you were stuck staring at him as he smiled at you sweetly. ‘I’ll ask again, do you take back the statement that I don’t love you?’

‘Yes, I take it back.’ You said louder this time. ‘I take back my statement that you don’t love me, I was being dramatic and I’m sorry that’s I’d ever say anything bad about me sweet, handsome man.’ You added when Jason didn’t think you were being honest and decided to butter him up with flattery.

Jason chuckled as he presses a kiss to your forehead. ‘Flatter won’t get you anywhere sweetheart but I appreciate the attempt, I’ll buy you a plushy for being good as long as you don’t spout such nonsense.’ He hums as he pressed a kiss to your nose before one more against your lips.

‘I promise.’ You said as you closed your eyes, knowing well enough that you could never say such things again when he treated you with nothing but love, respect and willingness to compromise. That and you could never stay mad at him for too long, you didn’t have the heart to.

Dick pouts but still stands strong on his stance.

‘I do love you baby but this has become an addiction, I’m only trying to save you the embarrassment from having your card decline for insufficient funds.’ Dick tells you as though he was helping you break a shitty habit, which you guess he was, but it wasn’t your fault you couldn’t help but buy that one plushy! It looked so lonely and you wanted to give it a home!

‘But, but-‘

‘No buts.’ Dick replied sternly. ‘The plushy would’ve found a better home with that kid that came into the store after us,’ he then squeezed your hand reassuringly, ‘besides i don’t think you really want to Hayley to get to them.’

You winced thinking about how the poor plushies would get torn apart within seconds if Hayley found them, which is why you kept all of your plushies elsewhere while getting Hayley her how set of toys, was it a bit much? Yeah but if it was to make your sweet puppy happy then you’d more than willingly go bankrupt for her just to see her little happy paw tippy taps. ‘I guess you’re right.’ You admitted defeatedly.

‘You hurt my heart when you said I didn’t love you anymore.’ Dick feels you and he brought your hand to his chest to feel his heartbeat. ‘You know I love you more than anything, so please don’t go hurting my heart for the sole purpose of loving you without fail.’ You couldn’t help but internally coo at his words and know that realistically he was looking out for you, so you couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed with how dramatic you are being, especially over something that you could easily get when Dick wasn’t looking.

What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him after all.

‘I’m sorry, what can I do to make it up to you.’ You asked as you looked into his pretty eyes.

‘Since you’re offering Preferably some cuddles, kisses and even more kisses from the most beautiful person I know.’ Dick said with a cheeky smile on his face, the little shit had been planning this the entire time, the conniving little fucker and you fell for his trap without much difficulty. And now you were stuck coddling this smug man as he patted himself on the back for getting back at you for being dramatic over some plushy that he may or may not have bought you already.

[gloomwitchwrites]

i’ve never really seen dark and unhinged reader x 141 tbh

You know, anon. I am not one to write an unhinged or dark reader. Not that it hasn't ever occured to me, but I just haven't written it. So, to you, I tip my hat for pushing me out of my comfort zone a little bit. I figured that if I was going to write a reader that is dark and unhinged, then I'm going for it. All in. Give me the blood and gore. I want it all. No limits.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: Stalker AU, Serial Killer AU, Detective AU, Cartel AU, canon-typical violence, descriptions of bodily injury, surveillance, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), arranged marriage, creampie, oral sex, knife play, gunplay, brief blood consumption, hostage situations, abductions, using a knife as a dental instrument

Word Count: 3.2k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish (Detective/Serial Killer AU)

“Need some company?”

While it’s a question, you don’t really intend for the man to answer. You sit yourself on the stool at the bar, one arm resting against the polished wood.

His dreary demeanor shifts, morphing into interest.

“That’d be lovely,” he replies.

The Scottish lilt to his voice is downright sexy. Your smile grows. There is real attraction in it, even if your purpose is nefarious. This conversation is no accident. You did not stumble into this specific bar on the off chance that you’d find the exact man you’ve been looking for.

No. Not a coincidence.

You’ve been stalking Detective MacTavish for the last couple of weeks. It’s not because you want to fuck him—although that is very much on the table now that you’re sitting here—but because this man is hunting a killer.

Not just any killer.

He’s hunting you.

But not you. Because he doesn’t know. No one does.

At least, not yet. That’s why you’re here after all. To worm your way in, to find out if they’re close to fracturing it all, and bringing you in.

By the appreciative look on Detective MacTavish’s face, you suspect that you’re likely in the clear. Yet knowing for sure won’t hurt anything. Plus, Detective MacTavish is easy on the eyes. Having a bit of fun and playing with your food first won’t hurt anything.

“What are you drinking?”

“Scotch.”

“A gentleman’s drink,” you reply softly, almost a coo.

The smirk on his face widens into a devious grin. “Cheeky.” He downs the rest and gestures at the bartender. “Two. One for the lass here.”

When the glass appears before you, you scent it first, enjoying the smoky aroma. You take a sip. It bites—but it’s delicious.

“You like it?” he asks.

You slowly run your tongue over your lip. It’s a calculated move. Seductive. Detective MacTavish notices, his gaze following your tongue like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen.

“Puts some hair on my chest,” you reply, smiling against the glass as you take another sip.

Detective MacTavish laughs. It’s genuine and sweet. Casually, you scan his body. No wedding ring. But that doesn’t mean much. Public records showed no marriage certificates or even divorce papers.

Not that it would matter. This is about saving your ass.

“To be honest, I’ve been watching you.”

Detective MacTavish cocks an eyebrow. “Watching me?”

In more ways than you know.

“I always walk by here on my way home from work. Sometimes I stop. Sometimes I don’t. Always see you though. On Tuesday and Thursday.” You shrug casually. “Thought I’d finally stop in. Have a drink with you.”

“That’s bold.”

“It is,” you agree. You present your hand and introduce yourself.

“John MacTavish. Friends call me ‘Soap.’”

“Why is that?” you ask, placing your chin in your hand.

You already know, but you want to hear what his version is.

“Got it while serving in the military.”

“So, a secret then?”

He nods. “You could say that.”

You give him your best smile. “And what will it take to get you to spill a few secrets?”

Turns out, not much.

Detective MacTavish groans loudly, his skin glossy with sweat. You take him deeper into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head as you lazily suck. He is a gorgeous specimen. Solid, thick muscle in all the right places.

You retreat slowly, lips tightening to suck a bit harder before his cock pops from your mouth.

The next moan from his lips is sweet. Pushing upward with your hands, you lean into him, and he greets you, lips meeting. The kiss is brief and sweet, and then it becomes anything but. Detective MacTavish grabs the back of your neck and drags you against him, deepening the kiss until you’re breathless.

“Get on your back, lass,” he growls.

You obediently do so, spreading your legs in invitation.

The condom goes on and then he’s inside you again. Detective MacTavish has stamina, and you’re near the breaking point. He pants above you, thrusting perfectly deep, making your toes curl. Your legs settle against him, thighs cradling his hips as skin meets skin.

He dives in for another kiss, and then you’re gone. Completely wrecked.

The orgasm claws its way up to the surface, bursting from your throat to saturated his mouth. Detective MacTavish swallows down the moan, staunching the noise with his own pleasure.

It ends with the two of you tangled up. Sweaty. Chests heaving. Eyelids heavy with lust.

“They call me ‘Soap’ because of who well I clean out a place.” His voice is a but rough—a little husky. It’s sex-laced and perfectly content.

“I’m guessing that doesn’t mean you’re a beast with a mop and bucket.”

MacTavish chuckles. “Aye. I’m good with that, too.”

You turn over in his arms, the two of you gently stroking the other until sleep creeps in. At least, for him it does. Once he’s settled and snoring, you slip from the bed, moving silently into the kitchen.

On the table are stacks of files. Carefully, you open each one, scanning them until you find what you’re looking for. It’s the case file on your hits. You comb through it, but there is nothing about you. Not a peep. And the possible list of suspects are just characteristics. They think it’s some middle-aged white man. How fucking wrong they are.

Gently, you return the file where you found it, slipping back into the bedroom.

No. You don’t need to kill Detective MacTavish. Not yet.

You can still have a bit of fun.

John Price

Every step is a second lost, yet ground gained.

Like a swarm of wasps, bullets fly past Price, striking concrete. Little chunks fly, and then whole pieces go airborne.

Price dives. Rolls. Lands back on his feet.

It’s hell on his knees, and fucking worse on his back, but he hardly feels it. The goal is retrieval. The goal is to find you alive.

Teammates don’t leave each other behind. If one falls, they go back, even if it’s later down the line. You pick them up. Drag them if you fucking have to.

The thing is, you aren’t lost.

Just taken. A hostage.

The wankers that took you didn’t make it far. You’ve only been gone for forty-eight hours. Not long, but long enough that anything could have happened.

Price doesn’t want to linger on it. Doesn’t want to think about what may or may not have occurred while you’ve been away. Doing that won’t help things. It will only take his mind off the task ahead. His focus needs to be on you and you alone.

Price’s heart hammers in his chest. It thumps so loud it nearly drowns out the buzzing of the flying metal. Sweats sticks to his brow, rubbing against his helmet.

Lifting his rifle, John pulls the trigger twice.

A sharp cry followed by a spray of dark red paints the surrounding area in a pretty little arc.

“Do you have a visual?” asks Price into the comms.

Ghost’s reply is immediate. “No, sir.”

Sighing, Price peers over the barrier he’s hiding behind.

Nothing.

No sound. No movement.

Slowly, Price emerges, rifle raised. Each step is a stalk, a predator seeking prey. Price will happily empty more lead into the next person that crosses his path.

Entering the next room, he finds this one empty. There are stacks of crates but nothing else. The only thing of note is a door in the far wall. It is plain and unassuming. Price heads for it.

Reaching out, he curls his gloved hand around the handle. He pushes down, quickly pulls back, opening it wide before aiming the firing end of his rifle into the opening.

No one emerges.

No one stirs.

But of course, they wouldn’t.

There is a secondary door behind this. It is solid and made of metal with a keypad. Price enters the code he got from intel and the door beeps, the light turning green.

It swings open, and inside is a bloodbath.

In the middle of the room is a simple, plain table. It’s unpolished, rough wood. Untreated and left to the elements. There are stacks of cards and beer bottles on top, and not much else.

Of the four chairs, only one is occupied.

But the occupant has no head.

It’s not blown off. It’s sawed off. Placed in the middle of the table.

The three other people who must have occupied the chairs are strewn across the room. Some are gutted, insides around their downed corpses like they were yanked out by a rabid animal.

Price steps around them, his boots touching more blood than concrete floor.

“I have four down. Maybe more.”

“You have a visual on her?” comes Ghost’s response.

“No,” replies Price, throat suddenly dry.

He sweeps the room, but no one comes out to fire at him, or to try and halt his progress. It is entirely quiet.

The light overhead flickers. Price turns, noticing another door. This one stands open, revealing a flight of stairs.

Price approaches, and stops at the top.

There is another body here. It’s near the top, arms outstretched, fingers digging like they tried to claw themselves forward. Price steps around it and nearly slips in the blood.

It’s fucking everywhere.

All over the place.

He descends, exiting out into another room, this one much smaller than the previous one.

At first, Price keeps his rifle raised, but then he lowers it, back straightening.

You are there. In the middle of the room.

Sitting.

Sitting atop a large pile of corpses. Your left boot digs into the top of someone’s skull, but you don’t seem to notice. You’re humming a little tune, almost whistling.

There is blood in your hair. Blood on your face.

It is under your nails and soaked into your clothes.

Leaning back, you curl back your lip, the tip of the knife coming to rest between two teeth as you dig something out.

Price swears he sees bloody chunks there, too.

Something comes out, and Price flinches.

Only then do you glance up.

"Took you long enough, Captain."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick (Cartel AU)

There’s a body on the floor.

Not yours. And not Kyle’s.

A competitor. A rival.

You brought the man before Kyle. Tracked him down. Dragged him up for execution.

When the original marriage deal was drawn up, Kyle thought he’d get a pretty face with nice tits that would keep his dick wet and give him some sons to carry on the family legacy.

You do keep his dick wet. But you’re not a spoiled cartel daughter.

Oh, no.

You’re a serpent. A viper.

You are venom and steel.

With you, there is an equal. There is a companion. There is a woman who will give him what he needs to carry on but will happily pull the trigger to see it done.

You are just as fucking bloodthirsty as he is.

Kyle twists his wrist, observing the barrel.

The body on the floor is twisted and broken. The bullet was a mercy.

He glances up, notices the knife you’re holding. At first, you’re not looking at Kyle. You’re staring at the dead man with a blank face. But Kyle reaches out, brushing his thumb across your cheek, smearing red.

You turn then, smiling.

“Open your mouth,” he murmurs.

You do so, presenting your tongue. Kyle slides the barrel over your tongue, and then it’s in your mouth. He fucks your mouth with it, and you take it happily. Kyle grabs the front of your throat, turning you away from the scene on the ground.

The knife goes up, presses against his neck.

“Fucking do it, love.”

Your lips are suctioned around the barrel of the gun. Eyes wicked. Knowing. The knife slowly slides upwards, the flat side pressing against Kyle’s lips. He parts his lips, licks off some of the blood.

Kyle eases his hand on your throat, and the gun slowly slides out with a wet pop.

“Show me that pretty pussy.”

Kyle drops his hand, and you saunter backward. Leaning back on the low table, you present yourself, legs spread, pussy bare for him.

He presses the barrel of the gun to your pussy.

“Safety on?” you ask.

Kyle shrugs, and then he thrusts forward a bit, the barrel breaching. You moan loudly, and Kyle gives you more. He moves it in and out of your pussy, watching it appear and disappear, becoming slicker with your juices.

You whimper, and Kyle retreats, placing the gun on the table. Reaching for the knife you discarded, Kyle runs the flat edge over his palm, removing the blood.

Pressing his palm to your mouth, you lick it off—lick him clean as Kyle undoes the front of his pants.

It doesn’t matter that there is a dead man in the room.

Possibly dead.

Kyle didn’t really look. He just shot. He might have missed something vital. The guy isn’t moving but he must still be slightly aware. In pain. The very idea fuels his erection.

Kyle is inside you and thrusts in seconds, every stroke frantic and needy. You take it all, fingernails clawing at him, tearing at his clothes and likely breaking skin.

When you grin, there is blood in your teeth. Kyle matches the smile, and then he’s kissing you, tasting you and the gore. It is salty. Tangy. And you are sweet.

It sends him right over.

His lower back tightens, and then he’s grinding forward, flooding your pussy with his release. Kyle feels it dripping out and around him.

The kisses slow. Becoming soft.

Your fingers lightly brush against his cheek.

Kyle leans in for one more kiss, but a groan comes from somewhere behind him. You glance over his shoulder, the middle of your brow furrowing.

Without taking your eyes off the man, you reach for the gun.

Simon "Ghost" Riley (Stalker AU)

It’s gorgeously easy. You’re oblivious. A perfect victim.

Ghost will ensnare you in his trap and reel you in until you can’t untwine yourself from him. You will become him. You will have no identity. No want or desire that isn’t dipped with his own.

The shadows are his friend. Ghost sticks to the dark, lingering near corners, observing from afar.

You are so oblivious. So adorable.

Breaking you will be sweet. Delicious.

You live on the outskirts of the city. The house isn’t much on the outside. It is the interior where you’ve curated a space just for yourself. You’ve done an excellent job fixing it up.

At least, Ghost thinks so. He’s been inside a few times. Pressed your clothes against his balaclava just to inhale your scent. Sometimes he’d just walk around, picking things up only to place them elsewhere for you to find. It always makes you uneasy when you come home and everything feels a bit off.

It isn’t the only thing Ghost has done while alone in your home. There are gifts he’s left behind. Cameras, actually. He’s been watching you for months now. Learning your habits. Memorizing your routes and schedules.

Tonight is the end of your work week. There are two full days where you won’t be missed. Ghost plan on taking full advantage of every minutes.

Each step leads him closer. Pulls him nearer.

When you enter your home, he waits a full five minutes before approaching from the back, heading for the patio door. In his pocket is a copy of your house key. He retrieves it, sliding it into the lock.

It clicks as he slowly turns it, and the door gives way without it’s usual screech of resistance. He fixed it when he entered your home to tap your cell phone.

Ghost softly shuts the door behind him, crouching slightly as he observers the space around him. All the lights are off except for a small lamp in the living room. From his vantage point in the kitchen, Ghost can hardly see it. The light only reaches so far, and he is still in shadow.

You are not in the kitchen, and as he stalks into the living room, you are not there either. The little office you have on this floor is also empty. The second floor is his best bet. That will make it easier, too. The only way for you to run from him is down the stairs or to leap from a window. The drop isn’t far but he can’t see you risking yourself like that.

As Ghost turns the corner to ascend the staircase, he comes to an abrupt stop.

Next to the front door is the coat closet. It stands open, all the items inside pushed off to either end, revealing a wall.

But not a wall. No.

It’s another door.

This one stands open, and from it comes an artificial, almost white-blue light.

Frowning, Ghost approaches, pausing to glance back into the rest of the house. You are not there. And you don’t linger at the stop of the stairs.

It is still dark. Still absent of you.

Ghost takes a step inside.

Another. Then, another.

The darkness around him gives way to the light. And it is artificial.

At first, Ghost doesn’t understand. Not completely. It’s just a room. A room with no other doors. No windows. On the opposite side—the far side—are computer monitors. The wall is full of them, nearly floor to ceiling. There’s a small desk in front of them and a folding chair.

The light comes from above.

“I know you’re watching me.”

Ghost spins, finding you in the opening of the doorway.

“I’ve been watching you, too.”

You hold something in your hand. It is black and square. Your thumb brushes over it, and then more light floods the room, coming from behind him. Ghost turns just enough to glance over his shoulder.

The monitors are on. And each one shows something of his.

Every room of his flat. The interior of his car. His place of work. Ghost’s favorite pub. Even the corner store he shops at.

“I didn’t have enough time to prepare a room. But I will! I promise!”

You sound so sweet—so earnest, as if you mean every word.

Ghost turns fully toward you. His muscles clench, and then he’s walking, aiming for you and the doorway.

You jump back, and then the door is closing in his face.

You are too quick, and Ghost’s hands slam against solid metal.

“Sorry!” you say, voice muffled. “I’ll let you out soon. But only if you’re good!”

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @no-oneelsebutnsu @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction

@weasleytwins-41 @saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey

@mudisgranapat @lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza

@nishim @voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel

@haven-1307 @itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep

@blackhawkfanatic @sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie

@kadeeesworld @umno-yeah @daemondoll @jackrabbitem @lxblm

@arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @ash-tarte @gingergirl06 @greeniegreengreen

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

𝙸𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚜𝚞𝚋?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ N o t e ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ This is a little draft that I've been working on for a while. I'm so sorry for the low activity. I didn't feel good because of uni. I'm in my last year of university, and it's draining me mentally lol. Anyway, I'll try to post often from now on. I hope you like this! Reblogs and comments are very appreciated!

If you want to support/commission me visit my ko-fi page. Thank you!

dom

definitely has a choking and a size kink.

Is into BDSM. Has a red room, which he shares with you.

He loves when you are needy for his touch or for his cock. He likes to tease you before giving you what you want.

Office sex is on a daily basis since he is busy all the time and barely home. He’ll hold your ass up while he slams inside you repeatedly, filling you over and over until you feel like exploding.

He also has a breeding kink. For him, you’re a superior human being just like him, and he intends to continue his bloodline with a worthy partner like you.

Speaking of which, he is very open about his kinks and expects the same from you.

He loves when you're under him, all needy and whiny, with tears falling down your cheeks as you scream his name and beg for more.

He can be rough, but only if you want him to be. He is aware of his strength and doesn’t want to hurt you.

He likes to see your pretty face and the many grimaces you make as he pleasures you.

He loves to see your eyes rolling and your mouth wide open.

Something tells me he is a sub.

has a size kink and a phone sex one (because he is gone on missions for months, and when he misses you, he just calls you for that naughty time).

likes it when you talk dirty to him.

He is also into roleplay.

This guy tried to be dom for once and ended up using the safe word for himself because he was afraid of hurting you.

He is not into very kinky stuff, but he won't say no if you want to try something bold. Just give him a heads-up.

loves to please his mistress. He doesn't mind if you mark or scratch him.

loves to be called "captain."

Likes to go down on you. There’s something that turns him on whenever you moan his name or when your fingers are tangled between his hairs.

He loves when you come all over his face and smear his beard and chin with your juice.

switch

It depends on his mood,e honest. tbh

Likes the doctor/patient roleplay and has no shame in using the labs from his work.

You two definately fucked after getting rid of the las plagas. It's ironic that you moan on the very same chair you used to scream in pain.

He loves to have you on top, regardless of whether he’s a dom or a sub.

You keep tracing the scar on his chest with your fingers whenever you see it because you think it looks very sexy on him. It also turns you on.

He loves to give oral sex. He'll bury his face between your legs every time he gets the chance. He’ll eat you out on every surface possible and in every pose. Desk, operator table, bed, kitchen counter, everywhere

He loves when you order him around.

"Does my pretty mistress require my services?"

You can't work together because you'll end up fucking.

It's the pretty boyfriend that spits in your mouth.

Very possesive. If he sees someone flirting with you, he'll make sure to remind you to whom you belong.

dom

This man has no shame when it comes to marking you. He’ll leave hickeys in visible spots (neck, shoulder) and in hidden ones (waist, thigh, and ass, which is his favorite spot to mark).

Has a roleplay kink too. His favorite scenarios are either government agent/rescued civilian or government agent/secret spy (for obvious reasons).

You’re definitely fucking in his office from the White House. You’ve been bent over that desk more than over your own bed.

Likes to go deep, so deep that it hits your cervix.

While you’re bent over, he’ll pull you by your hair and bring you closer to his face. He’ll whisper dirty things to you, which will only turn you on more.

Leon loves when you blow on him, and moreover, he loves the sight of his cock slowly disappearing into your mouth. You’ll pull some sinful moans and whimpers out of him.

Likes to be called "Mister Kennedy."

Has a hair-pulling kink.

If not bent over his desk, he likes to have you on top of him. He’ll praise you for the beautiful work you’re doing. With hands on your thighs, he’ll guide your body as you ride him.

Switch

He has a punny mouth, and you'll have to punish him a lot. He doesn't mind, though, and sometimes he does it on purpose.

He'll have you sitting on his face for breakfast, dinner, and lunch.

He is extremely possessive, so when you come home, he'll make sure to remind you that you belong to him and him only.

Has moments when he talks very dirty and moments when you are his "princess."

"Oh, look at you, such a slut for my cock. You want Daddy inside you that bad, huh?"/ "Oh princess, you don't have to beg; I'm right here for your needs."

He will definitely slap your ass and will be very satisfied to see a red mark in the shape of his hand appear on your flesh.

It fucks you deep, so deep that your body goes numb and your toes curl.

He loves when you use him for your own pleasure.

Loves to make a mess, especially over your chest.

Is into roleplay

Can be very sweet, and aftercare is a must. He'll wash up the mess he made and massage your sore body.

dom

Has a knife and a size kink

Will pull out his knife and run the blade across your body. You’ll feel the cold blade running from your neck, between your breasts, or on your inner thighs. He’ll chuckle deviously while you squirm under his touch.

Likes to fuck you with his fingers. He loves to see how his fingers slowly disappear into your tight cunt. They’re thick, and you can barely take two of them.

He is a strong guy, and he enjoys pinning you down and pushing that cock inside you. Wall sex is among his favorites.

has a major praise kink. The slightest praise will get him over the edge, and he'll start thrusting like an animal inside you. He'll also become very vocal and demand that you keep praising him.

He loves when you struggle to take him.

He isn't that much into bondaje, but he won't say no if you ask him nicely.

He'll bite you and won't care if he marks you. He knows that you enjoy it, though.

"Just look how this little cunt of yours clench around me whenever I bite you. How interesting..."

dom

Will use his metal-bending powers in bed to make handcuffs or bend the metal frame to hold your hands.

Has a bondage kink, obviously. Likes to tie you up and show how helpless you are in his touch.

He also loves to tease you until you beg him with tears in your eyes to let you orgasm.

He loves when you get so desperate for his attention that you basically beg him to fuck you.

He loves when you climb on his lap while he works and then start to rub your cunt over his bulge.

"You'll have to work harder for that kitten."

Oh, this bitch

He loves when you give him a hug while he is at the desk. He'll occasionally stop his work to grab your hair and buckle his hips to fuck your pretty mouth.

He can be sweet, although that happens very rarely.

He loves when you make yourself pretty for him; he goes feral when he sees you in lingerie.

sub

He loves when you’re in control of him and tell him what to do.

When you give attention to his neck, he turns into a needy, whimpering mess.

Doesn’t mind if you mark him.

He plays it tough at first, but all that tough guy act disappears when you take him in your mouth.

Likes to be spanked and cuffed.

He loves when you mark him because he wants people to see that he belongs to you.

He can't get enough of your touch; he is addicted.

He can get clingy at times, but you don't mind. He is like a little puppy.

Definitely walked him with a leash around the house at some point.

Loves to give you oral. You'll find him crawling between your legs while you do your tasks, and he won't leave until you orgasm.

He loves when you pull his hair, and you'll hear or feel him moaning the harder you pull.

Tag-list: @lunarastrobabe@shadow-wolf510@skylar-todd@alewesker@rokurodokuro@brownsugarwrites (if you want to be added DM me 🤗)

[agi-ppangx]

a face to remember (hwang hyunjin x gn!reader)

no warnings tbh, just fluff; 0.5k works, not proofread

author's note: um, hi ?? do you guys remember me ??🥸 this is the first thing ive written in the past few weeks so pls be nice, i know its not the best, but writer's block sucks so when i finally managed to put words into sentences im gonna post it and you cant stop me🙂‍↕️

“we finally got to talk to that old lady i told you about yesterday,” you said, pouring yourself some tea into the mug. you peeked at the screen and hyunjin smiled faintly at you, encouraging you to continue.

he was sitting at his desk, his phone leaning against the stack of books he kept there so that you could see him well. dim light in his room made him look so cosy, almost domestic, and it made your heart swell with love. “turns out she used to be a history teacher, so she told us about all of those cool stuff, like this one time-” you glanced at your phone screen again and noticed that hyunjin wasn’t looking at you anymore. he was holding a pencil, but you couldn’t see what he was doing. “hello? are you listening to me?” you pouted, but he only hummed, too immersed in whatever he was doing at that moment. “hey, if you don’t wanna talk i can just hang up,” you mumbled, hurt that your boyfriend wasn’t paying attention to you.

being away from your partner was hard – you missed hyunjin’s soft touch as he hugged you and played with your hair every night before you fell asleep and you missed making breakfast for him and kissing him goodbye when he went to work. your trip was only temporary, but it didn’t make things easier. those video calls were the only way for the two of you to not lose your minds completely, so seeing hyunjin busying himself with something as you talked about your day broke your heart. were you really that boring? 

“what? baby, no, don’t hang up,” hyunjin snapped his head up at your words. 

“then listen to me!” 

“i am listening to you, love.” 

“then what are you doing, huh?” you pointed at the bottom of the screen, right at the pencil in his hand. 

“i’m drawing you!” he responded with a mix of amusement and disbelief in his voice, picking up his sketchbook to show you the halfway done drawing. you recognized your face on the paper, letting about a little oh and blushing like crazy.

“why are you drawing me?” you mumbled in confusion as your whole face and neck turned cherry red. hyunjin giggled at your dumbfounded expression, putting the sketchbook down.

“i always draw you as we talk through the phone, you just never noticed. it helps me deal with the distance,” he confessed, letting out a loud sigh. “i miss you, y’know? so every time we talk i want to remember your face and that’s why i draw you.” you snorted at his words, your laugh echoing through the kitchen. 

“god, you’re so dramatic. i’ve been gone for two weeks and you’re acting as if you haven’t seen me in years.” 

hyunjin shrugged his shoulders with a small smirk. “feels like years to me. but i mean it when i say i miss you. my bed feels empty without you in it.” 

you felt a pain in your chest at his words. “i know, baby, i miss you too. but i’ll be home soon and you won’t have to draw me anymore.” 

“i’ll do it anyway. i love you too much not to draw you," he beamed, making sure to capture the spark in your eyes on his drawing.

taglist ! @astraystayyh @laylasbunbunny @l3visbby @like-a-diamondinthesky @hanjsquokka @xichien @xocandyy @minhosbitterriver

[chanelnumbermine]

2024 f2 boys when you’re on your period | f2 grid picks! x afab!reader

i tried to keep is as gender neutral as possible, i hope you enjoy! i’m still not over this season tbh, so this is me celebrating all the wonderful we made watching f2 this year! most iconic podiums, best battles and the most amazing lineup. it was a pleasure to enjoy this ride with all of you

pairing(s): ollie bearman x afab!reader, kimi antonelli x afab!reader, zane maloney x afab!reader, paul aron x afab!reader, pepe marti x afab!reader, luke browning x afab!reader;

warning(s): mentions of blood?, periods in general, maybe innuendo?

ollie bearman | prema—> haas f1

surprisingly shy about it!

doesn’t want to hurt you in any way, since you’re so sensitive and sore all over

figures its better to not say anything when you’re having an outburst

just watches you with puppy dog eyes and whisperes “can i do anything for you?”

you either burst into tears or scream at him for being so clueless and then also cry into his chest

so he just makes tea

he doesn't really know how to cook, but the british upbringing made him an excellent tea brewer

or so he tells you, knowing it makes you roll your eyes and chuckle

kimi antonelli | prema —> mercedes amg petronas

so so eager to do anything for you!

but kimi might be quite confused about things, especially if you have some weird cravings lol

he’s going to joke about those brownies or steaks, even if you get mad with him, he doesn’t understand he overstepped until you’re really upset with him

so desperate to get you to forgive him

my boy is panicking

turns into a real-life teddy bear

too scared to say anything and trusts that physical contact with do the talking for him

would put on your favourite movie and press kisses all over your cute face until you pout

"please don't pout, tesoro. can i do anything to make you smile again?"

zane maloney | rodin —> formula e

takes this time as an opportunity to get to know you even better

long talks when you can’t sleep bc of cramps and soreness

makes it a point to ask about everything and anything you might need during this time

absolutely ridiculously in love with you, this guy, i swear

has a list of things to do before you get your period

"why would you have a period tracker on your phone?"

he's totally unfazed if you scream at him, which angers you even more and then burst into tears, because why is he so??

he would kiss belly, especially if you're ticklish, just to make you smile a little

paul aron | hitech —> bwt alpine reserve driver

actually enjoys this immensely

he feels useful and that makes him feel good about himself and your relationship

snack run? watch him storm out of the apartment in seconds

blood stain? more than glad to wash your covers

takes this opportunity to bring more blankets and tuck you in

would go absolutely feral if you're particularly sensitive during this time

has to touch you all the time, just to make sure nothing bad happens to you

right? hm, sure. totally not bc he wants to see you squirm a little, nope

pepe marti | campos, redbull academy

resident boyfriend material

but so so smug about it!!!

would be disgustingly overprepared and proud of himself, bragging about what a great partner he is

especially if you get emotional about it (hormones can be rough ugh)

stops yapping once he realises you’re serious and in need some comfort

you’re in his lap in seconds, his warm arms hugging your frame

i would picture him shirtless, trying to give you as much warmth as he can as you cuddle into the late hours of the night

luke browning | hitech —> f2

that’s, my friends, a classic gentleman

he’s quite known for being close with his family, very down to earth, and mature

so i think that attitude would extend to taking care of you during those few difficult days

i picture him calling his mum to ask how to be there for you

he's very perceptive, any gaps in his knowledge are quickly filled by his keen observations and eagerness to learn

would search the internet for cramp remedies and end up with some oddly specific ridiculous one

it's either a miracle or a total disaster, but he manages to bring a smile to your face every time, so he's satisfied

let me know if you'd like more content like that or any drivers you'd like me to write for

masterlist