#the all white suit for storm

[cherrysnax]

now that cw flash is over… cw barry’s suits kinda outdoes higher budget mcu suits everytime :/

[ittybittyremy]

This is Dorian as a dog. It's literally called a silken windhound, it's perfect.

[theres-a-bea]

I'm saying like snake eyes could've been saved with a little bit of gore, but nooooo they said we will not be showing any blood despite the literal fucking chance of having a bigger influx of viewers if they just covered andrew koji in blood after dressing him in all white

also the trailer fucking sucked

[muntitled]

Protecting His Investment

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Summary: No one gets to hurt you except him.

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Language, Implied Violence, Age gap, God Complex, Brainwashing, Psychopathy, Murder, Blood, Gore, Codependency, Yandere!Salesman, Stalking, Smut (+18) mdni, Voyeurism, Blood Kink, Sadomasocism, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Choking, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Blood Play, fingering, Massive Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Sadism, Punishments, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Squirting, Overstimulation

A/n: I'm not responsible for the media you consume.

This can be read as a continuation of this fic but not strictly

“Shouldn't I be blindfolded?"

If it weren't for the silence simmering between you both, in this monotonous taxi drive, he might’ve not heard you at all and perhaps you should have been more careful with your choice of wording but you were feeling a tiny bit reckless this Wednesday afternoon. He hadn't ever offered to personally fetch you from campus, and you felt incredibly juvenile when you spotted him standing there like a dad, in his grown-up suit while his briefcase hung in his hands in front of him. You'd almost convinced yourself that you were imagining things. That somehow your obsession with the man who kidnaps you every Wednesday to fulfill all his messed up fantasies was truly taking a toll on your mental health.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, he was real. And he had come to pick you up and you were feeling awfully giddy as he ushered you both into a taxi while a few of your peers stood and stared.

By now he would've blindfolded you. Keeping you completely clueless to the location he brings you to every Wednesday. See, your Salesman had myriad deep rooted issues. Mania. Sociopathy. Sadism. But the issue that irked you the very most was his inability to trust. Before you know it, you're pouting up a storm as you ask him. "Why aren't we using the blindfold today?"

He slowly removes his gaze from the window, where he had been pondering like the old man he is. He quirks up an eyebrow, letting the intensity of his attention wash completely over you.

"Would you like to be blindfolded?" He asks playfully. His eyes are sparkling with amusement and his lips are quirked up like it usually is when he's being sardonic. Still, you remain cautious as you lean forward. You send one quick glance to the taxi driver, wondering if you were being led in some kind of hearse on the road to your death.

"A-Are you going to kill me?" For the first time, cold, white fear ices the warm blood rushing through your veins. Come to think of it, he did seem far chirpier than usual. Perhaps that should have been your first warning. The flags were blood red but you were wearing rose-tinted glasses.

He only snickers before placing a heavy hand on your head, patting it down.

He doesn't answer you for the duration of the taxi drive, causing you to slip more and more into your thoughts of morbidity and despair. Why else wouldn't he blindfold you if not to end your life once you got there? It seemed dreadfully logical and so on-brand for him. He'd get bored of you sooner or later and then he'd dispose of you. There'd be no need to blindfold you any longer while he took you to his place because you'd soon become a corpse and-

"Doll." The voice cuts through the chatter filling your brain. All at once, the car has stopped, and warm air rushes into the interior as he holds the door open for you. "Get out of the nice man's car." He jests politely, quickly prompting you to unbuckle your seatbelt and scramble out of the taxi.

The second you're out he walks ahead of you. The building that comes into focus before you have your brows crinkling.

You quickly catch up to him, gazing up at his monotonous face. "Why are we here? You never come to my house."

He doesn't respond as you both walk into the foyer. He walks briskly and powerfully, like a man on the move while you send a small wave to the security manning the front desk. You both enter an empty elevator and he presses a button without you ever having to tell him which floor.

"You're going to kill me, aren't you?"

He lowers his gaze to you, one eyebrow quirked up.

"You only die when you disappoint me and as of late," he stares directly ahead, "You haven't disappointed me."

The elevator dings and he steps out. You follow him like a puppy without a leash. "In fact I'd say your work ethic as of late has been-" he blows out a long sigh as he makes it your apartment door- recalling all the weeks you two have spent together in vivid kaleidoscopic images. All the pain you let him inflict on you and pleasure he'd offer as a reward.

"-nothing short of stellar. I'm proud of you." He punches in the code to your apartment and you both enter. The curtains are drawn shut because your roommate hates sunlight. You preferred it but there was no communicating with something like her.

He kicks off his shoes at the door.

"What are we doing here?" You ask nervously, "My roommate will be back soon and she isn't very nice."

"We won't be playing at my place today." He says finally meeting your wild and nervous eyes. He seems so lax and so in control. "We'll be playing here."

"B-But my roommate."

"Is that why you were crying?" His gaze keeps you rooted to the floors, unable to move even if you wanted to, "Because of your roommate?"

"Crying? I wasn't crying-"

"Back at the university," he says, casually removing a microscopic piece of lint from his grey blazer, "Your head was beant and you looked up at me with bloodshot eyes." His eyes shine with amusement as he says, "Usually with our sessions, the crying only comes later on." Then he quirks his head and asks, "What happened?" There's a bang somewhere in the apartment and your head snaps forward. Your eyes scan over the adjoining living room and kitchen but he seems unfazed.

"It's stupid-" you shake your head, "Like who even still gets bullied in uni?"

You laugh pitifully, leaning against the nearest wall. He stands tall before you. A brick wall.

"Your roommate's threatening to kick you out of this apartment to move her boyfriend in?" He asks before adding, "Again."

Your head snaps up to him, "H-How-"

In that moment, he turns rather robotically, making his way deeper into your home. It's clean. Thank God.

"You don't realize how chatty you get when you're about to orgasm." He says before stopping right outside your closed bedroom door.

"My roommate- she... decided last night that- well- she would really like her boyfriend to live here instead-"

"Without consulting you first?" He clarifies, staring blankly ahead at the door, listening very attentively.

"Y-Yes without consulting me." You bring your hand to the doorknob, on your way to open it but he stops you with an iron grip around your wrist. You wince.

“Continue talking.” He says and you do.

"This morning they both kinda sprung on me that they'd like to be living here now. She went behind my back and already placed the deposit down our landlord, well," you clear your throat. "I might be homeless soon." You laugh but then swallow very thickly as the gravity of the situation falls onto your shoulders.

"And still you decided to have our sessions today?"

"If you'll have me," you nod.

"Remarkable." He replies. "Well I've never been very fond of my things or my toys getting dirty." He begins mysteriously as he places his hand directly over yours on the doorknob.

"Pardon?"

"I can't have my favorite toy living out on the street. Who knows what kind of animals would try to rape you or drug you or fucking stick their slimey dicks inside you-" he turns the doorknob, clicking your room open.

You're not even sure when this started happening. These 'private sessions' with your Salesman that quickly bled into something much more concerning. Before you knew it, he was seeping into your brain, polluting you with obsession. There had never ever been anyone else involved.

"What the hell did you do?" You ask, slowly entering your room to find two chairs placed directly in front of your bed. As soon as you enter, you hear the blood curdling, muffled screams being ripped from the throat of the two people strapped to those chairs.

"I'm protecting my investment," Says your Salesman as he pushes the door closed behind you.

Your feet feel like lead as you watch them and their panic-stricken eyes. There in front of you, they sit opposite one another, both with a haggard countenance and tears streaming down their cheeks.

At the sight of you, your roommate screams something horrid but it's muffled by the gag placed in her mouth, a gag the shape of a dog bone.

He's there too. The boyfriend. He's not as loud or as frantic as she is but he's significantly startled. His eyes are wild and vacant. The same gag.

"Oh my god-" you begin but he cuts in front of you, making his way to the couple seated across from each other.

"We're all gonna play a game- a quick one," He says, "Can't play for too long because I've been dying to get inside you since I saw those pretty little bloodshot eyes."

"Sir- I"

If you knew his name you might've screamed it in this moment. 'Sir' is your only point of reference to address the manic man in front of you.

This isn't right.

Right?

You're so confused, you barely register than you've thought out loud. It hits you as he slowly shrugs his blazer off.

"What isn't right is them thinking they can rape this apartment from underneath you." He says, folding it and placing it meticulously over your desk.

"I- have neighbors!?" You begin but he has a plan for that too.

"I had your room soundproofed since our first session." You're pushed into even more confusion.

"WHAT!? When did you even-"

"While you were at school-" he says before uncovering a handgun from his briefcase. A handgun and a silencer.

"Point is, Doll, I'm going to need you to play a game for me, ok?"

"DOLL!?" Comes your roommates' mortified and muffled cries.

"I need you to make one tiny decision for me." He says, screwing on the silencer onto the barrel of the revolver. It strikes you then that even when the mask is off, and the worst workings of his personality are on display for all to gaze upon, you still find him breathtakingly attractive.

"If-" tears burn the back of your throat, "If this room is soundproof why-why do you need a silencer?"

"I'm nothing if not a cautious man, you know this." Then his expression turns very grave and very dark as he says. "Don't you?"

“Yes, Sir,” you reply almost automatically. Like your need to respond to him- to please him, greatly overpowered your moral compass. “You're extremely cautious.”

Your roommate releases a shrill noise from the very back of her throat, her eyes pleading with the humanity she desperately tries to find in yours.

“Out of these two, he's my least favourite,” Your Salesman says, standing beside you. Eyes wild as he points his gun to the boyfriend's head.

“But this isn't about me,” he turns to face you, slowly dragging you gaze away from the victims that had once been your tormentors. You look up at him with a broken sob slipping through your lips. “I need you to choose.”

There it is.

His words seem to detonate what little fate you had in his humanity. There is nothing in his eyes except hedonism and violence.

"I'm going to have you to choose very quickly, baby-”

You're already shaking your head as frazzled braids tickle your shoulders. Your eyes find theirs and you immediately say, “I'm not going to do it.”

When you look at him again, you're almost horrified to find the smile that had once been on his face, completely wiped away. His face is a shadow and it strikes you way more than anything ever has. Something in you scolds you. It gnaws at you to make things right.

“Don't do that.” He says darkly. “Don't disappoint me.”

His hands -one still holding a gun- moves to cup both your cheeks. He cranes your neck further back, gazing deeply. “I can't have you living on the street.”

“You don't have to kill anyone-”

His jaw ticks, “Pick.”

“Sir…”

“You're disappointing me.”

All it takes is those three words to have your world crashing to the floor. Tears blur your vision as you raise a trembling finger.

“Him. I pick him.”

It's the first time you realized that you were brimming with codependency

Or stupidity.

Or maybe both

“That's a good girl.” He coos, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The father you never had.

He lets his eyes meet that of the boyfriend who is shaking and writhing in seat.

“What a good fucking girl I have, wouldn't you agree?” He asks the boyfriend yet he only cries and cries and cries. Meanwhile, you're bathing in the warm, milky words of praise.

"I suppose you wouldn't be able to agree to much in a second-"

He raises the gun.

Wait-" but the trigger is already pulled, and the bullet slices through the air and the deed is done.

It's remarkable how fast it travels. The speed of the bullet. Like it's competing with light itself. One moment his head is there and his brain is inside it, functioning like usual and the next moment, it's splattered all across my bedroom wall, coating your stuffed animals and drenching your pink bedding.

“You killed someone…”

“We killed someone, and you did such a good job. Now we're real rich people-”

You shake your head.

“Oh my fucking god we killed someone-”

It's stupid, but the first thought that comes to mind is-

“How- How am I gonna get the stain out!?”

“I'll get you new sheets, Doll, I promise…”

Meanwhile the roommate is crying and screaming her throat hoarse. You watch gravely as vomit soaks her gag.

“That's fucking disgusting.” He says before turning back to you. A spray of blood scatters across the side of his handsome face. He'd just committed murder and yet you still describe him as handsome.

“You're not disgusting at all.” He says, “You're so clean and beautiful.” His large hands rub over your face. “And now this apartment's yours. Ours. Maybe.”

Ours.

That word somehow affects you more than the murder you'd just lay witness to. It has you staring up at him with grateful, love-filled eyes. You're still scared but, you were his. And that was a powerful feeling. You'd never belonged to anyone before. Certainly not any man as handsome or smart as this. This isn't rose-tinted glasses anymore, it's rose-tinted vision.

“We killed someone.” You say. Solidifying the fact that you were a couple.

Your heart rages in its cage when his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head.

“Fuck yes we did,” he moans before smashing his lips down onto yours. Confusion and discomfort wage a terrific and bloody war inside you as he kisses you absolutely dizzy. Your insides are swirling and your stomach is turning at the sight of the blood drenching your walls.

he tips your head up, forcing his tongue in and he moans when you let him. Your tongues touch and coax and he pulls you in close.

“You know how good you looked when I picked you up earlier, Doll? I loved seeing those bloodshot eyes of yours.” He mumbles, “I just hated not being the one to make you cry.”

You sob something awful. The sound escapes you while your lips are still plastered to his.

“But this is all me,” he says proudly, gazing down at your watery eyes as he pins you up against the wall. “This is all me.”

Your roommate sits in a daze. Over his wide shoulder, her eyes stare blankly into yours and you almost find yourself mouthing the words 'I'm sorry'.

Almost. But you never do.

Your brain is too clouded by feelings of fear, regret, pleasure and… satisfaction. In your defense her boyfriend really fucking sucked.

"Take this off." He groans, lowering his large build to the floor to shove your shorts and underwear down. Undressing you almost formally as he lifts your one leg out followed by the other.

Your eyes are still on her.

Every vile word she's said to you. Every occasion she'd bring her equally cruel friends over and they'd gossip about you loud enough for their words to carry through the walls.

You realize very gravely that your care is waning.

That humanity that was still left inside you is thinning.

And he's pressing wet kisses against your legs, worshipping the soft cellulite at your thighs.

A man in a suit at his knees for you and she's forced to watch.

It makes you feel so-

"Fucking beautiful, fuck." He groans.

The more riled up he is, the less care he gives to how crass his language becomes. As if trapped in a daze, with your eyes still on your tormentor -your bully- you hook your fingers into his hair. Parting your legs you lead his mouth to your exposed cunt and he slurps you up for all your worth.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he eats you out with vigor. He flattens his tongue and suctions his mouth against your clit, causing a deep and guttural moan to spill from your lips.

He pulls back, breathing raggedly, "Fuck my face," he commands, before placing both hands on your ass, enough to have your cunt riding his open mouth. It feels so fucking good your eyes are stinging with tears. You let them fall because you'd know he'd appreciate it. He appreciates every tear in your confidence. Every waver in your air-tight judgement. It undoes him completely to see you so fucking pathetic.

He looks up at you while you're riding him. Those morally black eyes are urging you to hump his face and you do.

At the sight of your tears falling his nails dig into your ass and you moan more. All the sounds you're able to make are in intelligible sounds of pleasure. But you force yourself to come to your senses. Just long enough to whisper

"Th-Thank you, Sir,"

He stills. Completely stunned.

You come. It crashes down on you all while your roommate tries to squeeze her crying eyes shut, shaking her head as if trying to delude herself into believing none of this is real.

"You are fucking fire, you know that?" He croaks, slowly rising. You're breathing oh so quickly and it only speeds up at the sight of your arousal casting his jaw.

“I wanna fucking hurt you so bad. I wanna eat you. I wanna fuck you. I wanna do so many unspeakable things to you- you're so perfect.”

He throws one more gaze over his shoulder. His almond eyes scan over the body, then the girl and he groans, furiously undoing his belt.

"How the fuck did I get so lucky?” he says, almost to himself.

"Answer me." He presses his body firmly against yours, until your spine is straight against the wall. "Fucking answer me when I talk to you."

He growls before bringing a hand up to your chin. It's painful the way he grabs you, but you're so used to pain. It lives here now. Between you both.

"I-I- don't know-" you really don't know and he melts at that.

"I'll tell you how, Princess. " he wraps your leg around his waist, "People like me- people we call crazy and evil-” His eyes are so wide, his smile too. -we get nice things. And people like that-" he quirks his head backwards, “The weak? Those people on the streets, they die.” He says, grinding his cock agaisnt your cunt, “And we don't die, yeah?"

"Oh fuck." You're seeing stars when his cock sinks into your cunt. It's hard and raging and he's already doing multiple shallow thrusts to force it deeper. "S-So big-" you can't talk, you hardly ever can when he's like this. Fucking you into an absolute frenzy.

"You gonna squirt for me, Doll?” he grits his teeth, hips stuttering as he ravages you against the wall. "F-Fuck." Some

“She's a really good squirter-” he turns his head to watch your roommate over his shoulder. Her head is slumped forward, she's fainted perhaps.

After weeks of trying to impress him, to show him that you were not the weak little thing he had first kidnapped- you realize it's paid off. He caveman grunts as he fucks you deeper and harder and a cry rips itself from your throat.

“Y-You want me?” You ask with trembling lips.

“Baby,” he breathes directly into your mouth. “I need you.”

"F-Fuck-" your orgasm sneaks up on you and he watches with immense gratification as you come undone on his cock.

“You're making a mess on my cock-” clear liquid streams out of hou, threatinging tk lush his cock out but he fucks you through it.

“Gonna fucking cum inside you, baby. You're gonna take it, aren't you? My good girl's gonna fucking take it,” he throws his head back as his eyes flutter closed and soon he's fucking spurts of warm cum into you.

It fills you completely until the mess is coating your thighs. Through your wave of endless euphoria you see stars, the planets and him in the very centre of it all, guiding you and coaxing you through the bountiful high.

Even when he's done, his cock is still nestled deep inside you, pushing you over the brink of stimulation.

"You're very promising.” He admits, “Always have been.”

© to @muntitled on tumblr; do not repost

[imaginedisish]

Unchained Melody (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Get ready to cry again. Here is the *what if you and Logan went to a wedding together* request. Heavily inspired by "Unchained Melody." That is such a Logan song and you cannot tell me otherwise. ENJOY!

Summary: You and Logan decide to go to Rogue and Remy's wedding together, but you don't know what together means. Logan helps to clarify...

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT, thigh riding, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), softdom!Logan, praise kink, cocky!Logan (literally), multiple orgasms, aftercare, Logan will do anything for you, afab!reader/f!reader, reader wears a dress, reader has hair (length/color/texture not described), feelings, so fluffy and cheesy, cursing, Scott is a little shit, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,452 I wanna dance with Logan

Maybe this was a mistake. You look at yourself in the mirror, turning around and around. You scan your face, check your hair, and smooth out your dress. Everything is in its right place. But, maybe, just maybe, this is all a mistake. 

You and Logan—somehow—came to the decision that you would go to Rogue and Remy’s wedding together. As in…

Together. 

And yet, you weren’t entirely sure what together truly entailed. Was this going to be a date? Or were you two simply going as friends? Friends friends friends. That god-awful, misery-inducing word you’re all too familiar with. Its meaning and restrictions haunted you as you got ready, and they’re still plaguing you now. You are so incredibly sick of being just friends with Logan. You want more���want him, all of him. But you can’t tell him how you feel—you can never find the words or the courage. 

So, you’re simply going to the wedding together, unlabeled out of fear of getting an answer you don’t want to hear. 

You slip on your heels, straightening out your gown one last time before heading towards the door. You take a deep breath, nervous beyond belief. You twist the knob, pulling the door open. 

And there he is on the other side, fist clenched like he was about to knock. Logan. He’s wearing a black suit, a bowtie tied perfectly at his neck. You watch as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Hi,” he husks, his eyes trailing up and down your body. He smiles softly as he meets your gaze. He shakes his head in awe. “You look beautiful.” 

“Oh, please I—” But he cuts you off, his hand reaching out to rest in the crook of your neck. “Really, you look beautiful. You always do.” Your breath hitches as his hand slides down your arm, his fingers intertwining with yours.

You take a deep breath, suddenly overwhelmed by the contact and Logan’s words. “You look really great too,” you choke out, a slight tremble in your voice. “Perfect,” you say, and Logan tugs your hand, guiding you out the door and into the hallway.

Rogue had told you the wedding would be small—just her and Gambit’s closest friends and family on the grounds of the institute.  

Logan leads you down the stairs and out the back door of the mansion. The first thing you see are flowers; an absolute abundance of flowers. There are lilies and irises, asters and chrysanthemums. Daises, tulips, every single flower one can imagine—adorning tables, white tents, and planted in pots and boxes. It’s beautiful—a rainbow of colors and fragrances. The lawn has been transformed into a secret garden. 

Logan guides you down a cobblestone path toward a trellis covered in vines and wisteria. Surrounding the trellis on either side are rows of white, wooden chairs. You and Logan walk to the front row on Rogue’s side of the aisle and sit down next to Storm, Charles, and Jubilee.  You wave as you sit down. “You look amazing!” Jubilee shouts, reaching over Charles and Logan to get a better look at your dress. 

“You look beautiful too, Jubes,” you say, motioning in her direction. Logan sits back, slipping his hand from yours and draping his arm over your shoulder instead. Jubilee notices the movement, her eyes flickering between you and Logan, a small smile playing upon her lips. She winks at you and settles back into her seat. 

Footsteps sweep through the grass as people find their chairs. You struggle to ignore the warmth of Logan’s arm around your shoulder and the way it makes you feel—the soft circles he’s drawing into your bare skin. It’s like he needs the proximity, needs the touch. 

You can feel Logan lean in, his lips at the shell of your ear. “You are the most—”

“Wow,” a familiar voice interrupts Logan. You turn your head, and there’s Scott, with Jean just a few steps behind him. “Didn’t expect that.” He raises his brows and cocks his head to the side. 

“You need something, bub?” Logan asks, annoyance and irritation heavy in his voice. 

Scott swallows nervously as Jean chuckles behind him. He shakes his head and sits down next to you. “Nope, I just…” He trails off, looking towards the trellis. 

Logan leans forward, his arm still around your shoulder. “You just what?”

Scott throws his hands up, feigning innocence. “Nothing, absolutely nothing.”

Logan leans back, squeezing your shoulder gently as he settles into the seat. You turn towards him, catching his gaze. You need to ask him what this is, even if it’s clear to him. It’s obviously something to everyone else. You part your lips, finding the courage to finally ask Logan what you two are. “Logan,” you whisper so only he can hear. “What is—"  

But the music starts up, a whimsical rendition of “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” filling the air as Hank walks down the aisle, stopping underneath the trellis. Next is Remy, in a cream-colored suit. He grins from ear to ear as he trails down the aisle, nodding to Charles as he steps under the arch. And finally, at the end of the aisle is Rogue. Her dress is bright white, lacey, and tight. She walks down, her bouquet of lilies of the valley and baby’s breath in hand. 

She meets Remy’s side, and the music stops. “Friends and family,” Hank starts, smiling widely at the crowd. “We have gathered here today for the marriage of two people who should have been married long ago.” The crowd chuckles as Hank goes on. “But it is always better late than never…”

He continues, talking about their story, their love. Hank—naturally—finds a few Shakespeare quotes to scatter throughout his speech. It’s incredibly cheesy, but it’s beautiful. And, as Remy and Rogue exchange vows, you can’t help but well up. Their admiration and passion for one another is so undeniably clear. They’re committed, a team, partners until the end. 

“I will always love you, chere,” Remy says, slipping the ring onto Rogue’s finger. 

A single tear slides down Rogue’s cheek. “And I will always love you, sugar,” Rogue says, placing the ring in her hand onto Remy’s finger next. 

You look up at Logan, and you notice that he’s looking down at you. There’s something in his eyes, but you can’t quite place it. He tugs you closer, his thumb still stroking your shoulder. 

Hank sniffles. “With the power vested in me by the State of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Hank says, his voice shaky, his eyes glossed over, holding back tears. “You may now kiss the bride!” 

Remy wraps his arms around Rogue’s waist, and he dips her, his lips capturing hers. Everyone stands, clapping and cheering. You and Logan stand too, his arm falling from your shoulder, leaving you feeling cold despite the summer heat.

But as Rogue and Remy walk down the aisle, Logan’s arm wraps around your waist.  Rogue’s smile widens when she spots you, her eyes flitting between you and Logan. She laughs knowingly. Finally, she mouths to you, and blows you a kiss. The couple finishes their walk down the aisle, and they head into a nearby tent.  

Given that this is Rogue and Remy, the party starts right away. Music blares from the tent, and you can see the happy couple hitting the floor. You recognize the song immediately: “Take on Me” by Aha. Jean drags Scott across the grass to join them. Jubilee and some of the other kids trail behind. Charles, Storm, and Hank head over together. 

You look at Logan and smile, grabbing him by the hand and tugging him towards the tent. You can’t remember the last time you saw everyone this happy. It’s rare that you get to let loose, to have a good time. It warms your heart to see all the students dancing, to see them having a normal childhood experience. 

“Come on!” Jubilee calls. “Come dance!” She’s twirling around, dancing with Kurt and Morph, sparking her signature fireworks every now and then.

You squeeze Logan’s hand and pull him towards the dance floor. You’re shocked that he doesn’t drag his heels, that he doesn’t protest or tell you no—he lets you tug him onto the floor. You turn to face him, swaying to the synthy pop. Logan lifts his arm, twirling you around, laughing as you spin back to him. He grabs your other hand and bounces with you to the music.

“I didn’t know you liked dancing!” You shout over the song as Logan spins you again. 

He smirks, chuckling softly. “I don’t!” He shouts back, pulling you in and out to the beat. “But I like dancing with you.” He draws you in closer, letting go of your hands as his arms wrap around your waist instead.

You can feel the heat rising to your chest, spreading up your neck. The song fades out, and a much slower one starts up. “Something” by The Beatles echoes across the lawn. Rogue and Remy take the center of the floor, and everyone steps off, watching from the side. Logan guides you off the floor and towards your table, his hand in yours again.

“They’re beautiful,” you murmur. You see the way Remy looks at Rogue, the way they move as one, fluid unit. “Don’t you want something like that?” You ask, your gaze finding Logan’s. He has that look in his eyes again—all soft, relaxed, happy. 

Logan nods, squeezing your hand. “I think I’ve found it already.” 

Your lips part as you rack your brain for the right thing to say, your breath catching in your throat. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted—the words you’ve been waiting to hear. “Logan I—”

But Jubilee is grabbing your hand as the song changes. “If you’re not gonna dance with my girl, then I’m stealing her!” Jubilee calls out to Logan, pulling you onto the floor as “Can’t Take My Eyes off You” by Frankie Valli rings out. 

“Jubes,” you protest. “Logan and I were actually talking about something kind of important and—”

“One song?” She begs, frowning, putting on her best puppy dog eyes. You look over at Logan, and he’s still standing where you left him, smiling widely. Dance with her, he mouths, arching his brows expectantly. 

“Fine,” you say, still looking at Logan. 

Jubilee cheers, taking your hands in hers, spinning you around. You jump with her, screaming the words. Logan watches from his seat. He loves the way you move, the way you shake your hips, the way you throw your head back and laugh. He can see how much fun you’re having, how happy you are. He can’t keep his eyes off you, can’t help but be mesmerized. And he knows—just by watching—that he wants to be with you forever. Longer than that. You’ve changed him, made him different. And all for the better. 

You look over at him, his arms crossed against his chest as his eyes follow your every move. He’s smiling widely, clearly getting a kick out of you. 

“He loves you, you know,” Jubilee says, twirling you. “I mean, just look at how he’s looking at you!” Jubilee smirks, nodding towards Logan. Her eyes widen. “I think he’s coming over here!”

“Jubes…” Logan chides as he steps closer to the two of you. “Think I can cut in?”

“I don’t know Logan,” Jubilee says sarcastically, grinning ear to ear. “We’re having a great time.”

Logan puts a hand on your shoulder. “I’d like my girl back now.” 

My girl. His girl. 

Jubilee lifts her hands, stepping away from you as the song fades out. “Fine,” she says, pretending to be heartbroken. “Guess I’ll just have to give her up.” Logan steps between the two of you, and you lean to the side to peer at Jubilee as she walks away. She catches your glance, thrusting two thumbs up, mouthing a You got this! as she wanders to her seat. 

“Unchained Melody” by the Righteous Brothers starts up, and Logan wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you into his chest. The sun is setting in the distance, a honeyed glow washing across the lawn, painting the tent and the dance floor in golden light. Logan sways you from side to side, and you let your head fall to his shoulder. 

His lips find the shell of your ear. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers so that only you can hear. 

“Lo, before, when we were watching Remy and Rogue…” you pause, lifting your head to look up at him. 

The corners of his mouth turn up. “I meant what I said,” Logan rasps. “I want you.” He presses his forehead to yours. “Just you.”

“I want you too,” you say, your voice soft and breathy. Logan holds you tighter, his lips just inches away from yours. You can feel his breath fan across your face. 

“Wanted you the whole time,” Logan husks, rocking you gently as the song plays out. “You’re all I ever think about. I can’t get through a day without seeing you, without talking to you.” He pauses as the music grows louder, the strings and piano echoing across the dance floor.

Woah, my love, my darling I've hungered, hungered for your touch A long, lonely time And time goes by so slowly And time can do so much Are you still mine?

“You feel like home,” he says, his eyes glossing over. “I’ve been alive a long time, and for once in my life, I finally understand what that word means. It’s you. This is what love is supposed to feel like.” He pauses again, taking a deep breath, his jaw working. “I love you, so goddamn much.”

“I love you too,” you confess. “More than anything.” 

And then his lips are on yours, and suddenly everything is nothing. The people around you are gone. Your problems have long melted away. Every ounce of pain and every second of suffering you’ve ever felt—that he has ever experienced—are forgotten. It’s all warmth and comfort, languid and slow, but passionate. He’s taking his time, tasting you, savoring you. It’s perfect. Beyond perfect. 

His lips part from yours, and he looks down at you, taking you in, committing the moment to memory. “Pretty girl,” Logan mumbles, tugging you off the floor as the song fades out and a pop song starts up. “What if we slipped away for a few minutes?” 

“O-okay,” you stutter as Logan guides you past your table and out of the tent. The bass of the music echoes across the lawn as you and Logan wander hand in hand toward the mansion.  

He pushes the back door open, leading the two of you inside, and immediately pins you against the wall. “This okay, sweetheart?” Logan asks, holding your hands above your head, his fingers wrapping tightly around your wrists. 

“Yes,” you breathe, your chest heaving against his. He closes the gap between you completely, his lips pressing to yours. It’s hurried now, hungry and frantic. His knee nudges between your legs, spreading you open. You can feel the fire burning in your core—the growing ache. 

You squirm underneath him, your arms fidgeting against his hold, longing to reach out and touch him. “Wanna make you feel good first, princess,” Logan soothes, his grip on your wrists tightening. “Let me take care of you.” You can’t help but grind down on his thigh at his words. 

“Lo,” you whine, searching for more friction. “Please, need you.” Logan swallows your moans with a kiss, his lips melting against yours. “I know, darlin’. I need you too,” he coos. “But I like watching you get off on my thigh,” he says cockily. “That feel good?” He pushes his thigh harder between your legs as you slide up and down. 

“Y-yes,” you stammer, rolling your hips. “N-need more.” 

“I know, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Logan whispers, leaving a trail of kisses down your jaw to your neck, softly biting that sweet spot underneath your ear. “Gonna make this pussy feel good.” He lets go of your wrists as he slides down your body, hiking your dress up above your hips as he kneels in front of you.

Logan yanks your panties down your legs, leaving your core bare in front of him. “Wanna taste you, pretty girl,” he husks, his breath fanning against your heat as he settles between your thighs. 

“Please,” you beg, his face just centimeters from where you need him most. His palms splay across your inner thighs, squeezing and nudging you open. You look down at him, hunger, desire, and desperation darkening his half-lidded eyes. “Lo—”

And then he’s licking a long stripe through your folds, his tongue flicking your clit. You shudder underneath his touch as he does it again, his tongue pressing harder this time. 

“Tastes so fucking good,” Logan mumbles against you. “Knew you’d taste perfect.” He pulls your clit between his lips and sucks, his teeth grazing the bud lightly. Your knees buckle at the sensation. 

Logan pushes your legs further apart, one of his hands sliding up your thigh and toward your center. It’s teasing, achingly slow as his fingers finally reach your folds, toying with your slit and spreading your slick. He laps at your clit, and he’s desperate, ravenous, his mouth swallowing you hungrily.

He teases your entrance with two fingers—gentle compared to the way his teeth graze your clit, to the way he’s sucking every last drop you have to give him. You part your lips, ready to beg for him, but he’s thrusting his long fingers inside you—down to his knuckles—only to pull out and pump back in again. 

You moan his name, your back arching off the wall, your thighs trembling as he fucks into you. Logan smiles against you. “That feel good, pretty girl?” He asks, his fingers pumping in and out of your entrance at a rhythmic pace.

“S-so good, Logan,” you say, your voice shaky and uneven. His tongue flits out, flicking your clit before his lips wrap around the bud. He sucks again, harder this time, longer, his face buried deep inside your cunt, like he needs this. Needs to feel every inch of you. To explore you. To remember you. Your heart thunders in your chest as he thrusts in and out, his fingers hitting that sweet spot deep inside every time. 

Your walls flutter around him, squeezing him, taking him deeper. Logan laughs against you, the vibration rolling through your body in waves. “I know you’re getting closer, pretty girl,” Logan whispers, lapping at you between sentences. He looks up at you under those dark, hooded eyes as he plunges into you. “Let me get you there, wanna taste it when you come.”

You flutter around him again, his words threatening to spill the heat building at the bottom of your belly. “Lo,” you whimper as he brings a third finger to your entrance. 

“That’s it, pretty girl, say my name,” he demands, shoving the third finger deep inside on his next pump. 

“F-fuck,” you stutter, your legs shaking as you chant his name. Logan Logan Logan. 

“So fucked out that I’m all you can think about, huh?” Logan teases, edging you closer along. You moan in affirmation as Logan laves at you, stuffing his fingers deep inside. “So fucking beautiful,” he praises. “Doing so good for me.”

“L-Lo,” you choke out, clenching down around him. “I’m so close.”

You can feel yourself coming undone, melting into nothingness as he rams into you, sucking your clit roughly. “I know, princess. Let go for me, wanna feel you come on my fingers.”

Your hips buck and your legs tremble as you fall apart. Your orgasm crashes into you, pleasure coursing through your veins. Logan works you through it, his face still buried between your legs. His tongue laps at you softly, his fingers pumping slowly until they stall inside you. 

His gaze meets yours as he pulls his fingers out of your cunt and brings them to his mouth. His lips wrap around his fingers, and he sucks, savoring your release. He pulls his fingers out with a pop as he stands up. 

Logan presses his forehead to yours. “You know, there’s something else I want,” Logan says, his voice deep and raspy. “I’m not done with you yet.” He cages you in, a hand on either side of your head. 

“W-we need to be careful,” you stammer, nodding towards the door. “Someone could come in and—” Logan cuts you off. “Locked it the second we came inside, sweetheart,” Logan whispers, grabbing your dress and bunching it up around your waist. “No one’s coming in here. It’s just you and me, princess.” Logan pushes his hips into yours, and you can feel his erection straining against the fabric of his slacks. “Need you, darlin’.”

You wrap your arms around Logan’s back. “Need you too,” you pant. Logan’s lips find yours, crashing down needily, starvingly. He swallows your moans, one hand still collecting the fabric of your dress while his other tugs at his belt. He throws it to the floor with a clink and works at his button and zipper, pulling his pants and boxers down his legs. He hoists you up, one hand gripping your ass tightly, pushing your back against the wall for leverage.

“Fuck,” Logan curses, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance. Everything is rushed and frantic. He needs to be inside you, needs to feel you, needs to be as close to you as possible. His head slides through your folds, spreading your slick. “Wanted this for so long,” Logan huffs, his tip slipping into your slit. “My girl.”

With one thrust, he sinks himself deep inside you—down to the hilt. You’re suddenly so full, so whole. “Yours,” you answer as he pulls out and thrusts back in, somehow deeper this time. He’s everywhere and he’s everything. “All yours.”

Logan curses under his breath, panting your name as he sets a brutal pace. “Mine,” he growls between placing open-mouthed kisses to the crook of your neck. “All fucking mine.” His free hand slips between your bodies, finding your clit and drawing tight, rapid circles around the bud. 

You dig your nails into his suit jacket as he splits you open. You want to feel him—to feel his skin, his chest pressed against yours. But this will have to do for now. 

“Next time,” he mumbles, knowing exactly what you’re silently asking for. “You can have more of me next time, okay sweetheart?”

Next time. The words replay in your head as he fucks into you, taking everything you have to give. He knows you so well, already knows every curve and inch of your body, knows your dreams and desires. You fit, like two puzzle pieces, like magnets finally drawing together. 

His thumb brushes your clit soothingly before pinching roughly, sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. Logan thrusts in and out, his hips snapping against yours, the sound of skin against skin echoing throughout the foyer. 

“Feels so good, pretty girl,” Logan groans. “So fucking perfect, so tight.” Your walls flutter around him, and he grunts as you squeeze him. “Taking me so well.” 

You’re already close, every thrust bringing you to the edge, every flick of your clit sending you spiraling. It’s all too much. And it’s all because of him. 

“Lo,” you whine, his hips rocking into yours, his cock dragging along your walls. “I’m so…” You trail off, squeezing him again, taking him deeper. 

He moans your name, sinking inside you and pulling back out. “I know, princess, me too,” he murmurs, his pace faltering, his hips sputtering. “Come on my cock, wanna feel it,” he pants. “Wanna feel you. Forever.”

And then the tension snaps, heat spilling out of you as Logan thrusts again. He’s throbbing inside you, close behind. Pleasure pulses through your body, wave after wave. You wrap your legs tighter around Logan’s waist, keeping him close as he spills inside you, filling you up. He chants your name, his forehead pressing to yours, looking deep into your eyes as he comes undone.

Your chests heave together, sharing the same breath. His cock is still inside you. Everything is calm. Quiet. “So perfect,” Logan breathes, his lips finding yours again. “So fucking perfect.” He finally slips out of you and sets you down on the ground, keeping your dress bunched up around your waist. 

He leans over to the side, grabs a paper towel from a conveniently placed nearby roll, and sinks down to his knees. He’s cleaning you up, taking care of you, wiping away the mess spilling down your legs. He pulls your panties back up and kisses each of your thighs before standing and tossing the paper towel into the garbage by the door. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, letting your dress go. He fixes each of your straps, straightening them out, and smooths out your dress. “Beautiful,” he praises, swallowing harshly, as if he’s holding himself back from reaching out and taking you again. Part of you wishes he would.

But he bends over and pulls his pants and boxers up, tucking in his shirt, zippering and buttoning his slacks, and securing his belt back in place. He’s still a little disheveled—sweat on his brow, his hair out of place. But he looks perfect. He looks just like him. 

“You ready to go back out?” He asks, taking your hand in his. You nod and let him lead you outside and towards the tent. 

You find your seats just as dinner is being served. “Where’d you two go?” Scott asks, arching a brow. 

“Got a little too hot,” Logan says, smirking to himself. He finds your thigh under the table, squeezing gently, possessively. “Needed a break from the heat.”

You hum in affirmation, turning your head towards Logan. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “That’s one way to put it,” you whisper so that only he can hear. 

He squeezes your thigh again, harder this time. His lips find the shell of your ear as the rest of the table starts up a conversation. “You’re coming back to my room tonight,” he husks. “Got it?” You can feel the heat rising to your chest as he separates from you. 

You nod, his hand still on your thigh. 

“Good, because I’m not finished with you yet.”

tags: @starfleetteddybear @ilysmdovie12 @prettyseaveins @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @silversprings-mp3 @wittyjasontodd @theasiaabattoir @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04 @derbygracie @honeyfewr @cosmiccandydreamer @Movhoney.

[mickandmusings]

you’re losing me

pairing: tyler owens x f! reader

word count: 5.2k

summary:

when tyler, yet again, forgets an important date while he's caught up in chasing, y/n is at her wits end. their relationship feels like it's dying, and he just might have dealt the final blow. after a series of rather unfortunate happenings, it's up to the rest of the wranglers to set them free from the disaster they created.

warnings: ANGST with a capital a; tyler is kind of an ass; halfway edited (sorry); forced proximity; not my most favorite thing i've ever written; sort of suggestive but not explicit

-

The ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall taunts her, reminding her that time was continuing to pass by. She taps her fingers against the table, her patience fleeting.

Y/N picks up her phone to check it for nearly the twentieth time in the past half hour. She had hoped to look down and see a missed call or an apologetic message from her boyfriend, who, at present, is an hour and a half late for their anniversary dinner. She had the table set for two some time ago: a home cooked meal in the oven, a bottle of white wine to split, and a candle lit in the center of the table. She sported a flowy sundress that tapered off mid-calf-Tyler's favorite dress on her-one that she just knew was going to end up on the floor of their bedroom by now.

Clearly, she'd been mistaken.

She presses the button on the side and the screen illuminates the dimly-lit room. The only thing that greets her is an empty lockscreen- a picture of Tyler smiling down at her as she looks up at him, taken over a year ago. She sighs in annoyance, putting the phone back down as the tear in her heart only grows bigger and bigger. She'd known this would happen, and despite all her efforts to avoid it, he had still forgotten.

She'd started two weeks beforehand, by telling him that she wanted to spend the night of their anniversary with him, alone. He'd agreed, claiming it was a great idea. That night, she put the reminder in his phone calendar and wrote it into the paper one that lived on his fridge. A week before, she'd mentioned it a thousand times: over dinner, during grocery shopping, and even during post-bliss pillow talk. He'd pull her into his arms and kiss her head, assuring her every time that he'd be there with bells on. Naively, she had believed him. Now, she was sitting alone at his dinner table in her prettiest sundress, feeling like a complete fool.

Her phone dings, and she feels the rip in her heart stitch itself back together for a slight moment. When she notices it's not Tyler, her shoulders slump.

The Tornado Wranglers are LIVE! Click here to watch now!

She's quick to click it, watching as it loads before she sees Boone's face in the frame, the top of Tyler's hat visible. Her heart shatters, watching as her boyfriend smiles and hollers for the camera, chasing a storm. She'd known there was a big storm forming for the past few days: when Tyler went out on a chase, she watched the weather as if it were a nail-biting thriller. Hearing him on the livestream had been the first time she'd seen or heard from him all day, despite his promises to be next to her this very moment.

She exits the live and stands from the dinner table, already knowing her boyfriend wouldn't be home any time soon. She blows out the candle and puts the unopened wine back in the kitchen, wrapping the dinner she'd made in tin foil and tossing it into the fridge. Despite her simmering anger, she knew Tyler would come home drenched, so she set out a dry change of clothes and a towel on the washing machine for him to see. Shaking her head, she bit her lip and swallowed thickly as she moved to the en suite bathroom and changed out of the dress, her perfectly curled hair wasted. She throws on her pajamas and her (intentionally not Tyler's) hoodie, climbing into her side of their shared bed. She plugs her phone into the charger and switches on the silent function, not wanting to be bothered as she wallows. Finally, she plops down onto her pillow and curls under the blankets, her annoyance slowly fading into disappointment. She tries to push the tears back, feeling stupid for crying over something so trivial, but it had hurt that he'd forgotten something that was supposed to be important to both of them. She feels asinine, like a dog with a bird at his door, only to be shut out. A choked sob slips past her lips, and she's done for. She curls in on herself, legs to her chest as she cries until her body could no longer take it, and lets her eyes shut for sleep.

-

Hours later, Tyler stumbles into his house, plopping off his soaking wet boots on the rug at the garage door. He's slightly dry from his ride home, but his clothes still cling to his skin, making him shiver when he walks into the house. He turns to lock the door behind him, shuffling into the laundry room that connected the garage and the house. He puts his wet hat on the hook, peeling out of his sopping shirt and jeans, finding a change of clothes and towel set out for him. He smiled, knowing he'd likely find his girlfriend passed out on the couch with the weather forecast still playing on the screen. He changed quickly, hands itching to pull her into his hold and fall into a deep sleep. As he leaves the laundry room and heads to the kitchen, he notes the dinner table set with placemats and silverware next to them. He gives the set up a confused look before shrugging, tossing back a glass of water before walking towards the living room.

The empty room stops him in his tracks completely. The TV had been shut off, only a black screen staring back at him. There had been no indication that Y/N had been here at all-the blankets were folded neatly into the basket, pillows still upright and straight. He looked for anything-a charger plugged into the wall, her current read on the coffee table, an empty mug-but found no signs of the girl he loved. 'Maybe she had an early night,' his mind tried to grasp an explanation of why she wasn't where she always was when he was out on a chase.

Tyler's hand wipes his face, rubbing his tired eyes as he stomps up the stairs to their shared bedroom. The hallway is cloaked in darkness, and he has to use his phone's flashlight just to make his way to the door. He turns it off when he turns the knob and pushes the door open, not wanting the blinding light to disturb her. He makes out her figure curled into her side of the bed, looking small. He frowns again, it was always guaranteed she'd be curled into his pillow if he was gone, often wrapped in some article of his clothing, if not completely dressed in only his clothes.

Wordlessly, he comes to her side of the bed to kiss her head, checking in to make sure she was okay. Moonlight from the window illuminates her face, and he finds his chest tightening as he looks at her. Tears had dried to her skin, and a frown was etched onto her face, even in her slumber. He pushes hair from her face, finding the strand curled, and kisses her forehead lightly. He pulls the covers over her more, making sure she was entirely tucked in. With a worried frown now marking his own face, he shuffles to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He opens the door and flicks on the light, the sight in front of him bringing his confusion to new heights.

A white sundress stares back at him, sitting crumpled on the counter. The puffy sleeves are deflated, and the slit on the leg had flopped over, exposing the other side of the fabric. This dress only made an appearance for special occasions, mainly because he couldn't keep his hands off of her when she wore it. She'd talked about it for weeks, she was going to wear it on their anniver-he stills-no. Tyler's heart sinks to his feet, hammering against his chest so loudly it rattles his eardrums. There is no way he'd forgotten. The unusual things in his home began to add up, and, with shaking hands, he reaches for his phone and stares down at the photo of her smiling back at him. She's standing in a poncho, drenched, but smiling as she uses her hand to point towards a barreling storm in the distance. Sure enough, in the slew of notifications he'd ignored, sits a calendar reminder:

'Our anniversary date ;) <3'

He plops down on the side of the tub and scrolls through the messages and calls Y/N had left, clicking on the voicemail she'd left, her sweet voice filling his ears:

'Hey Ty, it's almost nine, I just...um, just checking on you. I-I don't know if you're just running late or you forgot, but...I love you, see you soon. Be careful, please. Call me when you get this.'

He pieces it together quickly-the table set up for two, his favorite dress she'd been wearing, her hair curled just to look nice for him-the realization guts him. He had been stupid, so caught up in the thrill of the chase he completely forgot about the one thing that always brought him home. His brain recalls her excitement over the dinner she would cook, and he had planned on bringing flowers and her favorite sweets from that bakery downtown, hoping to charm that dress right off of her. He pushes his damp hair back with his hands, he had fucked up, and royally. The reason she hadn't done the things she normally did when he was gone was because he wasn't supposed to be gone at all.

He breaths deeply before brushing his teeth, sliding into the bed next to her and pulling her close. He'd hold her while he could, because he'd spend the next few days groveling for her forgiveness. He'd wake up early-clean up the dishes from last night, cook her breakfast, do the laundry, pick up groceries for the week. Hell, he'd kiss her fucking feet if it meant she'd forgive him. His eyes shut closed with sleep, and night quickly fades into morning.

-

Y/N is the first to wake, her skin burning under Tyler's touch. She immediately rolls away from his grasp, and the content look on his sleeping face makes her flame with anger. She rolls her eyes and stomps out of the room, purposefully slamming the door to the bedroom enough to rattle the frames on the walls. The noise jostles Tyler from his sleep, and he sits up in his bed, allowing himself only a minute of solitude before he realizes he's under the dog house.

Quietly, he stomps down the stairs, finding Y/N already standing at the sink, sleeves pushed up as she scrubs at a pot hastily. Her face is drawn into an angry frown, and the air is thick with tension. There's none of her music filtering through the tiny speaker in the window, none of her humming as she works. She's angry, she's hurt, and all she really wants is an apology.

"Mornin'," his voice is raspy, and he awkwardly hovers behind her, watching from a distance as she ignores him. He comes over and lightly grabs her arm, attempting to take over the task. "I can do that, darlin', you go sit at the bar and I'll cook you breakfast, yeah?"

She snatches her arm from his grasp and gives him an unpleasant look, only returning to the dishes in front of her as she shakes her head. He gives a deep sigh, stepping away from her to give her space.

Her silent treatment was always the worst.

"Baby, please, I-I know I fucked up, I'm just trying to make it up to you, let me-"

She lets out an angry laugh, dropping the pot back into the soapy sink with a shake of her head. Her veins fill with a fury she can't control, and she's almost blinded by her rage.

"Fucked up is an understatement, Tyler."

Her angry words were piercing, but at least she was talking.

"Y/N/N, I know, I'm going to make this up to you. I'll-"

"I don't want to hear your lies that I hear every time you mess up, Tyler. You're not going to take time away from chasing, so you can stop feeding me that same lie."

Her honesty stops him in his tracks. He starts to feel defensive, his own anger rising to the surface.

"Just listen-"

The bowl she's cleaning clamors against the other dishes in a loud fashion, making him jump slightly as she turns to face him. Fury is written across her face completely.

"No! You listen! I planned this for weeks, Tyler, weeks! I did everything, the cooking, the cleaning, the waiting around for four fucking hours! All you had to do was show up, and you couldn't even do that."

She swallows thickly, the anger beginning to fester into the sadness she'd been shoving down. Her chest moves in short breaths, and she tries to control her breathing as she looks up at him. He notes her teary eyes-she's not really angry, she's hurting.

"It would've been fine if this was a one off thing, but it isn't. You and I both know that." Her voice is lacking the fire it once had, replaced with a wave of vulnerability she rarely lets show. She pauses and wipes her hands with the kitchen towel in her hands. Her eyes dart across the room in thought, never meeting his. "First it was my birthday, and then not just one, but two dates, and now this. Every other time I just let it go, not wanting to start anything, but I can't anymore, because it just keeps happening. Tyler, I love you, but you're breaking my heart."

Her bottom lip wobbles as she takes a deep breath and straightens her shoulders, trying to have a conversation with the man she was begging to love her the way she loved him.

"I'm not asking you to give it up, I'm just asking for one day, maybe every couple weeks? I feel like I sleep next to you but I never see you, and-," her eyebrows furrow before she takes a defensive step back, crossing her arms over her chest. "I just don't want to have to beg you to want to spend time with me."

Tyler's heart shatters. He fumbles to come up with the right words, knowing the wrong ones could ruin everything. He loved her immeasurably, and he'd been so goddamn blind. His mind raced with the dozens of things she does for him without being asked-making sure he had dry clothes after chasing, ensuring he had a decent meal every time he came home, tens upon hundreds of tiny actions that he had taken for granted. When was the last time he'd done something like that for her? The one time she had asked him, weeks in advance, to save a day for her, he had neglected it completely, unintentionally or not.

She looks down at her feet, feeling so incredibly small, invisible, like the man in front of her can't see her at all. She was tired of trying to keep their relationship alive all on her own. She wasn't in denial that Tyler loved her, she knew he did, but the last few months had felt as if he hardly remembered she was there. Her anxiety spirals-did he really love her, or was she just convenient for him?

"I know that chasing is important to you, and I love seeing you do it, but it always comes before me. I just want to know, will I ever come first?" Her voice is so, so hurt, and the girl he knows has withered away. The only thing that remains is the shell of her in front of him, pleading for him to just notice her. "It's okay if not, I-I just need to know. Because I can't keep having this fight, just tell me the truth so if the answer is no, I can move on."

Tyler's heart hammers, his own insecurity flaring.

"W-What? No, no, chasin' doesn't come before you, ever. Y-You know that."

She gives him a doubtful look.

"You do know that right?"

"Tyler, name one time that you've dropped everything from chasing a storm to do something for me?"

She stands leaned against the counter, arms crossed in front of her. His mind cannot conjure one situation, and he knows she's right, he'd never put her first. Not once. He had missed her birthday party just last month for a big storm over in Kansas, on his own. The rest of the Wranglers had even cancelled to be there for her. Both Boone and Lilly both had called him from the party to reprimand him, and he'd stayed anyways. Then he'd done it again, twice, just two weeks later. Each time, she'd forgiven him with open arms, never fighting him on it, simply accepting his lie that he'd never do it again.

She simply nods, waiting to see how long it would take Tyler to realize just how miserable this had been for her. He grows defensive, trying to make excuses for his actions.

"That storm in Kansas, w-we haven't seen a storm that scale since-"

"Tyler, save it," she starts, her voice growing an edge. "You answered my question, that's all I needed to know."

He watches as she literally and metaphorically throws in the towel, a somber look written across her face.

“I-I need some air.”

She says nothing else, only sliding on her shoes and slipping out the garage door. He expects to hear the jangling of her keys and then the roar of her car’s engine, but neither come-she’d taken out on foot.

Tyler ignores the rush of tears that threatened to spill from behind his eyes, his chest so full of guilt it feels like he might combust from one single sob. He stews in his emotions as he resumes the task she'd started-at least when she got back, the dishes would be one less thing for her to worry about. As his hands scrubbed at various pots and pans, he thought about the thousands of things he wanted to do to show her that he was serious. He wanted to run after her, to pull her back into his house, but he knew she needed her space, time away from him to think. Tyler wrestles with his emotions, knowing this could very well be the end of them, and it'd be his fault entirely. He'd let the best thing in his life slip entirely out of his grasp, all because he'd had his head in the clouds. It had been obvious to everyone around him, except him. How had he been so blind to her anguish?

He moves around the kitchen in complete silence, only the rattle of the dishes he's putting away filling his ears. He ponders over the dark hue forming across the sky, wishing Y/N had taken a jacket or an umbrella with her. He wonders if he should call her, just to tell her that he could leave while she stayed here, he didn't want her in the rain. He doesn't overthink it and pulls up her contact, letting it ring before he hears vibrating. His eyes turn to the direction of the noise.

Shit.

She'd left her phone here.

He turns his attention to the slew of missed messages on his own phone. Just twenty minutes ago, Dexter had texted him about a storm forming just miles from his home. The messages after were from Dani, Boone, and Lilly, all asking if he and Y/N were okay. His eyebrows pinched and he frowned, about to respond with a question mark before he heard the shrill ring of the tornado siren outside his window. His eyes glance up to see a darkening sky, heavy clouds sitting low in the sky.

He tosses his phone into his pocket before he's pulling on his still-wet boots and bolting out his garage door. A tornado was minutes from hitting here, and his girlfriend was wandering around aimlessly. She couldn't have gone far, his house sat miles from town, the only neighbors being a relatively empty home the next street over-the family only visited during the winter months, they paid him handsomely to keep their grass cut when they weren't in town-so he knew that she wouldn't have anyone to look out for her. His boots clicked on asphalt, his voice hoarse as he yelled after her, her name falling desperately from his lips as the wind whipped around his face.

With no signs of her appearing, his heart began to hammer against his chest. Rain began to pelt his clothes and it only urged his aching legs to move faster. His mind conjures images he fears-her stuck under a collapsed tree or shed, left for dead because he'd been stupid. They urged him to the neighbor's house, chest searing with anxiety as he heaved, still not seeing anything-no flashes of the simple dress she'd been wearing, or the cardigan she'd wore over it tossed somewhere. Before his brain could stop him, he was pulling the spare key from under the mat, all but trespassing into his neighbor's home, shouting her name. Nothing.

He slams the door, running a hand through his hair as he begins to panic. His chest feels tight, his mind growing fuzzy with the thought of her being out in this storm alone. The air only grows more thick, and a crack of lightning startles him. It sends him into taking off on foot in their backyard, even slinging open the door of the storm shelter to see if she'd hid there. It was empty, making him let out a string of curses to the sky.

Then, he hears her voice. He almost thinks he's imagining it, her tone is sweet and gentle, and he thinks he's losing his mind.

"Hey, it's okay little guy."

It's the voice he knows well-the voice she uses for animals and babies. His jade eyes turn to see her hair blowing in the wind, her dress wet from the weather. She's crouched down and attempting to move a stack of firewood from the neighbors yard, her eyes on alert she hears Tyler's footsteps crunch the ground behind her. She whips around, looking at him.

"Tyler, help me, there's a rabbit, he's stuck."

Tyler looks at her with wide eyes. His voice is loud over the sirens blaring in the air and the wind whipping.

"Darlin', there's a big ass storm coming right for us! Leave it! We gotta get down, now!"

Her eyes are fiery when she turns back to look at him.

"Then leave, but I'm not leaving him here!"

Her hands hastily moved large pieces of firewood, getting more and more drenched. She lifts a particularly heavy one and throws it across the grass.

"If you're just going to stand there and not help, then go! I don't need you hovering because you care all of a sudden!"

Tyler's heart shatters, she thought he didn't care? Of course he cared, but he was more concerned with keeping her safe. He sighs at her stubbornness, moving to help lift the firewood at a faster pace. She lifts a particularly stubborn piece, drawing her hand back quickly with a soft 'fuck!' He tosses her a concerned look but moves on working to get the firewood moved. His muscle flexes as Tyler throws the piece caging the animal in and watches as it bolts towards the treeline. He slings an arm around her shoulder as the roar of the storm grows closer, all but manhandling her into the storm shelter he'd just looked in. It wasn't shabby by any means, well stocked and clean, but small. He shuts the door with a grunt, turning to face her and watching as she digs through a first aid kit.

"What're you doin'?"

She says nothing, only sticking out her right hand for him to see. It's bleeding from a cut, tiny pieces of wood protruding from around it.

"Shit, baby," he moves to grab the kit from her. "Stop, just stop tryin' to do it on your own, it's only going to get worse."

She stills, looking up at him with dagger-like eyes.

"Look, you did your job. I'm safe here, you can go."

Go? Where the hell did she think he was going?

"I know you're itching to go chase it, it's probably going to be a big one."

Oh.

"You think I'm going to leave you here alone to go chase this thing?"

She shrugs. "Wouldn't be the first time."

It's his turn to look offended, even though he shouldn't be. She was only speaking the truth. He knows he would be quick to defend himself, but he doesn't, knowing the hurt he'd bestowed upon her just hours beforehand. He lightly tugs the kit away from her, giving the soft, sympathetic eyes that had her hardened heart melting. He makes quiet work of removing the shards of wood, and moves to clean it with the tiny bottle of rubbing alcohol. She winces when it makes contact with the open wound, but a sweet kiss to her temple has her distracted as he finishes bandaging it. When he looks down at her, he finds her eyes already looking up at him. The look she gives him begs him to say something, to just apologize and say he'd do better, and actually mean it this time. He opens his mouth to speak, but it's cut off by a boisterous slam to the shelter door, one that startles Y/N, and she slides into his hold without thinking.

"What the hell was that?!" Her voice trembles.

"I don't know." He doesn't want to move her from his arms, but he needs to see what's going on. He kisses her temple again, setting her on the twin sized mattress that sat on the ground. He makes his way up the stairs of the shelter, moving to push the door open. He knows it's a stupid, risky move, but he does it anyway.

He pushes it forward, the door not even budging. He frowns, moving positions to put his entire body weight on the door, and the door remains shut. He pushes with his entire strength multiple times, before his mind draws a conclusion.

"It's probably a tree or somethin'," He sighs as he steps away from the door. "Probably got knocked down by the wind, fell over on top of the door."

"So we're trapped here?"

"For the time being, yes," He starts, coming to sit down next to her, her head resting on his shoulder. "But I'll get in touch with Dexter and Dani, maybe Boone too. See if one of them can get a truck out here and move it. We'll have to wait for this storm to pass though."

He fishes out his phone and begins to type, his eyes darting across the screen before Dexter's typing bubble finally forms into a message.

'We'll be there as soon as this storm settles!'

Y/N nods when he shows her the message, moving to rest her head on his chest, her heart racing. Without a word, he pulls her into his lap, his eyes now focused on her bandaged hand. She notes his concern quickly.

"It's fine, doesn't even really hurt. Just stings."

He shakes his head.

"Doesn't matter. You got hurt, again, because I did somethin' dumb as hell. Seems like all I've done for the past few months is hurt you. M'sorry, I really am. I fucked up, and I'm prepared to grovel for it."

She nods, biting her lip as she pushes a section of wet hair out of his face.

"You did, but that doesn't mean you can't fix it. Just, this time, promise you'll actually do what you say you will. Don't let it be empty words."

He makes an 'X' motion over the center of his chest-cross my heart-and watches as a small smile forms across her face. He notes it's genuine nature and it forms a smile of his own across his face.

He pulls her head softly under his chin, moving his face to where he's whispering directly into her ear. She leans into his warmth, still shivering from her damp clothes.

"I love you," his voice is a sincere whisper, laced with every ounce of emotion he can muster. She kisses the underside of his jaw, making him close his eyes and sigh.

"I know. I love you too, even when you really piss me off."

He lets out a chuckle, kissing behind her ear, a spot that makes her entire frame stiffen in his hold. He places another one just under it, making her pull away for a moment.

"You're playing with fire, Owens. What are you gonna do, take me on this twin mattress on the floor?"

Her voice is laced with sarcasm and humor, completely joking. One look in his now emerald green irises tells her he wasn't joking, not one ounce of him thought it was a joke.

"Well, might as well start my grovelin' as quickly as possible, got a lot to catch up on." He kisses the spot again, making her hand fly to his damp hair. "And I haven't done this in far too long."

His hands come to her hips, pulling her in even closer in his lap. His calloused hands land on her ass, and she yelps.

“Ty, you can’t be serious.”

He sends her a raised eyebrow. His hand squeezes the supple skin of her bottom.

“Baby,” his voice is just above a whisper, deathly serious, his gaze darkening. “When have I ever joked about taking you any time, any place?"

Y/N shudders. "Never."

"That's what I thought."

His lips connect with hers in a rough manner, effectively shutting her up.

-

A few hours later, as Y/N lies across Tyler's chest, her dress tossed somewhere, she's awoken by a sharp knock at the shelter door.

"T? Y/N/N? Hey, we're here. We're gonna get this tree off of y'all!" Boone's voice fills her ears and she all but scrambles up, face flushed red with embarrassment at the thought of them walking into the shelter to see her and Tyler both bare. Tyler only snoozes and turns over, and she rolls her eyes, he'd sleep through a hurricane-literally. She grabs his shirt and lightly pops him with it.

"Tyler!" She whispers-shouts, quickly buttoning up the front of her dress she'd found on the floor. His jade eyes pop open, shuffling off the blanket that had been draped across him for his modesty.

"Hm, what?" His voice comes out groggy.

"Get up, get dressed, they're here!" She throws her cardigan back on her shoulders as she tosses his jeans over to him, his belt buckle just missing his head. Tyler rubs his eyes tiredly, not quite awake enough for him to care about being completely naked.

Y/N turns to him to fuss, but she's cut off at the creaking of the storm shelter's door opening. She stills, face burning from a hot blush. From above ground, Boone, Dani and Dexter look down at them, the latter two jaws dropping and darting their eyes away. Boone clocks Tyler and swallows thickly.

"Ty, man, I am seein' entirely way too much of you right now."

-

taglist:

@fraaaaankiiiiieee

@rebel-ezra

@fanboysfangirl

@mbioooo0000

[bobananami]

VELVET ESCAPADES

SUKUNA RYOMEN

synopsis—a night out with your fiancé ends with you ruining his fun, then to him ruining you

tags—CEO au Sukuna. talks of marriage. brat reader. remote controlled vibrators. hidden exhibition. bondage (suspension). edging. orgasm denial. hints towards his abilities. fingering. pnv.

You weren't a coward. At least that's what you told yourself as you rushed down a hallway filled with grandiose windows and pristine carpeted floors. All part of the manor that hosted the gracious ball you and your beloved fiance were attending.

Said fiance was mingling around the dance floor, conversing with men of his caliber—or at least as close as they could get to his. All fancied up in suits and ties, they preened their wealth in hopes of showing off their status to both their women or in hopes of finding one—or multiple—to spend the night with.

Not that it mattered to you or your husband to be. Both of you were dressed immaculately, putting every wannabe rich boy and doe-eyed ladies to shame the second you walked in and beheld your shimmering dress and sharp, tailored suit.

Little did they know that under your fancy embroidered fabrics, Sukuna Ryomen was playing a game with you. A game that started with a little object in his right pocket that he constantly fidgeted with and ended with its second half buried up into your slick core.

You thought it would be fun in the car when he had proposed the idea. To see how well you could keep your composure when he held your pleasure and sanity in his hand, and in the end—if you did good—he'd reward you.

You should've known better. You should've fucking known better.

It took you half an hour to realize exactly how this game benefitted him and not you, for he denied you your pleasure every single time you were inches away from reaching it. You didn't know how he kept tabs on exactly how close you were, but you had little doubt it was related to his unusual keen eyes and ears, able to hear every stuttered breath and every skipped heartbeat.

The first time he’d done so, you casted him a wicked glare, eyes sharp enough to cut through the very walls of this building. He only met it with a smooth incline of his chin, his lips twitched into a smile so subtle, you wouldn't have caught it if you weren't on the receiving end.

The second time had you tapping your foot against the marble floor, your grip on the champagne glass tight enough to nearly shatter it. You didn't look at him this time, but just a second later, you felt a palm—his palm—on your shoulder and his breath against the end of your jaw. A single word was whispered from his lips as they caressed the shell of your ear.

"Behave."

Your shoulders trembled as you resisted the urge to snap your teeth at his chuckling figure.

The third time had you storming off into the hallways, muttering something about needing to use the restroom towards the frilly young lady that prattled off about some subject you never really listened to.

You couldn't catch a break.

Even in the wide expanse of windowed walls and red carpeted floors, you couldn't cool yourself from the heat that radiated in your core. The lack of sleeves and cool, ventilated air did nothing but show how tense you were. How two beads of sweat made their way from your forehead down to your jaw.

The bathroom wasn't much better, but it did offer you the privacy you wished you had.

Bzzz.

Your grip tightened on the white counters, your eyes screwed shut as you held in the little moan that threatened to escape.

You let your head fall back, the buzzing growing more intense and louder in the echoing chamber of the bathroom. Your chest heaved with every pant and your thighs pressed together as if they could ward off the sensation you begged to receive. The waters of pleasure grew into a wave, higher and higher as it reached the undisturbed shore that begged to be coated in oceanic salt.

Maybe he couldn't hear you. You're halfway across the damn house, behind the closed door of a bathroom. Maybe now you could—

But before you could finish the thought, the waters froze, then were pulled back by an unknown force.

You held in a howl of frustration, tears pricking your lashes that you held in for fear of ruining your makeup. You opted for stomping furiously on the ground.

How dare he? How dare he take your orgasm from you again?

Riiiiing.

You buried your hand in your purse, pulling out your phone. Your scowl only deepened the second you saw what contact dared to interrupt your internal tirade.

"Are you done throwing your little tantrum, princess?"

You didn't hesitate. "Fuck. You."

Three tuts were heard over the line, then his deep, smug voice. "Don't be like that, baby. You know better than to use that language on me."

"I mean it, Sukuna. Fucking—I hate you." The vibe in you suddenly went to its max, and you yelped in surprise, your shaky grip nearly causing you to drop your phone.

"What did I just say?" The static didn't really distort his words. Somehow, it only made them more menacing. Made you more inclined to obey his commands.

But the past hour and a half of teasing and toying with you as if you were nothing but a little rabbit to be played with during its hunt had your pupils narrowing and ragged breaths sourcing from anger, rather than desperation.

Fuck obedience.

You held the bottom of your phone to your mouth, making sure he heard every breath and syllable you spat from your venomous tongue.

"Fuck. You."

You hung up the phone shortly after. He wanted to play with you? You could play his game right back.

His contact appeared shortly on the screen again and you declined the call, instead going into his information and blocking him effective immediately.

You shut off your phone right after, getting rid of any location tracking he might've had with the device.

The glittering cloths of your dress wrinkled as you hiked up your skirt. The single stall bathroom was filled with hitched moans and whines as you pushed aside your laced panties, gliding two fingers deep into your pulsing cunt. All just to grab onto the silicone string of that damned vibrator and yank it out.

"We'll see how you fucking like this." You hissed angrily, tossing it into your purse with contempt.

So full of vitriol and spite, the satisfaction gained from shutting him out and ending his fun was enough for you to forgo getting yourself off in the pristine restroom and causing wonder for why you'd been gone for so long.

Little did you know that would be the biggest mistake of your night.

You flipped your hair back, testing your smile in the spotless mirror. Stunning. That's what you'd thought when you finally finished your makeup hours earlier. That's what your fiance had murmured the second he saw your finished look by the door to your home.

But now? Your smile widened to show your teeth, your canines as dull as a human could be, yet seeming as sharp as a panther when you beheld the molten lava in your eyes.

You avoided Sukuna the whole night afterwards, relishing in his darkened gaze when he realized what you had done.

You tossed him a look when he tried edging you again in plain sight and threw him a little wink before you took a sip of your champagne.

Dangling the glittery purse in your palm, you spun on your heel and went back to the bar to order a glass of refreshment.

He was beyond pissed, you could tell. You felt his eyes boring holes in your head as you turned your back towards him and you knew that if you were in the privacy of your own home, you'd be pinned to the ground with his clothed cocks pressing into your ass as he growled threats and promises into your ear.

Which was why the snake of delight slithered up your spine. He was in no position to do what he wanted right now. Not when so many people were watching.

Your thighs clenched at the idea of you finally having the higher ground.

Maybe now he'll know better than to cross you again.

You were so, so wrong.

A minute later you felt a grip by your elbow. You looked up to see the stormy eyes of Sukuna Ryomen, burning with ire.

You barely put the glass down before you were being dragged to the front door. As politely as he could display in this public setting. He stopped to talk to the host, but before you could get the idea to run, his grip turned impossibly tight.

Your eyes widened, and you looked up to your lover to see his jaw clench, even as he smiled and laughed with the blue eyed, white haired man before him.

You could barely bid your farewells before you were borderline tossed into your car.

The car was dark, the only light within from the radio by the front driver and the golden lights from the house outside.

Your pupils narrowed, and you snarled his way. "Why the fuck did you just—"

You felt two fingers press against your forehead and the last thing you saw was the steel cold face of Sukuna Ryomen and two very vivid scarlet eyes.

You awoke with a throbbing headache—the familiar aftereffects of the fainting spell. It wore off by the second, all the while you blinked away your blurry vision, trying to discern your surroundings.

Your neck ached and the muscles strained from the tension of your head hanging down. The reason why hit you soon after—your hands were suspended in the air. Red silk wrapped snugly around your wrists kept your arms pin straight above your head, its other end reaching the hook in the ceiling.

You tried shifting your legs, only to realize the same ropes were there too, tied artistically around your lower thighs to keep them spread apart.

Displayed like art for its intended audience.

Cold air wrapped around you like a glove, shifting your notice to your dress, or lack thereof. Where glittered fabric and shimmering satin had coated you before now laid nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Your eyes widened—

"You wake, finally."

Sukuna Ryomen sat lazily on the armchair across from you. His ankle was cross over his knee, his chin resting on his fist. He was still dressed in his nightly clothes sans his jacket. Drool pooled at the bottom of your mouth when you beheld the way his shirt stretched against his chest.

There was something in his other hand though. You noticed his thumb rolling against the edge of a small object. That should’ve raised the alarm in your head.

"What is the meaning of this?" Your words were slow. Careful. You weren't ignorant to the gleam in his eyes. In the dark room, lit only by the golden lamps beside your bed, Sukuna's ruby irises seemed to glow with lustful malice.

"You should know, little rabbit." Your fiance drawled, his tone lazy, yet you noticed the subtle edge with every syllable that dripped from his tongue. "You ruined my fun tonight."

You bristled in your spot, trying to ignore the flush that crept up your cheeks from his gaze raking over your nude figure. There was a hunger within them that made you wonder if he was planning how, exactly, he was going to devour you.

He leaned forward, flashing the tiny black object in his hand.

A remote of some sort.

"So I will be ruining you."

The small click reverberated throughout the room.

Not even a second later, you felt a small buzz inside your cunt. You jerked against the sudden feeling, now taking note of the small vibe nestled deep inside your walls.

Your surprised expression met the cunning of his and his smile grew at the realization blooming in your eyes at what he had planned tonight.

Another click and your gasp followed, your lips forming his name in a plea he'd be sure to ignore.

"Sukuna please—"

"Zip it." His sharp tone had your mouth clamping up. But he didn't ignore the way your pupils narrowed at his snippy tone. "You ran from me tonight. Blocked me. Took out the toy."

Bzz.

"Now you have no choice but to face your punishment, when tonight could've ended with satisfaction."

Click.

Bzzz.

"You fucking deserved—"

You didn't even blink before he was in front of you, your hair whipping with the effects of his lightning speed.

His hand gripped your jaw roughly, lifting your face to meet his.

"You'll take what I give you until you're a begging, writhing mess. Then I'll think about giving you what you want. But for now..."

You blink, and he's back in his seat, in the same exact position that you wondered if you had imagined him getting up in the first place.

His smile grew, baring his fangs of the wolf he never truly tried to hide.

"We have fun."

You were delirious, wound up infinitely from the pain and pleasure mixed into an intoxicating potion of ecstasy.

Sukuna kept you bound there for an hour. Two hours. Watching. Waiting.

His keen eyes observed every twitch and jerk as he kept that vibrator buried deep within your pulsing cunt and edged you until you were begging for him to grant you release.

You were hissing, spitting and groaning out insults like a feral kitten to the man that sat before you with a smirk carved into his beautiful face. His eyes held all the emotions you needed to see, glimmering with amusement and pity, as if you were nothing than a bunny caught in its hunters snare, to be eaten and savored. You were the one who bounced into his trap after all, you only had yourself to blame.

He could see the gradual shift in effects your little game was having on you. The denial to anger. The writhe and shift of your body as that vibrator nestled deep in your cunt was winding that worn rope tighter and tighter within you.

Your wrists must've been rubbed raw by now with how much you were twisting them in the silk knot that held them high above your head, the ones at your knees keeping your thighs spread perfectly so he could watch just how your heated core reacted to being denied its pleasure over and over and over again.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck you, Sukuna. Fuck. You." You spat, your words nothing but null venom. "Fucking h-hate you." Your voice hitched, words tumbling into a low whine that mixed with the crescendoing buzz of your toy. Your knees jerked, eyes squeezing shut as you got lost in the pleasure your torturer was granting you.

Sukuna merely quirked a single brow, leaning an elbow on his leg as he bent forward. "Do you now, doll?" The low baritone of his voice had you keening, your head shaking in a white lie.

"I do. F-fuck. I swear—hah—I swear I do!" You winced as your nails bit into the skin of your palm, your fists as tense as the muscles of your thighs. Sukuna's keen eyes watched as the crimson of your blood stain the red silk at your wrists, and his tongue swiped over his lips at the idea of taking your hand in his grasp and...

"Hm... okay then." The remote in his hand clicked, eventually reaching a stage with no change as he wound up the intensity to its max, and he relished in every jerk and twitch of your body as it tried desperately to chase that high he'd been artistically keeping from you.

Predatory eyes glimmered with entertainment as you panted, your voice reaching a high pitch as you moaned for him. As you whined and cried and sobbed. For someone who claimed to feel nothing but hatred for her fiance, you sure had a tendency to keep the syllables of his name flowing on your tongue.

That incessant buzzing hadn't stopped once in the past many minutes, pulling that fragile string tighter, tighter, and fucking tighter.

You'd survived the past two and a half hours of denial, relying on that armor of swears and insults. But it could only handle so much. You could only handle so much.

You realized now that you were laid bare, and the wolf in front of you was drooling at the maw as he took in your naked torso. At the exposed belly of the little rabbit he desired to ravish.

For a second, you froze, taking in your wicked fiancée. The way his irises seemed to glow red, his very presence emanating the sadistic glee at your struggle…

The whites of your eyes showed as you beheld your ravenous predator before you, and then you thrashed. Finally, finally that prey subconscious kicked in. Testing the integrity of the red silk that held you spread wide open for your dashing, torturing hunter, you tried curling in on yourself. Elbows flaring and thighs begging to close to hide your displayed abdomen and chest if only to protect yourself from the beast in front of you.

All the while Sukuna Ryomen's smile grew, showing his fangs and canines as you broke. Shattered.

Into a million pieces he would eagerly clean with his tongue.

"Fuck—Sukuna, please. Please!" Your arms tugged at the rope again, shoulders and triceps sore from the constant state of tension it remained in as tears streaked down the familiar path your cheeks, wetting the dried trail that had been there since the moment you woke up on this bed.

"Oh?" He was everything but shocked, but his chuckle grated against your ears and you sobbed once more, your throat bobbing with the pathetic sounds that followed. "So she finally begs."

You were so close. So damn close to ecstasy that you didn't bristle at his mockery, instead now focusing on switching methods and pleading for mercy.

"I want-" A hiccup, then the shake of your head to move the curl of hair that found its way to your face. "I w-wanna cum. Please, 'Kuna. P-Please!"

His sharp eyes gnawed at you—at the once thick metaphorical rope now grains away from snapping entirely and bringing your unsteady waters to peace.

You welcomed it—craved it. You wanted it gone, that growing itch deep within your core that you were so close to getting rid of. You wanted it gone.

"Beg me more." Each syllable was drawn out, his eloquence leaving no room for misunderstanding as you opened your tear laden eyes and set them upon his grinning expression. Cocky mother fucker.

But you couldn’t argue. It was futile. It always had been. From the second he started this game.

Your body bowed once more as you gave in entirely—a physical representation of how you finally became submissive to your master.

"Please. Please, my love. I'm begging. I—I'll do anything. Anything! If I could j-just—“

“J-just—“ His mocking tone sliced through your pleas. One second he was sitting in that damn chair, and the next he was in front of you. His head tilted, the true essence of the reigning predator he was in that very movement.

His calloused hand grabbed at your jaw, his tight, rough grip keeping your gaze directed up towards him.

"Come now, bambi... you can do better than that." You whimpered when he jerked your face forward. When he bent down until your lips were a mere breath away. "Beg."

You didn't know how to beg more than you already had. You only let out a series of sobs and unintelligible slurred words as he took off that vibrator again, yanking you down to earth.

"Hm." Sukuna watched you with amused scrutiny as you tried finding your way back to shore after being dunked under the ocean surface once again. He couldn't help but let his hand wander, his finger trailing oh so delicately down your neck, from your jaw to the clavicle that jutted out. Round and round your breast until he was cupping it. You could only twitch and whine and moan when he squeezed, his thumb and forefinger pinching against your peaked nipple.

"I shouldn't be giving you anything tonight after the stunt you pulled today." He guided his hand lower and lower, down your curves and your heaving abdomen. "But I can't help that you looked so fucking delectable at that gala tonight. I wanted to drag you to a bathroom and rip your dress to shreds." Your thigh tensed when his palm skimmed up and down the expanse of your skin. Over the ridges of looped silk that dimpled your fat under their tension.

You couldn't help but whimper when he cupped your mound. Neither could you help your embarrassed flush when he pointed out how he barely even touched you and yet his entire palm was covered in your slick and arousal.

Fucking filthy, he said.

All because of you, you couldn't help but respond.

The man who was not a man only hummed in response. His fingers slid between your folds, middle finger catching against your clit before he gave it a swift flick.

"Ngh—"

"Quiet, pet." He gave a light smack, and you jerked against his hold. Against the hold of that damn red silk.

He smacked you again, only to soothe the ache by pressing two, thick digits against your pulsating hole.

"You do not cum until I say so." It wasn't a request. He didn't care if you nodded in submission. Obedience was expected.

Your walls stretched deliciously as he sunk in his middle and ring finger, and you let out a long moan, high pitched and barely audible from hours of use.

Sukuna tched, moving the hand on your jaw to shove the same exact fingers down your throat. "I said be quiet."

You held in your gag at how deep they went. As well as your moan at how deep his other fingers went.

His thrusts were slow. The horrible, terrible man before you making you feel every grind and scissor and push of his two fingers.

Three digits each.

Six in total.

All making your head feel woozy and clouded as if you had taken a sedative.

"Stay with me, little doe."

He picked up the pace, and your lashes fluttered shut. Two tears rolled down your cheeks, released from your lash line the second your lids closed.

Please, please, please let me cum.

How pathetic did you have to be to beg him in your mind if you weren't allowed to do it verbally.

Your fiance seemed to read your thoughts, and a smug smile grew on his face. His fingers fucked into you faster, his palm now grinding against your clit with every shove of his hand into your sweet, begging cunt.

You were close. Oh so fucking close that you couldn't hide your whines anymore. Your internalized begging became verbal once more, even if they were muffled against his fingers pressed down on your tongue.

You opened your eyes to meet his once again, every request and apology written in them like the stars in the night sky.

Close, close. You were so close. Please, please, please, ple—

"Come."

Just like that, you fell limp, the ropes and his grip on your face being the only things holding you up as your vision turned white and your body gave into its carnal desire.

You felt lightning skitter up your spine and along every single bone in your body as you finally caved, orgasming on his relentless fingers.

The still bedroom air was filled with lewd claps of his hand continuing to finger fuck your tight cunt and the stuttered gasps and moans of relief and pleasure and ecstasy.

Finally. Finally.

His hand slowed, and you felt him pulling something out of your walls as he withdrew his hand from your throat.

A strong, albeit wet, palm cupped your cheek, and you stayed leaning against it with your eyes closed, catching your breath.

He let you, waiting as long as you needed to find your bearings before your lashes fluttered open, a tired—yet satisfied—emotion rolling beneath your rich irises.

Sukuna met yours with a cocky—and proud—look of his own. There was a tense moment of silence, before—

"Truly a shame I couldn't properly rip your dress off you tonight."

Your breathy chuckles told him all he needed to know. He'd have another chance, and you'd let him have his fun soon.

Very soon.

dividers from @/cafekitsune

[yanderedrabbles]

Sunk and Gone

Yandere! Gangster x Mafia Boss! Reader

Fluff, needy yandere, age difference, slightly suggestive content

He was just some dumb kid who played with fire.

Before he knew it, he was getting his ass kicked by the real deal, the big time guys.

He dropped your name out of pure desperation. He had no clue who you were really. He just wanted to save his own skin.

He never expected you to actually show up.

In your white tailored suit, you were like some mafioso guardian angel.

You tilted his chin up to face you and he couldn't bear to meet your eyes. You were goddamn terrifying.

"This little punk says he's one of mine?"

You lazily blew your cigar smoke into his face. It was black cherry, high class stuff. He can still remember the taste of it on his tongue, the way it made his whole body tingle.

He thought he was done for. You were probably gonna set your own guys on him for dropping names he had no business knowing.

He never expected you to save him.

His beat down gurus were cussing up a storm, saying he practically maimed one of their guys, he wouldn't even be able to walk for a week.

What bullshit. The most he did was give the guy a shiner before he was getting his own ass kicked.

You smiled at him then, like you knew exactly how much crap they were spewing.

You nodded and your guys threw a fat stack of cash on the table. All 100s. God, there must have been at least 5k just sitting there.

You hauled him to his feet and that's when he realised you were stronger than you looked too.

"Why?"

He barely even managed to ask that.

You were trying to light a new cigar and get back in your fancy car, but your lighter was just throwing up sparks.

He found himself reaching into his pocket and pulling out his shitty gas station lighter. He struck a flame and held it out to you.

You leaned in and caught his eyes for the second time that night. The flame was dancing in your eyes and you looked just like the devil.

He was sunk right then and there and he knew it.

He showed up outside your office everyday, waiting with his lighter clasped in his sweaty palm.

Everyday without fail, you would give him a chance to light one of your smokes for you.

"Don't you got someplace better to be kid?"

"No ma'am."

And he kept doing it, rain or shine or snow. On bad days, he'd bring his umbrella and unfurl it for you before you even stepped out of the car.

"You shouldn't keep hanging around kid. It ain't safe."

"I know ma'am."

He stayed, despite the dirty looks from the gangsters, despite the way they bumped into him hard enough to bruise. He stayed, stubborn as a goddamn mule, until you gave up on getting rid of him.

"I got a job for you kid."

"Anything you ask ma'am."

Oh he was a sucker for you. You had him hook, line and sinker without even trying.

And he worked hard. Running errands and then pushing drugs and then beating down the folks you set him loose on. There weren't any limits anymore, no line he wouldn't cross for you.

After a while, you let him in your guard rotation. And he was in bliss. He watched you constantly.

Hell, he couldn't take his eyes off you even if he wanted to. The capo himself said he was impressed with his diligence.

"Come here kid. You ever had oysters before?'

"No ma'am."

You were in one of your favourite restaurants, finishing up your meal and just drunk enough to have given yourself a pretty flush across your cheeks.

You made him lean toward you and gripped his chin before tilting the oyster into his mouth. It was salty and soft and his mind was going awful dirty awful fast.

After that he would order oysters whenever he could. He could almost feel your fingers on his skin when he ate them.

And soon he was part of your interrogation crew. His shirt sleeves rolled up and his forearms splattered with blood. He was putting on muscle now too and his punch hurt worse than a hammer to the face.

One unlucky son of a bitch made the mistake of insulting you right in front of him. God help him, when the anger cleared, the man's face was nothing more than pulp.

And you were watching him. One arm crossed under your breasts with the other balanced on it, a cigarette held up to your lips.

"You're a real good guard dog, you know that kid?"

"Thank you ma'am."

The next time you summoned him, you were in your office. Your heels were off and your legs were crossed, your stockings showing off the curves of your feet.

"Grab that pen for me."

It was on the floor under a side table and he had to get down on his knees to get it. When he moved to stand, you interrupted him.

"Don't get up. But bring it here."

"Yes ma'am."

He was grinning like a dog in heat. He put the pen in between his teeth and crawled on his hands and knees to you.

He sat at your feet like a goddamn puppy, his boner so fucking hard he thought it would rip through his trousers.

You cupped his chin in your palm and looked down at him. From down here, your legs looked a mile long and he wanted to lick every inch.

"You're such a loyal little thing, you know that?"

"Ysss mmm."

It was muffled because he still had that fucking pen in his mouth. And he was damn thankful for it too. Without something to bite onto, he was sure he'd actually be panting.

You took it carefully out of his mouth. A string of saliva followed it and you twitched your thumb across his lips to break the connection.

"Good boy."

You turned away from him, shaking the pen off a little and getting back to the books you were balancing.

He whimpered.

He actually fucking whimpered.

You smirked a little at that and shooed him away with one perfectly manicured hand. He dragged his feet walking out of there, his boner killing all higher thinking. Just hoping and praying you would call him back.

He turned to look at you before he closed the door. You had your face resting in one hand and you were tapping the pen against your lips with the other. Your eyes were entirely focused on your books.

And he felt it all over again. He was sunk - hook, line and sinker.

He was your loyal dog. Now and always.

[thinkinonsense]

DESIRE ୨୧

logan howlett x mutant!reader

cw: flirty, slightly nsfw

a/n: this was heavily inspired by that scene in the first suicide squad movie where they introduce harley quinn.

"we should all split up before someone finds us." storm tells her team mates as the break into the building.

inside were mutants of all kinds, being hidden and tested on. it was charles plan for the team to get as many as possible and bring them back to the mansion before they can cause any damage.

on the surface, it seemed simple enough. they have done this mission a million times. little did they know that an unspeakable danger awaited them in the basement of the old building.

everyone split up, storm went to the west wing while scott and jean went to the east. logan found his way downstairs, assuming that maybe he could find whoever was running the show here.

beyond the high security metal doors, he can hear the faint sound of an old record playing. the closer he got, the clearer it sounded. nancy sinatra? maybe? logan wasn't quite sure but he figured it was a trap so, he prepared himself for whatever was on the other side.

Way down along the stream

How sweet it will seem

Once more just to dream

In the moonlight

My honey, I know (I know) with the dawn

That you will be gone

But tonight

You belong to me

revealed on the other side is a large metal cage fit for a wild animal. inside was a girl swinging upside down from a line of tied material with her body in an obscene position.

"i've told you before, david..." your voice was angelic to logan's ears. light as a feather. "i don't like to be disturbed after 7."

"i'm not david, princess." logan said, stepping out of the shadows right as your eyes open.

logan's eyes scan over your scandalous appearance. tiny dirty white shorts and matching tight tank top, apparently whoever runs this prison doesn't allow bras either. you twirl down from near the top of the cage until your face to face with the man on the other side.

"who are you, then?" you ask, looking up at him as you hold onto the bars.

"i'm here to get you out of this cage." he says, unleashing his claws, ready to cut through the bars.

"hold it, baby." you purr, reaching out to touch his sharp claws. "don't you wanna play with me?"

"no, we need to leave."

"why should i leave with you? how do i know that you won't put me in another cage?"

even with a slightly dirty face, rings of lavender circles under your eyes, and dried blood on the corner of your bottom lip, logan still thought you were gorgeous. slightly intimidated by your fearlessness to reach out and touch his claws. he imagines that you had seen worse than this.

"tryin' to save you" he grunts.

"i wouldn't picture you as the prince charming type." you giggle, running your fingers up his hairy, veiny, strong arm over the black latex suit.

"i'm not."

logan glares down at you in a way that makes you want to jump his bones. what? it gets lonely being trapped in a cage all by yourself. plus it's not everyday that a handsome stranger wants to help you escape.

suddenly, you grab logan's palm, circling it as your eyes roll back to a dark green shade.

"tell me what you want to do with me." you demand.

this was the moment logan understood why you were held in a cage down in the basement. suddenly, logan's mind feels as if it's being bended and twisting, forcing every ounce of truth out of him.

"we are here to take the mutants to charles xavier's school for gifted youngsters." his voice sounded robotic under your spell.

"charles xavier?"

in a rush of excitement, you release logan from your threshold. he wants to bark at you for invading his mind but seeing you smile made him reconsider.

"so, you've heard of him?" logan raises a brow at you, watching as you hold his hand sweetly.

"of course i have." you answer tracing shapes on the back of his palm. "i've seen him in my visions. been waitin' on him."

visions? what kind of mutant are you? logan asked himself as you spoke.

"too bad i didn't see you in them, though." you sigh, batting your long lashes at him. "wish i had. could've bought us some time to... well, you know."

the teasing flirty tone made logan's cock stir under the tight latex. he felt this overwhelming desire for you fill his head.

"hm... we should focus on getting you out of here first, huh, princess?" he tilts his head to the side, amused by you. "step back."

you obey, walking backwards near your rope. in the blink of an eye, logan cuts through the bars and bends them out enough for him to help you get out. loud flashing sirens go off, slightly startling the two of you.

"guards." you warn him. "they're coming."

logan turns around, claws bare to anyone coming towards the two of you. he steps in front of you, ready to protect like a guard dog. it was quite cute of him, you think. the moment the guards burst in, logan starts attacking, stabbing them ruthlessly.

you allow him to take out a few one by one but as more poured in, you stepped in. your eyes roll back into the same shade of green as a hand raises, some of them fall to their hand and knees, shifting into dogs others were being strangled until they looked blue in the face.

logan couldn't believe it. the only mutant that he thought could rivaled your powers was jean. the room fell quiet except for the record echoing as it replayed.

"it's my favorite song, you know?" you grin as if nothing happened.

"old soul, huh?" logan asked with an eyebrow raised.

"witches are timeless, sugar." you wink, extending your hand for him to take.

logan hesitates but knows he has to get the two of you out of here alive. one look into your starry eyes and he's a goner. logan takes your hand and leads you to the jet, knowing he will never hear the end of it from his teammates.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Multiverse Police (pt. 2)

"You said you're going to ask questions, then can we ask questions?" Superman really tries to be polite here because, first, he was raised by Kents and, second, Jazz and the whole interdimensional police thing looks non-hostile. At least now.

The redhead nods, "Sure, ask away, I'll answer everything I can." Then, she notices Batman reaching to touch the green shield and makes a soft, warning noise, "Ah, sorry, please don't touch it. I can show how it works later, but it's not meant to keep you out. It's to keep everything else in."

Batman reluctantly puts his head down and turns to her.

"Elaborate."

The sci-fi ship in the air makes a loud hissing sound, like compressed air being released, and the bottom part of it slides open. Jazz nods in the direction of the now open ship.

"You know what they say, it's better to see it once than to hear it ten times."

There are three humanoid figures standing in there. All of them are mostly monochrome, black and white clothes, starkling white hair. They look like one adult and two children, but it's one of the kids who raises his hands to his mouth and yells so loud everyone in three miles radius is able to hear him:

"Step away from the shield, please, shit's about to get real!"

None of the heroes move, but Jazz does take a few steps away. Wonder Woman, after a moment of hesitation, follows her example.

A mechanical voice comes from the ship itself, "Countdown to the breach. Five... Four..."

On 'three,' all three of the monochrome figures step out from the ship. But, before any of the heroes have time to worry, they all float in the air, undeterred by gravity, and the ship door closes behind them.

The countdown reaches 'one'. And in the next moment, it looks like the hell breaks loose.

Countless giant vines shoot out from the portal up, reaching for the ship. True to what the red hoverboarder said, they are very much toothy, every vine splitting in two and attempting to bite the ship like some twisted idea of scissors.

None of them reach it.

The oldest of three kids claps his hands, and a wall of raging fire descends on the vines, throwing them off. In the next moment, the trio falls apart, flying through the lovecraftian mess of carnivorous plants with practiced ease, the younger ones using what looks like icicles and little storms.

"Who are they?" Batman asks Jazz, following the youngest one's - the only girl among the three - movements as she creates a strong gust of wind with a wave of her hand. None of the vines or attacks get past the shield, though.

"My siblings," the girl answers, pointing her hand at the oldest one, "That's Dan. He's the most violent. One time, he destroyed our original world, but that timeline doesn't exist anymore." She then points to the girl, "That's Dani, the youngest. She rarely joins the crew lately. And she is actually a clone, but at this point, most of us have been cloned once or twice, so it's not a big deal anymore." She then points her finger to the last one, a boy that flies past them quicker than a lightning, freezing everything he touches, "And this is Danny. He is the most powerful one. Technically, he could have just ended the fight with one Wail, but kids like to have fun. Also, they don't get to show off their elemental powers a lot, so they are mostly being dramatic for you."

She says all this so easily, just like a matter of fact, and it is at this moment that the members of JL realize the sheer power of whoever these people are. When she casually told them she bested Superman, it could have been written as a coincidence, a joke. But this?

Dan growls as one of the vines scratches his shoulder. He bleeds green, but it's only for a second before both the wound and the suit knit themselves back together. This is not just a simple accelerated healing, it almost looks like a miracle.

"Oi, brats, I'm done with show off, get out of the way!" He yells at the other two, and Danny and Dani quickly follow the order, flying closer to him and behind his back.

"Cover your ears," Jazz tells the heroes around her, and puts her helmet back on, as Dan takes a deep breath and screams.

It hurts even those who follow Jazz's advice. Batman feels like his eardrums are about to be shattered for the lack of better word. But the vines like the sonic attack even less - most of them subdue and pull back inside the portal, and the rest is dissipating like they are being burned from the inside out.

And then, just like it began, the scream - the wail - stops. The silence feels deafening after the end of it, but slowly, the sounds return, and the JL watches Danny flying down to the center of the portal. He puts his hands on the surface of it, and for a long moment, nothing happens.

And then the Pit starts closing up.

Or, no, it is Danny who absorbs it, the green flowing up through his hands, his veins that start glowing the same green. His eyes become the same toxic color, with no whites and no irises, just glowing green all over, and his hair shimmers like stars.

A few minutes later, the portal is gone, like it never even existed, and Danny plants his feet on the ground and stretches, like one would do after a good rest.

"Oof, that was nice!" He turns to the other two, who are still up in the air, "Do you want some?"

Dan flips him off before going back to the ship, but Dani floats down to him and extends her hands out.

"Sure. I like getting it from you better than from the portal itself anyway. Gives it a sparkling taste, like Sprite," she chuckles. Danny takes her hands in his, and the green glow slowly makes its way through their joined palms, now flowing through the girl’s body.

"What are they?" Flash whispers, horrified, but Jazz hears it nonetheless and turns her head to him, taking her helmet off once again.

"That is not a very appropriate question," she chastises and smiles at their faces, "But it's okay, I get it. They are ghosts. Or ectoplasmic entities, or halfas, or highly liminal beings. Or, if you want a very simplified version, they are dead kids who are enjoying their afterlife a little too much."

"Dead?" Batman zeros on the word, snapping his eyes at the girl. She smiles, and for the first time, it doesn't look human. Her teeth are too sharp, her grin too wide, and her eyes are suddenly not just teal, but neon bright and glowing, with vertical irises.

"Most of us are dead in one way or another. And I do not mean it in a metaphorical sense."

-------------------

What I'm thinking is they have a whole system going on. Amity Park generally resides in the Realms, but from time to time, they decide they want to go on a vacation, as a whole town, and they pop into existence on one of the Earths. They don't really care for the universe or dimension they end up in, as long as it is more or less peaceful (as in, no active wars going on right where they pop up), has sunlight and nice weather.

The GIW is taking care of legal things - imagine US government reaction when a whole ass town just boom, starts existing in a place where nothing existed before? So GIW does all the paperwork and discussions. Also, they are doing their basic research on the dimension they end up in, for science purposes.

I'm thinking Vlad is still a mayor of Amity. And sometimes, when a particular dimension is rather annoying, he straight up possesses the authorities because he hates official talks and couldn't care less for morals if he tried for a week. The GIW scolds him, but don't really say no. It's not a good solution to the problem, but hey, it works.

Meanwhile, Fentons are doing ectoplasmic research. They scan the dimension for troubles, basically, looking for natural portals and ghosts causing ruckus. Jazz is almost always the one who does the talking to the heroes native to the dimension - she is the one who has the most patience and social skills. Jack is in charge of transportation and Maddie is the head of biological, ecto-biological and other species research. Tucker is the tech specialist, of course - he is the sole reason why Amity has wi-fi wherever they go. Val and her father are, kind of, protectors? Security? But for the whole town, yeah. They do have GIW agents as subordinates.

Dani is not always living in Amity, she travels the Realms most of the time, but she joins when something interesting happens. Dan is, like, on an eternal probation period, GIW and Fentons keep an eye on him, but he is one of the heavy hitters for when shit goes down.

Danny is living his best life, he is mainly the protector spirit of Amity, but he also gets to protect all the dimensions from ghosts! He helps anyone and everyone - one day he is working with Val on defenses for their main ship they use to travel inside dimensions, and the next day he is joining Maddie in her studies of new species found.

Oh, I forgot Sam. She is probably the one responsible for the magic stuff - mostly everyone else focuses on scientific aspects, but she is the one to research on occult things.

| <- prev | next -> |

[etfrin]

⤷❝The Study | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | riding, toxic relationship, arranged marriage, mentions of cheating (no actual cheating occurs), riding, dom sub undertones, degradation (he calls you a slut once), hair pulling, edging if you squint, crying, pinv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), creampie, dry humping, clothed sex (you were still wearing a dress) | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: A video of you flirting with an elitist goes viral and Snow calls you to his study to confront you about it and it ends up in sexy times ;)

⇢☾A/N: btw for those who doesn't get why Snow asked reader to mark him, it's to show the Capitol that despite rumors, they are actually very close. And uhmm I hope you guys like this!

< masterlist > < bc: @cafekitsune >

< tags: @roryzzz @stelleduarte @strengthandstay @skywalker1dream >

The marriage was a facade, a show for the Capitol that the president didn't stand alone. The people in the manor were the only people who knew how fake the marriage was. Some of the elite of the Capitol could also tell. People can fake everything but not love, never love.

You learned early on Snow wasn't capable of love. A lover wouldn't do half of the atrocities Snow committed as he got to power but he had never done anything to you. You didn't exist for him in the manor and he was always respectful when you were by his side.

It was manageable, the life you had, nobody could mistreat you, not as the First Lady of Panem. However mistreatment and flirting are very different things, and the people of Capitol aren't a stranger to wandering hands and lustful eyes.

You didn't think Coriolanus would mind that you sometimes let the hands linger. That you would bask in the attention you were so deprived of from your husband. You were proven wrong as a video of you and an elitist was going viral all over the Capitol.

You didn't cheat on Snow, but you were too close to the stranger. His hand on your waist and your smile too wide. Cheating or not, it wasn't any less inappropriate.

A remainder by your servant made you walk to the study in which Snow spent most of his time. You were wearing a knee-length white dress, something that clings to your curves. It was a desperate, pathetic attempt to distract Snow. A part of you knew it wouldn't work and would make your mistake more obvious but it was an attempt better than none.

You knocked at the door and you could hear him say come in. So you did. Your hands are behind your back, and your eyes look at the floor like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

“Do you know what you have done?” He asked, you still couldn't look up to meet his gaze. Your fingers fumble behind your back as you bite your inner cheek. You give him a nod.

“And what have you done?” He questioned, his voice like the calm before the storm. “I created unnecessary gossip that isn't good for your reputation,” you mummer.

“What else?” He said, his tone suspicious and waiting for the confirmation. That's when you look up at the most beautiful demon you have ever seen. He looked all glorious with his suit and hair slicked back. “I didn't cheat,” you said, firmly, your eyes fierce and reflecting the truth of your words.

When Snow didn't reply, you insisted again, “I. Didn't. Cheat. It's a line I will never cross, Coriolanus.” Again, he didn't say anything, instead, his gaze went up and down your body, his expression unreadable. You flushed from his stare, not sure if wearing this dress was the right move after all. The man had always surrounded himself with those stupid white roses and this was the symbol that you had noticed.

“Come and sit.” You begin to walk towards the chair only to be interrupted by his words, “No, not there, in my lap.” You freeze from his words, but your brain tells you to obey his every word.

You make your way to him, your heels clicking against the marble floor. Your hands are sweaty and your heart is in your throat. You reach him before you straddle him without a word being uttered. Your dress hitching up to your thighs. Your hands around his shoulders as you wait for further instructions from your husband.

“What do you think we should do to make the rumors go away?” He asked, his voice deep and so seductive. You weren't even sure he realized the effect his voice had on you. You let out a small gasp when his hands held your hips, cementing your place in his lap.

His hands were warm and perhaps maybe it was biased but you thought they would be ice cold. Instead, his palm laminated heat against the thin fiber of your dress making your skin warm. Your former flush turns into a deeper shade of red.

“We could…” you couldn't focus, how could you when he was touching you like this? When he was so close. He was never this close to you before. Ever. His touch reminded you of the fact that despite everything he is a man and your husband at that. A demon in human flesh.

“We could do more PR,” you mumbled. He raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. “I mean if we do it right, I am sure it will work,” you fumbled. He gives you a nod.

“Take off my shirt,” he demanded. Your eyes widen and you hesitate. “Do it or I’ll make you.” he threatened and you know not to take his words lightly. With shaky fingers, you unbutton his shirt. The process was slow, meticulously slow. His toned physique comes into complete view, making your breath hitch. Fuck, he was a Greek God of tragedy and sin.

“Mark me up,” he said, his tone emotionless. “What?” you questioned, surprised. “You think you’re acting innocent?” he sneered, “You heard what I said, my wife. It's because of your suggestion. Mark. Me. Up.”

You swallow down your nervousness and bring your lips forward to his cheek. You pressed a soft kiss there and felt him tense underneath you. You drag your lips to his jaw and nip the skin, the tip of your tongue soothing the small teeth mark as he lets out a grunt. It was music to you. A masterpiece of symphony and you needed more, so much more. Snow had you deprived for months and it's time to take.

Your lips continue to nip at his jaw, placing sloppy wet kisses as his breaths get heavy. You moved down to his neck, a moan leaving your lips as you attacked his skin with your teeth. Sucking onto his pulse point and moaning when the salty taste of his skin hits your taste buds. Your hand goes to his neck, tilting his head to give you more access. All the while he lets out quite controlled sounds. You licked his Adam's apple before wrapping your mouth around it to suck a purple bruise. Marking him up just as he wanted.

His hand on your waist gave you a firm squeeze which made you bite harder and made him hiss. You lean back panting, as you admire your artwork of teeth marks and red love bites. You pressed down into him and moaned as his hard bulge pressed right against your clothed cunt. Your panties were soaked by now. “Snow,” you whimper.

“Corio, call me Corio” he whispered. His eyes briefly turned to a white bouquet of roses before he met your gaze. You didn't think much of it and whispered, “Corio.”

“Corio,” you tried the name again on your tongue and watched his eyes darken. You leaned in, your lips brushing against his. “Let me kiss you. Let me make you my husband, please,” you whispered.

You waited for a verbal answer but all you got was another squeeze on your waist. You were desperate enough to take what you could get. You started by grinding against his bulge. The juices that made your panties soaked are now ruining his pants.

You let out a breathless moan as you gained delicious friction against your pussy but it wasn't enough. There's no hell and heaven for which this would be enough. You crashed your lips to his. The kiss was all carnage and desire. Uncoordinated, something so unlike Snow Corio that it made you moan into his mouth. Your hands are in his hair, pulling him closer. Your lips glide against each other perfectly. His tongue took over your mouth, not leaving any place unexplored, untouched by him.

You break the kiss with a gasp. Your hand going towards his pants to unzip. The motion stopped as Corio held your wrist and you looked up at him. “You’re my wife, you're my right,” he said, “but do you deserve it?”

It was more than a question, it was a promise waiting to be made, a bond waiting to be sealed. “I…” you begin to speak, you meet his eyes, sea blue you wanted to drown in, “Never again, Sn- Corio. Never again.” “Please,” you added for extra measure. You had his taste already, no one else could ever compare. He had to know that too because he gave you a sharp nod.

You get up from his lap, taking off your panties first, not bothering with the dress. You knew he liked it now, more than you thought so he would. You find your rightful place in his lap again, his pants and boxers past his knees.

His cock was hard and twitching, the length had an angry tip with its slit profusely leaking pre-cum. It looked painful and it was because of you. You. You wondered if you had power over him now for a brief second but you shake your head clear of these thoughts.

Instead, you catch his lips again, the kiss slower this time. You raise yourself a bit so his cock can align itself to your entrance. Your dress is raised to help you. Even if his cock was on the girthy side with veins on the underside of his cock. You knew your pussy would stretch around him, that your walls would be a splendid fit around his length. You were too impatient for any sort of foreplay, you wanted the stretch, you wanted him to make you dizzy with his cock splitting you apart.

You let out a whimper as you began to sink onto his cock, your eyes flicked to him and his eyes were zeroed down to the place you both were connected now. His hands are on either side of your hip, guiding you down on his length. It was after his cock was fully stuffed in you, that his self-control allowed him to let out a groan.

“I respected you like a lady but sluts don't deserve respect,” he said, his lips parted as he let out a heavy pant. You let out a whimper, your mind hazy as your cunt tries to get used to his length. “I.. am sorry,” you whine, how many times do you need to repeat? When will he be satisfied with your apology?

“Prove it,” he said with a smirk, “Prove that you deserve to be my wife and the First Lady of Panem.”

You follow Corios’ command. Your hands are on his shoulders to support yourself. Your fingers fist his shirt as you begin to ride him. Raising yourself a few inches before slamming down on his cock with a loud moan escaping your lips. He reached the deepest spot inside of you like this. His cockhead grazing your spongy spot as you fucking yourself on his cock. Your arousal and his pre-cum being smeared all over your thighs.

The sight made his breath hitch, something you didn't notice as you were too busy with your eyes closed and taking his cock like a good wife. You looked completely debauched like this, your hair wild, your lips red and swollen, your hands digging into his shoulder. Your nipples are hard and obvious through the white dress.

He wasn't supposed to lose control, this was happening for a reason. No matter how many deem him God or devil in the end he was a man. And no man is perfect. He pulled you closer to him. One of his hands is on your back, pressing you to him. Another of his hands in your hair, tugging the strands without a care about how rough he is being. It makes you moan, your head on his chest now. His hips raise upwards to fuck you as he now lets out more vocal sounds of enjoyment.

His pace was slower than yours. Each thrust of his was made for his indulgence in your velvet walls. The drag of his cock was perfect, his speed however was making you feel insane. You needed him, faster, harder. Used would be a much more correct term. You wanted to be used by your husband. And right now, you were but it wasn't enough.

You let out mewls and whines to make him break his languid pace but Corio gives you no mind. His fingers interlanged in your locks, his hand still pressing you in and his strength made it so you couldn't take control. He was drunk in the pleasure your pussy gave, his head resting on his headrest, his lips parted to let out a grunt with every thrust.

You weren't a person for him, not right now, a fleshlight perhaps. It didn't matter what you felt, it mattered what Snow felt. Snow felt amazing, he felt stupid for denying himself this for months on end. He would never make the same mistake again.

Time passes and you don't know how long Corio has you like this, your nerves raw as your pussy impossibly sensitive. Tears were falling from your eyes and staining his shirt but moans slipped your lips every time he pushed in again.

“Corio, please,” you try to plead, raising your head to look at him. “Please, please can't anymore.” He turns his head to you, his fingers that you seemed to have forgotten were in your hair tugging your strands roughly.

That was it. You gasp out as the pain becomes a trigger to make you cum on his cock, your pussy tightening around his cock like a vice as the orgasm washes over your body. It was intense and you had snapped. “Sorry! Sorry!” You begin to sob, “I won't ever look at a man that's not you! Sn- Corio please!”

His languid thrust had sped up, his arms caging you to his chest. The last thing you heard before he spilled his seed inside of you was, “Snow lands on top.”

[eeboyysworld]

Genre: smut

Storm shadow X Male!reader

Contains/Warnings: corruption kink , public sex , cream pies, anal sex , coming untouched, uniform kink. Vry short❕

‘This suit is uncomfortable..’ sighing, rolling your neck, satisfied as you crack it.Papers scattered across the desk, pens and pencil out of ink and dull to the tip.

Rubbing the sleep out your eyes, fixing posture, ready to tap away as the computer screen shined along your face.

Few minutes in, close to finish this report your superior needed, a hand slapped your back, flinching, preparing for the worst as you swing the chair backwards, ready to catch whoever was messing with you.

“Relax.. it’s just me!” Sizing the man you called your boyfriend , who was nested in a bright white suit , new scratches littering his face, grin plastered on his mouth.

‘Looking handsome.’ you didn’t admit that out loud , instead ,standing up and questioning him. “ Shouldn’t you be working?” No response. With all the stress you were put under and having no way to release it from the amount of paper work you had, it ticked you off that he didn’t say anything.

Turning around , ready to throw fury for no reasons, you were met with the other’s face, inches away from yours. “Your ass looks great in those pants.” Wow.

Barely pressing his lips against yours, whispering into you, “ I need you right now..” gripping your hand, slowly bringing it down to his closed crotch, feeling his hard on. “ Look what you do to me baby..” quiet groans left his mouth, forcing your hand to grope onto him.

“It’s only right you help me fix it.” Unsure, as you guys were in a very public place, biting down your lip, face flushed from his eyes lingering on you. “I-i.. there’s p-people here!” Your own eyes flickering across the room to watch out for anyone who may walk in.

A forceful hand gripped your jaw , making you look into the other’s eyes.” People won’t come in-“ the warmth of his hands left momentarily before they were on you again , switching from your jaw to your thighs, pushing you on-top the cluttered desk.

“If they do.. I might let them watch..” shaking your head rapidly, shame filling you up, “I’ll make you feel good.. you know that right?” It wasn’t a question, at the end of the day you were a mess under the man as he loved every inch of your body.

Nodding, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.His hands rubbing down your back, “Words, please?”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you found yourself on your stomach, feet on the ground , pants messily pooled around your ankles. No prep, no nothing, the man leaving marks on your neck , murmuring ‘sorry,’ ‘he couldn’t wait to be inside you’

The stretch hurt, the pain as soon as it was there was gone, the burning sensation brought tears to your eyes. But it felt so good.

Setting a Brutal pace, this is what you get for dating a ninja. Hands searching for anything to hold on to, arching for more access , pleads spilling out your lips.

Hitting the right spot , the ache between your legs bobbing up and down from impact.

Biting down your hand , muffling any noise escaping you, leaving teeth marks behind, worried that anyone could see you two.

A slap bounced off the walls, the rough hand hitting back and forth, red imprints left behind , “f-fuck!”

Sweat dripped down your temple, extra hot as your dress shirt was still on, barely hanging on a thread. Hips rocking into you, dick leaking beneath you , tip a soft hue of red as it was left unattended.

“That suit , l..looked so good on you,” finding your hips bringing you up and down,” hugged all your curves.”

Whimpering, his heat twitching inside you, your own flopping around, it was enough to make you release onto your own desk.

No warning, only the mutters of nonsense leaving the other’s mouth , thrusts becoming sloppier, before liquid filled you to the brim, dripping down , the sound filled your ears as he slowly pulled out.

Pulling your pants back up, helping you stand up , knees wobbly, fixing your disheveled hair , kissing the tear stains away. “ You look so beautiful..” rolling your eyes,”You’re saying that after I’m fucked out?” Playfully pouting.

No response as his soft lips clashed into yours, tongues slipping past. Lasting for a minute before you pulled away , knowing you guys had work to attend and couldn’t get carried away again.

What your coworkers didn’t know , was that you guys were one freaky ass couple.

As you squirm in your seat.Not only the suit pants bugging you, cream spilling out your hole, left to stick to you. Reminding you off what happened not too long ago.

A/N: short but i wanna post something today 🤗

[witchywithwhiskey]

Hey, hehe. Flipped the coin to decide a character and it’s Ari, with bite me, please?🥺🥺

bite me, baby

pairing: ceo!ari levinson x female reader

summary: when your nightmare of a boss, the ceo of the company, insults your valentine's day plans, you're so fed up that you quit. and he has a reaction that you did not anticipate even a little bit.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cock warming, pool sex, biting/marking, edging via sensual massage (ari puts sunscreen on reader—never forget your sunscreen, friends!!), prone bone, some brattiness, light bd/sm, light power play dynamics, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (baby), aftercare, references to marathon sex, reader has a cat (idk if this needs to be a warning but just fyi!), enemies to lovers with a happy ending

word count: 6.0k

a/n: i love a coin flip because i hate making decisions 🤭 i'm so glad it landed on ari because he, and the "bite me" prompt, inspired this fun and dirty idea that i'm so so so happy with!! (i also think i managed to throw in some of the other stuff you requested because it ended up giving me a lot of inspiration.) thank you for playing my sweethearts game, i hope you enjoy!! ♡♡

sweethearts game masterlist

That was it. You had had enough of Ari Levinson. 

In fact, after months of working for the CEO, you’d had more than enough of the infuriatingly arrogant, wildly inconsiderate, exasperatingly entitled and frustratingly handsome man. 

Wait, no, forget that last one. Ari was the worst man you’d ever met—and you’d met plenty of awful men in your line of work as an executive assistant to high-ranking executives—so he certainly was not also the most attractive man you’d ever met. Absolutely not. 

You’d worked for Ari Levinson for a little less than a year, and even though you were one of the best damn EAs in all of New York City, he’d already driven you to fantasizing about quitting multiple times a day. It wasn’t a good sign that you also liked to imagine kicking him in the shin before storming out in all your righteous glory.

The problem wasn’t that Ari Levinson was a demanding and exacting boss. He was a CEO, after all, and most executives held their employees to incredibly high standards. No, the real problem was that Ari was prone to seemingly impulsive whims, which always made your already difficult job nearly impossible.

More times than you could count, you’d had to reschedule meetings with titans of the industry and heads of state, all because Ari had forgotten to tell you he’d gone to play pickleball. Or you’d had to completely rebook a board meeting because Ari had decided to take a spontaneous trip to Costa Rica or the Seychelles or some other warm and sunny place while winter ravaged the city.

The worst part about those trips in particular was that you were still expected to commute into the office. So while Ari was off enjoying a white sand beach and crystal blue ocean, soaking up the sun that would undoubtedly bring out the blond highlights in his perfectly shaggy brown hair and deepen his glorious golden tan, you would be bundled up in a ridiculous amount of layers and braving the subway in the city. 

When Ari was gone, you would spend most of your day sitting at your desk alone on the top floor the company’s building, twiddling your thumbs outside Ari’s empty office. Inevitably, your mind always strayed to Ari and began to wonder what he was doing at that very moment.

Since the CEO had you working 60-hour weeks, and you spent most of those hours by his side, you could very easily picture him standing on a beach. He’d be wearing a rakish smile on his bearded face, the clear blue of the ocean making the bright sapphire of his eyes pop while the shining sun would highlight the mischievous look that was, more often than not, sparkling in the depth of his gaze. 

You’d never seen Ari shirtless—only ever having seen him in the tailored suits he wore to the office—but you’d caught glimpses of dark hair on his chest on the late nights when he’d undone the top buttons of his shirt. You could just imagine how his broad shoulders would frame his barrel chest, dark hair dusting so much of his bare skin that would be on display, with a pair of shorts riding indecently low on his hips.

And if you let your mind wander further down that path, you began to wonder if Ari ever swam naked in the shimmering waters of the tropics. You wondered if he floated on his back, basking in the sun with his entire body bare, looking even more like the golden god you thought he resembled…

With a forceful shake of your head, you made yourself stop thinking about Ari swimming naked, and refocused on the present moment. 

You stood in Ari’s office, your back straight as a knife’s edge while you typed notes furiously into your phone about everything you’d have to reschedule to accommodate the last-minute, week-long trip to Belize he’d informed you he was taking. 

You’d bitten back a sigh, like the polite little EA you prided yourself on being, and tried to get more details from him about his availability while he was away. But instead of answering your extremely relevant questions, Ari had changed the subject and asked about your Valentine’s Day plans.

The words had taken you by so much surprise, you’d had to pause your typing and blink a few times before your mind could process them. It wasn’t until Ari had voiced the question that you even realized the holiday had snuck up on you. 

Not that it mattered, it wasn’t like you were seeing anyone, so you had no romantic partner to spend it with. As such, you’d given Ari a bland answer about catching up on the new season of The Traitors with a bottle of rosé and Freddie.

You didn’t expect Ari to remember that Freddie was your cat, and not a partner—though Freddie was, admittedly, your closest companion since you lived alone in a very nice one-bedroom apartment and had little time for other friends. 

You’d hoped Ari would’ve forgotten about Freddie and assumed you were just having a lowkey Valentine’s Day, thereby getting the hint to drop the subject. You’d wanted to refocus him on answering the questions you’d asked about his trip. 

But you’d had no such luck and, for the second time in five minutes, Ari had surprised you—and not in a good way. 

The CEO had scoffed at your Valentine’s Day plans, rolling his gorgeous blue eyes in a way that made you grind your molars in an effort not to snarl at him. He’d said you could find better company for the evening than a cheap bottle of wine, some trashy television and a flea-ridden furball. 

That last comment had been the final straw. The one that broke the proverbial camel’s back. 

You’d felt something inside you snap, and you realized you’d had enough of Ari Levinson. 

It was bad enough that Ari was the worst, most difficult and flighty boss you’d ever had, but you drew the line at anyone insulting Freddie. He was your precious little man, the one who greeted you every night with sweet chirps and warm affection when you got home to your otherwise empty apartment. 

You loved him more than anything else in the world, and had even used a good chunk of the generous salary you made working for Ari to splurge on a place with lots of natural light so Freddie could bask in the sun to his heart’s content. So you would absolutely not stand by and listen to Ari insult Freddie. 

“You know what, bite me, Levinson,” you hissed at the infuriatingly arrogant CEO, using a voice so filled with fury, you barely recognized it as your own. “I quit.”

You took a second to savor the slightly stunned look on Ari’s face—his normally sparkling blue eyes dulled with confusion and his perfectly plump lips, offset by his dark, well-groomed beard, parted in surprise like you’d slapped him—then you whirled around on your heel. 

You were determined to stalk out of the CEO’s office with your head held high, but Ari had other ideas.

Quick as lightning, Ari’s hand shot out and wrapped around the back of your neck. His grip was surprisingly gentle, even if it was still firm enough to spin you back around and reel you in until your body nearly collided with his broad chest. 

The astonished look on Ari’s face had already been replaced by a devastatingly arrogant grin, his bright blue eyes sparkling like the sun glinting off the ocean, a wicked kind of mischief in their depths. He held you close, so close that you had to tip your head back to look into his eyes.

Your hands had come up to brace against Ari’s chest when he’d tugged you into the cage of his arms, and you could tell, even through the thick wool coat he wore over his suit, that he was sturdy beneath his clothes. 

The only thing stopping you from trying to push him away was the sneaking suspicion that he was strong enough not to allow you to put any space between your bodies if he didn’t want it. If you did try to fight and he didn’t give you an inch, you knew it would turn you on more than his manhandling already had, and you couldn’t deal with that just yet.

So instead of fighting him, you stood there, letting Ari tower over you while your hands rested uselessly against the lapels of his coat, your phone still clutched tightly in your fingers. You tried to keep a glare fixed on your face, showing him all of the ire you felt, and none of the desire that was scorching through your body as you inhaled his warm, spicy scent.

“Bad move, baby,” Ari rumbled, his mouth curving into a wicked smirk that had your betrayer of a heart beating mortifyingly hard in your chest, the warmth between your legs turning into a disloyal dampness. “Now there’s no employee code of conduct stopping me from doing this.”

You didn’t even have a hope of processing Ari’s words before his mouth crashed down on yours.

If you ever thought about it—which you did, an embarrassing amount, in fact, though you’d never in your life admit it to anyone (except maybe Freddie)—you would’ve expected Ari Levinson to be a selfish kisser. You’d expected him to totally lack finesse, to plunge his tongue into your mouth right away and take what he thought he was owed.

But Ari’s kiss wasn’t like that at all.

Sure, there was a barely leashed hunger in the way his mouth worked against yours, like he was holding onto his restraint by the tips of his fingers. But his lips were more coaxing than demanding, his tongue more teasing and playful than plundering as he licked along the seam of your mouth.

Before you knew what was happening, you were falling under the spell of Ari Levinson’s kiss. Your lips were parting of their own accord, and you were letting out a contented little sigh as your body melted into his arms. 

You could taste the smirk on his lips as he readjusted his grip, one of his arms banding around your lower back to hold you securely against his chest while his other hand shifted from the back of your neck to cup your face. He held you exactly where he wanted you while he tempted you into giving yourself completely to him.

Then, Ari deepened the kiss, and you were lost to him. 

He smelled like expensive cologne, rich and spicy, but he tasted like bitter coffee and dark chocolate, and the contrast was driving you wild. You wanted to climb the tall, sturdy CEO like he was a tree, but you settled for curling your fingers around the lapels of his coat and pulling him closer, sucking on the tongue he’d slipped into your mouth and reveling in his groan of pleasure.

You could already feel the evidence of his arousal pressing into your stomach, and you desperately wanted to feel his bulge move lower, shoving between your thighs while Ari spread your legs wide open—preferably with no layers of clothing between your bodies. You wanted him to sink into your wet heat and pound into you until you forgot everything except his name.

But you wouldn’t beg Ari Levinson to fuck you. You refused to stoop to that level. 

Instead, you pressed your body more firmly against his hardness, nipping at his plump lower lip and stirring a low growl in his chest. Then you sucked on his lip hard enough that his arms crushed you to his chest, his hips thrusting instinctively against your soft curves and making you smirk against his mouth.

“Come to Belize with me,” Ari murmured when he’d pulled his lips from yours to press kisses to your cheek and jaw and neck. He kissed you anywhere he could reach without straying too far from your mouth, which he devoured with a hunger that had a pulsing need throbbing between your thighs. “Come with me, baby, and we can continue this for the whole week.”

A scornful laugh, light and frothy as the waves crashing on the shore, bubbled from your lips and you tipped your head back. Ari took the movement as permission to brush even more kisses to the underside of your jaw, a shiver racing down your spine when the softness of his mouth contrasted with the rasp of his beard.

But, though a part of you wanted to get even more lost in Ari Levinson and take him up on his request, you couldn’t forget everything he’d done and said. You certainly wouldn’t forget the slight against Freddie.

“Why on earth would I go anywhere with you?” you asked, your voice so breathy, it almost sounded like you were flirting with the arrogant CEO instead of scoffing at his offer. “I just quit, remember?”

“I remember,” Ari muttered into the fluttering pulse beneath your jaw. He kissed his way back to your mouth and licked inside, making you melt even further in his arms. 

By that point, your legs were so weak, you were certain Ari’s strong arms were the only thing holding you up. But if he’d been trying to persuade you with pure lust into relenting and giving in to his invitation, he must’ve realized quickly it would take more to sweep you off your feet.

“Let me put it this way—come to Belize with me and I’ll tell HR I fired you so you get your full severance package,” he rumbled in your ear, nipping at the lobe and dragging a reluctant gasp from your lips. “Otherwise you get nothing.”

Somewhere, in the deep recesses of your rational mind, you knew you should bristle at Ari’s threat. After all, he was toying with your financial future like it was nothing but a tool in his negotiation arsenal to get what he wanted. 

Except…you had been the one to quit without thinking about what it meant for your ability to pay rent and keep a roof over Freddie’s head. Ari wasn’t threatening to take away your severance, you’d thrown that away all on your own. Instead, he was offering to give it to you in exchange for a week-long vacation to one of the most beautiful places in the world. 

Later, you could chalk up your questionable decision-making to the drugging effect Ari’s mouth had on your body and mind, but in the moment, you were hard-pressed to remember why you shouldn’t go with him to Belize. Especially when your body seemed unwilling to do anything except press further into him, begging him without words for more.

You realized belatedly that you’d already made up your mind, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell the exasperating CEO just yet. So you slid a hand from the lapel of Ari’s jacket into his soft, brown hair, your fingers curling selfishly in the strands while you pulled his mouth back to yours. You shared a slow, decadent kiss that almost made you forget the conversation you’d been having.

“They’ll believe that?” you asked on a gasp, breaking away from Ari’s devastatingly perfect mouth to suck in the air your lungs were begging for. 

You pulled back enough to look up into Ari’s handsome face, finding him smirking knowingly down at you, and you realized he knew you’d already decided to go with him. You were prepared to seethe in fury and snap at him, but something in his expression made you pause—there was a hint of affection in his crystal blue eyes that you’d never seen before, and it rendered you speechless.

“Baby, I sign their paychecks,” Ari said, stroking a finger tenderly down your cheek, his words reminding you of the conversation you were still in the middle of. “They’ll believe what I tell them to believe.”

A derisive scoff burst from your lips as you rolled your eyes at the arrogance of Ari’s statement, but you held your tongue. You’d known the man long enough that there was no point in arguing with him, so you changed the subject to something that mattered more to you anyway.

“I’m still furious with you for what you said about my Valentine’s Day plans—and Freddie,” you said, giving Ari your best, most withering glare.

Unfortunately, you suspected it wasn’t all that scary, at least not to the CEO who still held you in his arms, because Ari just chuckled and ducked down to press a kiss to your lips. His laughter flickered teasingly into your mouth, making the warmth of desire bloom even more hotly in your body.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” Ari vowed before kissing you again, though it didn’t last long as his mouth tipped up into a smirk. “You’re going to enjoy Belize, baby.”

The sun that shone on Belize was better than the sun above New York City, you were convinced of it. If anyone tried to tell you that was simply because Belize was closer to the equator and it was February, you wouldn’t hear it. The sun was better in Belize.

It fell across your bare shoulders like the softest and comfiest of blankets, warming you down to the bones that you would’ve sworn had been permanently frozen by the city’s frigid winter. But even with the sun beating down on your body, you never got overheated thanks to the gentle breeze coming in off the water of the near-distant ocean, caressing your skin like a lover. 

For the millionth time since you’d arrived in Belize, you let out a sigh of contentment and reveled in the bright sunshine and the smell of salt on the air. The lapping of the waves was a constant soundtrack, lulling you into a state of near-sleep as you lay out on the deck of the private vacation home your former boss had booked for the week.

And, thanks to the privacy afforded by the high walls on either side of the pool and deck, which overlooked a strip of beach reserved entirely for you and the CEO, you were basking in the sun completely naked. Your body was stretched out on the soft cushion of a sun lounger, laying on your stomach with your arms folded beneath your chin. 

The only thing you wore was a pair pink heart-shaped sunglasses perched on the bridge of your nose, casting the world in shades of bubblegum and taffy while you watched the ocean. It felt deliciously wicked to be laying outside wearing nothing, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you reveled in the feeling of the sun warming your skin—all of your skin. 

The sound of the door to the deck opening and closing pulled you from your reverie, though you didn’t turn to see who it was. There was only one person it could be—Ari Levinson. 

“The beast’s been fed,” Ari said, no small amount of fondness in his tone. His heavy footsteps padded in your direction across the wooden deck, coming to a stop somewhere near the foot of your lounger. 

It surprised no one more than you to learn that Ari’s invitation to go to Belize for the week had included Freddie. The CEO had even accompanied you to your apartment, where he’d helped herd Freddie into his carrier before taking both of you to the airport where he kept his private jet. 

Freddie had been wary of the large intruder in your home, and was taking some time to warm up to Ari. In an effort to endear himself to your precious furball, Ari had insisted on being the one to feed him, which you’d only allowed once your former boss admitted he planned on keeping you in his life long after the trip to Belize ended—and was willing to do anything to make that happen. 

It turned out, Freddie was just as much of a traitor as your heart, because he’d warmed up to Ari just as fast as your the betrayer in your chest had, abandoning their initial hatred of the CEO for something much warmer and more affectionate. 

“I gave him some of that wet food he likes,” Ari went on, finally dragging your attention away from the ocean so you could look up at the man who was quickly becoming your second favorite person in the world—after Freddie, of course. 

You sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of Ari, standing on the deck with his hands propped on his hips, his face tipped up toward the sun and his eyes shaded in dark glasses—all while entirely naked. 

There was so much golden, tanned skin on display, you didn’t know where to look—at the dark hair blanketing his barrel chest, at the gentle taper of his waist and the hair trailing down from his navel, or at the thick cock hanging between his even thicker thighs. 

The two of you had barely made it into the vacation home in Belize and gotten Freddie settled before Ari had been pushing inside your entirely too willing pussy, finally finishing what you’d begun in the CEO’s office in New York. Since then, neither of you had been able to keep your hands to yourselves for longer than a few hours, and you’d learned, intimately, how it felt to have Ari’s cock buried in each one of your holes.

You’d also confessed to Ari, early on in the week, that you’d wondered whether he spent his vacations swimming naked in the ocean. In response, he’d pulled you into the ocean wearing not a stitch of clothing between the two of you; ever since, he’d taken to walking around naked all the time, so you’d done the same. 

Considering all the fucking you were doing, it was way more convenient anyway. 

“I think it’s about time you put on more sunscreen, isn’t it, baby?” Ari asked, dragging your focus back to the moment.  

His tone had dropped a little lower in that way that made your belly swoop and dampness begin to gather between your thighs. Your body warmed as arousal settled heavily in your center, your legs falling open just a tiny bit, as if the infuriating CEO had trained you to react instinctively to the barest hint of desire in his tone after just a few days.

Still, though your body might betray what you desperately wanted from Ari, you weren’t going to make it so easy for him. 

You tipped your head up toward him, finding he’d pulled off his sunglasses and dropped them on the lounger beside yours, leaving him able to pin you with a scorchingly heated look. You simply raised a brow at him.

“If you think so, you can go ahead and apply it for me,” you said primly, tossing your head and turning back to look out at the ocean. 

A smirk quirked the corners of your lips as you heard Ari chuckle behind you, and you could easily picture him picking up the bottle of sunscreen from the deck while he stepped closer to you. 

A moment later, you felt the slight shift of movement when Ari threw his leg over your lounger. Then he settled down on the cushion, planting his knees on either side of your hips. You took off your sunglasses and set them on the deck, pretending not to care about what Ari was doing.

But every spot where his bare skin touched yours tingled with awareness, excitement bubbling in your belly and mixing with your desire into the perfect kind of anticipation that had you squeezing your thighs together against the ache building in your core. 

Ari was quiet while he squeezed the sunscreen onto his hands and began massaging it into your shoulders, his strong fingers working methodically at the knots in your muscles—knots he’d created while he’d still been your boss—until they were entirely loose and unraveled. 

Then his hands were moving lower, his fingers brushing along the soft sides of your tits in such a teasing torture that you had to force yourself not to squirm beneath him. You were trying your hardest to keep up the appearance that you were unaffected by Ari’s touch, but the longer he deftly worked your body, the more effort it took to bite back your moans.

However, all hope of hiding your reactions from the arrogant CEO fled when he got to your ass. His big hands rubbed and kneaded the soft flesh in such a way that Ari kept spreading your pussy lips apart, the quiet sounds of your own wetness reaching your ears even over the near-distant hum of the ocean. 

Ari lingered over your ass and hips and thighs, groping your body shamelessly under the guise of working sunscreen into your skin, even as both of you knew exactly what he was doing. He worked you up until you were squirming beneath him, biting back little whimpers of desire, and then he stopped and you nearly growled in frustration.

Picking up the bottle of sunscreen, Ari laughed softly while he squeezed more into his hands, then made quick work of smoothing it down the rest of your legs, making sure you were entirely covered before resuming his previous position. 

His hands groped your ass again and his hard cock bobbed against the backs your thighs, but neither of you moved to take things further for a long moment. You simply enjoyed the feeling of being together, a sense of peace like none you’d ever known washing over you.

“How many times d’you think I’ve made you cum so far this week?” Ari asked, his tone light with an undercurrent of huskiness betraying his desire. 

The question broke whatever spell Ari had put on you and you stretched languidly beneath him, reaching your fingers out toward the ocean and pointing your toes while you tested your muscles. Your body was loose and relaxed, but you were despairingly empty, so you pushed your hips up, brushing your ass teasingly against Ari’s hard length while you hummed in thought.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, grumbling only a little when Ari pushed your hips back down on the lounger. He rebuffed your wordless offer, pinning you down while his knees shifted higher up your body and his calves kept your thighs closed together. “A lot, I guess.”

“And how many more until you forgive me for being the worst boss ever?” he asked, a playful smile in the warmth of his tone. 

You may have called him that—more than once—when he was edging you earlier in the week. But he’d earned the insult, and more, frankly, for how much you’d put up with in your months of working for him. He truly had been the worst boss ever, and you never intended on rescinding your resignation since he deserved it. 

Thankfully, Ari seemed determined to make it up to you, just like he’d promised. Mostly through orgasms, but you weren’t going to complain. Not yet, anyway. (Besides, you’d already gotten him to promise to give you the most glowing letter of recommendation he could write, and help you secure a position with a much less demanding company.)

“At least a hundred,” you murmured in a breathy tone, your hips lifting hungrily into Ari’s palms when he kneaded your ass, his thumbs brushing temptingly close to your dripping slit. 

That time, he took you up the wordless invitation, the tip of his hard cock pressing into your tight hole, which was more than eager to take his thick length. Ari’s cock met with no resistance from your body as he slid inside, burying himself to the hilt with one relentless stroke.

You were plenty wet from the massage he’d given you, and your body had long since grown accustomed to the feel of his fat cock stretching your tight pussy. It had taken some time to work his full length inside you that first night, but your body had come to know him, and you stretched to fit him perfectly, his hardness nestled deep in your cunt with his tip pressed against your cervix. 

A pleasured groan slipped from Ari’s lips as he felt your pussy squeezing around him. He fell forward, covering your body with his broad form until he was pressed flush to your back, pinning you into the soft cushion of the lounger.

The movement shifted his stiff length in your dripping hole, and it felt like he was pushing impossibly deeper, which wrung a shrill desperate, keening sound from the depths of your lungs. 

Ari shushed you softly, his palms skimming from your shoulders down your arms until his fingers tangled with yours. He held your hands in each of his, keeping you grounded in the moment while undeniable euphoria filled your body and mind, blotting out everything except Ari and the pleasure he offered. 

“And how many more until you forgive me for the comment about the beast?” Ari asked, his voice gravelly with his own barely leashed desire. He turned his head slightly, brushing a kiss to the apple of your cheek like he couldn’t help himself, and waited for your answer. 

It took you a moment to gather your thoughts enough to respond, knowing he wasn’t going to move, to fuck you, until you’d answered his question.

“It’s gonna take five hundred more,” you huffed, trying for a pert tone and failing miserably. Your voice was little more than a breathy moan, but that didn’t stop you from curtly adding, “That was my son you insulted.”

“By the end of this trip, he’s going to be our son,” Ari growled in your ear, pulling his hips back and thrusting inside you again, harder and rougher than before. 

You moaned loudly at the delicious drag of his cock in your tight hole, fighting back the warmth that wanted to curl around your heart at the determination in Ari’s tone when he talked about making Freddie his son too.

Thankfully, the way Ari was rocking into you, fucking your prone body while you were pinned beneath him, easily distracted you from the fact that the infuriating CEO was stealing his way deeper into your heart with very little resistance since you just couldn’t seem to muster it. Not when he felt so fucking good and said so many sweet things.

“And if I have to make you cum one thousand times to make you forgive me, I’ll do it,” Ari went on, pounding into you harder, his hips smacking against your ass with every thrust, wringing mindless moans from your lips while he kept spilling filth in your ear. “I’ll fuck your sweet little cunt until she’s so sensitive and swollen, you’ll be begging me to stop—but I won’t. I’ll make you cum on my cock so many times you’ll be forgiving me over and over and over again.”

Ari punctuated each of his words with a ruthless thrust, the clapping of his skin against yours loud in the quiet and otherwise peaceful afternoon. It was all you could do to mutter, “Oh god,” and cling on to Ari’s hands, holding him tightly while you took every inch of his cock and every single one of his rough thrusts. 

“And then, when you’re addicted to my cock and you’ve finally forgiven me—really, truly forgiven me—I’ll put a pretty little ring on this finger,” Ari rumbled, squeezing your left ring finger between two of his own, so you couldn’t possibly misunderstand what he was saying. “And I’m going to make you my wife. How does that sound, baby?” 

A sob of overwhelming bliss wrenched free from your lips, your mouth too busy wailing your pleasure to form words to respond. 

But it didn’t matter that you couldn’t answer Ari’s question with words because you knew from the way he chuckled in your ear that he’d felt the way your pussy had clenched down on him when he’d said he was going to make you his wife. Your body had answered for you, and it had been much more honest than your mouth would’ve been.

Ari kept fucking you, perfectly hard and perfectly fast, and the pleasure swirling through your body was reaching a fever pitch. It was almost too much for you to bear, so you turned your head and buried your face against Ari’s thick bicep. Mindless moans spilled from your lips as your teeth pressed instinctively into the hard, flexing muscle.

“That’s it—bite me, baby,” Ari cooed in your ear while he shoved his other arm under your body, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing the aching bundle of nerves in tight, ruthless circles. “Bite me while you’re cumming all over my fat cock like the good girl I know you are.” 

Ari’s words and his relentless determination to make you cum were your undoing. 

You came with a muffled scream, your teeth sinking so deep into Ari’s bicep, you knew you’d leave a mark behind. That thought only made you cum even harder, your body trembling and shaking with the force of the pleasure crashing over you. 

Ari followed right after you, his hips rutting into you for a few more thrusts before he came with a grunt, his cock twitching as he spilled his seed deep in your pussy. The two of you writhed together, eking out every last shred of pleasure before eventually collapsing on the sun lounger with exhaustion.

Maneuvering the two of you onto your sides, Ari held you in the cradle of his arms, his cock staying wedged deep inside you so you kept him warm as he gradually softened. You dozed off in the comfort of Ari’s hold, feeling his heart beating against your spine and listening to his soft breaths mingling with the gentle lapping of the ocean.  

After a time, Ari roused you from sleep, murmuring in your ear that the two of you should take a quick dip in the pool before deciding what to order for dinner. The sun had fallen low in the sky, ducking behind the house so that the deck was cast in shade, but the air was still pleasantly warm. 

The cool water of the pool helped to wake you up, and there was a pleasurable burn in your muscles as you swam and splashed and fooled around with Ari. 

Before you dragged yourselves from the pool, he fucked you again, using the gentle weightlessness of the water to lift you up and down on his cock while your head lolled against his shoulder and you moaned your pleasure into his neck.

When the two of you finally stumbled back inside, smelling like chlorine and sunshine, Freddie hopped up from the patch of light he’d been laying in at the front of the house. He chirped happily, twisting around your ankles and waiting for a brief pet before he pranced over to Ari. 

Freddie rubbed his furry body against Ari’s calves, staring up at the man like he’d hung the stars and moon in the sky. Your cat’s welcome made the infuriatingly handsome CEO chuckle affectionately while he bent down to scuff the creature under the chin, murmuring soft praises to the beast. 

It was too much for your heart—too sweet and pure and perfect—and you fell in love with Ari Levinson in that exact moment, though it would be many more months before you confessed those feelings to the man himself. 

By the time you did, Ari would have whispered his love into every inch of your body. When the words finally fell from your lips, he would chuckle, having known it before you’d voiced it, because he knew your heart better than anyone else in the world. Even Freddie. 

That first Valentine’s Day with Ari was much better than watching trashy TV with a bottle of rosé. In fact, it was the best you’d ever had. That is, until the next year’s Valentine’s Day, when Ari whisked you and Freddie off to another tropical location, and fulfilled the promise he’d made about putting a ring on your finger.

The Valentine’s Day after that, Ari Levinson made you his wife. And the two of you lived happily ever after.

sweethearts game masterlist

[nanamiskentos]

UNADULTERATED LOATHING ! ☓. ── ( 五条 悟, gojo satoru )

⌗ dazzling starlet, bardot reincarnatе. well, aren't you the greatest thing to ever exist ? you have an effect on gojo satoru, and he tells you that it's pure, unadulterated loathing. but why does his heart say otherwise?

ᯓ starring ─ ﹙ 五条 悟 : gojo satoru ﹚ ─ the strongest x reader

𝓳𝓳𝓴. ㅤ﹑ ( 呪術廻戦 x afab!reader )  ─── ❛ cw ⌓. sfw. wicked!au. enemies to lovers, gojo is SO in love, mutual pining, this is just a one-shot, like a quick snippet. wc ⌓. 2k.

𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ( author says ) i finally watched wicked and i was listening to olivia rodrigo's lacy

you push through the doors of your long awaited assigned dormitory, already dreaming of the quiet solitude that's ready for you. that blissful moment when you can drop your bags, sink into the comfort of your room, and finally crack open that hefty book in your bag.

but the moment that you step aside, that dream dies a swift and unceremonious death. this room is a disaster. a veritable storm of pale blue, navy, and stark white sprawls across every available surface that the eye can take in. clothes draped over chairs, video game casings cracked open at odd angles, and half-finished letters abandoned in precarious piles. there's even a pair of sunglasses littered on the floor, so very close to polished tips of your new boots.

you just inhale sharply, already bracing yourself for the worst as you round the heavy trunk that blocks your path. only to collide, at full, devastating force into a solid, broad chest.

a firm plane of muscle that belongs to none other than the golden boy, gojo satoru.

and god, how your head snaps up in horror. his ever-present sunglasses are pushed up to his white hair, exposing a pair of sharp and wary eyes. bright and assessing, and currently locked onto you as if your very presence is the final act of some awful cosmic joke.

for a long and weighty moment, neither of you speak. there's a realisation settling between the two of you like a stone dropped into deep water. the administration truly did not make a mistake, gojo satoru was your new roommate.

"do you really think this is fair?" you ask, voice a tad weaker than you had hoped.

gojo just exhales through his nose, as if he's suffering through tragedies untold, "i do not." but his voice is melodic, smooth, as he straightens his spine so the very uppermost tufts of his snowy hair brush the ceiling, "as i was promised a private suite. but thanks for asking."

your eyes fall back skywards, stepping past him to assess your new surrounding. manoeuvring carefully through this...mess. gojo, for his part, seems content to move aside and keep his distance. he's just watching you in the large, oaken vanity, fiddling with his already-perfect hair.

casual, far too casual. he's suspicious, you realise. which, considering your mutual dislike, is quite fair.

still, it seems as though he's eager to make a show of his generosity. gojo's leaning away from the mirror, "i saved you some space, by the way." gesturing a long limb towards the farthest, least appealing corner of the room, where a diminutive daybed sits awkwardly beside a tiny, lopsided table with exactly one draw. your eyes fall on gojo's own bed, a rather ornate and gilded piece with curtans. ugh, what a diva.

gojo somehow must be mistaking your stony grimace for gratitude, for he's smiling. all beatific and cherubic, as though he's a saint sent down from the heavens above, "it was nothing. roommates do these things for each other, after all."

your eyes meet jewel-blue, still watching as gojo basks in your silent outrage. he's stretching his arms out luxuriously, kicking up his own boots onto a plush, cornflower blue ottoman.

you're going to strangle gojo satoru in his sleep. but had you not turned away from the walking waste of oxygen, you might have noticed the sudden, red flush that plastered itself onto gojo's alabaster skin — crawling up his neck until it tickled at his ears.

the room is now steeped in candlelight, the soft glow of gojo's lamp casting a cool, blue hue over everything. shadows flicker along the walls, elongating the handsome angles of his face as he lounges at his desk, twirling a navy feather-quill between his fingers. the fine parchment before him still lays untouched, for his gaze keeps drifting to you.

you, curled up on your far end of the room on your bed, bathed in the tired amber glow of your own lamp. gojo just watches as you're lost in your own careful strokes of ink on dry parchment. and he hates to admit it, loathes to even bestow upon you this grace, but he's fascinated by the sight of you — the most brilliant (if odd) peer in this damn cohort.

you write the way people pray, head bowed and utterly absorbed as each word is something sacred. your lashes cast long shadows on your cheeks, and gojo just gnaws at the soft flesh in his own mouth. enraptured by the parting of your lips lost in thought.

gojo satoru has seen beautiful things before, no-one raised in the illustrious gojo clan hasn't, but this is something else. something he can't quite name, and he fears that he hates you for the hold you have over him.

"to whom it may concern at the ol' gojo clan. guess what?" gojo finally begins, scrawling the words onto his letters without much thought. pretending to make a big show of tapping his chin, kicking back against his bed.

but across the room, you're so, so adamant to barely acknowledge gojo. forgoing his desire for constant attention to be rather focused on your own letter to home, "my dear father. thank you for agreeting to let me stay."

gojo's exhaling dramatically, head lolling back onto his tired neck, "i can't hear your guesses because this is a letter. so i'll just tell you."

silence stretches between the two of you, filled only by the faint rustling of paper, and the distant sound of laughter from the courtyard below. gojo's fingers tap out a restless rhythm against the wood of his bedside table. you're still refusing to acknowledge him, still wrapped up in your letter, and gojo — who has spent his entire life commanding love and affection, expecting it, feels something like irritation curl in his chest. or maybe it's something else entirely.

he tries again, and unbeknownst to the lovestruck gojo, you're penning the exact same words on your own letters.

"there's been some confusion over rooming here at school."

you're suddenly glancing over at him, and gojo bites his heavy tongue at the flicker of exasperation flashing through your eyes. watching as you sigh, and shake your head, "but of course," you scrawl, "i'll focus on my studies."

gojo's lips twitch, "but of course, i'll rise above it."

it seems that neither of you are aware that you are both writing in tandem now, so very synchronised as gojo dips his quill lazily into that half-empty ink pot, "for i know that's how you'd want me to respond."

gojo watches from you from behind the rim of his sunglasses, shameless in his greed for the sight of you, and utterly fascinated. the delicate furrow of your brow, the way your fingers tap absently against the desk when you pause to think. he knows people. he understands them.

but you? you are a riddle wrapped in something unfairly lovely, a puzzle he isn't even sure he's able to solve, because maybe knowing would make the mystery less intoxicating. gojo briefly wonders why he feels as though he's about to hurl.

"yes, there's been some confusion, for you see, my roommate is..."

gojo pauses, contemplating, for how does one describe you? how does anyone categorise something so strangely, annoyingly captivating?

you are contradictions woven into the shape of a person. sharp and soft, cold and brilliant, distant but so alive. he wants to say infuriating or prickly or entirely too self-serious, but none of those words quite capture the way that gojo's world seems to tilt slightly whenever you shoot him that unimpressed look.

"unusually and exceedingly peculiar, and altogether quite impossible to describe."

but you? you have very little hesitation. your quill barely lingering before you hastily scribble away, "blonde."

scratching the quill against the cheap parchment in a single stroke, amending yourself, "or rather, silver-haired and silver-tongued. yet, all too lacking for wit or decency."

and so you gently blow on the drying ink, neatly creasing the letter as you do your best not to meet gojo satoru's eyes. isn't he just too much? too loud, too arrogant, too sure of himself?

gojo satoru walks into a room as though it belongs to him, like the air bends around him and gravity itself is an afterthought to the heir of the gojo clan.

and god, you hate the way that your eyes must betray you first, catching on the sharp lines of his jaw or the effortless sway of his posture. the way his silver-white hair falls perfectly, no matter how carelessly he runs a hand through it. you hate, truly loathe the way gojo tilts his head when he's pretending to listen, or the way pink lips curl when he's about to say something that will drive you absolutely nuts.

you tell yourself that you find him irritating, not intoxicating. that you're unmoved, not entranced. that you don't notice the absurd prettiness of the school's golden boy, that annoyingly, careless confidence and the way he seems to puncture the air out of your lungs.

gojo's snowy head jerks, as though he can hear your thoughts. eyes narrowing behind dark lenses as he folds his own letter and tucks it into the pocket of his uniform jacket. you just school your features, and shoot him a seething look as though you did not just spend the last five minutes memorising every single detail of his face.

it's just loathing. pure, unadulterated loathing.

[benevolentbones]

me before you | spencer reid x reader

warnings: angst!!! kidnapping, graphic depictions of injury, death, female reader

word count: 2.6k

summary: you go missing on a job and spencer goes ballistic

a/n: i hope you guys enjoy a touch of angst! i think this is my longest fic i’ve ever written:) reblogs & comments appreciated <3

“where is she.” spencer’s voice boomed as he bursted into the conference room. every set of eyes in the cramped police department office shot to the loud sound.

spencer stood in the doorway, his fbi vest still strapped to his body. his hair was disheveled and brushed off of his face, his white button up was half buttoned and the sleeves were messily rolled up to his elbows.

his eyes scanned the room, flickering over the local police force until they landed hotch. he stormed into the room, his face contorting with rage. before hotch could even utter a word out, spencer’s hands were on him, gripping a handful of the older man’s shirt.

“where is she, hotch.” he snarled, hotch using his hands to create a distance between him and spencer.

derek immediately jumped up, pulling spencer’s flailing form off of his superior. everyone watched in shock and horror, spencer had never acted like this, and certainly not on a case.

“we don’t know.” hotch stated, a calmness to his voice, but he was as just concerned as spencer was.

“why- get off of me-“ spencer fought back in morgan’s strong hold eventually breaking free after lashing around.

“why did you let her go in without back up- are you out of your fucking mind.”

“outside. now.” hotch breathed, he didn’t want complete strangers to witness whatever was about to occur. he walked calmly through the doors, his oxfords thudding against the marbled floor.

spencer followed suit after shaking derek off, his steps messy as he fumbled behind hotch, who made a turn into a private empty office.

“reid-“

“no. don’t go there- what were you fucking thinking hotch-“

aaron leaned against the desk, his arms folded over his chest. spencer stood a few feet across from him, pacing the room.

“we didn’t know what we were in for, the house was clear..” he trailed off, recounting the events that took place an hour prior.

~

you, derek and hotch were staking out the potential unsubs house, it was a bungalow in the suburbs and a pretty run down one at that, sitting behind the van you had driven in.

“morgan, take the front. y/n, follow me around the side.” hotch spoke, his dark eyes landing on you.

you nodded, following the older man to the side of the house. from your position you could hear derek shout.

“FBI open up-“ followed by the sound of the door slamming open.

you continued to follow hotch to the back entrance, which he swiftly broke down and then entered the house.

he held his gun up, doing a sweep of the back room. “clear” he yelled out,

from the next room over he could hear morgan yell back. “hotch look at this-“

the dark haired man quickly walked to where morgan was.

they stood in the middle of the living room, the place was run down and smelled like mold. on the weathered coffee table laid a videotape recorder and a note.

hotch bent down, picking up the note. the words ‘i got you, your turn.’ were etched onto the page, hotch turned his attention to derek who beared the same confused expression.

“what does that even mean? l/n get in here.” he yelled out, attempting to get your attention to see if you could help make sense of things.

a few moments passed before he called out again. “y/n?”

hotch walked to where he had left you, the back door was still wide open, he eyes trailed down to the ground, which was when he saw it.

your gun.

from outside the sound of a engine starting up rattled, the tires screeched as the vehicle pulled onto the road.

fuck

“morgan, take the camera and the note- she’s not here.”

~

“what so you’re telling me you left y/n on her own? knowing that she fit the description of all the unsubs victims- you can’t, you can’t be-“ spencer cut himself off, letting out a choked sob.

“reid i am sorry. we will find her.” hotch reached a hand out to touch spencer’s shoulder, a wave of sadness washing over his body as he watched spencer begin to break down.

with hazel eyes brimming with tears threatening to fall, spencer sunk into hotch’s embrace. letting out shaky breaths in between cries.

“you- have to get her back- i need her- she-i can’t let her- go first.“ hotch rubbed soothing circles on spencer’s back, which proved to be hard through the bulletproof vest.

“we will find her, reid. let the team work, go home. you need rest.”

hotch was right, it was nearing two in the morning and spencer had not slept for almost thirty six hours. the circles under his eyes were noticeably more dark, looking nearly hallowed out.

spencer pulled away from the hug, his doe eyes red and puffy from the crying.

“i’ll send morgan with you, we will notify you when we find something. and we will.”

“okay. thanks.” the younger male sniffled, his tired eyes meeting hotch’s as he walked out of the office.

~

your eyes blinked awake, a slight grogginess to your vision. the florescent lighting above you hurt your eyes and your head ached.

you attempted to move but felt your hands and legs bound, your eyes darted around the room. you were tied up, sitting on a wooden stool, the room was practically barren except for a pile of sheets in the corner, a table lined with tools and a camera on a tripod. the red light blinking intermittently.

you spotted a small rectangular window at the very top of the wall, it was covered in weeds from the outside. i’m in a basement.

you wriggled, attempting to break free but only causing yourself to get rope burn, you hissed in pain.

“fuck sake.”

the metal door in front of you swung open, revealing a tall man dressed in black. he had an eerie grin etched on his face, his striking blue eyes staring at you like you were something to eat.

“hello agent l/n, nice to see you’re finally awake.” his voice sounded rough, as you ambled into the door, closing the door over leaving it a few inches ajar.

“thomas wilson.” you spat out.

“you have a smart team, y/n. you managed to find me just after five kills. bravo.” his voice laced with a mocking tone.

“it’s a shame they didn’t have your back.”

you stayed silent, eyeing his form as he began to circle the stool you sat upon.

“but i fear- this may be my last kill, so i’m going to be thorough.”

you felt your stomach drop. you were hoping, praying that maybe the team was on the way, that they would be able to get here in time.

you tried your best to read thomas, you could tell by the way he limped around you that he was injured, and he didn’t seem a hundred percent confident in himself. maybe you had a chance.

“how’d you get hurt? i’m a medic, i could help you thomas. you don’t have to-“ your attempt at empathy was cut off by a strike to your face.

the man pulled back his fist, as you slowly recoiled your head. you could feel your eyes swell, staring intensely at him through wisps of your hair that fell over your face.

“silence. we don’t have much time. i need to prepare.” he muttered to himself, walking towards the table to your right.

you racked your brain, trying to think about the other victims and their similarity to you. hair colour, eye colour, frame and stature, age. but they were all single women, involved in prostitution in one way or another. maybe you could convince him that way.

“i’m engaged, thomas.” you spoke, trying to get his attention. “i know your other victims were all single- i have a fiancé.”

“where’s the ring.” he didn’t bother looking back at you, your empty hand flexed into a fist. you never wore your ring on the field.

“i can show you photos- my phone, it’s in my jacket pocket.” you were trying to delay whatever he had planned, you were grasping at straws.

thomas limped towards you, reaching into your pocket and pulling out your phone. it was turned off, but he rebooted it, unlocking it and going straight for your camera roll.

he caught the bait.

~

“sir- y/n’s phone just turned back on.” garcia practically shouted.

“can you track it? -emily alert the swat team now.”

“on it sir.”

the majority of the team piled into cars, fbi vests strapped to their bodies. garcia sent the location to hotch and the cars sped off, it was just twenty miles from where you were taken.

“you sure this is the right place?” hotch spoke out into his phone, a slight anxiousness to his voice which didn’t go unnoticed by penelope.

“yep. i quadruple checked, the satellites picked up the van dropping the unsub and a victim at this exact address.” garcia stated from the other end of the line, faint clacking of the keyboard could be heard from her side.

“thank you, garcia. keep me posted.” he muttered before ending the call and stuffing the phone into his pocket.

“did anyone tell morgan?” hotch spoke, morgan had brought reid home and was told to stay with him incase of any updates.

“just now sir.” emily spoke, shutting her cellphone.

~

“see- that’s me and my fiancé, spencer. he works with me.” you stated as thomas scrolling through thousands of pictures of you and spencer.

you could tell this caught him by surprise, you were sure his other victims probably pleaded for their lives, saying they had families and partners to get back to. it made you feel sick.

“it’s not too late- thomas please let me go, i don’t want to leave him.” you mumbled out, fighting back tears at the thought of how distraught spencer must feel right now.

“i- i cant it’s too late. i have to do this.” he stuttered out, still scrolling through pictures on your phone, his face frowning when he came across your engagement photos.

“can i call him, can i say goodbye?” your eyes met his pale ones, you could see from his expression he was thinking things over.

“fine.”

he searched up spencer’s name on your phone, pressing the call button and holding it beside your ear.

spencer was in a car when his phone started to buzz, morgan had received the call about your location and immediately told spencer who refused to let the older man leave without him.

spencer picked up immediately once your contact came up on his phone.

“y/n- are you okay- are you hurt?” he blurted into the phone, putting it on speaker so derek could listen in. he felt a sudden relief at the sound of your voice.

“spence. i- i’m not hurt.” you paused briefly, eyeing the man next to you. he was listening in. “spence, i love you so much.” you mumbled out, white hot tears staining your cheeks.

“baby? what’s happening.” spencer questioned, his hazel eyes beginning to well up.

“i love you- and i’m sorry, i don’t think i have much time left.”

“no. no no no- you promised- me before you-you can’t leave me“ he rambled out, his heart sinking as tears began to flood from his eyes. derek gripped the steering wheel, pressing his foot down on the pedal, they were nearly there.

“i know baby- i tried-“ you choked out a sob, hearing spencer crying broke you.

thomas was getting visibly frustrated, his grip on your phone tightened. “that’s enough.” he muttered out.

“i have to go spence- i’m sorry i love you so much.” and with that, thomas had ended the call. tears streamed down your face as you tried to muster up the ability to stop.

the older man ambled back to the table, he had laid out a number of weapons. you recalled the details of how the other victims died, each one exactly the same down to the last cut. thomas likely suffered from remorseful ocd.

the man turned back to you, a knife in his grasp. he could tell he was battling within himself, he didn’t want to do this, but he felt like he had to. you could faintly hear the sound of cars passing the house, praying that someone would show up.

“i’m sorry” he muttered out as he brought the knife to your collar bone, pressing it into your skin and dragging it across.

you screamed, a wave of pain engulfing you. blood quickly began to trickle from the laceration, staining your white shirt a crimson hue.

if this was how you were going to die, you were going to make sure it haunted him forever. your eyes locked onto his, forcibly making eye contact as he switched to your left side, beginning to slice the other side of your collar precisely.

you gritted your teeth, feeling the cool metal of the knife drag across your skin. he pulled back, now pressing the bloodied knife to your throat. he was behind you, all you could do was stare straight ahead at the door in front of you.

suddenly the door burst open, hotch standing before you with a swat team piling into the room.

“drop your weapon.” he commanded, his voice booming as he pointed his gun at unsub. you have never been so relieved to see aaron hotchner in your life.

“i can’t, i have to do this.” thomas muttered out, his hand shaking as he pressed the knife to your throat. he began to press it firmly against your skin, you winced out at the pressure.

hotch immediately fired a shot, the bullet sinking into the unsubs shoulder causing him to fall back and shout in pain. a member of the swat team rushed to thomas, restraining the male as he put a pair of handcuffs on his wrists.

hotch was by your side in seconds, unbinding your hands and legs. “are you okay?” he questioned, concern lacing his usually stoic voice.

you nodded, rubbing your throat once your hands were free. you attempted to stand up, wobbling as you placed your feet on the ground, you felt weak, the bleeding around your collars had slowed but you were still losing blood.

“let me.” hotch scooped you up in his arms, carrying you up the stairs and out of the house. it was dark, and there was a swarm of swat cars and an ambulance waiting for you.

a car pulled up to the scene, the passenger door swung open and spencer stumbled out, barely getting his seatbelt off.

“y/n?!” he called out, scanning the area, once his eyes landed on your form in hotch’s arms he sprinted over.

“spence-“ you began before you were engulfed in a tight hug, hotch passed you over to spencer, making his way to the ambulance to alert the medics.

“i thought- you were-“ he blubbered out, his eyes puffy from crying.

he fell to his knees, his hold on you not wavering. you wrapped your arms around his neck to the best of your ability. he pressed a kiss to your forehead, rocking you in his arms.

“i’m going to get blood on you-“ you mumbled, trying to lighten the mood.

he let out a short laugh, followed by a small cry.

“i’m okay spence- i love you, i’m okay.” you reassured him.

“i’m never letting you go again.” he rested his forehead against yours, letting out a shaky breath.

taglist!! @0108s22m @rainoftearss @potatovoyager @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @luvmia222 @shardsofmarxx @silver138 @lover-of-books-and-tea

[thedarkestrivernymph]

I would love any yandere clan leader fluff tbh, maybe one where someone from a clan at a party disrespects reader and he comforts her after defending her? Thanks!

Soft Yandere! Clan Leader x Wife! Reader

note: it kind of follows the theme of reader being overly insecure/doubting him

warnings: harassment, insecure! reader,

Everything was loud.

The piano and violin, the hushed whispers surronding you like constant white noise, the whiskey lingering in the air like cheap perfume. You felt your head spin and buzz—bile on the back of your tongue while you clutched your glass filled with the unidentifiable magenta swirling inside of it.

You shouldn't be here. Just were not cut-out for this; for the weight that your husband's last name bore, pushing you down until you could do nothing but slouch.

And then a strange cold limp patted you on your shoulder. Right, you were next to your husband's cousin—what was his name again?

“Relax, I’m sure he's gonna be right back.”

But as he laughed, tipsy as he was, you were certain that his hand shouldn’t feel like a heavy paw of a fox tackling down a lamp to feast on—it probably should’ve comforted you along with his words, reassure you and ease the tension between your shoulder blades.

“Pretty shy, ain't you?” he quipped and all you could do was smile awkwardly.

He was nice-looking, younger than you, probably with no fear of anything; especially not physical contact. It probably didn't mean much to him, but to you the pads of his fingers brushing over your naked shoulder felt violating, as if he placed them there specifically to watch the discomfort spawn on your face. As if he prided himself with being socially more comptent than you.

“Such a pretty face, but you don't talk much, do ya? C’mon talk, it's just me, we’re practically family now.” his breath stung, made your eyes tear up from the potent concentration of alcohol.

You hadn’t even meant to get roped up in this conversation, not at all. Passing by, searching for your husband in the crowd of unfamiliar clan-members and different clans; men dressed in their finest suits or cultural attires, with women adored in extravagant dresses and bold colours—you had stumbled upon the one familiar face of his distant cousin and now his arm draped over your shoulder like shackles keeping you in place.

“Got really lucky with ya—didn’t he? Lucky Bastard.” he laughed and you further shrunk and shriveled into yourself. “Got to be the next clan leader, got the title, the fame, the power, always got the prettier women—”

“That's enough.” a voice cut through the stifling air like a whip; sharp and poised like the gaze of his owner with his sudden appearance —draped in matching midnight blue silk, dressed worthy of the head of a clan as large as his was.

He was angered, you could tell that much—the piercing look in his eyes spoke for itself; as deep as the ocean, a storm wracking in his soul, with waves building up until they even swallowed you.

So you looked away, ashamed.

“I said that's enough.” this time he ripped his cousin's dirty paw off of your shoulder. His jaw was clenched and suddenly you felt suffocated by the intensity of it all—you hadn't meant for this. What if now he would blame you? Thought you were comfortable with being close to other men. He was so sweet till now, but what if he was appalled now, disgusted, what if he—

“Are you alright, love?” he grounded you, as he always did, holding you like fragile porcelain, peering down at you with stern but not unkind eyes.

“I-I am fine.” you stammered, overwhelmed by his gentle tone and softer touch—it made your head spin with confusion. Just why was he always so kind to you? Even now? Even after everything he saw.

“Love, you don't look fine to me.” he whispered, came close enough so that his breath brushed the shell of your ear and the warmth of it travel down to your painfully fast beating heart. “No, I really am—”

“She said she's fine. What? Tryna make me seem like the bad guy when you left your woman alone—” he didn't get any more words out before his collar tightened, dangerously until air was just but a luxury.

Yet you didn't even see him choking, nor did you hear whatever it was that your betrothed threatened him with, shielding your line of sight with his broad back, towering over the other guy as if he didn't want you to watch.

However he, no matter how much he tried concealing the conversation occuring between them—with hushed whispers similar to that of a scolding father—you could see raw terror in his cousin's eyes after your husband let him go. The man’s eyes were as wide as saucers and they may have met yours for just a fraction—yet you were sure of what you saw. Even more so as he scurried away like a mouse.

“Come. Let's get you out of here.” he grabbed you by your arm, firmly with strength that you knew would bruise if he was as angry with you as he was with his cousin. So he wasn't angry with you? Somehow, knowing this only unsettled you further.

He whisked you away—somewhere much more private and intimate; into a nearby empty room. Staring down at you, he stood still as a statue after closing the door, allowing silence to hug the both of you in a stifling embrace.

“I am sorry—” you broke through the silence, shattering the illusion of calmness.

“Sorry?” he furrowed his brows, bewilderment taking over his features and you swore his eyes watered. In a way, he only looked more frustrated, the sharpness of his features morphing to something animalistic.

“Is sorry not enough?” you flinched, squinting, the moon once more had chosen you to illuminate with its beauty. Yet, you were nothing worth of it—not when he stood in front of you, more righteous and more deserving than you ever had been.

It seemed he was at a loss for words, staring at you as if you were alien to him.

“I truly feel remorseful—” you were about to kneel, lower yourself, but before your knees even had the chance to hit the ground he held you in his arms, shaking you with all his might.

“Stop, my love, please stop. One more word of yours and my heart will rip.” he was frantic, desperate. This wasn't the usual head-strong confident leader, the man with the voice of chiffon—this was him, raw and vulnerable.

“How can you—have I failed this much?” his voice was like tides of the sea; unrestrained yet eerily calm. “Have I neglected you? Have I not shown you how much I love you?” his touch become more frantic, hands burying themselves into the fabric of your dress.

“I failed you, my love. I am so ashamed of myself.” now he was the one kneeling in front of you. The man who's presence alone was enough to demand order and submission, who reigned over his clan firmly yet fairly, who was respected by everyone around you—at your feet, staring up at you as if you were his goddess and he a peasant.

Stunned you could only stare as wetness glistened over his cheeks, strange softness taking ahold of his features.

“I—” he pressed a kiss to your ankle. “I will prove myself to you once again. I will love you so much, you won't ever have the opportunity to doubt. I will love you enough for the both of us. So much, that you won't ever take the blame for a bastard again. I will love you so much, that you will stop thinking that you're anything but a minx that captured me and continues to do so.” he kissed your knee.

“Do you even know how much I struggle to let you out of my arms whenever we hug? I can't bear the thought of someone else claiming that you're theirs. When I know that you're my soulmate since the day our eyes met. I am yours in body and mind and I want you to finally see that.” his voice deep and soulful cracked, fingers clutching you like a lifeline.

“My love, I will do better. I promised once to prove myself to you, and I promise twice now. Even if it takes my whole life, I will get rid of everything that hurts you. Anyone that hurts you. And that includes all that garbage in that pretty head of yours. I will do better teaching you, love.” he kissed you over your beating heart.

“I am yours.”