#the flat tone makes it worse too

[eemoo1o-animoo]

I just imagine Claude going into disturbing, intense descriptions of vaguely correlating subject matters (gorish or sexual) whenever he wants Alois to stop doing something.

[physalian]

How to make your writing sound less stiff

Just a few suggestions. You shouldn’t have to compromise your writing style and voice with any of these, and some situations and scenes might demand some stiff or jerky writing to better convey emotion and immersion. I am not the first to come up with these, just circulating them again.

1. Vary sentence structure.

This is an example paragraph. You might see this generated from AI. I can’t help but read this in a robotic voice. It’s very flat and undynamic. No matter what the words are, it will be boring. It’s boring because you don’t think in stiff sentences. Comedians don’t tell jokes in stiff sentences. We don’t tell campfire stories in stiff sentences. These often lack flow between points, too.

So funnily enough, I had to sit through 87k words of a “romance” written just like this. It was stiff, janky, and very unpoetic. Which is fine, the author didn’t tell me it was erotica. It just felt like an old lady narrator, like Old Rose from Titanic telling the audience decades after the fact instead of living it right in the moment. It was in first person pov, too, which just made it worse. To be able to write something so explicit and yet so un-titillating was a talent. Like, beginner fanfic smut writers at least do it with enthusiasm.

2. Vary dialogue tag placement

You got three options, pre-, mid-, and post-tags.

Leader said, “this is a pre-dialogue tag.”

“This,” Lancer said, “is a mid-dialogue tag.”

“This is a post-dialogue tag,” Heart said.

Pre and Post have about the same effect but mid-tags do a lot of heavy lifting.

They help break up long paragraphs of dialogue that are jank to look at

They give you pauses for ~dramatic effect~

They prompt you to provide some other action, introspection, or scene descriptor with the tag. *don't forget that if you're continuing the sentence as if the tag wasn't there, not to capitalize the first word after the tag. Capitalize if the tag breaks up two complete sentences, not if it interrupts a single sentence.

It also looks better along the lefthand margin when you don’t start every paragraph with either the same character name, the same pronouns, or the same “ as it reads more natural and organic.

3. When the scene demands, get dynamic

General rule of thumb is that action scenes demand quick exchanges, short paragraphs, and very lean descriptors. Action scenes are where you put your juicy verbs to use and cut as many adverbs as you can. But regardless of if you’re in first person, second person, or third person limited, you can let the mood of the narrator bleed out into their narration.

Like, in horror, you can use a lot of onomatopoeia.

Drip Drip Drip

Or let the narration become jerky and unfocused and less strict in punctuation and maybe even a couple run-on sentences as your character struggles to think or catch their breath and is getting very overwhelmed.

You can toss out some grammar rules, too and get more poetic.

Warm breath tickles the back of her neck. It rattles, a quiet, soggy, rasp. She shivers. If she doesn’t look, it’s not there. If she doesn’t look, it’s not there. Sweat beads at her temple. Her heart thunders in her chest. Ba-bump-ba-bump-ba-bump-ba- It moves on, leaving a void of cold behind. She uncurls her fists, fingers achy and palms stinging from her nails. It’s gone.

4. Remember to balance dialogue, monologue, introspection, action, and descriptors.

The amount of times I have been faced with giant blocks of dialogue with zero tags, zero emotions, just speech on a page like they’re notecards to be read on a stage is higher than I expected. Don’t forget that though you may know exactly how your dialogue sounds in your head, your readers don’t. They need dialogue tags to pick up on things like tone, specifically for sarcasm and sincerity, whether a character is joking or hurt or happy.

If you’ve written a block of text (usually exposition or backstory stuff) that’s longer than 50 words, figure out a way to trim it. No matter what, break it up into multiple sections and fill in those breaks with important narrative that reflects the narrator’s feelings on what they’re saying and whoever they’re speaking to’s reaction to the words being said. Otherwise it’s meaningless.

—

Hope this helps anyone struggling! Now get writing.

[hoe4hotchner]

hey! i love your stuff :)! was wondering if you could maybe do a short fic with hotch where he's interrogating the reader (who is a suspect, but is actually innocent), and the reader politely informs hotch that they're about to faint (they have a fainting condition, like POTS or something). hotch doesn't panic bc he's, well, hotch, but he calls for medical help. meanwhile, reader is just casually lying down on the cold floor of the cell and being really chill waiting to faint, even making conversation. anyway, hotch finds out that the police officers who had arrested the reader had denied them their medicine, and he rips them a new one.

OBVIOUSLY DONT WRITE IT IF YOU DONT WANT TO, I THINK YOU'RE LOVELY AND I DONT WANT TO PRESSURE YOu

have a nice day!

Unexpected Interrogation | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader | WC: 0.9k | CW: Hurt/comfort?, medical condition (POTS), mistreatment by law enforcement, fainting, medication.

A/N: I'm trying a new layout for when I answer requests, I don't know if I'll commit to it, but I like it for now.

Also I don't know anything about POTS or other fainting conditions, so I hope I did it justice - feedback is appriciated.

Hotch sat across from you, his expression stern and unyielding as he leaned forward in his chair, the dim lighting of the room casting sharp shadows on his face. To any observer, you would seem calm - your hands folded neatly in your lap and eyes focused - but inside, you were already feeling the telltale signs. The tightness in your chest, the lightheadedness creeping in. You’d been here for hours, and now, without your medicine, it was simply a matter of time before you would faint.

"You've been uncooperative since the moment we brought you in," Hotch said, his voice level but carrying the weight of suspicion as he couldn't quite figure out if you were guilty or not. "Tell me why you were at the scene."

You took a slow breath, trying to center yourself. "Agent Hotchner," you said politely, your voice a little too soft for the intensity of the moment. "I understand why I'm here, and I will tell you everything you want to know, but I think I should let you know… I'm about to faint."

He blinked, his gaze sharpening but not a trace of panic crossing his face. If anything, his brows furrowed, a mixture of confusion and concern settling in his expression. "You're about to faint?"

"Yeah," you nodded, shifting slightly in your seat, trying to ignore the swimming sensation behind your eyes. "I have a fainting condition - it's called POTS. Normally, I’d take medicine, but..." You gave a tired shrug. "The officers who arrested me didn’t let me have it."

The tension in the room shifted. Hotch leaned back slightly, the gears in his mind already turning. He wasn’t a man to panic, even in strange situations. He pressed a button on the desk to signal for help, keeping his eyes on you. "I’ll get a medic in here."

You offered him a small smile. "Thanks, but it’s cool. Happens all the time. I’ll just… lie down." Without waiting for a response, you eased yourself off the chair - thankful that you weren't cuffed to the table - and laid flat on the cold tiled floor, your head resting on your arms as if this was the most natural thing in the world. The coolness of the floor helped somewhat, but your vision was already narrowing at the edges.

Hotch stood, watching you for a moment before kneeling next to you, his tone softened slightly. "How long have you been without your medication?"

You glanced at him from your place on the floor, blinking slowly. "Since they arrested me… hours ago? Honestly, it could be worse. But you know, fainting isn’t great for clearing one’s name." You chuckled lightly, trying to make the best of the situation, though it quickly turned into a weary sigh. "I’m innocent, by the way."

He didn't respond to that directly, but there was a flicker in his eyes, something acknowledging the injustice of your situation. "How often does this happen?"

"Often enough that I’m pretty used to it," you said casually, your breath slowing as the dizziness increased. "But hey... it gives me an excuse to lie down on the job, right?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of Hotch’s mouth - just for a moment - but then his professional mask slipped back into place. "Don’t talk. Just focus on staying calm."

You hummed in agreement, though your vision was blurring fast. "I’ll be out soon, but when I wake up, I’d love to continue this conversation. I mean, I know I’m innocent, but it would be great to convince you of that too."

He gave a short nod. "We’ll get to that. First, let’s get you taken care of."

Moments later, the medics arrived, rushing into the room with a stretcher and medical kit. But Hotch didn’t leave your side, ensuring they knew about your condition, making sure they were doing everything right. As they checked your vitals and prepared to move you, you started to fade, your words becoming slow and drowsy. "Thanks, agent… you’re not as intimidating as I thought you’d be."

The medic smiled at that, while Hotch’s lips pressed into a thin line, the smallest hint of amusement in his eyes. But once you were being taken care of, Hotch’s focus shifted back to the situation that had led to this. The officers who had arrested you. The ones who had denied you your medication.

Minutes later, Hotch found the officers outside the room, his demeanor stone cold. “Which one of you denied the suspect their medication?”

One of the officers, a tall man with a smug expression, stepped forward. “We didn’t think it was relevant. They didn’t say it was urgent.”

Hotch’s eyes darkened, his voice dropping to a low tone. “Didn’t think it was relevant? You’re lucky they’re stable, or you’d be facing a lawsuit at the very least.” He took a step closer, towering over the man. “You do not withhold medical treatment from anyone in custody. I don’t care if they’re a suspect, a witness, or guilty. Do you understand?”

The officer faltered, clearly not expecting the sharp reprimand. “Y-yes, sir.”

“I’ll be filing a report about this. You’ve jeopardized a life today. If I ever hear of anything of the sort again, you’ll be out of a job.” Hotch didn’t wait for a response, turning on his heel and heading back toward the interrogation room. There were few things that set him off more than mistreatment, especially under his watch.

He returned just as the medics were finishing up. You were still unconscious, but stable. Hotch stood by the door for a moment, watching as they prepared to transport you, his expression unreadable.

Innocent or not, he was going to make sure you were treated right.

[zoe-oneesama]

Idk if you’ve seen the s6 redesign of Marinette, but:

Since you make such awesome outfits for these kids, how would you fix this if you had the chance?? (Please I’m begging you 😭)

I held onto this ask so long that Marinette's official Season 6 lewk dropped so I had to modify my sketch but here we go~!

I'll reserve too much of my judgment on the updated promo look until we see it in motion, but I'm definitely not totally sold on it. I hate her boring shirt, the bow on the collar plus the flat way her blazer lies on her makes it look like one big Tuxedo T-shirt. The designers have never heard of black tights because this is the second (since her maid look) that they've mixed warm and cool toned "blacks" and I want them to STAHP.

And maybe things have changed since I was a teenager, but I don't know ANYONE who willingly tucked their shirt into their pants or shorts unless they were going to church or something. Into a skirt, sure, but otherwise most people would pair high waisted pants with a crop top because then your midriff wouldn't show.

The original leak was way worse, I'll give them that. But I'm begging them to just tryyyyyy to make their fashion designer a little more fashionable.

[nipuni]

Alright, time to share my opinions about Veilguard!! I have both criticism and praise so bear with me as I jump from one extreme to the other 😆 spoilers ahead of course!

The game has a very rough start with the dialogue being formulaic and rushed and the characters overexposing. It feels like a heavy handed attempt at summarizing all of previous games' lore for newcomers or in case you forgot but it's so overdone it feels coddling and trivializes a lot of previous events. Luckily this gets better once all of the introductions are out of the way, though the excessive hints and clarifications continue until the end sadly.

The locations are absolutely incredible and very diverse!! This is a highlight of the game for me. There is so much detail and care in every map and there are so many of them. My pc is struggling to reach medium settings and yet everything looks stunning. The verticality of the maps is so imposing and the graphics have a very dreamy quality that I love. I also enjoy the maze-like structure to the maps, it's more linear but makes everything look a bit more intentional. The color and light direction was amazing, all the visual development really!! it has to be one of the prettiest games I've ever played.

When I started I have to admit it did not feel like I was in Thedas and it all felt a bit theme-parky, if that makes sense. A lot of previously important and established world elements that made Thedas what it is were overlooked or made irrelevant. But the more I played the more it started to feel a bit more similar to Inquisition, for better or worse depending on what you feel about Inquisition. But!! this also feels like a selectively sanitized version of Thedas compared to previous games. In it's attempt to stay safe and uncontroversial in some aspects it loses a lot of substance and it changes the tone. The surface level politics, ignoring previously established major societal issues and a tell-don't-show approach makes the world seem more simple and shallow with no grey areas to explore. ( the humor also falls flat and out of place often too, and WHY is everyone always smirking, enough!! godlike beings are destroying the planet please this is not the time for Marvel banter aaaa )

The pacing at the start is a bit of a mess. It is so fast it felt like jumping from one world shattering discovery to the next with no time to process. The characters also seem to underreact to important information and major developments. It felt like the game was rushing me through all this to get to the part of the story it wanted to tell me while I was still wrapped in my shock blanket trying to catch my breath lmao. I really like all the key story points they touched upon, I just wish they dwelled more on them to give them more narrative weight. ( though blaming every bad thing to ever happen on the Elves was certainly..a choice )

I think the writing could have used more subtlety in the first half and more boldness in the second 😆 but I loved the thematic parallels between Rook and Solas and how every quest informs the main storyline. I do wish Rook was given more impossible choices and put in more difficult situations that forced them to lie or betray their own to better drive the point home though ( listen I just love a Trolley problem!! we need more of those, I'm the Trolley problem's number one fan!! ) I feel like they missed the chance to put Rook in Solas' role and be as vilified and hated for it as Solas was despite their best intentions which would make Rook's regrets stronger and in turn make their escape from the fade all the more impressive and give them a better understanding of Solas to either use against him or earn his respect. The line 'they called me the Dread Wolf, what will they call you when this is over' from the trailers was so good I was waiting for this!! But everyone just loves Rook no matter what!!

But I feel like I stated too many negative aspects in a row so moving on to some things I enjoyed!

The characters were very lovable to me. The romances weren't as long or impactful as I would have liked but I enjoyed all the companion quests. Emmrich is a delight and his quest is so wild and fun. I loved learning about Nevarra and I was awestruck by the Grand Necropolis. The mourn watch was so interesting, it showed a whole new side of Thedas' lore I knew nothing about! and I loved Manfred! Davrin is so charming, he became a favorite. I loved his quest too and learning more bits and pieces about the Dalish was great, I wish we got more. Seeing the Wardens through his quest also made me enjoy them a lot. Assan was very cute too and I'm glad he was treated as an animal and not turned into a goofy Disney sidekick too much lmao 😭 Lucanis is hilarious. The fantasy Spain/Italy was a bit silly and off at times but he is very sweet! and I love the Spite possession, that was so fun I'm glad they kept him that way! Bellara is adorable, her first backstory quest made me cry and I just love a nerd! I wish the second part of her story was written better however, and she sort of devolves into 'it's hard, I wish it was easy but it's hard' dialogues too often sadly. Anaris and the Forgotten Ones' portrayal was underwhelming and anticlimactic which was disappointing. Harding is also very cute and her Titan plotline was the most interesting to me, I bawled my eyes out in her quest!! I love the dwarven lore of this universe I'm so happy we got more of it!! ( she also fucking died in my playthrough?! I was devastated what the hell 😭 'whatever it takes' WEUEUGHHHG I'M SO SORRY) Neve was a slow burn for me because of my choices in game slowing that relationship down ( saving Treviso I mean, perdón amor 🙏 ) but I love detective novels and she is such a badass I ended up loving her. Taash was unexpected, I didn't think they would be so young. The coming of age story was sweet, though I found myself cringing a lot too at the handling of it I have to admit ( and the Lords of Fortune in general, and the Antaam...and que Qun..listen- kajshfgf ) but I also enjoyed learning more about the first expedition and the Qunari in general despite the messy writing and choices. I also loved Antoine and Evka! and Strife! And I haven't even read any of the novels they are in 😆 also Mila!!!! and her dad oh my god and Felassan haunting the narrative!! speaking of haunting, I would have loved for Cole to be in the lighthouse too I think it would have worked well 🤔 especially with the whole 'reading Solas' secret diary' thing the game had going on lmao

Everyone seems to get along except for a bit of friction that is quickly resolved at the start, which is hmm missed potential? I would have preferred more tension personally. I enjoy the drama! gives me more to work with and gives you a better grasp on everyone's personality by contrasting values. I think they wanted to speed run a found family trope for the new hero to establish some emotional stakes early on but it ended up making everyone seem like a group therapy session instead. The group meetings also have everyone either state the obvious or repeat the same opinion or conclusion to each other, I would have loved these meetings to have more bickering, have people get mad and storm out and also get to listen to different takes on a situation. Make Rook struggle more to take the reins and keep the team functional, learning how to be a leader.

Speaking of Rook! ( who in my case has a northern British accent that I loved so much 🥺) They seem to have a very established personality. I was expecting more of a blank slate but I'm lucky that the personality they went for kind of matches what I would normally choose in a first playthrough. Though the lack of range in the choices is irritating and takes away some replayability and role playing potential. Rook is very supportive and selfless, I wasn't expecting this tbh! But it all made my Rook turn into the team's weird supportive necromancer mom so it worked out in the end I guess lmao. I can't wait to draw her!!

I was so overwhelmed by the amount of information we got about Solas and his past!! I was expecting answers but not these many and not for them to be such an integral part of the plot!! The game feels like it's about him more than anything else. His arc is the best written out of all. He is mentioned in every conversation, he's the main advisor and the narrative foil, you get to talk to him often, you work for him and with him and go into his memories it all feels so surreal to me lmao I love him so I'm delighted ngl! but also making the other Evanuris so cartoonishly evil makes Solas into such an obvious choice of an ally, god of trickery or not, that it sort of takes the decision out of your hands and makes some dialogue options and companions' opinions seem almost nonsensical. I have no idea how this game would feel to someone who absolutely hates Solas' guts honestly. I suppose I will find out soon enough 😆

About Solas' story, I loved it! I somehow also feel that I knew it already, all the speculation and theories that Solavellan fans were crafting for years were so accurate that it was all very validating. Even the wildest ones! Solas as the Maker, the elves spirit origin, Mythal giving him a body, the war with the Titans, the origin of the Blight, Solas being on your side as advisor, I can go on, we knew!! Also I have to mention this I'm sorry but they made him look so hot!! unbelievable. And the bloodied teary eyed pathetic look in the end ouurghhh I'm cheering and clapping!!

The romance conclusion was so lovely 😭 the Loki and Sigyn ending we deserved to such a mythological epic!! and open ended enough for all of us to cook!! and we got to see him fight and transform into the Dread Wolf!! and whimper and cry!! and bleed and love!! that's all I ever wanted, incredible we were really spoiled what the hell I still can't believe it 😭 GDL acting was brilliant as usual! the visuals were also incredible and exactly what I had in mind when I imagined where the story may go, the eclipse, the giant wolf, the glowing eyes, the Elvhenan ruins, the statues, even the hair lmao it all aligned exactly to what I've been painting all these years but better I was thrilled 😭

Solas backstory with Mythal also offers players that didn't romance him a chance to see him act out of love and show a side they wouldn't be able to reach otherwise and I think it was smart! also very tragic and sheds more light into all of his choices and words and his relationship with Lavellan too and the parallels and reversals and uughh thoroughly enjoying the emotional distress 👌

Pleasing both the Solas lovers and haters at the same time was always going to be hard with him being such a polarizing character by design and the world states being so different but I think they did a good job! at least from my side of things.

I think my favorite part besides the Solas related stuff was the Blight. I loved how horrific and gross and threatening it was! I've always loved the concept of the Blights and I'm glad it was such a huge part of the story in this game. I also loved Treviso!! has to be the most beautiful city in Thedas ahhh and the Necropolis!! the gardens!! Vorgoth!!! Kal-Sharok!!! I can't believe we got to see it!! and a Titan!!! the giant floating face of Ghilan'nain in the clouds??? and the huge archdemons and dragons!! oh and that warden dragon trap in the shape of a griffon?? and the giant blight tendrils!! the siege at Weisshaupt was outstanding!! and the floating panopticon castle situation in Minrathous uughh there is so much I loved.

OH I also enjoyed the Varric arc even though I saw it coming since the trailer it was still played well and it was touching 🥺

The ending felt a bit jarring to me in tone though, a bit too cheerful considering...the horrors. Over half the continent destroyed and most of the problems Thedas had before the game are still there. Veil in place and all 😆

But I had fun!! I'm nitpicking really, the conclusion to Solas' story feels very satisfying to me which was my main worry so I'm happy. It is a good game!! with a sort of soft reboot feel to it and aimed at a younger audience which is probably what they were going for? You can sort of feel the struggle the team went through during production in the way the target audience seems unclear sadly. I also can't help feeling like this is an ending, so much was revealed and resolved!! but maybe I feel that way because that is what I felt after Shadowbringers / Endwalker in FFXIV once my favorite part of the story was wrapped? They can always pivot to a new continent and expand on the world and cultures we know almost nothing about, but that is always harder to sell so I have no clue where they will go from here 😵‍💫

Anyway I'm still processing a lot of stuff that I will probably talk (and draw) about later, this is already long enough!! for now I'll look up how to get the artbook because the art direction of this game is fantastic!! I would love to hear your thoughts too really, I'm curious about the experiences of players who made different choices and with different tastes to mine!!

[charliemwrites]

Sniff, sniff…. Woof.

Content: Voyeurism

“Johnny? Johnny, baby, come here!”

Your big wolf boy comes bounding in from the living room as you shut the front door, immediately rearing up to sniff at your neck and face and hands. Satisfied, he licks your cheek and drops down again.

“Alright, listen up, handsome.” You grab his cheeks, scritching along his jaw and grinning as his big blue eyes go dopey. “My sister and her husband are going to stay the night. You are going to be a polite boy because you love me and don’t want to give my sister anything to talk shit about. Yes?”

A sneeze that he (for once) aims away from you. You laugh, drop a kiss between his eyes.

“Good talk.”

As usual, he follows you through the house as you shed clothes and shoes and bags. You ramble about the grocery store and your day, mostly just to get it out so your headspace can be clear for the evening. Helps to have a little (relatively) listener following at your heels.

He camps out in the bathroom while you shower, licking the glass door until you scold him - per usual. And again when he tries to lick the clean water off your leg. Only starts getting restless and grumpy when he sees you change into “outside” clothes rather than pjs.

You groan as he tries to herd you away from your own closet. Must be mixed with a shepherding dog because he’s a damn pushy jerk.

“Enough, bud,” you sigh. “Look, I don’t wanna go much either. But it’ll be worse if I don’t.”

He mouths off at you, a new thing he’s started up that reminds you of a husky. Maybe you should get one of those doggy DNA tests.

“I know I know,” you coo, shimmying into a pair of pants that your sister won’t be able to tease makes your ass look flat. “I’d rather snuggle up and watch 90s vampire movies too. But I already said I’d go and this means I’ll be able to skip seeing her on her birthday.”

More grumbles, but at least he climbs up on the bed to pout. You finish dressing and head for the vanity - no way you can go out with your sister without makeup.

As you pass, you roll him over to scratch his belly - politely ignoring his reaction. God, you really need to get him in for a neutering. If you catch him humping one more pillow—

When it’s time to go, you drop down to give him one last hug.

“Be good, baby. I’ll be home soon with some new friends. I love you.”

—

After dinner, your sister’s husband suggests a bar. And, of course, it’s a sports bar. Man can’t go more than an hour or two without.

You and your sister chat while his eyes stayed glued to the screens. Well, she chats. You mostly just provide the audience she constantly craves, the validation she always needs.

At some point your excuse yourself to order another drink, weaving between the patrons and sighing at a chance to let your face rest for a moment. While you’re waiting, someone brushes up close behind you, startles you.

“Och, sorry, hen. Madhouse in here.”

You blink, tilt your head back to see a gorgeous pair of blue eyes shining down at you. Takes your breath away.

“Oh! Um, no problem, I get it.”

You try to scoot as much as you can - but it really is packed, especially at the bar - and the man takes the opportunity to occupy any free space you have.

Not that you’re complaining. He’s got the type of face they put on magazines with hooks like “sexiest man alive.” A killer grin as he winks down at you, arm bracing on the bar.

“Buy ya a drink for bein’ so rude?”

You’ve barely gotten the start of, “oh it’s alright,” out before he’s signaling the bartender. His stature and presence gets him instant service though, so you let it go, fidgeting restlessly.

Even his voice sounds like a sin worth committing. He’s too attractive. Too handsome to not know it; and definitely too handsome to be chatting you up and ordering you a drink.

“You here with anyone?” he asks with an edge that makes your spine prickle. Yet you almost feel like you imagine it. His tone is normal, his expression hasn’t changed and yet. Something subsonic in the timbre of his voice, maybe.

“My sister and her husband,” you reply.

“No husband of your own?”

You try to laugh, it comes out strained and awkward. “Ah, the only man in my life has four legs.”

Instead of looking annoyed by the brush off, his eyes spark.

“Dog?”

“Yup!” And okay, alarms in your head aside, you’re always happy to talk about Johnny. He’s a safe topic. You fish your phone out of your back pocket and show him your lock screen.

The man takes a quick look at the screen, an odd, private smile flicking across his face. There and then gone, before those intense eyes are locked on you again.

“He friendly?”

You laugh a bit, perk up as the bartender returns with your drink. “Not with men. Thanks for buying!”

as you turn to go, he grabs your hip. Not hard, or even too low. But you gasp quietly, the heat of his palm searing through your clothes.

“Name’s soap, by the way.”

Infinitely more nervous now, you stutter out your own and then retreat to your sister and her husband.

Spend the rest of the night pretending not to watch Soap. He doesn’t return the courtesy, eyes trained on you, lurking around the bar. So visible it seems to only you. Something about the way the light catches his eyes reminds you of when Johnny senses a threat. When he gets low and growly, hair standing on end, eyes focused.

Soap looks like he’s hunting you.

Thankfully, your sister complains about the noise after an hour or so and the three of you leave. You’re relieved to be going home.

As you step inside, you call for Johnny again.

“Wait, who the hell is Johnny?” your sister’s husband asks, an odd look on his face. “You’re living with someone?”

You snort a bit. Does he seriously not remember you talking about your dog?

“Yeah,” you joke, “he’s the love of my life, my one and only—”

You hear the clack of the doggy door and call out again. Johnny trots in panting.

“Did you just come in from a run?” you chuckle, putting a hand out in greeting.

He comes right up to you, presses his nose to the spot where “Soap” grabbed you and snuffles.

“I know, I smell wrong,” you soothe.

He grumbles and licks at your shirt, but you gently nudge him away, turning as your sister scoffs.

“You still do that thing where you talk to them like people?” She asks. “Don’t you think that’s… childish?”

“Johnny’s basically a person in a human body,” you reply, laughing. “You’ll see.”

“Dogs shouldn’t have human names,” her husband pipes up, reaching for Johnny.

“No, wait—”

Johnny snaps just shy of his fingers and puts himself bodily between you two.

“Easy!” you yelp, hooking your hand in his collar. “Sorry, I meant to warn you - Johnny’s shy with men.”

“He almost took my bloody hand off!”

“He’s just protective. Johnny, heel.”

He stops snarling, but plants himself at your feet right there, eyes sharply trained on your brother in law. Your sister snorts.

“How are you supposed to get men back here, then?”

You jump as Johnny barks, a full deep one that your rarely ever hear. Your sister startles too, then scowls.

“I don’t,” you answer, shaking your head. “Anyway, let me just get the sheets for the spare room and we can call it a night.”

Johnny stays close at your heels the entire time, though you swear he throws a nasty glance back at your sister’s husband.

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Masterlist

[bandgie]

On Your Knees

ONE | TWO

incel!Seungmin x fem!reader

warnings! MDNI18+, drinking implications (no one is drunk) dubious??, pussy eating, face fucking (m!), hate sex (but no sex) seungmin is an ass (low key misogynistic), reader is kinda mean note! this is not meant to represent Seungmin or any of the members in any way. I just like the trope :)

2.7k words

The party was getting boring in all honesty. Truth-or-Dare is only fun for the first couple of minutes but gets repetitive. Same old questions on who you're fucking, if you're fucking someone, if you've ever fucked someone. The flat beer sloshes in your red solo cup as you sit on the floor of the living room.

You can tell Han is trying to come up with something interesting to ask Seungmin. Most of the somewhat funny questions were already asked, but Han still purses his lips as he thinks of something clever. 

"Okay, I got it!" He claps his hands. "Best pussy you've ever eaten. Go."

Ah, I guess that's something, you think as you divert your attention to the cross-legged man beside you. 

Seungmin is awfully quiet at house parties and looks as though he would rather be anywhere else. You don't like Seungmin, but you don't not like him. He's just a guy Han likes to bring around on occasion. You observe Seungmin raise an eyebrow, in surprise most likely. But what he says is even more shocking. 

"Never eaten pussy."

"What?!" Everyone collectively shouts at his admission. Now this peaks your interest as you stare wide-eyed at him. "No way," you can't fathom the thought of someone in college never tasting a cunt. "Are you a virgin?"

Your bold question makes Chan choke on his drink, coughing until the bitter liquid finally passes through. "Jeez dude, you just can't ask that."

"It's literally Truth-or-Dare. I literally can," you retort. 

The clamor of everyone settles as they wait for Seungmin to answer. Now that he can feel the pressure of everyone's eyes, he shifts in his seat uncomfortably. "I'm not a virgin," he says. "I just don't eat pussy."

"What the fuck?" You make a confused expression. "You don't eat pussy? Fuck does that mean?" Seungmin finally casts his gaze on you, acknowledging your presence for the first time tonight. "Exactly what I mean. I don't like it."

"You don't like it?" Han sounds exasperated. "You gotta be fucking with me. There's no way you fuck a girl and not want to eat her pussy." Despite Han being an idiot half the time, you agree with him. Every guy you've hooked up with jumps at the chance to eat you out and you know plenty of them would do it for nothing in exchange. 

To meet a guy who's never had the opportunity to only means two things, and you're praying it's not what you're thinking. 

"I just fuck to cum. I don't really care if she finishes or not."

It's worse than you could have imagined. 

The room goes dead quiet and you suddenly figure out why Han doesn't bring Seungmin around too often. His stiff posture, his blank expression, the way he hardly regards you in any manner. It all points to signs of the worst type of man. 

"So like what?" You can't help the clipped tone in your voice. "You some type of incel?"

Chan, who likes to keep the peace, says your name in warning. "Don't start." Though he means well, the fact that you're the one getting in trouble for speaking up only fuels your fire. "Don't start? He's the one who started with his dumb incel shit."

Seungmin scowls, "Ugh. I didn't even say anything bad. You're being so emotional."

The tips of your ears burn red and you feel your entire body heat up. You can hear Chan trying to diffuse the situation, but you hardly care about maintaining 'the peace' any longer. 

"Oh, fuck off," you sneer at Seungmin. "You can't even make a girl finish. Fucking incel virgin."

Now that does it for him. You see Seungmin tighten his hands into fists as his neck grows red. "I'm not a virgin. And I can make a girl cum. I just don't care to." He enunciates his words harshly, some speckles of spit landing on your face. Both of your jaws are tense, teeth clenching as you glare into each other's eyes.

A vein sticks from his neck and his lips are stretched back into somewhat of a snarl. With a flushed expression, you easily see his cheeks heat up in anger. It's here that you realize he looks good when he's mad. You hate it.

"Okaayyy!" Chan claps his hands three times loudly. "I think it's time to call it a night." Everyone tries to stand and talk about anything else, but Seungmin and you are too busy having your own little conversation to notice. 

"Never eaten pussy, can't make a girl come. Why you lying about being a virgin?" You mimic the vicious on Seungmin's face. He keeps his eyes steady on yours, "Whoring yourself out for a fuck. You're everything that's wrong with women today." 

This makes you laugh, "At least they make me cum."

If you thought Seungmin was mad before, he's furious now. You must have struck a nerve because he stands suddenly and spins on his heel to leave. 

But you're not done with the conversation. You raise on your feet and follow him, never ceasing to stop your vicious spewing, "Just be honest with me, Min. It's okay to have never felt a woman's touch. Not that you ever will, being an incel that is."

Seungmin hurries up the stairs of the house with you on his tail. You can't see his face, but you can feel the anger rolling off him. 

He suddenly stops in his tracks, making you effectively bump into his back. "I'm not an incel," he keeps his voice low, but strong. "Eating pussy isn't even all that. You just have an ego bigger than your tits."

You try and play it off with a scoff, but you feel your face heat up. You grope your chest offendedly; you like your boobs. "Not all that? Come here." Pushing on Seungmin's back, you lead him to the nearby bathroom and shove him inside. He stumbles and trips over his feet, shooting a hand out to balance himself on the counter as you close and lock the door behind you.

"Fuck was that for?" He whips his head around to glare at you, but he's surprised to be met with an eerie smile on your face instead. He gulps nervously, "What are you looking at?"

You shrug nonchalantly, "Looking at someone who's going to eat me out." Seungmin looks as though you've slapped him across the face as his eyes widen. "What? Who said I was gonna do that?" 

You're already hiking your skirt up to your torso, biting the cloth between your teeth, and showing the pretty little thong you put on in hopes of a hookup. It barely manages to over your clit and you can see the outline of your pussy underneath the material. With one hand, you use the tip of your finger to draw soft circles on it. Seungmin drops his eyes to your clothed core.

His Adam apple bobs.

"Come on," you wiggle your eyebrows playfully. "Get on your knees for me."

For a second, you think he's gonna walk out. He was so persistent about not wanting to eat pussy and his shitty attitude was...well...shitty. You begin to think that there's no hope for Seungmin, but he proves you wrong by bending one knee and looking up at you.

"I'm just going to look," he says more to himself than to you. "Just so you could stop your whining." 

His hands grip the plushness of your thighs as he stretches the skin. The lips of your pussy peek out at the movement, but Seungmin is far from disgusted. His ears pick up on the sound your cunt makes when he uses his thumb to pull and push the skin together. Slowly, he moves his hand up to pull your thong down, exposing the very thing he claims to revolt against. 

You shiver against his warm breath, his warm touch. You reach your hands down to pull up on the skin of your pelvis to further stretch your pussy. "Getting a good look, Seungmin?" You giggle at the annoyed expression on his face. His lips may be pulled pursed into a frown, but his eyes are wide with lust.

Seungmin is trying his best to hold back, but it's near impossible. Everything about you surrounds him: your smell, your soft skin, the way your voice echoes in the bathroom. He shocks himself with how much he enjoys watching your clit peek from your pussy lips and how the first signs of arousal make your entire cunt shine. 

"Shut up," he mumbles. 

You're thinking of a witty remark to snap at him, but you're instead pleasantly surprised with his lips ghosting over your core. Your body stills, letting Seungmin explore pussy on his tongue for the first time. He runs his lips over your own, feeling how soft and warm it is. Seungmin already knew how hot a cunt is, but tasting it on his lips is a whole other level of heat.

"Mmm," you hum at the sensation. "What happened to just getting a look?" 

Seungmin looks up at you, mouth still attached to your core. His nose bumps on your lower stomach with his hair tousled over his face. Before you can think, you brush the bangs from his face to get a good view of his form. The sight makes you groan, bucking your hips further into his face. Seungmin makes a hmmf! sound as you bury his face deeper into your pussy, but he makes no move to deny you.

It's not until you start rocking your hips that he finally sticks his tongue out. He starts at the peak of your pussy, letting the nub roll over his tongue experimentally. Seungmin notes how your legs shake when he does that. He feels your hips still so he could properly suck on that part of your cunt. 

The taste of you settles on Seungmin's tastebuds and he finds his tongue digging deeper into your lips. They dip down to your labia before going back up. He likes how soaked you make his wet tongue, how your hands twist his floppy hair to drive him deeper. He hates how much he likes it. 

Truthfully, you're in the same boat. His mouth may not be experienced, but you upsettingly like how he lets you ride his face. "See Sungie?" You say his name mockingly. "Not too bad, is it?"

Seungmin doesn't stay put in your cunt. This time, he pulls away from your throbbing core to talk back. "I never said it was goo- mmf!" As lovely as it would have been to hear his voice, you reason that his words may not have been as nice. You had gripped the back of his head and forced him back to your center, uncaring how he gently slapped the back of your thighs in disapproval.

"Just shut up and stick your tongue out." You're impatient needless to say. Seungmin can tell by how you keep one hand steady on his head while the other gives his cheek light taps. "Open up, come on." You probe the man between your legs until he finally relents, widening his jaw so your entire clit fits in his mouth.

You hum at his mouth taking your core in, "Good boy. See? You were made to eat pussy."

Then you hook one of your thighs over his shoulder and wrap that leg around his body until his face is pushed against you. His eyes widen, screaming at you as if saying this wasn't part of the deal! But the panic only makes you laugh. He can pretend all he wants, but you know the bulge in his pants all too well as you look down on him.

Grinding on his face is easy with you in complete control. You sloppily rub your cunt all over his tongue with his head following your movements. Seungmin groans and grunts in your cunt, but it's far from the disdain he was filled with earlier. His hips thrust into the air at the feel of your essence dripping down his chin.

His jolts make you chuckle breathlessly. "Fuck, just look at you. You wanna cum? You wanna cum, don't you?"

Screw his pride, screw any stupid podcast he's watched, he needs to cum. He wants to feel your pussy clench on his cock, not his tongue. Yet, he can't find it in himself to tear himself away from your clit. If you taste this good already, he can't imagine the savor of you creaming on his tongue. 

To not let a second go by without his mouth on you, he nods, looking up at you pleadingly. He's sorry for being a dick, for being an incel. If you let him finish in you, he'll never-

"Sucks to suck," you shatter his dream. "You're gonna make me cum. Don't move."

And he doesn't, but it's not because he means to obey you. You have Seungmin on his knees, mouth enclosing over your pussy while you tug on his hair and hump his face and you're not going to let him finish? At all?

Then there's no point of him being here. Seungmin should tear your grip off him and leave the bathroom, but he can't. Fuck, he can't. It's like you've put a curse on him, glued him to the floor with his jaw unhinged and tongue out as you grind on his face. 

It has to be witchcraft because why else would he still be here? Does he really like the taste of you that much? Maybe it's how you look; flushed, sweaty, close to a high Seungmin's never been able to bring a girl to. Seeing you so close to your orgasm makes him eager to stay, eager to please. And god, he loves how your clit twitches in his mouth.

"Shit," you curse. "Gonna cum. Imma cum all over your face. You want that? Want my cream all over your tongue?"

Seungmin would rather die than tell you the truth, so he responds by sucking harshly on your clit. The suction is enough to tip you over the edge, digging your nails into his scalp as you bend the upper half of your body over him. 

Your cunt pluses around nothing, but that hardly matters when you hear Seungmin gulping down your release. The very same man who claims to not like eating pussy, to not care if his partner finishes. That man eagerly licking you clean with his eyes rolling behind his head. 

You shiver and mewl as you cum, softly grinding your hips to come down from your high. "God- fuck! Put your tongue in my pussy."

He does, finally getting a feel of your walls for the first time. They squeeze and pulse around his tongue and he gives a few testing thrusts that you respond to positively. 

Fuck, you taste even better inside. 

Seungmin can't stop fucking his tongue deep inside you. Not even as you wrap your leg from him and straighten up. A part of you debates on whether or not to let him keep going. At this rate, he might make you finish a second time, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction of that. Plus, you've been gone long enough for the other men to question your whereabouts.

You place the palm of your hand on his forehead and push him away. The shove makes him detach from your cunt with a lewd pop! as he catches himself backward on his hands.

"Geez. You're gonna lick it off," you pick your underwear up and step through the leg holes, ignoring how uncomfortable it feels on your sensitive cunt. Seungmin seems in a daze as you drop your skirt from your lips and adjust the material. Even as you walk closer to the mirror and touch up your make-up, Seungmin stays in place on the ground. 

He liked it. Dear god, he loved it. Even with the tent in his pants, he hardly seems to notice how his cock throbs when he can still taste you on his lips. You only face-fucked him to prove a point, but you changed the trajectory of his life forever.

Yet, you wash your hands and use a hand towel to dry yourself like you didn't just make Seungmin question his entire purpose. You throw the rag to the man on his knees, managing to land it on his lap. "Your face is soaked. Clean it before they see how much of a munch you are, yeah?"

a/n: idk why I was at work was thought "yk what would be hot? making an incel seungmin worship you" and boom, this was birthed. I kinda wanna make a part two I have ideeassss also two fics in one week?? who am I? thank you for reading!

[chrispleasure]

LISTEN, m.s

summary: you and matt get into a argument after both of you have had a hard day

warnings: hitting ( playfully ), crying, angst, swearing

not proofread!

“are you even listening to me? i told you to clean the dishes while i take a shower?” matt yelled, glancing at you from the bathroom door. your stood in the kitchen, wearing a pink crop top over a white long sleeve top beneath.

you had been having a bad day, and matt yelling just simply made it worse. you weren’t in the mood to argue, to wash dishes, or anything, really. “is this how little you think of me? that’d i would just flat out refuse to do dishes without a reason?” you raise your tone.

on the inside you were silently begging matt to come to his senses and drop it, but no, he had to keep going. “im just asking you to do something for once! this house is a mess!” he yelled before slamming the bathroom door to take his shower.

you knew that if he came out to the kitchen still dirty and the dishes unwashed, he would lash out. so, you stand infront of the sink, grabbing gloves and filling up the sink with warm water. you squirt some soap into the water and begin to wash the dishes.

each dish you cleaned felt like a chore, your arms dragging lazily. you were so fucking worn out from putting a happy face on all day. even matt didn’t notice.

after what felt too short, matt emerges from the bathroom in grey sweatpants and a white tank top. he walks over to you, standing behind you. he stays quiet, noticing you have only done seven dishes out of the twenty three sitting right there. “are you that slow?” he spoke, hitting your shoulder.

“im having a hard time right now-” he interupts you, “oh my god, i dont care! alright? just do the fucking dishes, fast.” he yelled, immediate tears fill your eyes and drip down your cheeks.

you rush to get the dishes done, you had no idea what has gotten into matt. but you knew for sure you hated this part of him.

he had been yelling at you for everything today, “just stop! matt, stop! fucking leave me alone!” you scream, finishing the dishes and turning around to face him, your wet gloves dripping water onto the floor.

“your making a mess! and you want me to leave you alone in my house? my fucking house? leave. leave right now.” he matches your tone, stomping his foot down.

more tears emerge from your eyes, he was making you leave? he had never done that before. “i-” you attempt to speak but he interupts you again. “pack your shit and go. get the fuck out of my sight!” he slaps your shoulder, not hard, like a playful slap, but still, it didnt help.

you take off your gloves and throw them onto the floor, storming up to the bedroom. you pack your necessities, which takes around twenty minutes. by the time you arrive downstairs to leave, he is sat down crying.

“baby- im.. im sorry.” he cried, calling out to you as you walk towards the door. “i didn’t mean anything i said. i was having a bad day too. i didnt mean it— i actually didn’t.” he sobs, his vision blurry.

you put down your bags, going over to the dining table and giving him a hug. “shh, okay? i got you, im not going. just— no more arguments. we can talk it out instead.” you say, rubbing his back. he nods, agreeing.

hashtags ꨄ

[catiuskaa]

need you to [Lee] Know.

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

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

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

WC: 1.2k

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

[🔅★🌼★🔅]

Minho was not the type to show his affection.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe he had been taking you for granted?

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

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

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

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

“No what?” You mutter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Min, I’m so sorry.”

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

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

He loves you.

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re laughing, squirming in his hold.

“Lee Minho! Put me down!”

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

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

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

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

“You have twenty minutes.”

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

“I’m taking your cute ass to a date.”

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

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

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

He’s not letting go anytime soon.

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

[moonstruckme]

The doctor!remus smutty drabble drove me insane, please, I need more😣

Me too babe </3

cw: smut mdni, roleplay, discussion of female anatomy, some whiffs of d/s dynamics, praise, innocence kink? i think? I don't wanna talk about it, everything is consensual

doctor!Remus x "innocent"!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Your heart is in your throat, and there’s thin paper crinkling between your fingers as they curl. 

“Are you cold?” Remus thumb smooths over the goosebumps on your calf. His touch only makes your hair stand more on end. 

“No,” you say, but your voice is a quiet squeak. You try again. “No, just a bit nervous.” 

Your doctor’s eyebrows pinch sympathetically, and he offers you a small, kind smile as he starts to put on his gloves. “There’s no reason to be nervous, sweetheart. Have you had an exam like this before?” 

Your eyes catch on the way he pulls at the plastic, long fingers flexing to get them all the way on. Like this? Definitely not. You shake your head. 

“That’s alright,” Remus says gently. “It’s all completely routine, we just want to make sure everything is working as it should. I’ll take good care of you, alright?” 

He takes a seat on a stool in front of you. One wheel squeaks as he rolls it between your legs. 

You nearly jump off the table when his knuckle brushes over the cloth of your panties, and Remus chuckles before he can stop himself. “Relax, lovely. Okay if I take these off for you?” 

You expel a breath, feeling silly. “Yeah. Sorry.” 

“That’s alright.” He pulls them down your thighs, helping you get one foot out of them before leaving them hooked around the other ankle. “Are you sexually active?” 

Your face warms at the bluntness of the question, though you know it’s strictly professional. It’s also difficult to feel relaxed knowing his eyes are roving your cunt, which has already begun to perspire from the sight of his lovely hands and even lovelier face. 

“No,” you say. 

“Really?” Remus sounds surprised. “Well, suppose we don’t have much to worry about on that end of things, then. Do you have plans to be in the near future?” 

He pushes your thin gown down from your thighs to see your face as you respond, and you blink at him. “No.” 

Remus’ eyes glint. “Alright,” he says, tone carefully neutral. “But everything feels the way it should? No pain or anything?” 

You wet your lips. “I, um, I think so. How do I know?” 

His eyes leave the area between your legs, meeting yours. Somehow, this feels worse. You shift your hips anxiously, paper rustling beneath you. 

He seems to choose his words carefully. “Do you ever touch yourself, sweetheart?” 

You feel your eyes widen. Your heart beats against your ribcage. “No.” 

“Do you know what your clitoris is? Your labia?” 

“No,” you answer quietly. 

Remus’ expression softens. “That’s alright, love. Do you want me to show you?” 

You can feel your blood pounding in your face now, your skin torturously hot. Still, you nod. 

“I’m going to need you to tell me verbally,” he says. 

“Yes. Please.” 

Your voice is so soft you can barely hear it yourself, nerves choking you. Remus’ eyes crease at the corners. He appears both smug and charmed.

“Alright,” he says, his attention moving back down. You feel him touch something sensitive around your cunt, and it makes you tense. “These are your labia.” You feel the lengths of his fingers smooth up your folds. “There are the outer labia, which you usually see, and then the inner labia” —his touch slips to a more intimate place— “which you don’t always see for everyone. They can be bigger or smaller. Make sense so far?” 

You swallow. Your breaths are shallowing, heat gathering near Remus’ fingers like magic. “Yeah,” you manage. 

He smiles. “Good girl. See, it’s not so scary.” 

You gasp and writhe in surprise when his thumb moves upward. He smears your slick over a sensitive bundle of nerves, toying with it idly. When you move, he sets a hand to your stomach, pressing you flat to the table. 

“Easy,” Remus murmurs. “Does that feel nice?” 

“Yes,” you pant. 

“Good. It should. That’s your clitoris.” 

A shudder trembles through you as he finds a rhythm, swiping up and down over your clit with short, purposeful strokes. You’re vaguely embarrassed by the wetness starting to seep out of your hole at his ministrations, but this feels nice, far too nice to stop and nice enough to help you forget. 

Remus’ voice is a deep rasp. “Are you liking that?”

“Yes,” you moan, mortified. 

“Do you want to learn some more?” 

You nod fervently, rewarded with a smile that stretches the scar across his top lip. 

“I’m guessing you’ve never cum before,” he says. When you nod again, he pushes two long fingers into your heat. “We’ll work on that now, alright?” 

Immediately, he has to push down on your stomach again when your back tries to rise up off the table. 

“Fuck,” you cry. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Remus’ voice is crooning, pitying. “Is it always this bad? No wonder you don’t know if things feel the way they should, poor thing.” 

He fucks you slowly with his fingers, feeling about until he finds the spot he’s looking for, sponging sweetly over your front wall. 

“Legs open, darling. Keep relaxed for me, I need to see to do my work.”

Eventually his hand leaves your abdomen, but still Remus wants complete control. He won’t let you rush things. Every time you try, you’re admonished with a firm swat to your bum, a nip of teeth on the inside of your thigh. He gets you squirming and squealing, your own hand pressed hard over your mouth, and still he maintains the same languid pace. When your thighs start to quiver, he chuckles knowingly. 

“Oh, aren’t you sweet? Are you gonna cum for me already?” 

“Yeah, I think—fuck—” You’re babbling, gasping for air under relentless waves of pleasure. “Please don’t stop.” 

“I won’t,” he shushes you. “It’s okay, lovely, you’re doing so well. What a good girl you are, hm? Just let it happen. You’ve earned it.” 

The next wave that crashes over you brings you down with it. You squeeze your eyes shut, paper tearing underneath your fingers as your orgasm drowns everything out. 

Remus works you through it, smugness lacing his dulcet voice. “That’s it, there you are, sweetheart. That feels good, doesn’t it? You did beautifully.” 

His fingers slip out of you, and the gentle pat he delivers to your cunt makes you whine dazedly. He kisses the inside of your knee with tender care. 

“I think I’m gonna call red, dovey, okay?” 

You catch your breath, sitting up on your elbows. “Yeah,” you say, “of course. You okay?”

“Mhm.” Your boyfriend leans up between your legs, setting his lips on yours. “I just really wanted to kiss you,” he murmurs. 

You smile against his mouth. “Sorry for depriving you.” 

“That’s alright.” He leans back to look at your face. “Did you have fun?” 

You chase him, winning another quick peck. “Yeah. Lots, thank you. Did you?” 

“Um, yes.” Remus laughs. “I’m not sure if I can make the drive home without taking care of things first.” 

“Really?” The thought that he’s been hard underneath his pants, on the brink of cumming just by watching you experience your own pleasure, is thrilling. You stroke your thumb over the stubble on his jaw. “We could do something about that, if you’re okay with doing it here.” 

His eyes spark. “Yeah? You feeling up for that?” 

“Mhm.” You shuffle back on the table, paper crinkling underneath you as you smile up at him. “If you’re not worried about cleanup or anything like that.” 

“Nope.” Remus gets up beside you on the table happily. “I reckon one perk of doing this here is that when we’re done, we can get ourselves cleaned up and then just throw out this paper. When I come back to open up in the morning it’ll be like it never happened.” 

“Okay.” You look up at him through your lashes, playing a bit coy. “How do you want it, then?” 

Your boyfriend’s eyes move over you thoughtfully. “Are you okay to get on your hands and knees, sweetheart?”

[imsilay]

THIRST

NSFW mdni +18, cw: oral (f! receiving), inexperienced f!reader, forcing and threatening? (idk)

summary: he was so desperate for a taste.

art cr: @hallot

Icy-blue eyes pleaded up to you as he clung to your thighs. His massive frame between your legs made you feel small under his presence. You shook your head. “No.”

The pleading look turned into a threatening one. “What do you mean ‘no’, Maus?” he growled as his grip tightened around your thighs. “Come on, Schatz. Let me taste you. I promise it will feel good.” His tone was sweet again, it was best he could do to convince you. He was trying to hold back the urge to tear your panties down and dive into your pussy. The desperation was too much to bear. Your little cunt was so pretty that he had to have his mouth and tongue on it. He had to taste you himself.

“No. Can you please let go of me?” You mumbled as you tried to shake off his grip on your thighs. But he was much stronger than you. It was a mistake to try and fight back. His brows furrowed in irritation, and he tightened his grip even more. It was certain that the print of his hands would be left on your skin. “Are you gonna make me beg?” He pinned your body to the mattress, not giving you an inch of space to move. “What about i fuck you until you pass out? Would you rather that?” he hissed. It wasn’t a threat but it was true that he could do it. Your stomach tensed up. You knew he was trying to be gentle with you but he was a man that could kill people with his bare hands. And now his eyes behind his mask was filled with determination. He would taste that pretty pussy whether you want it or not. He was just trying to convince you and he wouldn’t give up.

“O-okay but-” your body quivered as a squeak escaped your mouth when he licked your lips through the thin fabric of your panties. The sensation made your mouth fall open but he didn’t stop. Besides you felt him smirk against your panties. As he teased your cunt with his moist tongue increasing the wetness between your legs. “F-Fuck.” you whimpered when his tongue found your clit. His tongue swirled around it and made you squirm with need. The way his hands squeezed your thighs made it worse.

His tongue stopped when he decided you were wet enough for him to finally devour you. His teeth grazed on your panties teasingly making you squirm. After feeling your hips twitch and seeing your fingers claw at the sheets he decided it was enough teasing. He pulled your panties aside with his teeth while looking into your eyes. His mask hid his face and what he was doing between your legs. Yet you felt everything even more intensely.

His flat tongue gave you a full lick, from your tight hole to your throbbing clit. It made your hips shudder. He groaned when finally he get to taste you. His tongue working on you like a starved man as his hands spread your legs further. You desperately tried to close them but he growled and bit your thigh. You yelped but could even focused on the pain when he get back to work. He made noises, as if enjoying some sort of five-star meal. It was enough to make your face flush a bright red. He was so shameless. He wasn’t holding back to let you know how good you tasted. He had been spending days in order to convince you. When he first saw your pussy he wanted to make you cum on his tongue but you were against the idea. Having his mouth between your legs was something that would be so embarrassing for you. But you wish to have allowed him because it was feeling so good. The way it was making you feel was too much to bear. His tongue had found the exact spots to make you squirm. He was taking his time to explore you. Letting you to adjust to the feeling. He could easily force you but he made sure you were comfortable with everything.

When his tongue entered your dripping hole your eyes rolled back. The sensation was too much for you. You were inexperienced but his tongue was moving expertly. It was clear that he had some experience beforehand. It wasn’t long when you cum on his tongue with a cry. He lapped and sucked your hole. Making sure he didn’t miss anything and tasted everything. When your moans came to a stop he smirked and lifted his mask, licking his lips as he looked into your eyes. “I know you’d taste as sweet as you looked.” he purred. It made your heart skip a beat then race. His lips and chin was wet with your slick. He didn’t seemed to mind. He was relishing in the taste he finally got.

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked the content ofc <3 your comments also makes my day :*

i started writing this at 7:47 PM and finished at 9:36 :’)

also i post everyday -sometimes 2 posts in a day- so if you follow me i won’t disappoint ;)

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Pussydrunk!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Cockdrunk!Fem!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Simon comes home from deployment, hungry to have his pretty girl all to himself. Things get heated quick and before long you are both drunk off the feeling of the other. From this ask here.

Word Count: 5.4 k

Warnings:

The moment those heavy boots hit the threshold of the apartment, brown eyes are searching for you as Simon’s heart pounds in his ears the same as it had the entire drive over. He’s been gnawing at the bit since even before he returned to base a day ago, aching to get back to the gorgeous being living in his flat. The last month of his deployment he’s been on edge, counting down the days in agonizing fashion as the craving growing in the pit of his stomach gets worse and worse. Fuck, he’s missing you - all of you - something fierce. 

Simon has missed those sweet moans of yours, the way you make his name sound so perfect through the stuttered gasps as you reach that level of incoherence that renders you completely useless; he has missed all the ways your body moves against and underneath him, writhing and back arching as his larger form overwhelms you; he has missed the way you fuck him, body begging for more even as you struggle to fit him all in and how beautiful it is to be inside you. 

It is enough to drive the man insane.

From the bedroom you can hear the door opening and closing and rush to the living room as quick as your legs can move, carried by giddy nerves to see your lover again after so long. You knew he was meant to be in today, but not the time and so you’ve been on edge waiting and listening; as soon as you see him a deepening ache situates itself in your chest. 

Simon clocks you as you come into the living room and he can’t find enough air to fill his lungs; by the way your cheeks instantly glow with warmth and your eyes sparkle he’s sure you are feeling the same tension fill the air around you the moment you two are in sight of one another. You are the one to close the distance as Simon’s limbs feel too heavy to move at first, blood being drawn to other places along his body that need it more now that he is near to the object of his desire. 

“Hey there stranger,” you smile up into those familiar balaclava- clad features as your heartbeat steadily becomes more erratic from your body flooding with that desperate longing to be against him once again. It is always the same: when you two are apart for long periods when he has to be away the moment you are in front of one another again it is like striking a match in a room filled with gasoline. “Long time no see.” 

He stares back down at you, light chocolate eyes taking in the face he hasn’t seen properly in too damn long. “Well ‘ello there yerself, pretty girl,” he returns, gravely tone sending chills down your spine as he drops the gear on his shoulder to the floor so that he has free range of motion to cup his calloused hand along your soft, delicate cheek. “It’s been a hot fuckin’ minute. Did ya miss me, luv?”

Before his brain can register what’s happening he senses something brush up against him in the small space still between your bodies and as his eyes travel down he sees that your hand is grabbing at his belt buckle, silky digits lacing themselves around the metal clasp. His eyes jump back up to yours instantly.

You aren’t wasting any time, are you? Fucking hell.

“Missed you a whole fucking lot, Simon,” you say under your breath as you give his belt a firm tug forward so that he has to take a step into you. Your thighs are already being rubbed together where you stand; it’s instant the way he can turn you on just by his presence alone. “Didn’t know when you’d be in; been waiting as patiently as I could, but I gotta say it hasn’t been easy. Got my nerves all flustered. How about you? Are you flustered, baby?”

You just have to do it, don’t you? That one damned gesture that always sends him reeling.

It isn’t a secret how the time apart makes him pine for you as if he is a man dying of thirst: for those hot, breathless moments spent between your thighs, for the way your bodies seem created only for the other, for the intense sensations of euphoria that only you can give him. So when your fingers hook into his belt to pull him in closer, you know what effect it will have on making him crumble, don’t you? 

Eight months is far too fucking long not to have any piece of you and any little touch would have done the trick to do him in, but you know the exact combination that will have him throwing you on your back in a heartbeat. He is a man starved of his addiction and it’s about goddamn time he had another hit. As you tug at the leather with a smirk across your lips, doe-eyed stare not so innocent anymore, all that yearning that had been bubbling right under the calm surface of those autumn-colored eyes for eight long, agonizing months explodes with force. 

No words, not a goddamn sound as that skull mask is ripped up off of Simon’s face in a flash quicker than your eyes can catch. Your body is moved by two strong arms more than capable of manhandling those curves with ease and find yourself slammed into the wall while he clasps your chin securely in his grip so that hungry lips can scramble to aggressively capture your own. While your lips dance, his free hand roams up under your clothes to grab ahold of any piece of available flesh as all that pent up desire surges through his veins like liquid fire. His fingertips tremble as they brush across all that soft, balmy skin along your abdomen and around your hips, making him produce a guttural moan into your open mouth that you are forced to swallow down. 

That huge, hulking body of his with its prominent muscles bulging everywhere even through his clothing overwhelms your own as he pins you harder against the wall while his grip descends to around your ass so that he can bring your hips forward, clothed pelvis rutting into you to catch any extra bit of friction he can as that tenting at the crotch of his pants swells the longer he grinds against you. His mouth is insatiable, stealing sloppy, frantic kisses one after another until your lips burn from the abrasion… and yet you still aren’t satisfied. 

Simon feels your nipples through your t-shirt stiffening as his chest rubs against them, a reminder to his numbing brain that there is even more of a feast for him waiting just beneath your clothes if he can just get them off you; the couple of nudes he keeps in his phone that you send him while he’s away are only a pale comparison to the real fucking thing and he’s been dying see it in person.

You’re close to one another, but not fucking close enough. 

He needs skin on skin, curves molded into curves, cock buried in you deep. That’s the crux of it all - he needs to be reminded of what you feel like wrapped around him, lose his mind as your cunt gives him the sensation he can get nowhere else from no one else. It consumes him in that moment until his thoughts are filled with nothing but the oncoming ecstasy that will soon be his. 

Feverish fingers slip themselves into the waistband at the back of your pants as he continues to rut against you, the few layers of fabric between you about to be reduced as he shoves down taking your pants over the arch of your ass until they fall around your ankles and you can step out of them. Your own fingers are already undoing the buckle of his belt before your clothes can hit the floor; thank fuck that Simon likes to keep his wardrobe uncomplicated when on leave. 

“Christ, I’m so fuckin’ hard for ya, sweetheart,” he breathes the heated, desperate words against your raw lips as hips continue to grind on you and make your work that much more difficult, “it’s been hell being away for so long. I’ve been fuckin’ starved, baby. That sweet little pussy of yours is callin’ my fuckin’ name. I need it, I need ya…fuckin’ can’t wait another goddamn second.” 

The muscles along his abdomen tense through his shirt as you brush against them until finally his belt comes loose and you can move onto the button securing his pants. You finish undoing everything just in time for him to tear that fucking shirt clean off your top half before doing exactly the same to his own. 

The middle of his chest is flushed pink and hastily you lean in to press your lips to it, through the tingle against your mouth from tiny hairs brushing over the delicate skin you can feel he is so warm it’s like he’s heated from the inside out. That broad chest heaves up and down heavily with the weight of his lust-filled breaths as you dot tender pecks along the center before he can’t take anymore and picks you up, throws you over his shoulder, and hurriedly drags you off to the bedroom hungry and ready to indulge.  

“That’s it,” Simon says in that brash tone that lets you know he’s reached his limit. “Can’t take this ache ‘nother goddamn second. You and that sweet thing between your legs are mine now.”  

He’s able to make it across the apartment in no time and throws open the bedroom door so that it hits the wall behind it with a booming thud as he stalks to the bed and sets you down on the surface, making sure to remove the pants hanging loosely around his hips as quick as he can along with his boxers. The moment he’s free of the clothing binding him that thick, meaty appendage springs to life, bobbing at attention as the vein along it pulses, and your breath hitches as your eyes are drawn to it; he’s not the only one who’s hungry and its been a hot fucking minute since you’ve laid eyes on all he has to offer.

You barely have time to scramble up towards the pillows at the head of the bed before he is crawling up towards you, a predator’s gaze making his iris’ flash and sparkle with an internal fire in the scant bit of light from the bedside lamp that illuminates the room. 

Simon’s shoulder muscles tense as he moves on all fours until he’s over you, his cock dangling down as he gets between your legs so that it drags over the petals of your pussy. You can feel it throb as it becomes even more engorged with blood at the stimulation and it makes your mouth salivate. A strained grunt echoes through his closed lips as the tip grazes over that silky, heated skin between your thighs; he’s already vibrating with pleasure… what the fuck is gonna happen when he gets inside?

Only one way to find out…

Simon pulls your legs up high around his waist, wide torso keeping you nice and spread for him. You claw at his shoulder blades with your nails as you shove your hips into him, body practically begging for him to get inside already. Screw any foreplay, you can’t afford to wait and let this frantic moment slip by. There is only one thing you want in you and it is already throbbing at its destination. 

“Fuck, please Simon, just get inside me,” your plea sends a shiver down his spine. “I don’t want to fucking wait…waited long enough.”

Spitting into his hand he applies the moisture to your entrance, lubricating the opening with hard presses of his fingertips along your cunt to help get things moving in the right direction. “Been a while, baby,” he returns as he aligns the tip and presses it against you while trying not to fall apart at the seams, “ya sure ya can still fuckin’ take it all?”

You nod aggressively, the need to be filled out by him overwhelming your every sense. You’ve waited patiently all this time, chomping at the bit for him to get back to you and now that he is here between your legs it’s all you can think about. “Give it to me,” you demand. “I need it baby, please, I’m aching something terrible. I need to feel you inside me again.”

How could he ever deny a request like that from you? 

The world falls away as the tip slips through the threshold of your body and inside and he has to stop as just the head alone stretching you wide sends him spiraling. Your back arches off of the bed as you squirm under him, mouth falling open with half-formed moans that get caught in the back of your throat as the tight space is beginning to fill. Simon shudders with ecstasy, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth to bite down in hopes that the sharp pain will force him to stay sane.  

Another thrust shoves him in a bit more so that now he’s more than halfway there, but still has just a bit to go. Your body doesn’t stand a chance as you lay under him at his mercy. His fingernails graze your waist as his hands hold on tight; he has to fit it in, get to the base, completely surround himself within you. Taking a deep breath he gathers another burst of energy to thrust all the way until he bottoms out and you release a cry into the silence of the room. 

“Goddamn ya feel so fuckin’ good princess, like a goddamn dream,” he gasps out as his head snaps down against your chest. “Pretty girl, my pretty fuckin’ girl, wanna keep ya fuckin’ full ‘a me all the time.”

Simon’s brain is quickly becoming mush as the warmness and growing wetness of your pussy makes his large form quiver at the bliss. You are no better, sanity slipping away as his hefty cock practically molds your walls to his specific shape as it rests inside. Hips begin to rock and are immediately punctuated by a deep-throated groan with each snap as he settles into a steady rhythm.   

Thrust after thrust each one harder than the last pushes your body until it is shoved up and your head hits the wall behind the bed. Simon’s nose nuzzles into your neck as feeble whimpers leave the confines of your mouth and pack his head full. “Missed your sounds too,” he says, amidst another thrust. “Keep this up and it’s gonna be my fuckin’ end, sweetheart.” Another strong thrust follows and then another.  

A yearning need to see himself fuck your gorgeous body suddenly engulfs his mind and so he slow sits himself up on his knees, making sure to keep himself inside you, so that he can get the perfect birdseye view of the beautiful way your body takes him in. It’s perfection and he cannot help but become absorbed in watching as each thrust in and out makes his cock disappear inside that narrow passage only to slip back out covered in more of your juices with each pass. 

Over and over his hips rock into you, the muscles along his abdomen clenching, fingertips digging into your sides to hold you still as his speed steadily increases the longer he goes. Your music fills his head, whimpers of pleasure as he strikes against your g-spot from the angle he’s positioned in, and that is the only thing that is floating in there now as everything else becomes a blur. 

The stoic and collected military officer is reduced to a glorious mess the longer he thrusts, drooling over you, going blind and delirious at the feeling of those tight, silky walls sucking him all in as they flutter around his cock. It’s been too long, too many nights spent alone without your company stuck half-way across the world with only his hand to keep him occupied when he can get a free moment, which those were few and far between. But nothing, nothing ever could compare to the feeling of you.

“Can’t get enough,” he stammers with a groan, so wrapped up in the moment that speech is near impossible to produce. “Fuckin’ desperate for ya, need more…need fuckin’ more…”

Simon is deep inside you and yet that ache is still monstrous, eating him alive so that anything outside of the ecstasy of your flesh is just fucking gone. He can’t think, he can’t breathe, he’s obsessed with your body. It isn’t enough though, never enough. You have completely consumed him; he is under your spell and nothing can break the charm.

His head is spinning, thoughts vacant like he is wasted; fuck, he’s high off the sensation of your pussy clenching around him. Now that he is inside you, there is no way he can leave anytime soon. There’s no goddamn way he’s going to let either of you come yet, not after how long you two have gone without each other. 

That hot coil tensing in the pit of his stomach pulls tighter and tighter, but he will not let it snap… not yet. No, he needs this to last as long as he physically can keep it up and so he knows what he has to do and with all his strength he does it; that once intense pounding slows down until he stops amongst your whimpered mewling. 

“What’re you doing?” you stutter, hips desperately trying to buck against him, but he pins them down for a bit. 

“Uh, uh,” he shakes his head, “don’t ya fuckin’ dare think you’re gonna come yet. Ya feel too fuckin’ good to let go of.”

Oh shit… You were in for it now, but just how much you could have never guessed. 

“No…no, please… I need you to keep going,” you plead as your throat strains to release the words, water rimming the whites of your eyes. That consuming ache is so deep in your bones it threatens to devour you whole, causing you to rip at the very seams as it permeates every fiber of your being until your entire form is primed like an explosive ready to combust. You can’t breathe, you can’t fucking think; everything is focused on how much the feeling of him is consuming all of you like a fire burning through dry tinder.

A shuddering breath escapes his lips; even stopping doesn’t help much, your body just feels too good and so he has to at least rut carefully against it. “I know, baby, I know,” he groans as his fingers dig into your hip to now force you to grind your clit into the base of his shaft. “But ya want this to fuckin’ last, yeah? Ya don’t wanna be done with me just yet, do ya?”

That thick, veiny appendage lay inside you, its girth stretching out the walls of your cunt to capacity as it simply rests there throbbing with the beat of his rapid heart rate, stewing in the filthy mess of juices he’s already made between your legs. You choke on a whimper as the stimulation to your clit sends a shockwave through to your toes and you clench them together, gathering some of the sheets into their grip. 

“No,” you shake your head wildly. “You just feel so fucking good, I can’t help it… feels so good… I just wanna keep feeling good with you, Simon.”

“I know, sweet girl,” he praises as he leans forward and presses his burning lips to the skin on your stomach, knowing that no matter what you would have said he wasn’t going to let you tap out yet; he needs your pussy like he needs air to survive. “It’s been too fuckin’ long since we’ve been able ta do this…need ta make up for all the lost time.” 

Simon’s dreamt about this the entire time you’ve been apart; insatiable, desperate, carnal fantasies about fucking your tight hole to within an inch of your sanity, making you come so hard that you can’t move for hours after. His cock has been throbbing for months with nothing but his fucking hand to take the edge off as he pictures filling out every inch of your hole until there is nowhere left for his cock to go.

Another couple of minutes of simply breathing, grinding, and focusing on the way the skin of your torso is so soft against his lips and he’s far enough from that ledge that he wants to start thrusting full force again. He leans down and wraps his arms around your body and you take it as a sign that he’s going to start up again, only for him to roll you both until you are the one on top now. The movement is unexpected, but you are more than willing to go along with it if it means you can take control of your own pleasure. 

As he situates himself under you, his hands roam up and down your sides while he takes a second to enjoy how you look perched over him: full tits directly in his face, hair cascading around your cheeks as you peer down into his face, eyes rolling back in your head every time a sensitive point gets stimulated. You are his fucking fantasy when you get on top. 

“I wanna have ya ride me for a bit,” he breathes. “Show me how good ya ride it, pretty girl. Make my cock your toy.”

As long as he stays inside you, you’ll do whatever the hell he wants.    

Placing your hands on his hard chest for support while his hand moves back to your hips, Simon guides you up and down until you are bouncing in rhythm to match his racing heartbeat. Harder and harder he shoves you forcefully down to get as deep into you as possible until you can feel bruises rising where his hands have a hold of you, yet that doesn’t matter at all as you can only comprehend the way his cock is rendering you too fucking dumb to think of anything else.  

Pushing down against his chest you bob up and down on your knees as best as you can, trying to keep up with his relentless pace. He told you to use him, but all you want is for him to make you his living fleshlight as you are forced to take it all. Your movements start to get sloppy after a time as you can hardly keep yourself focused anymore with how good it feels and Simon takes notice, though he is ready with the solution.

His hips start to strike up into your pussy as even though he is beneath you he is more than capable of taking control, not wanting to move into a new position just yet. You whimper and whine with your mouth hung open as each percussive hit sends shockwaves of euphoria ripping through you just like you want. This is too much for anyone to handle: you being entirely ravaged by him until you are so desperately lost in the pleasure of it all that you are in a complete state of full body bliss. 

You can only sit and take every last delectable inch that he gives you as his massive girth stretches your walls with every thrust of his pelvis upward. The room fills with the wet, sticky music of your bodies slapping against each other as he works your hole as if this is the last chance he will ever get to fuck you and he needs to make it count.

Minute after minute, his full attention being focused solely on you, each stroke along that incredibly sensitive bundle of nerves inside your core drives you increasingly closer to that razor’s edge and threatens to violently throw you off at any point without notice. He must be feeling it too, for again his thrusting slows until he is simply grinding against you once again and that building pressure falls away. 

Over and over again this happens, Simon edging you both closer and closer before struggling to back off and changing positions in a constant rotation, each position just as mind-numbing as the last now that you are cockdrunk. You find yourself on your knees with your head shoved into the mattress  and then on your side with him pressed up against your back, bouncing on top with his hand desperately cupping at your tits and then returning to where it all started on your back, all the while the constant humping during the calmer moments keeps you primed and yet just far enough off the edge that each new round keeps building towards that desperate end. 

Goddamn his stamina is something of legend, but when he wants something bad enough he will make it work no matter how hard he must push himself. And right now he cannot get enough of you no matter how he tries. 

Fuck, your clit is throbbing so hard you think you might pass out, the room so warm your hair sticks to the sides of your face, the scent of sex pungent with each ragged breath shared between your close mouths; every single sense overstimulated to the point of barely being able to process it all. You are perched on his lap with your arms wrapped around his neck, foreheads pressed together tight with eyes shut. 

Simon leans in to kiss your raw mouth, but even the contact from your lips makes him gasp from the sensitivity. Your legs are shaking violently now as he’s slowed once more, every muscle pushed to its limit as he rocks his hips into you just because it feels too good to ever stop completely. Both of you are sparkling from head to toe, coated with the speckled dew of perspiration to match the absolute mess Simon has made between your legs. 

Smooth thighs glisten with that warm, moist, natural lubrication of your cunt as it dribbles out of you and onto the sheets beneath to leave a noticeable dark spot on the bed that’s still warm to the touch. Simon’s mouth waters as the taste buds along his tongue prick to life at the sight, begging to savor all your sweet nectar, but he tells himself to not get ahead of things. 

The rest of the night you are going to be his and he will get everything he wants of it all before the end.

Just like you, Simon is out of his goddamn mind with pleasure. The sensation consumes everything inside him until there is nothing left; the only way he can communicate is through breathy groans and staggered grunts as if he is only an animal now. He craves to be the blood in your veins, the air in your lungs, the only goddamn thing you need. And that is when he knows that he cannot hold off another second. 

Without warning he pulls out of you only briefly so that he can aggressively flip you over onto your back, getting into position by kneeling in front of you as he throws your legs onto his broad, sculpted shoulders before he grips your hips and instantly re-enters you. This is it, though he can’t barely speak, it’s gonna happen whether he is ready or not so he is going to be damned sure to make it go off with a fucking bang.

Again Simon picks up his desperate pace, his abs dripping with sweat as they contract and release after each desperate thrust. Those brown eyes close off to the rest of the world, just absorbing every last second of that mind-numbing goodness that he can before he blows.

“F-fuck, Simon...mmmm…” you whine your plea as you can feel that warmth rising harshly in the pit of your stomach, “p-please… d-d-don’t stop.”

Your mind is all static, so lost on Simon’s cock that you cannot stand it; it’s overwhelming in its intensity that you actually aren’t entirely sure you want to come yet. If you could just stay suspended in this moment forever, you’d die happy. All that edging has done its job just as intended though and with a few more strong thrusts of him deep in your core, that is it: like a hot flash of white light you squeal out in unsteady whimpers as your orgasm rips through you with such force you nearly bolt off the bed as your back arches and your hips buck harshly against him. 

A roar is released from within his chest, his body writhing as he holds on to your waist for dear life while he milks his cock inside you, coating your walls in his cum until he has no more left in him to give. He sounds like a wild animal and it makes your body vibrate with exhilaration; you are the one to make him come with such force he is reduced to more basic instincts. 

You fall back against the bed as your body shakes violently with the force of your orgasm. Never has such intense pleasure overwhelmed you so thoroughly that your limbs tremble uncontrollably before and though the exhaustion overtakes you, it is euphoric. Simon slowly slips himself out of your pussy as he sits back, his overstimulated cock twitching with sensitivity as he removes it from your tightness.

You whimper a little, instantly missing the feeling of him stretching you out and honestly wishing he would have just stayed inside even longer, but you know if you don’t have even a small break that you are not going to survive.

His strong hands hold your vibrating legs apart as he sits back on the mattress exhausted and a million miles away as he watches as his cum dribbles out of your pussy like honey; goddamn did he stuff you to the brim. All you can do is lay there with your eyes shut tight, heart thudding against your ribs as you focus all your remaining brain power on breathing. From your head to the tips of your toes you sparkle with perspiration as if you are decked out in diamonds that shimmer in the low light of the room.

“Christ Simon…gonna kill me,” you chuckle lightly as your mouth finally is able to do something other than hang open. 

Eyes still closed, the sensation of his lips brushing against your inner thigh catches your attention. “Not…yet,” his low, gruff voice hits your ears from between your legs, accent heavy with his fatigue. Why did that sound like a promise?

Your mouth is already forming the question when it instantly dies on your tongue as you become aware of a firm grip from those strong hands spreading your legs open even further as his body slides off the edge of the mattress and onto the floor to sit on his knees with his face at optimal level with your pussy.

“Simon?” you ask hastily as you struggle up to your elbow to see those dark eyes peer up at you just over the mound of your sex. 

The corner of his mouth is barely visible, but you can see it upturn. He may have come, but he is nowhere near finished yet. “Still fuckin’ hungry for ya,” he growls before descending down into the ecstasy of the space in between your thighs. 

Simon just needs to buy time until he can get it up again…good thing his tongue is always ready to go. Sharp features are instantly soaked as he dives in without hesitation, the scent of your arousal instantly clinging to his cheeks and making his cock begin to twitch. His mouth is filled with a combination of both of your flavors as his tongue does what it does best: find your clit like a pleasure-seeking missile. He is ready to get completely lost in you all over again, this time with his first favorite activity and all you can do is hold on as he straps you to his face.

Let the feast on your pussy continue…it’s gonna be a long fucking while until he’s done with you.

Tagging: @llelannie @thicksexxualtension @cheolsblkwife @cum-tea-and-towels @sillylittlereader @mesyakee

[betweenstorms]

Part Five of Where We Part (previous chapter) (next chapter) (masterlist) Childhood Friend!Simon x fem!Reader

You didn’t know when or how it happened, but when the tears finally began to dry up, Simon was already beside you.

He had moved without a sound for a man his size, quietly closing the distance between you, and now he stood beside you, leaning against the counter, his large arm wrapped around your shoulders in an awkward side hug. His grip was firm but unsure, like he wasn’t really used to comforting anyone like this. He patted your shoulder stiffly with his free hand, as if trying to figure out how to be gentle with you. That and the subtle shift in his weight as he warily tried to make himself a bit more comfortable, it was all so Simon.

Stiff, but present nonetheless.

For a long moment, you stayed like that, the quiet of the flat wrapping around you both as the tears slowly ebbed away.

You rested your head against his solid chest, your body exhausted from the flood of emotions. The steady rise and fall of his breathing anchored you, each slow breath in sync with your own as the storm inside you began to still. His warmth and closeness was comforting, and despite the awkwardness of the hug and the strange tension in the air, it grounded you, made you feel less alone in that moment.

With a shaky hand, you wiped at your face, aggressively scrubbing away the tears as if you could somehow erase them, along with the embarrassment that clung to you.

Crying like this was exhausting, yes, but the shame of falling apart like this in front of him, in front of Simon of all people, made it even worse. However, no matter how much you rubbed your cheeks, it felt like the breakdown still clung to your skin. You hated how vulnerable you felt, hated that you had lost control like that.

You weren’t supposed to be like this.

Not now, not ever.

Not in front of Simon Riley.

As your sobs subsided, he leaned away just slightly, enough to look down at you. His arm stayed around your shoulders, still holding you close, but his eyes, sharp and unreadable, searched your puffy face for something.

“Better?” Simon asked, his voice a deep rumble that seemed too big for your kitchen.

You nodded, though your throat was still too tight to speak properly.

“Yeah. I… I think so,” you whispered, barely above a breath. “Sorry.”

You didn’t want to meet his gaze, not yet.

The apology fell from your lips automatically, as if it was all you knew how to say anymore. But Simon scoffed, and the sudden sound was so familiar, so him, that it made your chest tighten in a different way. In a much gentler way.

“Heard that enough to last a lifetime,” he muttered, releasing you from the awkward hug he'd been attempting, his hand lingering for just a moment before he let it drop to his side. But there was no harshness in his tone, just bluntness, like he didn’t quite know what to do with all the apologies you kept throwing at him.

You sniffed, wiping your eyes again but a small, sheepish smile tugged at the corners of your mouth despite the situation. It felt ridiculous, now that the tears had stopped, the mess you’d made of yourself in front of him.

The mess you’d always been, really.

Simon shifted, straightening up and giving you more space to breathe, though the kitchen still felt far too small for the weight of everything that had been said. You could almost feel the exhaustion settling into your bones, the heaviness in your limbs that always came after a good cry. The tiredness was creeping in now, pulling you down with it.

“I just…”

You cleared your throat, trying to shake off the remnants of your sobs, but the fatigue hung over you like a dark cloud.

The silence wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it was weighty, and the closeness of his body to yours, even though he had loosened his grip, made it all the more difficult to meet his gaze. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, the steady strength of him, and it made everything feel too intense, too raw.

You stared down at your hands, which you fiddled with nervously.

You felt his scrutinising eyes on your red face, but he didn’t say anything. Simon wasn’t the kind to offer words when silence was easier, and for a moment, you were grateful for that.

“I just wanted you to know that…” you mumbled. “Dunno, that I wish I could’ve done more. I’m the older one, you know? I should’ve… done somethin’, y'know. Said somethin’. Or mum and dad should’ve… We should’ve done more.”

You trailed off, not even sure what you were saying anymore.

The words felt useless, like they didn’t even matter at this point, but you couldn’t stop them from tumbling out. The guilt was like a parasite, gnawing at your insides, gripping them with merciless tentacles, and even after all these years, you couldn’t let it go.

Simon sighed, a long, tired sound that made it clear he had heard enough of this.

He rubbed a rugged hand over his shaven chin, a little bit harder than he probably meant to, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you. The sound of his skin rasping under his palm was the only noise between you for a few moments. He didn’t say anything, just watched you with that same impenetrable expression he always had, as if he was trying to make sense of you. He didn’t speak, just watched you, with that look that made you wonder if he was searching for something he couldn’t quite name, or if he had already decided he’d never find it.

Finally, Simon spoke, his voice low and rough.

“Listen, I never needed you to fix shit for me,” his palm rested in front of his lips as he spoke, his words muffled slightly, but still cutting through the stillness. “I didn’t care about the past. Still don’t. So stop blamin’ yourself for it.”

You shook your head, your mind full with exhaustion and suppressed frustration. It was hard to think clearly when all you could do was grasp at the only thing that made sense to you.

“No, Simon, no. I should’ve… I should’ve been there. I’m the older one, I should’ve—”

“Yeah, I get it, love. I do. You think you could’ve done somethin’. But you couldn’t. That’s just life,” he interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest. His face was distant, but not cold. “Y’know, I’ve seen shit, done shit far worse than you could imagine. Only thing that’s worth anythin’ now is that I’ve learnt not to dwell on the past.”

Love.

He had called you love.

Despite the weight of the moment, the tender gravity of everything that hung between you, a rush of excitement surged through you, unbidden and undeniable. It bloomed in your chest, a warmth you couldn’t quite contain, and you cursed yourself for it, for acting like a schoolgirl with a crush, giddy and breathless, when you were nearly thirty-four. Jesus Christ, you were pathetic. It was ridiculous how your heart fluttered. But the word lingered, wrapping around you like a candy wrapper, as if it had the power to unravel all the tension in the air, leaving you caught somewhere between disbelief and hope.

The faint scent of green tea lingered in the air, but it had grown cold, forgotten in the midst of everything that had been said. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, trying to understand how he could say something like that with such ease, with such finality.

“But—”

“We’re not kids anymore,” Simon continued, his voice painfully dignified but definitely not unkind. He looked at you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. “I’m still here, yeah? And you’re still here. That’s all that matters. I got over it a long time ago.”

He didn’t say it out loud, but the way he held your gaze seemed to ask the question that made your stomach twist.

Why haven’t you?

It was a question you’d never dared to ask yourself, because the answer frightened you. But really, why couldn’t you let go of the past? Why had you held onto it for fifteen long years, nursing the wounds of your shared childhood, letting them fester into something so infected it threatened to kill you both? But the truth was, you didn’t know how to let go. You didn’t know how to stop being defined by the guilt, the grief, the regret, the feeling that you had somehow failed Simon, failed yourself, failed everyone.

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words stuck in your throat, tangled up in the weight of everything Simon had just said. He was as sharp and blunt as ever, but there was a softness underneath, like he was giving you an opportunity to finally understand something that had eluded you all these years. Like he was waiting for you to catch up to the truth he’d already accepted long ago.

Because you couldn’t deny that he was right—

—he had moved on.

For a seemingly endless moment, you simply stood there, the sound of your breath mingling with the low buzzing of the kitchen’s cheap neon lights. The air felt thick and heavy with all the memories you had tried to bury, but they clung to you like long shadows in an autumn afternoon, refusing to fade.

They had all become a part of you, so intrinsic that the thought of letting it go seemed foreign—dangerous, even. 

You couldn’t help but glance up at Simon from under your eyelashes, expecting him to grow frustrated with your silence, but instead, he just stood there, arms crossed, his brow furrowed in thought. His presence was steady, solid in a way that felt grounding, even though you’d spent so long feeling like everything between you was too fragile to bear.

“How did you… let go?”

He shrugged, as though it was the simplest answer in the world. “I stopped thinkin’ about it.”

“Just like that?”

There was clear disbelief in your voice, laced with a hint of something else, something almost like envy. How could he do that? How could he just stop thinking about the past when it had consumed every part of your shared childhood for so long?

Simon hummed, the sound deep in his chest. “Can’t change what’s done, can I? So I focused on what I could change instead.”

“What you could change…” you echoed, furrowing your brows. “And what’s that, then?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer, just tilted his head slightly as if considering you, and then, to your complete, utter surprise, the corner of his scarred lips twitched.

It wasn’t a full smile, not really, but it was close enough. It was a ghost of an amused grin, mocking, as if you’d just asked the most daft question in the world. And God, seeing him like that, so different from the stoic and hardened man you’d always known, it made your heart skip a beat. Your cheeks flushed hot, and you immediately felt self-conscious by how much his small gesture affected you. It was like seeing sunlight breaking through clouds on a grey, stormy day. 

“What? I’m serious!”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, a reflex, something instinctual, like they could shield you from the rising tension between you. But there was no protection now, not with the way Simon was looking at you.

You tucked your neck in, suddenly feeling small and exposed. But he didn’t let you hide behind your awkwardness.

Out of nowhere, his large hand shot out, gripping your shoulder with a firmness that wasn’t rough but certainly wasn’t gentle either.

Before you knew what was happening, he had turned your entire body to face him, his strength making it seem effortless. You barely had time to react before he pulled you closer, his tall, broad frame towering over you easily.

You froze, lips parting slightly as you stared up at him.

Your body stiffened, every nerve ending on high alert, as Simon’s hand travelled from your shoulder, trailing up to your neck. His calloused fingers, roughened by years of harsh realities and harder choices, brushed against the side of your throat, grazing your skin in a way that felt so intimate, so deliberate, it made your heart race faster than you thought possible.

It was such a simple touch, but it sent shockwaves through your entire body, as if the world had narrowed down to just this—just him, just you, and the quiet space between you.

“Serious, are you?” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble, as though he was amused by the very idea that you might not be.

The question wasn’t really a question, though. Not the kind that demanded an answer. It was more like an observation, the kind that made you squirm. His eyes, those piercing hazel eyes you had known your entire life, held you captive with an intensity that made it impossible to look away, and you felt like you were drowning in them.

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening under his fingers, and you instinctively moved to pull away, to break the tension, but Simon didn’t let you go. His grip on your neck remained firm, holding you in place, his thumb brushing along the line of your jaw in slow, deliberate strokes. It wasn’t forceful, but it made you realise something—

—you didn’t want to move.

“Simon…”

His name slipped from your lips in a whisper, trembling with uncertainty, but also something else, something more dangerous. It almost sounded like a plea, even though you weren’t sure if you were asking him to stop or to keep going. The sound of his name in your mouth felt too intimate for a moment so charged, yet it was the only thing you could manage.

He didn’t answer, he didn’t need to.

His eyes told you enough, those deep hazel pools that you could almost find yourself sinking into, searching for something, maybe reassurance, maybe something more. His fingers rested against your neck, the roughness of his skin a stark contrast to the softness of the moment. It was like he was holding you together with that simple touch, like his presence alone was enough to keep you grounded when everything else felt uncertain.

“There’s no point in torturin’ yourself over things you can’t change. Trust me, sweetheart, it’ll fuckin’ eat you alive if you let it.”

It scared you, the way he called you sweetheart, the way the word slipped so effortlessly from his lips, as if it had always belonged to you. It stirred something inside, an alien feeling you were too afraid to name, too afraid to acknowledge.

The warmth it brought terrified you, like standing on the edge of a vast and unknown edge. No, this couldn’t be. Not with him. You tried to push it away, to convince yourself that this wasn’t what you thought it was, that you weren’t slipping into something deeper, something you couldn’t afford to feel.

But the fear stayed with you, heavy and real, because deep down, you knew what this could become—and that frightened you more than anything.

The closeness of him, the scent of him, the sheer presence of his body so near to yours, made the kitchen feel impossibly tight. You could feel his breaths on your skin, steady and deep, a rhythm that only highlighted the erratic pace of your own. Bloody hell, you could barely think straight. Your heart pounded in your chest, so loud you were sure he could hear it.

And you knew.

By then you knew that God made man, then, in a silent moment of remorse, sent Simon Riley as a whispered apology, a tender balm for all that came before. You were certain of it, for no other could carry the weight of his devotion, that bruised gentleness that softened the sharp edges of the world. There was something sacred the way he cared for you, not with words, but with the weight of his presence.

He touched you like a fragile offering, as if the very act of it was his redemption, his unspoken vow to you.

Then, out of the blue, as you stood there, under his beautiful eyes, with your cheeks burning hot like the desert sun, a sudden thought slipped through you—quiet but undeniable.

You wanted more.

More than this stolen moment in time, more than what had already been shared. Even though you weren’t entirely sure he was capable of giving that to you, not yet. The longing stirred deep inside, a quiet ache, like a whispered desire waiting to unfold.

And still, in the uncertain space between what he currently was and what you hoped he could become for you, you found yourself reaching, wanting, even if the edges felt distant.

“Always too hard on yourself,” he murmured suddenly, breaking the silence, his voice rough but soft, like gravel being smoothed over by the sea. It was an unexpected statement, one that hung in the air between you, cutting through the tension like a knife.

You blinked, caught off guard by his words.

You opened your lips to ask why.

Why he thought that, why he’d said it and why he was looking at you like that, but the words lodged in your throat, tangled with the knot of emotions that had been building inside you. Simon, though, didn’t seem to need your questions. His gaze flickered away for a second, as if he was considering whether or not to elaborate, but then he grunted, as though the effort of explaining himself wasn’t worth it.

He was content with leaving things unsaid.

He didn’t crave explanations the way you did, he didn’t need closure in the same way. He just let things be.

Simon had always been a presence that demanded attention, but this—this was different. It wasn’t the stern, distant Simon Riley you’d known growing up. It wasn’t even the hardened soldier he had become. No, this was just Simon stripped down, raw, a glimpse of something you rarely saw in him.

Vulnerability.

“I’m leavin’ tomorrow,” he seemed reluctant to break the moment but knew it had to be said. “D’you want me to come by again?” he asked, his words careful, like he was trying to gauge your response.

For a moment, you didn’t know how to answer.

The idea of him coming back so soon, of having another moment like this, both terrified and thrilled you.

However, you nodded and as you did, you timidly placed your hand on his chest. The solid warmth of him beneath your palm made you feel grounded, but also confused. You didn’t know if the touch was meant to push him away or keep him close, and that uncertainty gnawed at you. He watched you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he could read the conflict in your expression.

“Where will you go?” you asked, trying to shift the conversation.

The question felt safe, neutral, like it could diffuse the pulling tension swirling between you. 

But Simon’s response was anything but neutral. He gave you a look, one of those looks that made you feel like you’d just asked something stupid, as if the answer was obvious. His eyes darkened with something unreadable, and you immediately regretted asking.

“Right. Secret military shit. Got it.”

He didn’t confirm it, but he didn’t deny it either.

“I’ll be back,” he said, his voice rough and steady. “Soon. Less than a week, yeah?”

You nodded again, unable to form words, the lump in your throat too heavy to push past.

Then, his eyes flickered down to your lips, just for a second, as though he was weighing some unspoken thought. The moment felt suspended, like the air itself held its breath.

But then, his gaze found yours again and you felt the fragile certainty slip through your fingers.

That one fleeting glance left you wondering if this was real at all, or if you were caught in some delicate dream, teetering on the edge of possibility. The way he looked at you, intense yet unreadable, made the ground beneath you feel unsteady, as if this fleeting glance had the power to undo everything—or change it forever.

Simon held your gaze for a heartbeat longer, his hand still resting on the curve of your neck, fingers tracing a quiet heat that lingered long after he let go. When he finally pulled back, it was slow, deliberate, as though even the act of releasing you came with reluctance.

And yet, despite the small space he allowed between you, the weight of him remained, pressing against your skin like a fog that wouldn’t lift. It was as if, in that brief moment, he had marked you in a way that couldn’t be undone, pressing against your senses like an unspoken claim. You bit your lip, the absence of his touch leaving a hollow ache, a strange longing that echoed in the place where his warmth had been. It was as though time itself had blurred, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if any of this was real.

“Promise?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.

Simon’s eyes softened, and that ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips again, making your heart stutter in your chest.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice softening too, something almost fond slipping into his tone. “Promise.”

[beenbaanbuun]

hierarchy w/ poly hohong

words - 3.1k

genre - smut

warnings - dom!yunho, akita hybrid!yunho, soft dom!hongjoong, human hongjoong, sub!reader, unknown dog hybrid!reader, mentions of past abuse, mentions of scars (from fighting), reader is a brat, cunnilingus

i wrote this ages ago and idk if i like it or not but rather than sitting and stressing about that, i decided to post it instead 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

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your dinner looks entirely unappealing as you push it round the plate with your fork. the peas are an unsettling shade of green and as they float upon the thin layer of gravy at the bottom of your dish, your stomach can’t help but churn a little. it’s nothing like the instant ramen and microwave meals your old owner used to feed you, and for that reason you simply won’t touch it.

there’s a sigh from across the table and you lift your gaze to see where it’s coming from. you’re met with two pairs of eyes, both of them equally as fed up at the other. there’s hongjoong, staring you like you’re the sole reason for everything bad in his life, and there’s yunho, watching with a tight jaw and hungry eyes. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think that the giant akita-hybrid is more seconds away from jumping your bones and taking you right there and then. you’d be lying to yourself if you said the idea doesn’t appeal to you. it just so happens that you are an exceptional liar.

“you haven’t touched your food,” hongjoong sighs as he lifts a hand up to brush over his tired expression. the so-called ‘experienced hybrid trainer’ is clearly losing his patience with you, although you’re not entirely sure why. you’re not even trying to be a nightmare; he should see you when you’re not on your best behaviour.

“i don’t like it,” you reply, putting your fork down just so you can fold your arms petulantly over your chest. yunho scoffs, his muscular arms shifting until his position mirrors yours.

“how do you know you don’t like it if you won’t even try it?” he says in the same tone he’d use if he were talking to a child. you can’t help but scoff that that; you’re not a child.

hongjoong reached over to place a hand on yunho’s arm. it’s a silent direction for him to be quiet and let hongjoong do the talking. he is your owner after all; a sentiment that fills you with a strange mixture of sadness and annoyance. you were perfectly fine in your old home. you didn’t have to be ‘rescued’ from them and you certainly didn’t have to be rehomed here.

“i know what i like,” you spit as you push the plate away from you, not even blinking an eye as gravy spills over the edge onto the mural painted upon the top of the wooden table. you’d found out on your first day here that yunho had painted it for hongjoong upon his one-year anniversary of being adopted; you hope you won’t be around here long enough to even think about doing something so utterly pathetic.

honestly, as yunho growls and lays his fluffed up ears flat against his skull, you can’t imagine him doing something so pathetic. all you see now is a highly trained attack dog, nothing like the precious puppy that hongjoong makes him out to be. you almost cower in your seat as he glares at you, but you’ve faced far worse than being pinned by an overgrown akita—you have the scars to prove it too.

“please, hyung,” he begs, voice far too soft to be coming from such a dangerous looking individual. “please let me put her in her place,” his eyes flicker down your form as another growl makes it way up his throat, “pups like her need structure; they need to know their position in the hierarchy.”

hongjoong hums, clearly contemplating it. obviously they’ve had this discussion about you before and whilst the thought of them talking about you behind your back makes you more than a little moody, you can’t help but feel like this has some deeper implications. does it mean that they’re planning on keeping you around? if they want to establish your place in this made-up hierarchy they seem to have, then surely they’re not planning on getting rid of you any time soon. your tail flicks in annoyance at that revelation.

“are you sure, yunho?” the hybrid nods and hongjoong resigns all too quickly for him to not have already been considering it. “fine; we can try it your way.”

and just like that, yunho’s expression transforms. the snarl on his lips changes from one of annoyancs to one of authority. you feel like a disobedient pup getting put in its place by an overbearing adult; one that doesn’t know the meaning of the word mercy. you suck in a shaky breath, the anxiety of facing the unknown becoming far too apparent. you’re the only one at this table who has no idea what’s going to come, and that frightens you to no end.

yunho stands up and stalks his way around the table. it takes an annoyingly short amount of steps for him to reach you, and once he does he wastes no time in grabbing your jaw with one huge hand. it tugs at your face until your neck is bent at an uncomfortable angle and your gaze is on his face. his pupils flicker over your expression, searching for any signs of discomfort or fear. you’re anxious, sure. uncertain, absolutely. but scared? not at all. you’ve been through worse and once you’re out of here, you’re almost positive you’ll go through worse again.

he leans down until his face is mere inches from your own. the smirk has fallen, morphed into something far more serious. he inhales, deep and calm and you can’t help but try and mirror it. it never twigs that his intention is exactly that; to soothe you before whatever is yet to come. if you were more aware of what he was doing, perhaps it would’ve made you spiral further. why would he want your defenses lowered?

“puppy,” he says in a tone deep enough to send a shiver down your spine, “i need you to remember that what is going to happen isn’t out of your control; if you don’t like it, you tell us. it shouldn’t be difficult for you. you’re good at telling us exactly what you don’t like, hm?”

“what’s going to happen?” you ask, your voice probably the least defiant it’s been since stepping through the doors of hongjoong’s home.

“you’ll find out sooner or later ,” he says with a soft smile, “now be a good puppy and wait upstairs in hongjoong’s room, alright?”

you furrow your brows. hongjoong’s room? you’ve never been allowed in there before. it was one of the rules that was set in place when you first arrived here. ‘hongjoong’s room is his, your room is yours. stick to your own space unless it’s an emergency.’ you remember it very clearly and it’s one of the ones you’ve tried your hardest to stick to. privacy is something you appreciate and hongjoong respects yours. the least you can do is return the favour.

“i’m not allowed in there,” you state the fact as though it’s law. to you, it practically is, “i’d be breaking the rules.”

“says the little brat who’s been stealing our possessions for her nest since the first day you got here. what, you’ll steal my ratty old sweaters but you won’t go in my room?” hongjoong’s smile is apparent in his voice. he sounds fond, for some reason, as if he hasn’t just—rightfully—accused you of stealing from him. “it’s okay to break the rule this once, sweet thing. i give you my explicit permission, okay?”

yunho gives you a smug smile. it’s a small ‘i told you so,’ even though you hardly think the situation is worth it. it’s not like you were trying to avoid whatever fate awaits you in hongjoong’s room—although maybe a little—you were simply trying to stick to the one rule you actually believe in! in a childish huff, you stick your tongue out. that ought to show him…

“cute,” he chuckles, “now do what you’re told, alright? go upstairs and wait on hongjoong’s bed,” a few seconds tick by as you contemplate whether or not you want to resist him even more. on one hand, you’re still anxiously unaware of what’s to come, but on the other, you’re almost positive things will get worse if you don’t comply. sure, yunho told you that you’re the one in control, but you really don’t feel it. no, this time it’s better to obey than to be a brat.

you push yourself to your feet, slowly enough to allow yunho to straighten up too. there’s a pleased hum fall from his lips as he scans you up and down, honing in on the small details. the way your speckled ears twitch nervously atop your head, the way your fluffy tail tucks itself between your legs, and most importantly, the way you subtly bare your neck in a subconscious show of submission. he knows it’s more of a safety thing than anything; the scars that litter your body tell him that you’ve learned how to stay safe the hard way. it hurts a little, but it’s a start. it shows him that you know you should submit; now he just has to make it so you submit because you want to, not just because you feel it’s necessary.

you side step him, careful not to brush past him accidentally. shaky legs guide you to the stairs, the anxiety of what's to come mixing with the knowledge that you’re being watched, studied, by the two men that are in charge of your fate. it’s safe to say that you’re grateful to finally get your hand on the banister that leads up the stairs. without it, you can almost guarantee that you’d have tripped and fallen.

the seconds tick by as you climb them and make your way towards the room at the end of the corridor. perhaps it’s your nerves that make it seem as though the door is getting endlessly farther and farther away with each step you take closer. it seems so far, almost like you’ll never reach it. step after step and still you’re not there yet. it gives your brain too much time to think, filling itself with ‘what if?’ questions and worse case scenarios.

until, of course, you do reach it, and then everything seems like its come to fruition all too quick. you suck in an anxious breath, placing your hand on the doorknob and counting to five before pushing it open and forcing your feet to carry you to your doom…

but it doesn’t feel like you’ve reached your doom in here; it’s far too cosy for that. in fact, it’s safe to say that you’ve probably never seen a room quite like this one, littered with soft colours and warm blankets, plants hanging from every surface and some even dangling from the ceiling. it’s a far-cry from everything you’ve ever seen before and yet it makes so much sense. hongjoong had been so eager to fill your room with things when you first arrived, none of which you’ve bothered to unpack. you told him you didn’t need them since you were certain you wouldn’t be around for long. the man had insisted upon buying you more and more until the pile of unused blankets and soft furnishings in the corner of your room could be arranged into some sort of seat that you sometimes use as a change of scenery from your bed. you didn’t understand why he wanted your room to have ‘warmth’ but now you see it; you’d be happy to spend an eternity in this room.

in some sort of giddy haze, you stumble to the bed and sit upon it, just like yunho had instructed. that pit at the bottom of your stomach is still very much there, but as your thighs sink into his soft quilt and your fingers spread themselves across the soft cotton, you find that the awe you feel is far more prevalent than your nerves right now. again, if you took the time to think about it, it might have made you panic more. the odd sense of security you feel from this room should have left you utterly terrified, and yet there you sit, a small smile upon your lips as you let the comfort of the room wash over you.

but just as fast as you made yourself at home, it’s all torn away from you. the door clicks open once more and everything positive you'd briefly felt is torn away in seconds. socked feet fall heavily against the wooden floor, followed by a softer step that you can only assume to be the smaller of the two men. your breath shudders as they grow closer, hitching when a large hand once again finds its way to your chin and pulls at it until there’s nowhere to look but yunho.

“you’re a good puppy at heart, aren’t you?” he purrs as he strokes your cheek. in your peripheral you see hongjoong crawl his way onto the bed and up to the headboard. “i know it’s hard when all you’ve known is neglect, but you deserve to have a family. you just need to learn your place.”

the hand slips from your cheek down to your shoulder and with a gentle shove, pushes you back against the mattress. your body is pushed and pulled into position until you’re lay exactly where they want you, head resting on one of hongjoong’s thighs and your legs spread just wide enough for yunho to slip between them on his knees. hongjoong wastes no time in lacing his fingers through your hair, nails catching against the base of your ear. it’s been a long time since anyone has scratched your ears like that and the sensation has your eyes fluttering shut. he chuckles at your satisfaction and while normally that would earn someone a harsh nip to whatever exposed skin you can access, you let it rest for now.

“remember, sweetheart,” he murmurs as he scratches your scalp, “this is all up to you,” yunho’s hands make their way to the waistband of your shorts, fingers dipping just below the hemline. it’s enough to have your breath hitching in your throat, and while you know you can stop this, you don’t. not because you feel like you can’t, but because you don’t want to. not yet, anyway. perhaps curiosity killed the cat, but it’s been so long since you’ve been touched like this.

besides, satisfaction brought it back.

yunho hums in agreement as he begins to tug gently on the fabric, catching your underwear with his fingers as they make their way down past your hips. “if you want me to stop, you tell me,” the air of the room is cold as it hits your exposed pelvis, and it sends a shiver down your spine as yunho lifts your hips to pull them past the swell of your ass. it’s a little uncomfortable when your wetness is uncovered but yunho is quick to remedy that with a swift kiss to your clit. it’s enough to make you moan a little, but it’s gone just as soon as it’s there. half of you is tempted to buck your hips up in a silent request for more, but you figure your safety is more important than your pleasure. you press your hips back down to the bed.

it takes him very little time to completely tug your shorts free from your legs, tossing them somewhere vaguely behind him. they thud as they hit the ground, but he has no interest in seeing where they went; not when your naked lower half is spread out on the bed for him. he tries to ignore the scars on your thighs, simply smoothing his hands over the remnants of your previous life. they don’t matter anymore, anyway. you’ll never have to fight ever again.

he lets his hands travel to the apex of your thighs, your pussy waiting, ready for him to take as his own. he must be doing something right since it’s already practically dripping. all he wants is to lean forwards and taste it, but he hesitates, gaze travelling to your face first.

“can i?” he raises a brow in question.

“can you what?” you respond.

“taste you, puppy,” you eye him up suspiciously, not quite sure why he’s asking you that. he wanted you to submit, didn’t he? so why is he asking for permission to take what he wants from you? “i want to taste you.”

“yes, but—”

“the answer’s yes?” yunho cuts you off, hands massaging your thighs heavily. there’s a sly look on his face, one that tells you you’re in for more than you you bargained for; more than just saying ‘yes’ to a simple question. you swallow thickly as you nod. “good,” he says, “now ask for it like a good puppy.”

you tip your head to the side curiously, your ears flopping as you shift your position on hongjoong’s thigh. there’s a chuckle from the otherwise quiet man, and with a quick flick of his wrist, your ear is back where it’s supposed to be.

“ask?” he nods.

“like a good puppy,” you feel a shiver run down your spine as his hand brushes against the length of your tail, not stopping until it reaches the base. he tugs upon it gently a couple of times. it’s annoying and anyone else wouldn’t have gotten away with it. you’re not exactly in a position to fight, though, so you let him tease you in the most childish of ways hoping that when all this is over you find an opportunity to tug on his tail instead. “like hongjoong always tells you; don’t tell,” he tugs, “don’t take,” he tugs again, “ask. politely.”

you grit your teeth, “can you?”

“can i what?” he leans in close, breath fluttering against your wet folds as he spurs you on. he’s so close to giving you what you want; a single buck of your hips would brush your aching clit up against his nose. you could get what you want if you really tried hard enough, but somehow you know it won’t end well for you.

“can you eat my pussy?” your words come out defeated and sad, and you have the expression to match. hongjoong coos from behind your head, fingers moving swiftly against your scalp to try and help you feel better about your surrender to yunho. it doesn’t quite work as well as when the hybrid lays his tongue flat against your slit and obscenely slurps up your juices.

“now you’re getting the hang of it, puppy,” hongjoong says, voice sweet and caring like it always is, “all you ever have to do is ask.”

[mcondance]

he loves me (lyzel in e flat) — tim laflour

tim x fem!reader, reader is referred to as a girl, general discussion of tim sex wise, missionary, dirty talk, praise-ish, he says he loves you uh that's it, it’s a lot of elaboration abt how much he loves sex with you LMAO, title from this song (i love you jill scott <3)

tim likes sex, to get that out of the way. on the outside and to people who don’t know him, he’s a little dumb, a little odd and he seems like he’d fumble around these types of things, but he does not.

tim likes sex with you, way more than he should.

he likes digging in your guts, bumping your body up the bed every time his hips kiss the back of your legs, sticky and slippery from the mix of fluids flowing from you two.

with deep purrs pushed hard from his chest, the sounds of a man who’s in love with what he’s doing, he splits you open so good, ripping pathetic, guttural cries out of you, whiny moans that make fucking you so alluring. your arms clasp tight around his neck and you’re trying to ground yourself, and it’s always in vain, fingers gripping your own arms so tight the skin caves.

“belong here, baby, belong inside you, so so deep in you, go crazy when i don’t get to feel you,” he coos, almost singing it, his naturally ditzy tone laying an innocently genuine feel over his obsessed words. it's ridiculously pathetic, his admission of devotion to your cunt, to the clenches and drooling and soaking that your pussy delivers to him. velvety and gripping, he's a fool for it.

he’s telling the truth though, and you know it. you’ve seen what happens to him when he goes too long without bullying your pussy, fucking you like he hates you, like you owe him something. he gets all aggy, eyes all glossy and spaced out and he’s ticked off by the smallest things.

he needs to get his dick wet, needs you to get it wet, to let him fuck your body into the mattress and listen to your moans that have turned into pathetic little cries, spewing from your mouth with every jerk of his hips against you. hot skin hitting against yours, unforgiving thrusts sending shockwaves through your whole body, it's by pure luck that you and tim met, that you get to be pounded into his bed every time he gets the chance.

your pussy sings to him with every move he makes, honeyed melodies ringing out through the room, and it’s idyllic, perfect and so far from beautiful yet right there.

he fucks you like both need it, hard and messy like he loves what he’s doing to you.

he does love what he’s doing to you.

turning his head to the side so he knows you can hear him even over your enraptured keens, he lets his mouth loose again— "i love you, y'know, love you and your pussy so much, 's my favorite thing in the whole world, always so wet and tight and ready for me, always excited that i get to fuck you." he's elated, sure in the fact that you belong to him, that you are his to stretch and pound and fuck.

his lip ring is cold against your face and it doesn’t do much to help; it makes it worse, makes you really compute again that you’re being fucked dumb by a pretty punk who’s obsessed with fucking you.

it all sends another wave of pleasure crashing over you, and you're grasping tighter over his back, hands raking down the muscle. you almost growl, so keyed up and overwhelmed with feeling, good fucking feeling, rocking up the bed with every roll of his hips. tim's love for sex has opened you up, allowed you to partake in it at your most vulnerable level, unashamed and liberated in your euphoria.

he likes the way you take his dick, how you spread your legs and make space for him between them, how you let him fuck you to his heart's content, let him express his need inside you.

his big blues have drifted to something much darker, blue-black windows looking down at one of the best parts of it all, to where ropes of your cream span from your slick lips to his wild hair.

he huffs out a laugh, breathing "yeah, look at that,” dark eyes hazy and gleaming.

he knows you're being fucked too good to even give a fuck about what it looks like, but he's a talker, and he’s having so much fun, and the sight is just so fucking disgusting that he has to say something; something else that feels like a reward, like a deity has blessed him with it, the gift of sex that he so confidently uses, whenever he wants.

tim loves fucking you, loves dwarfing your body with his intimidating size, loves the sounds you make, loves the sounds your bodies make as they meet again and again, as he nestles his cock right where you both know it belongs.

devoted is what he is, a regular fiend, only made worse by the way you fit so tight around him. every push into you is so good to him, brain taken over by how it feels to be deep inside your welcoming pussy.

every little jerk and jump, every melodic whine, every word your slur into his neck, it’s everything to him.

[luveline]

as a kid i was so scared of my parents splitting up, what if roan learns someone in her class’ parents are divorcing and it sends her spiralling thinking she’d never see reader again?

thank you jade 💛

thank you for requesting lovely ♡ eddie and roan (almost) stepmom!reader, 2k

"Yeah, I got the expensive kind," you're saying, phone sandwiched between your ear and your shoulder, a knife held loosely in your hand. "I don't wanna make it wrong." 

Roan can vaguely hear the rumble of her Uncle's voice on the other side giving reassurances. 

You scrape the blade of the knife against the cutting board. "I know. I know, Wayne, I swear, just… I hardly ever make him dinner and this is our last anniversary before we get married, and– I know. Sorry, that's– I know, you don't mind, it's just–" 

Roan attaches herself to your hip like an octopus, looking up at you as you look down. You smile at her, putting your knife flat to stroke her hair. 

"She's right here," you say, "she's helping me… okay. Thanks, Wayne, you're the best. See you tomorrow. Alright, I will. Bye." 

You put your hand behind Roan's shoulder and walk her with you to the phone. As soon as you've hung it back on the hook, you scoop her up to hold against your chest, even if she's getting longer and longer every day. "Hey, babe. Uncle Wayne says he loves you and he missed you today. He wants to make you dinner tomorrow, so we'll find your nice blue dress tonight and put it in the wash." 

Roan flops her face against your neck. "I love him too." 

"He knows." You press your cheek to hers briefly. "Okay, you wanna sit on the top with me and I'll finish making today's dinner?" 

Roan's happy to sit on the counter and swing her legs as you finish making the pot pie. It's one of Eddie's favourites because his mom used to make it a couple of times a month, and so it's one of Roan's favourites, her lips quirked with excitement as you chop onions, carrots and celery into small pieces for the frying pan. 

"I love the carrots," she says. 

"Yeah?" You uncap the cooking oil to pour a generous splash into the pan. "Want me to put extra in? I don't mind." 

Roan nods enthusiastically. "Yes!" 

She's happy watching you cook at first, but she gets quieter as you finish up. By the time the pie is in the oven she's picking at her little nails, shards of polish in her lap like powdered sugar. 

"You okay?" you ask, wiping your hands clean. She shrugs. You shrug back. "What's that mean?" 

"I'm thinking." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." Roan pokes her toes into your thigh. 

"Well, daddy's home soon, but you know you can tell me." 

"Mm," she hums, holding out her hand. You don't take it, folding her into your arms for a hug instead. 

It would usually make her feel better, but Roan feels ten times worse as you soften your tone to a less cheerful murmur, "Got another tummy ache?" 

"Not that." 

"What is it?" you ask. 

She hides her face in your shoulder, pert nose to your soft shirt. 

"You don't have to tell me," you whisper. "Sorry. I'm not trying to pressure you, I promise, I just love you." You turn saccharine again, patting her back as you dote excitedly into the top of her head. "Love you love you love you!" You punctuate with a kiss, and Roan starts crying. 

—

Eddie's startled but not too worried to get home to the sound of Roan crying. She certainly cries less and less now that she's getting older, but children cry so often that he doesn't think it's worth panicking over. 

He can hear you already on the case as he peels out of his sweaty coat and boots. "That's not going to happen," you comfort, voice bouncing off of kitchen tile, the hum of the oven like a baseboard. "It's hard to believe me, but it won't. Me and daddy are super happy." 

His eyebrows rise of their own accord. "Hello?" he asks, moving down the hallway and into your bright kitchen. 

Roan sits in the shadow of a corner cabinet, hunched over her knees with her face held up by defeated hands, tears wetting her rosy cheeks. You stand in front of her with your hand on shoulder, bent to her eye-level, glancing sideways at him momentarily before you say, "Look, dad's home. He's gonna say the exact same thing as me, I swear. Should we ask him?" 

Eddie takes the mantle by your side, quick to rub the tears from Roan's cheek with his pinky. His hands aren't clean enough for anything more. "What's wrong?" he asks. 

"Nothing," Roan says, her voice strangled by a big sob. 

"Babe!" Eddie laughs, half-hearted. "I can see something's super wrong. I might be a dumb boy, but I know when my girl's upset, don't I?" 

"You're not a dumb boy," Roan says. 

"Oh. Thank you, Ro." 

"You're a dumb man." 

"Very funny." He combs unruly coils of dark hair behind her ear, finger following down the curve to her shoulder. "Quick, tell me what's wrong. Just tell me. Rip it off like a bandaid." 

"It's silly," Roan murmurs. 

"Says who?" 

"Says me." 

"Oh," Eddie says, giving you a look to make sure it's alright before he monopolises her attention. You raise your hands with a small smile, as if to say, Please. "Come here, me. I'm gonna have to squeeze this out of you, huh?"

He leans back, shifting her weight against his hip, arm stretched over the breadth of her back. He's not smug, but it does bring a satisfaction to see how swiftly she calms down once he's holding her. It's a familiar picture, Eddie with his lips to her forehead, a crease between his brow just like Uncle Wayne's as he rubs her back, and Roan, a mirror image of her father, palpable relief in her hands as they tangle in his hair. Less familiar but getting there is you at their side, your cheek on Eddie's shoulder and your hand on his elbow.

"What's it gonna take to let me in on the secret?" he asks. He's making a spoiled child accidentally, always bribing and bartering for good behaviour. 

"Nothing…" Her mumbling tickles his cheek as she shifts around. "I'm worry‐ing," —her voice skips over the word, like a hiccup— "about something because of Stacy." 

"Oh yeah? What did Stacy do?" 

"She said her mom, um, her mom said she's getting a divorce. That Stacy won't see her dad again, and it'll just be her and her mom." 

Eddie doesn't judge people much. He can't imagine caring about other people's divorces when Roan was born from a fling and pretty much left on his doorstep —circumstances don't determine your kid's happiness alone. He does worry for Stacy, and his poor empathetic little girl. 

"That's terrible, bubby," Eddie placates, patting her back. 

"It's– well, it's– I'm…" Roan huffs. 

"Whatever you tell me is fine, promise. No grounding, no telling off."

"I know, daddy, it's just hard to say." 

Eddie feels himself physically melt. 

He leans back against the kitchen counter and shifts her against his stomach. His arms burn with the effort of keeping her secured to him, and he's not loving her sad tone —the quicker he finds out what's wrong, the better. He peeks over her head at you for hints. 

You're uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to the other like your feet hurt. 

"What?" he asks you. 

You clear your throat. "I think she's worried about me. If something happened between us, she's worried she won't see me again." 

Eddie would like to think after two years of loving his daughter, watching her grow, and all together being a cherished and irreplaceable part of her life and her support system, that you'd find it impossible to leave her. Even if you left Eddie, you wouldn't leave Ro. He knows that. But only two years… he knows you'd love Roan even if he screws things up, but he can't promise her that things would be the same, because they wouldn't be. 

That's not what she's asking, though.

"What, you think you won't see Y/N anymore?' Eddie murmurs, rubbing her back. 

"She's not my full mom," Roan whispers. 

Eddie reaches past Roan to squeeze your elbow. "You know, that doesn't matter, honey. And after the wedding–" 

"You call me mom for a reason, right?" you cut him off. 

Roan lifts her head from Eddie's. "Yeah." 

"Okay, so, say me and dad get married, and then by some impossibility we realise we can't stay married, will you love me less?" 

"No," Roan says with a pout. 

"I wouldn't love you any less, either. I didn't know I could love someone this much 'til I met you," you say, voice scratchy like you're talking past gravel. "So things would change, but not how much I love you. I'd still see you." 

You sound tentative. Eddie's way less hesitant. "Of course you'd still see each other. Babe, if me and mom break up it'll be because I did something stupid, so you'd see her every time I tried to apologise." He grins at you. "How long do you think it would take you to forgive me?" 

"Depends on what you did." You smile fondly. "Probably not long, Munson." 

"I have a weird feeling we're gonna last." 

Roan sniffles. "I just don't want mom to move away," she says. 

You and Eddie have already spoken about this. Serious but not sombre, on your backs in bed. You're not just marrying me, Eddie'd said, terrified of how much he wanted you to say certain things, and how you might not say them at all. This isn't just a promise to me. I know how much I'm asking from you, it's not a small thing. I won't blame you if you can't say yes, but this is… she's my world. 

I already said yes. And I knew what I was saying yes to, you'd replied, holding your hand up above you, the two of you staring in wonder at the ring on your marriage finger. I promise, Eds. I won't let either of you down. 

"Where do you think I'm going, princess? Me and dad are so happy. I'm staying right here stuck to his hip for the rest of time, but only if you're gonna stick to mine." You duck your head to touch your noses together briefly. "I'm not going anywhere." 

"Promise?" 

"Promise you." He swears you're twisting your engagement ring, but he can't quite see. "Can I have her?" you ask. 

"Sure. My noodle arms are about to snap anyway." 

"Noodle arms," you repeat, stealing Ro from him smoothly. "Yeah, right." 

He flexes appreciatively at your comment. 

Roan snuggles up to your neck, little face in the curve of it, her arms curling around you. You hold her tight and bend back under her weight, an arm against her thighs and another behind the small of her back, hand twisted up to brush her curls. 

"Love you," you say softly. You're smiling like you've got everything you ever wanted. "Maybe if me and daddy break up I can just take you with me." 

"Yeah!" Roan says with a gasp. 

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Whatever, girls. Neither of you can cook, you know that? Maybe tonight you guys can practise your new life together by not eating the dinner I'm gonna cook." Time to lighten the mood, lest Roan spend a special night lethargic. 

You beam at him. "I already made dinner. Happy anniversary, handsome." 

You exchanged gifts and kisses already that morning before work, but Eddie's happy to accept another quick kiss over Ro's shoulder. He dots one on his daughter's cheek to keep things fair. 

"Lucky us, huh?" he says to Ro. 

He's not strictly talking about dinner, and it's cheesy, but you light up like a Christmas tree. "Lucky me."