#the way you can see so clearly the shift of fog in

[laurenkmyers]

kiseki + the moment that tear hits his face chen yi knows

[monstersholygrail]

Heads or Tails?

Dragon bf x fem!reader— messy, cock riding, tail fucking, covered in cum, cum eating, after care, cuddles, fluff

You sit on your Dragon bfs giant underbelly, pouting as you look up at his moaning writhing form. Having spent countless hours teasing your bf and getting nothing to show for it except for a body covered head to toe in his thick pre-cum.

Throwing your little tantrum, wanting the pleasure only your Dragon bf can provide, you lightly slap your hand down on him. Gaining his attention even through the haze of lust clouding his mind.

“Want you to shift,” you whine, your pout jutting out further once his eyes fall on you. Gyrating your hips onto the textured skin of his underbelly you show him just how deeply you desire his cock.

You close your eyes briefly and whimper, the rocking of your hips feeling so good. Yet you want more. Getting him all worked up was causing arousal to gush out of you to the point you were dripping down your thighs. Seeing just how he reacted to you and knowing only you can ever get him to this point.

Dragon bf moans in return, the fog in his head only growing stronger. He shakes his head at you, body carefully rocking in time with your own small movements.

“Can’t, my love. I-I just can’t,” he pants out, so clearly not in any state to gather the focus he needs to shift into his smaller dragon form. So here he is, stuck as a ginormous dragon, leaving both of you wanting.

Dragon bf groans, feeling how wet you are as your pussy grinds against him. An idea slowly sifts through the fog and makes its way to the front of his thoughts.

“But I can give you my tail,” he breathes out, a mixture of lust and excitement swirl through his eyes.

With only one finger, Dragon bf drags your little body back up to his cock. Your limbs immediately wrap around it and he growls out his pleasure. Seeing your tiny form around his ginormous girth has his chest not only swelling with pride but also love for his beautiful mate. Knowing you’ll do anything to bring such pleasure to you both.

You angle your hips and wait with bated breath, so turned on you aren’t sure how long you’ll be able to last. And with how much you had teased your Dragon bf who knows how long he’ll last either.

A moment later you feel the large tip of his tail meet your slit. Dragon bf groans, feeling your heat emanating from your core onto his sensitive tail. He shivers and you hold tighter onto his cock, making him hiss.

Dragon bfs tail slides through your folds, gathering up your slickness. You moan, its girth spreading your lips. When his tail is all lubed up, you spread your thighs, allowing him easier access as his tail plunges into your depths, splitting you open just as deliciously as his cock does.

You and Dragon bf both moan, the nerves of your hole and his tail meeting and forming into an explosion of pleasure. Your bf pants, small bursts of smoke spilling out of his nose as he tries to control his fire.

“Please! Fuck me,” you beg, sliding your nails up and down the hard ridges of his length. Dragon bf roars, even the smallest forms of stimulation coming from you drives him to insanity.

“Yes, my mate!”

Without another word, Dragon bf starts thrusting his tail relentlessly into your pretty drooling cunt. Coating his tail with your essence and making a further mess of you both. With your body already soaked with his pre-cum, it makes it far too easy for your bf to push your body up and down his huge length.

Dragon bf moves your body back and forth along his cock, fucking his tail into your sloppy pussy with every downward jerk of your form.

You cry out, your body buzzing with the feeling of the ridges on his dick rubbing against you with every snap of his hips. Dragon bfs tail hitting along every nerve along your pussy walls. You can’t help but clench down and roll back into every movement.

Dragon bf snarls, his claws pricking at your back in the most delicious way as he delicately uses you however he wants. You both get lost in the momentum, the pleasure never ending as it sends sparks down your spine and straight into your cores.

You hold on tighter and tighter to his huge length practically drooling on it as his tail fucks you into oblivion, the furious pounding of his tail as it slips deeper inside you to the point where you can feel him in your throat.

A long mewl escapes you and with one more rut of his tail, your jaw drops and your body seizes. Your climax washing over you like a tidal wave of ecstasy. Dragon bf looks down just in time to see you experience one of the most intense orgasms of your life.

The moment your parted lips fall limply onto his pulsing cock, Dragon bf grunts loudly and explodes. His cum shooting of his dick and spraying all over his underbelly. Once again soaking you with his release. You bask in it, opening your mouth for however much you can get.

Still working through your orgasmic highs, Dragon bf brings you up onto his chest and uses his long tongue to lick his cum off of you. Giving you some interesting ideas about what you could do next time this happens.

“Thank you for being so understanding, my mate,” Dragon bf purrs. He nuzzles his giant snout into the area between your chest and your neck.

You sigh dramatically, reaching up and caressing however much of his jaw that you can. A rush of contentment moving through you as you cuddle with your big Dragon bf.

“Oh, it was nothing,” you tease, a grin playing on your lips. Your bf blows a harsh breath out of his nose, wiping your hair back. Leading both of you to burst out into a small fit of laughter.

[hoshifighting]

      minghao + telepathic sex

— you give a try to the soulmate meditation, finding minghao inside the meditation, the barista that you meet everyday before work.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, spiritual setting, another dimension experience, mentions of aura (minghao's aura), destinity, soulmates plot, fingering, doubled sensations, mentions of fluids (oil, cum/precum).

[my spiritualist ass needed to write something like this]

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

you’re sitting on your bed, lights off, laptop open, the screen way too bright in the dark room. your friend’s words still echoing in your head, “just try it, y/n. i swear, it’ll change your life.” and you rolled your eyes so hard when she said it, the thought of meditating to a youtube video making you scoff. but now, after a brutal day at work, your head spinning with numbers, deadlines, and your boss breathing down your neck, you figured what the hell. couldn’t be worse than staring at the ceiling and drowning in your thoughts all night, right?

so, here you are, headphones on, listening to this soft, whispery voice telling you to breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. you do it, even though it feels a bit stupid. the voice is saying something about connecting with your inner self or some other woo-woo shit, and you kind of tune it out, focusing more on the slow inhale, exhale.

but then, something shifts. like, for real. your body feels lighter, like you're floating, and your limbs start tingling. your brain’s screaming okay, this is weird, stop, but your body’s already in, pulled deeper into whatever this trance is. it’s like you blink, and suddenly, you're not in your room anymore. everything is... different.

it’s not dark, not light, just this weird in-between, and there’s this warm glow in front of you. the air smells different too, fresh and kind of sweet, like those damn essential oils your friend swears by. it feels real, but not? you glance down at yourself, and yep, still you. but your feet are moving like you’re not the one telling them to, dragging you closer to this light.

and then you see him.

at first, it’s just a silhouette. a tall, lean figure surrounded by this soft, white aura. your heart does that thing where it skips a beat—because, like, wtf is happening—but you keep moving. something about him pulls you in, despite the knot twisting in your gut.

as you get closer, you can see him more clearly. his hair’s a soft, burnt orange, strands almost glowing like they’re lit from within. the kind of hair you’d probably spend hours trying to replicate at the salon, but never really get right. and his face... god, his face. sharp, but soft in all the right places. it’s minghao. minghao? of all people? the dude you’ve seen in the cafeteria, that does your ''the usual'' everyday before work?

you freeze. not because you’re scared—well, maybe a little—but more because what the actual hell. is this meditation or did you fall asleep and end up in some kind of fever dream?

“you good?” his voice cuts through the fog, smooth, with that laid-back vibe he always carries. he’s looking right at you now, dark eyes catching yours, like he’s not even fazed by the fact that you just appeared out of nowhere.

you blink. “uh... what is this?”

he laughs, low and lazy, like you’re the one who’s being weird. “soulmate meditation, right?”

you feel your face heat up. oh, fuck no. “don’t tell me you watch those too.”

you stand there, still not quite sure if you’re dreaming or if this is actually happening, when minghao steps even closer. his energy is calm but intense at the same time, and it’s making your body buzz, like the air between you is charged with something you don’t understand. you can feel your feet getting heavier, like the ground itself is trying to pull you down, almost glitching beneath you.

minghao shrugs, the motion casual, like none of this is a big deal. “i don’t need to,” he says softly, not looking at you but feeling everything. his fingers brush against yours, and it’s such a light touch, but it sends sparks up your arm. “you can feel it, can’t you?”

you don’t answer, too caught up in the dimension. it’s like your body knows more than your brain does, and suddenly, you’re aware of every sensation, every beat of your heart, every breath.

“don’t freak out,” he murmurs, his hand sliding into yours fully now. “it’s just the energy here. you’re fine.”

yeah, right, you think. totally fine. but the way his hand fits around yours, it’s like he’s grounding you, keeping you from slipping through the cracks in reality.

“relax,” he whispers, his thumb stroking your palm lightly. “relax your shoulders, your jaw... even your eyebrows. you’re holding everything so tight.”

his touch is steady, calming, and without even realizing it, your shoulders start to drop, your jaw unclenches, and the tension in your forehead eases.

you huff, rolling your eyes, but you do it anyway, letting out a long breath. “i didn’t even know i was that tense.”

minghao chuckles, the sound easy, and you can feel it in your chest. “i could tell. your body’s giving you away.”

you shoot him a glare, but there’s no bite to it, not really.

but he’s right. you’re so damn tense, always are. work, life, all of it piles up until your body’s like a coiled spring, and he noticed on the cafeteria, he did, and here, same thing, and you don’t even notice it anymore. but here, with him, it’s like all of that just melts away. you don’t even know how it’s possible, but you feel... lighter. freer.

he tilts his head, eyes locking with yours, and there’s something in the way he’s looking at you that makes your stomach flip. “you know,” he starts, his voice dropping to a soft murmur, “there’s a better way to relax... here too”

your breath catches in your throat, he’s not just talking about meditation anymore—no, there’s a shift in the air, something heavier tugging at your sacral chackra.

“oh yeah?” you ask, your voice coming out a little breathless, even though you try to play it cool. “and what’s that?”

minghao’s smile is slow, he leans in, close enough that his breath brushes your skin, his body lightweight, moving like an angel. “you’ll feel it. just... let go.”

you don’t even have time to respond before his lips are on yours, soft and dense, and everything around you dissolves. the world, this dimension, the ground beneath your feet—it all fades until there’s nothing but him, his mouth, his hands, the heat radiating from his body.

and it’s not just a kiss. no, it’s like every sensation is magnified, doubled, like your nerves are on fire. his hand slides up your arm, leaving a trail of warmth, and when his fingers dig into your waist, you gasp into his mouth, clutching at his shoulders because suddenly, you’re not sure if your legs are going to hold you up.

he pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips, “see? just like that. relax.”

your brain’s spinning, but your body’s already giving in, sinking into the feeling of his touch, the heat building between you. you’ve never felt anything like this—like your body is hypersensitive.

minghao’s hands are everywhere now, sliding down your sides, gripping your hips, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. you’re pressed against him, and the way his body feels, hard and warm against yours, only makes the tension inside you snap, releasing in waves of need.

his mouth moves to your neck, lips trailing down, sucking lightly, and your head falls back, a soft moan slipping out before you can stop it. it’s like every touch is amplified, like your body is more in tune with his than it’s ever been with anyone else.

“you’re doing good,” he murmurs against your skin, voice low and breathy. “just let go.”

and you do. fuck, you do. your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as his mouth works its way down your throat. the heat between your legs is building, and it’s so intense, like nothing you’ve felt before. everything’s heightened—the way his fingers dig into your skin, the way his breath feels against your neck, the way his body presses against yours.

his hands slide lower, gripping your ass and pulling you flush against him. you can feel him hard against your thigh, and a low groan escapes him as he grinds against you. making you call for him.

he cuts you off with another kiss, this one rougher, more desperate, and you can feel the need radiating off of him in spirals. it’s like the air between you is droning, the energy from before now crackling with something more carnal, mundane, something that’s pulling you both under.

“you want this?” he asks, his eyes dark and filled with warmth as he pulls back just enough to look at you.

you don’t even hesitate. “yes.”

everything’s blurred, time slipping away as the two of you become a mess of tangled limbs, moans, and desperate touches. and fuck, it feels good.

you don’t even remember how it happened—one second, you were both tangled in each other, grinding and gasping like it was the only thing keeping you alive, and then, somehow, without even realizing, you were both naked—were you naked form the very beginning?

skin against skin, slick and slippery with something that felt almost like oil, but thicker, warmer, making your bodies glide against each other with every touch. you couldn’t even focus, too caught up in the way minghao’s mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking slow, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

his teeth grazed lightly over your nipple, and you gasped, back arching up, pressing yourself harder against his mouth. your hand was wrapped around his cock, your fingers curling around the thick, bulbous head, and the way he twitched in your grip made your own heat pool between your legs, soaking your thighs in a way that felt obscene.

he moved lower, trailing kisses down your stomach. you could feel every inch of him, the warmth of his breath, the slickness of your own sweat mixing with whatever was coating your bodies, making each touch feel like it was magnified, like it was burning into your skin.

“this... feels insane,” you whispered, your voice trembling, not just from the pleasure but from vibrations. every sound, every moan, every gasp echoed in the strange, otherworldly space you were in, bouncing off the walls—or maybe it was just the ground? you weren’t sure anymore. the whole place felt like it was vibrating, like your moans were traveling through the very air, rippling through the dimensions and coming back to you in curls. it was dizzying, overwhelming, and it made the heat between your legs pulse harder.

his fingers slid down between your thighs, finding your clit with a kind of confidence that made your head spin, like he belonged his, like he knew everything. his touch was light at first, just barely grazing the swollen bud, but still made you shake like he’d shocked you. your hips bucked instinctively, chasing the friction, and minghao’s breath hitched, a soft chuckle escaping him as his fingers pressed down a little harder.

“relax,” he whispered, guiding your hips down, his other hand gripping your waist, “you’re so tense. just let me do it.”

his fingers circled your clit in slow, teasing motions, not enough to send you over the edge but enough to make you ache, the need building inside of you until it felt like you were going to burst. every flick of his fingers made your whole body shudder, the sound of your slick echoing in the space around you, loud and obscene, like the wet slap of your skin against his was the only thing that mattered.

“fuck, minghao,” you moaned, your voice coming out in a broken gasp, the sound vibrating through the air, making everything feel more intense. the ground beneath you seemed to pulse with the rhythm of your bodies, every sound amplified, the wetness of your slick mixing with his groans, creating this heated, filthy symphony of pleasure.

“good girl,” he muttered, voice low and rough, fingers sliding lower to tease at your entrance before plunging inside. you cried out, the feeling so intense it almost knocked the breath from your lungs. his fingers stretched you, curling just right, finding that spot inside of you that made your legs tremble.

the sensation was heightened, doubled somehow, like you could feel every single ridge of his fingers inside of you, the way they twisted and stroked, pulling moans from your lips like he was playing an instrument. “just like that,” he breathed, his voice guiding you, his other hand sliding up to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your other nipple. “relax into it. let go.”

you did. you let go of everything—the stress, the tension, the worries. it all melted away under the touch of his hands, the press of his body against yours, the sound of your wet skin slapping together. he was moving faster now, his fingers thrusting inside of you with a steady rhythm, and you could feel your orgasm building, that tight coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter.

“minghao—i’m close, i-i can feel it, oh my god!” you gasped, your hips moving on their own, grinding against his hand, desperate for release.

he smirked, leaning down to press his lips to your ear. “come for me. let it all go.”

coil snapped, and your orgasm ripped through you, so intense that you screamed, the sound echoing in the space around you, bouncing back at you like a thousand voices crying out in unison.

your whole body shook, and you could feel minghao’s fingers still working inside of you, drawing out every last bit of your orgasm, coaxing it from you until you were a quivering body.

the sounds of your slick, of his hand sliding against your skin, filled the space, amplified by whatever dimension you were in. it was all so wet, so filthy, and yet it felt like everything you needed, everything you’d been holding in for so long.

when it was over, you collapsed back against the ground—if it was ground at all—your body boneless, your mind hazy with the aura of your orgasm. minghao pulled his fingers out of you slowly, carefully, and you could feel the wetness dripping down your thighs, soaking into whatever surface you were on.

he laid down beside you, pulling you close, and you could feel his warmth, his steady breathing, his presence grounding you again. your body felt heavy, but not in a bad way—it was the kind of heaviness that comes with complete release, with finally letting go of everything.

“how do you feel?” minghao asked softly, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin.

you smiled, eyes already drooping closed, exhaustion pulling you under. “better. so much better.”

he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, making your view blur a little. “good. now sleep.”

and you did, falling into a deep, dreamless slumber, your body completely relaxed, every bit of tension gone. all that was left was minghao’s warmth, his soft breathing, and the sound of your own heartbeat slowing as you drifted off into the most peaceful sleep you’d ever had.

— // next morning // —

you stumble into the cafeteria, still buzzing from whatever the hell last night was. it’s like you can’t shake the feeling, like it’s clinging to your skin, still there in the way your body feels light but also charged with something—missing something? your head’s all over the place, replaying those moments from the trance, that other dimension—or whatever the hell you wanna call it. but you need coffee, you’re exhausted, barely slept after the... experience, and you’re kinda hoping a caffeine hit will bring you back to reality.

and that’s when you see him. minghao. standing right at the counter like he always does, casual as anything. except something inside you twists the second your eyes land on him. it’s like your body knows before your brain does, the way your stomach flips, the way your breath catches. no. no way. he can’t know, right? you try to shake the thought, telling yourself it was just a dream or something. maybe your imagination is screwing with you, making you see connections that aren’t there.

but then he glances up, meeting your eyes for a split second before he looks back down at the coffee machine. “the usual?” he asks before you even have a chance to say anything, like he already knew.

your heart skips a beat, but you try to play it cool. “yeah... thanks,” you mutter, hoping your voice doesn’t sound as shaky as it feels.

while you’re waiting, you can’t help but sneak glances at him. he’s just standing there, doing his thing, but every now and then, his eyes flicker up to you, just for a second, like he’s watching you too. and it’s making you paranoid, like he knows. like he was there. but that’s impossible, right?

the coffee’s ready in no time, and you step up to grab it. your hand curls around the cup, but just as you’re about to lift it, minghao’s hand comes down too, his fingers brushing over yours. the touch makes you freeze, way too similar to the way his fingers had felt last night, the way he had— okay okay, calm down.

“you look well-rested,” he says, voice low, hardly audible over the hum of the cafeteria. his thumb strokes the back of your hand, subtly. “i hope it helped... relaxing like that.”

your heart slams in your chest, and for a second, you freeze. you can’t even speak, your mind going blank as his words hit you. he knows. there’s no way he doesn’t know. the way he said it, the look in his eyes—it’s like he’s toying with you, like he’s waiting for you to admit it.

your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. your eyes are wide, staring at him in shock, and minghao’s smirk widens just a little, like he’s enjoying the way you’re reacting.

then, without breaking eye contact, he adds, “are you gonna meet me again?” minghao asks, his voice dropping even lower, his lips quirking into a knowing smirk. “there… or maybe here?” he points to the counter, as if meanings, real life.

you can feel the heat creeping up your neck, your mind still spinning from everything. he knows. he fucking knows. and the way he’s looking at you right now, there’s no mistaking it.

you swallow hard, trying to compose yourself, but all you can manage is a small nod. minghao just chuckles softly, his fingers giving yours a little squeeze before he finally lets go of the cup. “good. i’ll see you soon then.”

[shybluebirdninja]

Haunted House Hero

Summary: Logan tries to be brave in a haunted house attraction but freaks out more than you do at the jump scares.

Pairing            : Logan Howlett x Gf!Reader

Note                : fluff

You wrap your arms around yourself, the leather jacket Logan bought you last year doing its best to keep the cold out.

Logan’s beside you, wearing his usual flannel, sleeves rolled up like he’s immune to the cold, even though you know he feels it. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, and he's been grumbling about this haunted house since you both got in line.

“They better have somethin’ scary in there. Not some cheap-ass jump scares,” he mutters, his voice low and rough, the way it always is when he’s trying to act like he doesn’t care.

You stifle a laugh, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh, come on, babe. It’ll be fun. Maybe they’ll actually get you to flinch for once.”

He glances down at you, eyes narrowing, but there’s a glint of amusement there. “Me? Flinch? Yeah, right. These places don’t scare me. It’s all fake.”

You grin, leaning into his side a little. “Sure, sure. You’re the big, bad Wolverine. Nothing scares you.”

He grunts, clearly not convinced by the haunted house’s ability to impress him, but there’s a hint of nervous energy in the way he shifts his weight from foot to foot as you approach the entrance.

The door swings open with a loud creak, and the two of you step inside. The air changes immediately—stuffy, thick with the smell of fog machines and something vaguely like burnt wood.

It’s dark, too, except for the occasional dim flicker of fake candles and red lights illuminating the path ahead. The place is eerily quiet, save for the distant sound of chains clinking and faint screams.

Logan rolls his shoulders back, pretending like he’s unfazed, but his hand brushes against yours, and you can feel the tension there.

“Stick close, babe. Don’t want you getting lost in here,” he says, even though you know he’s the one who needs a little reassurance.

You bite back a grin. “You mean you don’t want to get lost.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes a step forward, leading the way. His body moves with purpose, like he’s walking into some kind of battle, not a cheesy haunted attraction. His flannel sways slightly with each step, and you can see the way his muscles tense under the fabric.

You both turn a corner, and the hallway suddenly gets narrower. The walls close in, decorated with fake cobwebs and plastic skeletons, and you can feel Logan’s posture change—he’s bracing himself, even though he’d never admit it. His breathing’s a little heavier, and you can tell he’s hyper-aware of every creak, every distant sound.

That’s when the first scare hits.

A figure jumps out from behind a hidden door, dressed in tattered clothes, face covered in white makeup, screaming right in Logan’s face.

“Fuck!” Logan shouts, jumping back, his hand instinctively shooting out to grab your arm. His reflexes are faster than the scare actor’s, and for a second, he looks like he’s ready to take the poor guy down.

You burst out laughing, holding onto Logan’s arm to steady yourself. “Oh my god, Logan, did you just—”

“Shut up,” he growls, trying to play it off like it didn’t just happen. He straightens up, taking a deep breath, and glares at the actor who’s already slinking back into the shadows. “They’re lucky I didn’t pop claws.”

Your stomach hurts from laughing so hard, and you have to take a deep breath to calm down. “Sure, babe. Sure. No claws in the haunted house.”

Logan mutters something under his breath, still clearly irritated that he got caught off guard, and continues down the path, but his hand hasn’t left your arm since the scare. His grip’s not tight, just…there. Steadying himself, maybe, or making sure you don’t pull any pranks on him.

As you walk further in, the air gets colder. It’s like they’ve cranked up the AC to make it feel more like an actual haunted mansion, and the temperature drop has Logan rubbing the back of his neck, trying to shake off the chill.

You’re halfway through the house when a low moaning sound echoes through the hallway. Logan stops in his tracks.

“Babe,” he says, his voice quieter now, like he’s actually starting to buy into the atmosphere. “Did you hear that?”

You can’t help the mischievous smile that spreads across your face. “What? You scared?”

He shoots you a look, but before he can respond, another figure leaps out from the shadows. This one’s dressed like some sort of ghoul, with glowing red eyes and a mask that looks a little too realistic. Logan jumps again, but this time, instead of swearing, he just wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him.

“I wasn’t scared,” he says quickly, his breath a little uneven. “Just…protecting you.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, grinning like an idiot. “Oh, yeah? Is that why you almost punched that ghost?”

He doesn’t answer, just keeps walking, but you can feel his arm stay around you, like he’s not taking any chances.

The rest of the haunted house is full of the usual jump scares—screaming clowns, sudden loud noises, and creepy dolls—but Logan’s reactions are priceless every time. He tries to act tough, like he’s not affected, but the way his shoulders jump or how his grip on you tightens tells a different story.

By the time you both reach the exit, you’re practically leaning on him from laughing so hard. Logan pushes open the door, and the cool night air hits you both like a welcome relief.

He stops just outside, letting go of you for a second to rub the back of his neck again, looking almost sheepish.

“You gonna make fun of me for this all night, aren’t you?” he asks, glancing down at you with that familiar gruff expression, but there’s a softness behind it.

You smile up at him, sliding your hand into his. “Nah, babe. I’ll give you a break. For now.”

He grunts in response, but there’s a hint of a smirk on his lips as he pulls you closer, his arm slipping around your shoulders again as you start to walk back toward the parking lot.

“Next year, though, we’re doing somethin’ with actual danger. No more of this fake shit.”

“Whatever you say, babe.”

But deep down, you both know you’re coming back next year.

[st4rfckerz]

give into us | gf!sam monroe x reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: MDNI 18+, unprotected sex, dubcon, praise, mild knife play, pet names (nothing crazy), dry humping, choking, loss of virginity, breeding kink

summary: you're home alone and you receive a call from an anonymous caller.

it was a brisk october night. the kind where you curl up with a bowl of freshly popped popcorn and a scary movie. so that's exactly what you do. you choose to binge a few of your favorite horror movies because you have the whole night to yourself.

you put the old vhs tape into the vcr and start the movie. as the movie began to play, the phone unexpectedly started to ring. the shrill ringing of the old landline phone broke the peaceful mood set by the flickering old tv.

"who could that even be?" you think to yourself before heading to the kitchen to pick up the phone.

“hello?” you answered the phone apprehensively. there's a lengthy pause before an unsettling, breathless voice answers back.

"who is this?" the voice questions. you raise your eyebrows in confusion.

"who are you trying to reach?" you ask, a little perplexed that the person who called you was inquiring who he called.

a slight chuckle was heard on the other end. the caller was so excited to talk with you.

"do you really have to guess who I'm trying to reach?" his tone became very charming. this was the kind of voice that could woo people into trusting him "i've been trying to reach you all night." you hear a hint of desperation.

"ok, come on, who is this?" you ask sternly. you look at your surroundings, not seeing anyone around.

“who i am isn't important, sweetheart.  what you need is a little companionship - i can help with that.” he paused for a moment, the silence stretching between the both of you.

"you just gotta want me.” your body froze at the sound of his words, like though a switch had been flipped, in a way that you were unable to articulate.

"you're crazy." you scoff. you hang up the phone and return to your movie.

"freak." you mutter to yourself.

after a few moments, the phone rings again.

“you keep calling me crazy yet, you’re the one that’s talking to the voice on the other end of this phone.” you could hear the snicker in his voice.

"and you're the one that won't leave me alone." you snap.

"how can i leave you alone when you're wearing those adorable little shorts?" 

you pause for a second and gaze down at your baby pink shorts. whoever this was has been clearly watching you. in a fit of panic, you rush to the kitchen counter and grab a knife.

“your little knife isn't gonna save you doll, might want to think of something a little better,” he taunted, a dark chuckle following soon after. the sound made your skin crawl and you held the phone tightly, fighting the urge to hang up.

"why don't you just show yourself huh? don't be a coward." you can feel yourself getting more scared and nervous.

“show myself?” his voice shifted, any sign of cockiness gone and replaced with a cold, calculating tone. “you keep asking questions like that and you’ll soon find out just how brave i really am.” 

you hang up the phone once more and start dialing 911. the lights suddenly go out. you take a breath to settle your nerves, but the moment you do, a hand is placed around your mouth. your chest is securely wrapped by powerful hands, but you immediately wriggle free and proceed to flee through the back door.

running seems to clear the fog around your brain, the adrenaline coursing through your body helping you overcome the shock of what just happened. you hear footsteps running after you, gaining on you - getting closer and closer with each passing second.

your body slams into the concrete, your head slamming against the hard surface. as stars form and dance at the edge of your vision, you can faintly see a dark figure looming over you.

the mysterious figure holds you down on the ground, but you manage to escape. soon after, you sprint up to your room, lock the door, and hide inside your closet. he slowly began following you, his pace was casual but his movements were calculated and precise. you were his to play with now.

you hear the running footsteps come to a stop right outside your bedroom door. you hold your breath as you hear the handle of your bedroom door rattle and move, someone trying to open it. you stay completely still you can hear footsteps pacing outside your door - whoever this was, is standing out there waiting for you.

after a brief pause, the door to your bedroom crashes open, and the shadowy, cloaked figure slowly makes its way into your room before stopping in front of the closet door.

you keep your hand pressed to your mouth, the silence and stillness in the room giving you goosebumps. you hold your breath as tight as you can, your eyes locked on the closet door.

suddenly the closet door flies open.

"boo."

the masked man pulls you forward and holds you tightly against his body. his chest was flushed against your back. your muffled screams are covered by a big gloved hand. you struggle to fight back, but your hands are flying everywhere, hitting everything all at once. you become even more panicked when you catch the glint of a knife out of the corner of your eye.

“shhh i only want to talk. can we at least speak without you screaming?" his voice was low and husky now, but calm. too calm. it was unsettling.

while his hand is still covering your mouth, you regain your composure as you feel the knife lightly graze your throat.

"good girl," his voice a low purr against your skin.

the glove-clad hand gently pulls away from your mouth and clamps around your throat.

the combination of the cold knife against your skin, hand squeezing your throat, and the adrenaline surge brought on by your fear sent a strange wave of pleasure down to your core, causing you to subconsciously clench your thighs.

"we can either have a civil conversation or things can go a completely different direction, it's your choice." you can feel the knife dragging gently as it moves from your neck to the valley of your breasts. as he's drinking in your presence, he notices your thighs tightly pressed together.

"does this excite you pretty girl?" the knife moves further down your body and slips under your underwear. you shudder slightly at the sensation of the cold blade pressing against your warm cunt. you were fighting it, you were going against your own desire to feel something for him, but he knew. he could sense it.

"fuck you." you say through gritted teeth.

you received no more than a slight head tilt from the masked assailant before being thrown onto your bed and pinned down, completely unable to move. your vision returns in a haze, and as you gain your bearings once more, your eyes lock onto the face of your aggressor. his hand is still wrapped tightly around your neck, but you do manage to move your free hand to remove his mask.

the person you thought would never hurt you appears in your vision as your closest friend.

"sam?" your eyes well up in tears. you couldn't believe this.

"no, no, no, no." you sob. it was impossible to accept what was happening. you would never think he would do something so insane after everything you and sam went through.

“why’d you have to go making things so difficult?” he asks, his voice dropping from the menacing tone he was using to the casual, friendly tone he often spoke in.

"you know i just wanted us to be together.”

"sam you're being crazy right now, ok? now please let me go-" you plead.

"just listen to me!" sam yells, shaking you harshly. your lips quickly clamp shut as you look up at him in absolute horror.

“i-i feel like you’re fighting something inside. you’re scared but underneath that fear, you’re feeling something. can't you feel it?" sam's eyes were wild and blown wide. the only thing you could make sense of amid all the craziness that raced through your head was that he wanted you.

how were you so blind? how could you miss it all these years of knowing him? you were utterly unaware of how he treated you, how he looked at you as though you were the only person on the planet.

"i'm so sorry sam...i just didn't know." tears begin spilling out your eyes. his face softens, his grip loosening around your neck. he touches the tears on your face, wiping them away with his thumb.

“it’s ok, it’s just us now," the intensity in his eyes was almost other worldly. his stare seemed to pull her in like a magnet. "i just didn't want you to have to see me like this, but i need you to understand how much we need each other." sam spoke to you in a sugary tone that made the hairs on your arms stand up.

"i understand but..." you trail off. "this isn't right."

“yes, it is. don’t you feel how right it is? don’t fight this, it’s always been meant to be.” he moves his face close to yours, his free hand lightly brushing your cheek. "i'd do anything for you, i'd kill for you." his vacant stare almost gave you the impression that it had already been executed.

you lock your gaze on his, your eyes pleading.

for a moment, something about his face softens, a sadness passing through his features. then he leans forward, his lips pressing against yours.

it’s the most gentle kiss you’ve ever known, making your body melt against him as if he weren't just chasing you through your house in a mask with a knife.

"sam, i can't..." you speak against his lips. he pulls back from the kiss, his fingers still brushing against your face.

“don’t make this harder than it has to be. give into us. just be mine, you and me together. please.” his smile falls, and he frowns as he watches your expression.

you stare up at him and think for a while.

you'd be lying to yourself if you said you never had feelings for sam. despite the fact that you fantasized about being together and even about him taking your virginity, you never imagined it would get this serious.

this time, when his lips find yours, it isn’t gentle and tender. he devours you in a kiss that says ‘we are one’, his lips moving feverishly against yours as he pulls you against him, making you moan into the kiss.

“there you go.” he murmurs, his voice breathy with desire. heat spreads through your body as you press closer to him, his arms wrapping around your body and pulling you close. his hands find their way to your hair, pulling your head closer to his as he bites your lower lip and sucks it into his mouth.

your hips buck up to meet his, the newfound friction spreading a heat across your body. his mouth pulls away from yours as he lets out a deep groan, his eyes filled with desire.

his breath comes in panting heaves, his eyes moving down your body.

"you don't know what you do to me." his hand move over your body, caressing every inch of you with love and desire.

his fingers find their way underneath your shirt, making you press closer to him for even more friction.

your eyes squeeze shut, enjoying the feeling of sam's prominent bulge rocking against your aching core.

sam's eyes are full of hunger and desire, his breathing coming in shorter and shorter gasps as he locks his gaze with yours.

a moment passes between you and then his lips find yours once more, devouring your flesh as his tongue slips past your lips and into your mouth. you let out a loud moan, gripping his body tight as he continues to kiss you passionately.

sam pulls away again, his eyes searching yours before he speaks, "i need you." his voice a raspy whisper as his eyes drink in the sight of your body.

his mouth finds yours once more, his hands moving to your shorts, roughly yanking them off along with your underwear. his hands grip you on either side of your waist, the heat in his grip only intensifying as you feel him lean forwards, pulling you closer into his body.

you hear sam fumble with his pants before you feel his tip graze against your slick folds before sliding in.

"sam...it hurts," you whine, feeling a sharp sting as he thrusted into your cunt. sam was so big that you didn't even need to see his cock to figure out how big he was. you could just feel it.

"just take it baby, you'll be ok." he says breathlessly. with each stroke, sam becomes more attuned to your body's responses, adjusting his movements to bring you pleasure while respecting your boundaries. the pain begins to fade, replaced by a growing warmth and an intoxicating mix of pleasure and vulnerability. your whimpers of discomfort are slowly replaced by moans of pleasure, surrendering yourself to the desires you never thought you would explore.

"so perfect," his voice is hushed as he continues to whisper into your ear, his lips close to your neck.

"n-need more..." you mewl. the feeling in your body is completely new. given the fact that you had touched yourself countless times before, this sensation was you ever experienced. you can just feel how much he loves and adores you - it almost seems as if you two were made for each other.

"i know you do sweet girl," he whispers, his tongue finding the space between your neck and your ear, licking and sucking the skin with passion. "and i'll give it to you, all of it. you're mine and only mine." you want this, you yearn for more of his touch, and he wants to give it to you.

you begin bucking your hips up to meet his harsh thrusts. sam revels in your reactions, his own sadistic pleasure fueling the intensity of the encounter.

“that’s it, baby, you're doing so good.” he runs a hand along your back, the skin under your shirt growing warm and tingly.

sam's touch intensifies, his thumb pressing firmly against your sensitive clit with an almost aggressive force. the friction between his thumb and your throbbing bundle of nerves sends waves of both pain and pleasure coursing through your body. you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to that elusive climax. every sensation seems to be intensified, amplified by the dark aura that surrounds you.

"sam- m'gonna cum..." you whimper. your fingers grasp the hairs at the nape of his neck, earning a low groan from him.

"come on baby, cum on my cock...make it yours." his breathing was shallow, and his speech was harsh. he places his head on your shoulder. his whimpers and moans grew stronger, indicating that his orgasm was also nearing.

and then, it happens. a surge of pleasure floods your senses, radiating from your core and rippling through your entire being. the world fades away as you succumb to the overwhelming intensity of your orgasm, your cries of delight mingling with the echoes of the room.

sam's movements becoming slow as a low, guttural groan escapes his lips. you feel his thrust become weaker, the fervent grip on your skin tightening for a brief moment. the sound of his release echoes through the room, his cum spills inside you, warmth combining with the heat of your own desires. a primal satisfaction overtakes him, leaving him momentarily spent.

as the ripples of pleasure subside, you find yourself breathless, spent, and oddly satisfied. sam collapses on top of you, fatigue weighing heavily upon him, and he lays his head upon your chest. you can feel his warm breath against your skin, hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your own.

the lines that once divided you into predator and prey are now blurred, and you start to see him as more than just a threatening presence, a constant reminder of the thrilling taboo that has bound you both together.

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ HEADCANON 2 ]

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[ SLIGHT NSFW ] + [ MDNI ]

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Alastor bites. Really bites. It’s to the point he draws blood then proceeds to lap it up just to feel you shiver. Of course you cry out in pain and tear up when he does this but the immediate urge to touch yourself also rises. The pain he inflicts stirs a heat in your core like no other which puts you on edge and fogs your head up with need. He’ll let you squirm against him, knowing you’re struggling between whining for more and making a run for it, but with his grip on your smaller body running from him is never an option.

Alastor tends to make you show off the love bites he’s left on your skin, going so far as to by dainty jewelry for you to wear that’ll draw other sinner’s attention while elegantly accentuating the healing wounds. He gets a shameless sense of pride seeing others marvel at what he’s done to you, every mark deterring demons from looking your way again, and adding to his territorial claim on your soul.

Alastor very rarely lets you mark him back, only allowing it when he’s feeling especially stressed, or is in great need of touch. More often than not you scatter little love bites across his chest or lower neck because he won’t allow you to venture anywhere else and couldn’t possibly let the rest of hell know he’s gifting a sweet thing like you a taste of his skin. He’s got an image to uphold and you don’t mind as long as you get slim opportunities to claim the radio demon as yours in private.

Alastor is no match for the sight of your little fangs. When you smile they’re shown off perfectly, biting your lip makes the small canines peek out, and worst of all is when you smile while licking them -right after killing too. Blood smeared on your plush lips and the tip of your tongue perfectly poised to lick it up….the view touches just the right nerve for the deer demon. He doesn’t know exactly what’s so attractive about seeing your delicate fangs on display but he finds himself thinking about it nonstop.

Alastor enjoys putting a genuine smile on your face. Whether that’s by killing, cooking, or performing any other acts of service for you. Doesn’t matter to him as long as you feel well cared for. He may own your soul and uses that to his advantage st times but to some degree you’re a companion and not just a servant to him. His most “prized possession” is how he’d describe you. He strives to make this obvious to you by never collaring or intimidating you with the threat of being dragged around with green chains if he’s irritated with something you’ve done or said. Instead, you’re given a ring/necklace that occasionally burns your skin as a warning from the radio demon if you are testing his patience or crossing a line he’s clearly drawn for you to follow. Husk is a bit jealous you get preferential treatment from the overload but what he doesn’t know is that your servitude to Alastor wasn’t entirely forced but rather agreed upon by you both.

Alastor’s ears are extremely sensitive. More often than not you can gauge his actual mood or reaction to things by the position of them. It’s a cute natural habit he doesn’t realize is so obvious but since you’re at his side a lot you pick up on the sign quickly. His smile is always present, shifting from menacing to genuine every so often, but the twitch of his ears says more than any expression he makes. The first time he let you touch them his entire body shuddered, visibly relaxing into your curled up form as the two of you laid in his bed, and for the first time he felt no urge to be restless in it.

Alastor doesn’t sleep but will lay with you if asked. Granted, he does secretly count the seconds until you tangle your body with his, reaching your soft hands up to gently pet his ears while humming some random tune you’d heard him sing earlier, but if you ask if he enjoys cuddling he’ll evade the question. “Rest, darling. Don’t concern yourself with me…”he hums into the crook of you neck before kissing your exposed skin. Yet, his ears lay flat as you gently scratch them, fluttering about when you giggle tiredly before whispering back “m’kay…”

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I wouldn’t call these cute headcanons but I wouldn’t say they’re wholesome either… ❤️

[ BOMUS CONTENT + ]

I mean it’s only a century or so…older is always better too ❤️ credit to creator…

[springtyme]

If you’re still looking for Steve requests, would you be willing to write Steve who’s sick asf but later has a date planned with R but when she sees him she obvs takes him home and takes care of him

𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 ♡

Steve Harrington x reader || Main masterlist || Steve playlist

summary: Your first date with Steve doesn’t end up going exactly as he had planned.

word count: 2k

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞: 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐) 𝐒𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐃𝐚𝐲

“You look like shit,” Robin says deadpanned, her arms crossed as she leans against the counter, her expression half-teasing, half-concerned. 

“Gee, thanks, Rob,”Steve replies, trying to sound normal, but failing miserably as fatigue and hoarseness clings to his voice like a thick fog. He rubs the back of his neck, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. The fluorescent lights in Family Video seem excessively bright today, and every time a customer opens the door, the sound of the bell makes his head throb and the rush of fresh air makes him shiver.

He had woken up feeling like a truck had run him over, his throat scratchy, head pounding, and every bone in his body aching. Had he woken up feeling like this on any other day, he would have called in sick; but if he did that, it would mean actually admitting that he was sick, and then he would have to call you and cancel your date later, which was absolutely out of the question. 

He had worked out the nerve to ask you out for so long that the idea of backing out now makes his stomach twist with anxiety. He doesn’t understand how he did it so easily in high school. Back then, talking to girls felt like second nature to him, but then he grew up, became less of an asshole and the glitz and glamour of ‘King Steve’ and teenage confidence faded into something far more complicated.

It also dosen’t help the one person he’s been crushing on for ages. Your laughter dances in his memory, a melody that both soothes and torments him. You’re smart, kind, and effortlessly cool; the kind of person who lights up a room without even trying.

Robin raises an eyebrow, the look on her face tells Steve that she isn’t convinced. “Seriously, Harrington, you should just call it a day and go home.”

“I’m fine,” he insists, despite the fact that his body is screaming at him to go home and curl up under a mountain of blankets. 

· · · · ·   

You stand in front of the mirror in the staff bathroom of the café, smoothing down the fabric of your outfit as you check your makeup one last time. Your shift ended a little while ago, but Steve is supposed to come by and pick you up soon after his own shift at Family Video. The anticipation of seeing him makes your heart flutter.

You’ve been replaying the moment Steve asked you out in your head—his slight stammer, the way he ran his fingers through his hair, clearly anxious yet hopeful. It was cute. You could still picture the way his eyes lit up when you said yes, how the corner of his mouth twitched into that adorable smile of his, bright and boyish. 

As you stand there putting on a layer of lip gloss, a soft knock on the door breaks you from your reverie. “Hey, I think your date is here!” Lin, your co-worker, call out, her voice laced with light-hearted mischief. You can hear the smile in her tone.

“Thanks, I’ll be right out!” you reply, capping the tube of gloss and throwing it into your purse, taking a final glance in the mirror before you step out of the bathroom.

As you walk into the main café area, your eyes immediately land on Steve. He’s leaning against the counter, one hand fiddling with his keys, his other holding a bouquet of pink lilies that stands out against the muted tones of the café. The sight makes you smile to yourself.

You navigate through the café, a calm kind of excitement bubbling in your stomach. He catches your eye just as you reach him, but as you get closer, your smile falters slightly. You can’t help but notice the slight paleness of his complexion and how the usual brightness of his honey brown eyes is dulled.

“Hey,” you say, trying to mask your concern with a playful tone as you glimpse the flowers. “Are those for me?”

“Uh, yeah,” he stammers, almost sheepish as he offers you the bouquet, “yeah, they are for you.”

You take the flowers, inhaling their sweet fragrance, and your heart swells. “Thank you, they’re beautiful.”

His smile is earnest, but you catch the hint of a wince as he shifts on his feet.

“Of course,” he replies, a little too quickly, and you immediately pick up on the way his voice cracks slightly.

You take a closer look at him, worry settling in your chest like a weight. “Steve, are you okay?”

He chuckles softly, attempting to brush it off. “Yeah… yeah, I’m great.”

You raise an eyebrow, not feeling fully convinced, but you smile as he leads you out of the café and into the mild autumn air. The moment you step outside, the sunset casts a warm golden light, painting the world in hues of orange and pink. But despite the beauty around you, your attention stays focused on him.

As you walk side by side towards his car, a comfortable silence falls between you, but it’s punctured by Steve’s occasional cough, each one making your heart sink a little more. 

“Steve,” you say gently, your voice dropping to a soft, yet serious tone. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

He force a chuckle, his voice raspy and strained. “Yeah… I’m just a little under the weather. It’s nothing, really.” 

You don’t buy it for a second. You know him well enough to see the way his usually bright eyes are glazed over with fatigue. The way he keeps shivering, despite the mild autumn air. You can see the pale cast to his skin and the way his hand shakes as he reaches for the passenger door to let you into his car.  

“Steve, you’re sick,” you state, your tone firm, your hand reaching out to touch his forehead which is warm to the touch. 

He glances away, and you notice how he rubs a hand over his tired eyes as if trying to wipe away the exhaustion. “I didn’t want to cancel on you. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

Your heart flutters, but it’s quickly replaced by a surge of protectiveness. You take a step closer, tilting your head slightly to meet his gaze. “Steve, I appreciate that, but I really think you need rest.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but before he can say anything, you interject, “How about this: I take you home, and we can have a cozy night in instead? I can whip up some soup or something.”

The suggestion hangs in the air. You can see the internal struggle on his face—whether he should stick to the plan he’d anticipated or succumb to the reality of how he truly feels. Finally, he nods. “That does sound nice. But can I still take you out on a real date when I’m feeling better?” His voice is barely above a whisper, but the sincerity in his eyes reminds you how much he values your time together.

“Definitely,” you reply, your own smile returning. “Now come on, let’s get you home.” You put out your hand, gesturing for him to hand over his car keys. He hesitates for a moment, looking between you and the keys in his palm, but the warmth in your eyes encourages him. With a resigned sigh, he hands them over.

You slide into the driver’s seat, glancing over at him once you’re both settled in, and your heart squeezes at the sight. He’s leaning back against the headrest, eyelids drooping slightly as he battles against another wave of exhaustion.

“Want me to turn on some music?” you ask, trying to lighten the mood as you pull out of the parking lot.

“Sure, but maybe something a bit soft,” he replies, his voice still strained, though he offers you a small smile. You nod and switch on the radio, letting the soothing melodies fill the car as you drive through the quiet town.

Occasionally, you look over and check on him from the corner of your eye. He’s still pale, and you can see how he shivers slightly in his  seat. Guilt twists in your stomach at the thought that he’d pushed himself just to spend time with you.

The short drive feels like it takes ages, but you finally pull up in front of his house. Steve glances over at you, a hint of reluctance in his gaze. “You don’t...you really don’t have to do this, you know. I can just—”

“Steve, it’s happening. You’re not winning this argument today,” you cut him off playfully, adding a grin to soften your words. He chuckles weakly, appreciating the stubbornness in your tone.

After a second, he nods and climbs out of the car, the effort seeming to cost him. You rush around to help him, looping his arm around your shoulder for support as you lead him inside. Once inside, you help him settle onto the couch, fluffing a few pillows behind his back so he can lean comfortably. “You just sit tight,” you order gently. “I’ll get started on that soup.”

You head to the kitchen, happy to find enough ingredients for a simple chicken noodle. As you chop vegetables and toss everything into the pot, you can’t help but glance back toward the living room now and then.

After a while, the delicious aroma of simmering soup fills the air, a comforting weight that envelops the space. You serve it up in two bowls, bringing them back to the living room.

“Dinner is served,” you announce, adopting a playful tone as you hand him a bowl, the steam swirling up from the broth.

He takes it gratefully, voicing his gratitude before he takes a spoonful of the soup, the tension in his shoulders seems to ease just a bit. You take a seat next to him, and the two of you settle into a comfortable quiet, the sound of spoons clinking against the ceramic filling the space between you.

“See? Not such a bad idea, right?” you say, giving him a gentle smile as his eyes lock with yours. 

“Not at all,” he replies, his mouth curling into a genuine smile that somehow seems to illuminate the weariness in his eyes. “You might just be my new favorite person.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but your heart flutters nonetheless. “Just wait until I force you to watch a rom-com later.”

“Who doesn’t love a rom-com?” he laughs, but it’s cut short by a rough cough that rattles through him. You frown, reaching over to gently place your hand on his forehead again, your palm feeling the rise and fall of his fever.

“You still need to rest,” you remind him softly, and he nods, a hint of vulnerability crossing his features. He takes another sip of soup, his movements slower, as if savoring not just the meal, but the warmth radiating from your presence.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” he murmurs, looking at you with a depth of gratitude that sends your heart racing. “I really didn’t want to let you down.”

“Steve, you could never let me down,” you say earnestly. 

The sincerity in your voice hangs in the air between you, a thread of understanding weaving deeper into the fabric of your relationship. He finishes his soup, and as the bowls lay empty on the coffee table, he leans back a little more against the couch, closing his eyes.

You grab a blanket that is hanging over the armrest of the couch and drape it over the two of you, feeling the warmth radiating from his body touch yours. “I’ll stay here with you,” you whisper, brushing back a strand of hair from his forehead.

“Thank you,” he says with a contented sigh, he nestles in further, his hand finding yours on the couch. And as you sit together, the simplicity of sharing warmth, soup, and presence erases the worry as evening turns into night, the world outside fading away.

[kasiers]

a/n: my october spooky szn contribution

haunted houses with satoru would be chaotic in the best and worst ways.

you knew the moment he suggested that you both hit up one of the biggest haunted houses in town, a smug grin already formed on his lips. after all, satoru did think it would be hilarious to see how you’d react. 

as you both approach the entrance, you feel the eerie vibe instantly. fog billows out from the doorway, and creepy music is playing from hidden speakers. the sound of distant screams echoes through the air. you glance at your boyfriend, who’s looking down at you, wrapped around his arm, eyes glinting with excitement. 

"you’re not scared, are you?" satoru teases, which promptly makes you lightly smack his arm.

"oh hush it, not even close," you shot back. although the ominous groans from inside the house made you slightly doubt your words.

as soon as you stepped inside, the lights flickered, and a creepy clown jumped out from behind a curtain. you flinch and jump back, tightening the hold on satoru’s arm for support. he just laughed, completely unfazed, though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t jump back himself.

sure enough, you both kept going and a grotesque figure lunged at you from behind a door. this time, you manage to keep your cool, but satoru slightly flinches— a tiny movement that you definitely notice.

"hm? what was that?" you hum, raising an eyebrow.

he scoffs, waving it off like nothing happened. "please, nothing can scare me, there was a fly."

you roll your eyes, knowing better. he underestimates the haunted house, thinking he's above getting startled. but as you make your way deeper, the rooms get darker, the sounds creepier, and the tension starts to build.

as you both move forward, you enter a narrow hallway with mirrors on both sides. the reflections are distorted, adding to the confusion. satoru walks ahead, confident, until a hand reaches out from one of the mirrors.

"holy shi—!" he jerks back, eyes wide in shock. for the first time, you see actual fear flash across his face.

you burst into laughter, ignoring your own fears now as you clutch your stomach. "oh, so nothing can scare you, huh?"

"that... that doesn't count," he huffs, trying to regain his composure, but his cheeks are slightly pink, his pride clearly taking a hit.

the haunted house only gets worse from there. in one room, animatronics start to malfunction, moving erratically and making strange noises. your boyfriend nudges you ahead, insisting you lead the way, though he claims it's because he's "letting you have the spotlight." but when an actor covered in blood jumps out of a coffin with a blood-curdling scream, he’s the one who yells.

"not a word," he says quickly, glaring at you when you give him a smug look.

then, you reach the grand finale. a pitch-black room where eerie whispers fill the air. you can't see a thing, and every sound makes your heart race. you feel satoru shift closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. you glance up at him, surprised, but he looks dead serious.

"what?" he mutters. "i wouldn’t want them jumping at you."

suddenly, something brushes against your leg, and both of you freeze. a gust of cold air whooshes past, and his grip tightens. "wh… what the hell was that?" he stutters, his voice a little higher pitched than usual.

you snort, trying to hold in your laughter. "you’re scared!"

"i am not!" but he’s looking around like he’s expecting a ghost to pop out at any second.

just when you think you’re in the clear, a deafening scream erupts from the shadows, and this time, satoru practically jumps out of his skin as he screams out yet again. he grabs your hand and pulls you forward in a hurry, not even bothering to hide his panic.

by the time you stumble out of the exit, both of you are breathless. you bent over, hands on your knees as laughter bubbles up uncontrollably.

“satoru you…” you gasp, pointing at him. “you yelled louder than the ghost!”

the young man straightens himself, running a hand through his white locks as if to shake off the embarrassment, but his cheeks are flushed. not from fear, obviously, but from the totally unexpected jump scares. he shoots you a glare, “did not!”

you raise an eyebrow, still laughing. “did not? satoru, the scare actor looked confused because you screamed louder than they did!”

he rolls his eyes, pulling you closer as the two of you walk away from the haunted house. “next time, we’re goin’ to have to go trick or treating. no jump scares. just pumpkins and candy.”

you laugh again, nudging him playfully. “i’ll make sure to bring earplugs in case you start thinking the parents giving out candies are scare actors. 

he groans, but pulls you closer, “you’re lucky you’re cute, or i’d definitely throw you back into that haunted house.”

[falafelluva]

I love your work so much!

I don’t know if you take requests but if you do can you write something with Kenan who has to do his 2 year old daughter’s curly hair? 🫶🏾

; 𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐋𝐒 - 𝘬.𝘺𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘻 ✮

summary: when a nasty cold hits you, kenan is left in charge of the parenting duties— that includes taking care of your little girls wild curls.

warnings: idk, illness ig? help? tangled curly hair (very triggering)

author’s note: i do in fact take requests for now I can still write them quickly but after this week i have to focus on school bc #examyear, i love this one cs i have curly hair myself but excuse the way this is written- i myself have a mixture that ranges between 3a-3c and kind of went with what i know about my hair even tho i don’t know shizzle about curly hair care💔 also i just named her Ayla bc I don’t know how to write with those y/d/n things [sad]

The afternoon sun streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You lay in bed, bundled under a soft blanket, battling a nasty cold.

Your head throbbed, and your throat felt like sandpaper, leaving you utterly drained. You could hear the soft sounds of your two-year-old daughter, Ayla, playing in the living room, her laughter breaking through your fog of illness, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to join her anytime soon.

Kenan stepped into the room, his expression a mix of concern and determination. “Hey, love,” he said softly, checking in on you. “How are you feeling?”

You managed a weak smile. “Not great, but I’ll be okay. Just tired.”

He nodded, glancing toward the living room where Ayla was happily babbling to herself. “I have to take her out for a bit, but I don’t know what to do with her hair.”

You chuckled softly, even though it hurt. “She’ll be fine, just leave it for now.”

But Kenan shook his head, his brows furrowing. “Nein, I can’t let her go out like that.” He paused, then added, “Besides, she needs to look..not this uh… wild? people will think I don’t know what I’m doing.”

You watched him, a mix of admiration and amusement. Kenan had always been determined to be an involved dad, but when it came to Ayla’s hair, he was a bit out of his element.

“Okay, just give it a try. You can do this.”

Taking a deep breath, Kenan nodded and headed to the bathroom to gather supplies. He emerged with a small basket filled with the essentials:

an edge brush, edge control, gel, water, curling cream products, and a random wide tooth comb/denman brush. You couldn’t help but smile at how determined he looked.

“Alright, Ayla, come here, Kleine” he called out, trying to keep his voice light and playful. Ayla wandered over, her beautiful but wild curls bouncing with every step. (little one)

Kenan knelt in front of her, brushing his fingers through her hair to assess the situation.

“Alright, let’s see what we’re working with here,” he said, his tone serious as he misted her hair with water from the spray bottle.

Ayla giggled as the droplets landed on her forehead, but then she wrinkled her nose, unsure of what was happening.

“Easy, it’s just water..damn,” Kenan said softly, his tone soothing as he muttered the last word.

“We’re just going to make you look pretty.” He squirted some curly hair product into his hands, rubbing them together before working it through Ayla’s curls.

“This will help keep your hair nice and bouncy, just like how mommy does it for you” he explained, trying to channel the routine he’d always seen you do.

Next, he picked up the Denman brush, the brush glinting in the light. But as he began to gently brush through her curls, Ayla’s mood shifted.

“No, Baba! No!” she whined, shaking her head and pulling away from him.

Kenan paused, glancing at you with wide eyes. “Was mache ich falsch?” he muttered in confusion, clearly at a loss. (what am I doing wrong?)

“It’s okay, just take it slow. Maybe try using your fingers instead,” you suggested, wanting to help him navigate the moment without adding to his frustration.

“Okay, okay,” he replied, his voice still calm but edged with uncertainty. He set down the Denman brush and began to use his fingers to separate her curls gently.

With each careful tug, he began to see the way her curls twisted and spiraled, their natural shape coming to life.

“See, we can do this,” he encouraged, but Ayla still squirmed in his grip, her little face pouting.

“it’s just a little bit of..hair care,” he said, trying to keep his voice cheerful. “You’ll look even more like a princess when we’re done.”

“Baba, no!” Ayla whined again, crossing her arms defiantly.

“Ach, digga,” he murmured, trying to keep the mood light. “We can go get ice cream after this, I promise.” (oh, bro)

Her little face lit up at the mention of ice cream, but she still squirmed, trying to pull away.

Kenan watched her, biting his lip, and then he grabbed the edge brush, hoping it might give him better control over the styling process.

“Okay, let’s try something else,” he said, taking a deep breath. He gently brushed back the front curls to smooth them down and began working on her edges.

He carefully applied a small amount of edge control with his fingers, rubbing it into the baby hairs around her hairline.

“There we go,” he said, concentrating hard. He picked up the edge brush, using it to create little swoops and curves that framed her face—Ayla giggled, her curiosity piqued by the new sensation, and for a moment, the tension eased.

“Pretty, Baba?” she asked, tilting her head to the side, and Kenan felt a surge of pride.

“Very pretty,” he confirmed, a smile spreading across his face. “You’re going to be the cutest girl at the park.”

Encouraged, he continued to work on her edges, and as he styled, he found his rhythm. “See? Isn’t this fun?” he said, still maintaining the cheerful tone he knew she loved.

“Fun!” she echoed, her little hands now playing with the edge brush while he worked.

“Just a little more,” he said, carefully applying some gel to set the style in place. He lightly spritzed her hair with water again, letting the curls bounce back into their shape—with his fingers, he fluffed the curls, giving them definition and volume.

“Baba, I want to help!” Ayla exclaimed, reaching for the brush again.

“Okay, okay,” Kenan said, chuckling at her enthusiasm.

He let her take the brush, guiding her little hands to help. “Just like this, we go from the bottom to the top. Can you do that?”

Ayla nodded, her focus entirely on the task. As she brushed through her curls, Kenan felt a wave of warmth wash over him.

It wasn’t just about getting her hair done; it was about sharing this moment together.

As they both worked on Ayla’s hair, Kenan quietly reminded himself that he was doing this for her. “Wir schaffen das zusammen,” he whispered under his breath, his determination shining through. (We can do it together)

After a few more minutes of playful styling, Kenan finally finished. He leaned back, taking in the sight of his daughter’s beautifully styled curls. “There you go, all done!” he exclaimed.

Ayla turned to look in the mirror, her eyes wide with excitement. “Pretty!” she exclaimed, running her fingers through her curls.

Kenan grinned, relief flooding through him. “You look like a little princess, just like I promised.”

“Baba, I want to go!” she said, tugging at his hand, eager to head out.

“Alright, ice cream it is!” he laughed, ruffling her hair one last time before they headed toward the door.

As they stepped into the bright sunlight, you settled back into your pillows, content in the knowledge that your little family was navigating life together— Kenan pointing at you through the window, the two of them waving at you as you blow a kiss at them.

Watching Kenan hold Ayla’s hand outside, you couldn’t help but smile.

Even though you were feeling under the weather, knowing that Kenan was trying to up his game as a dad made your heart swell with pride.

The way he approached parenting, with such tenderness and determination, filled you with gratitude.

You closed your eyes for a moment, thankful for the life you were building together, one day at a time.

[cgunderwearstories]

The Lambda House Halloween Party

The Lambda house Halloween party at Ashford College was in full swing, the house decked out in its usual haunted decor—flickering lanterns, spider webs stretching across doorways, and a thick mist rolling from a fog machine. The music boomed through the rooms, and dozens of college guys dressed in everything from werewolves to gladiators packed the space, laughing and shouting. Some of the Lambda brothers had their eyes set on making the night memorable in a very different way. Every year, they prided themselves on pulling pranks that left guys feeling more than a little exposed—especially those who arrived unprepared or overconfident. Tonight, they had their eyes on Jason.

Jason is wearing a toga that is supposed to drape down to his knees, but it barely covers his meaty thighs. The material is a thin, gauzy white that shifts easily with movement, lifting higher and showing more with every step. As he moves, the toga flutters, and the sides part to reveal a glimpse of his underwear—a skimpy pair of lacy blue panties. The lace pattern is intricate, with small floral designs that contrast sharply against his skin, and they’re cut high on the sides, exposing a lot of his hips. The waistband is thin, and when the toga rides up, you can clearly see the blue lace riding above his thigh.

The guys at the party erupt into laughter. “Nice toga, dude, but I think you forgot to dress for the occasion!” one of them shouts. “Those are some fancy panties you’ve got under there!” another guy adds, grinning. A guy nearby shakes his head and laughs, “Guess you wanted to be the ‘Greek god of lingerie’ tonight, huh?” They lift the back of his toga, exposing the full lace design. “Oh man, you’re showing off more than you think!”

Jason, feels his face heat up as the frat guys start pointing and laughing at his predicament. His toga, already too short, has ridden up enough for everyone to see his blue lacy panties, the thin material barely covering anything. He desperately tries to adjust the fabric, pulling it down, but every time he does, the lace waistband peeks out even more. The frat guys are relentless, crowding around him, their laughter echoing through the room.

“Hey, man, nice choice! Are those lace panties?” one of the frat guys jeers, reaching over to lift the side of Jason’s toga even higher. “Looks like someone’s got a secret.”

Jason, flustered and trying to save face, stammers out an excuse. “It’s—it’s part of the costume! You know, like ancient Greek underwear, uh, they wore—fancy stuff back then, you know?”

The guys roar with laughter at his attempt. “Greek underwear, huh?” one of them scoffs, tugging at the back of the toga so it rides up higher, giving a full view of the lace against his skin. “Sure, dude, because all Greek warriors fought in their girlfriends’ panties.” Another guy doubles over, clutching his stomach, “Oh man, next you’ll be telling us you’re wearing a bra too!”

Jason tries to pull the toga back down, but the frat guys aren’t letting him off that easily. One of them pulls at the waistband of his panties, snapping the elastic against his skin. “Nah, man, if you’re going to wear something like this, you’ve gotta show it off!” he laughs. Another guy joins in, lifting the front of the toga to expose the full lace detail. “Check this out, boys—looks like Jason’s gone all out tonight!”

Jason’s face is burning red now as he feels the lace cling to his skin, the panties barely hiding anything. “It’s—it’s a joke, okay? It’s just for fun,” he tries to say, but the frat guys are having none of it.

“Yeah, right,” one of them sneers, pulling the back of his panties and letting it snap. “You’ve been caught, dude. Just admit you like it!” 

Another mischievously smiles, “Why not just take the whole thing off if you’re so proud of your ‘costume’?”

He grabs the side of the toga and gives it a tug, pulling it off entirely. The group hoots with laughter as Jason stands there, desperately trying to cover himself. One of the frat guys holds up his phone, snapping pictures. “Smile for the camera, lace boy!” he says, grinning.

“Yeah, show everyone your ‘ancient Greek’ look!” another guy taunts, pushing him forward so he stumbles in his lacy panties.

Jason’s attempts to regain his dignity are futile. “You know what, maybe he’s right,” one guy says, pretending to consider Jason’s excuse. “Maybe this is just how the Greeks did it. All lace, all the time. What do you think, boys?”

As Jason tries to make his escape, one of the frat guys steps up behind him, snickering. Without warning, he slips his finger into the waistband of the panties. His finger lingers for a moment, running along the waistband as if inspecting the lace pattern. “You know, this lace really suits you,” he teases, giving a slight tug that pulls the fabric into a wedgie. “Bet you didn’t think you’d be showing off your cute little panties tonight, huh?” he adds with a smirk.

Jason’s face burns as the guy continues. “Honestly, dude, you should just own it. Walk around and show off those cheeks—you’ve got nothing left to hide anyway.” The other guys around him burst into laughter, egging on the one who’s teasing Jason.

Feeling the humiliation, Jason doesn’t dare reach back or try to fix his wedgie. He walks away, face down, while the guy shouts, “There you go, show off that lace! Everyone’s loving the view!”

As Jason tries to make his way through the crowd, cheeks burning with embarrassment, one of the frat guys steps up behind him. Slowly, he slips his finger into the waistband of Jason’s lace panties, tugging them just enough to expose his ample behind. Jason feels a shiver run through him, his body betraying the thrill he feels as the lace is lowered. He knows he should push the guy away, but he’s frozen, heart racing.

The guy leans in, his breath warm against Jason’s ear. “We can all see your pretty little panties, man…and your pink hole” he whispers, his finger brushing against Jason’s sensitive hole. The light touch sends a jolt through Jason, and he bites his lip, struggling to suppress the excitement he feels. The teasing touch moves closer, grazing areas that make his knees weak. The lace panties hang below his buttocks, intensifying every sensation.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?” he murmurs, grinning as he sees Jason’s reaction. “Bet you love showing off for all the guys.”

Around them, the other frat guys laugh, their voices echoing in Jason’s ears. “Dude, looks like you’re really enjoying this!” one shouts, and another adds, “Guess he wanted everyone to see what he’s packing under that toga!”

The guy’s finger continues its teasing journey, lingering on Jason’s hole. The sensation is electric, and Jason can’t help but let out a soft, involuntary gasp. Jason’s head spins, caught between humiliation and the undeniable thrill of being teased and exposed. The frat guy behind him presses a little closer, his finger still teasing along the edge of the panties. “I think he loves it,” he says loudly, making sure the whole room hears. “Let’s see just how much.”

Jason’s body feels alive, every touch amplified by the attention from the group. He knows the guys are watching, laughing, taking it all in—and, deep down, he loves every second of it.

[lees-chaotic-brain]

I am in the mood for some angst/comfort for Gojo Satoru. So I will like to request Gojo being unsealed but being in the box managed to break him (mentally and physically). Reader (you can choose if platonic or romantic) nurses Gojo back to health and promise to help him become the person he used to be.

WC: 2.2k

CW: SPOILERS, major manga spoilers, mentions of character death, swearing, non sexual nudity, surviving unrealistic periods of time without eating or drinking, reader makes korean food (sorry this is the only type of food i know how to make), atrophied muscles

Note: thank you so much for this ask nonnie!! it's been a little while since i've written some good angst/comfort for gojo, which was what initially got this blog started!!

Taglist: @ponderingmoonlight

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The first time you saw Gojo after he had been sealed your heart broke. His usually vivid and bright eyes were dull and lifeless, deep purple bags marring the pale skin beneath them. You’ve known him for over a decade, but for the first time since you met him he looks…mortal. Forcing a grin that was clearly meant to look cocky, he staggered over to you.

“Hey guys!! What’s up? Bet you missed me. Where’s everyone else? I thought you guys would at least have the decency to throw a massive party for me when I made my return.”

Despite his lighthearted tone, you could see the fear he was so  desperately trying to hide lurking in his eyes. Unable to say anything, you gave a miniscule shake of your head, your own eyes filling with tears. If his appearance broke your heart, then his reaction to you shaking your head stomped on the remaining fragments.

His carefree facade dropped, and bone-deep despair replaced it. Gone was the happy go lucky man known as the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in the world, the man who loved kikufuku, the man who enjoyed messing with his students just for shits and giggles. In his place stood a man who had lost more than he could afford to, a man who was weary, too tired to go on.

He had been alone for so long and unable to allow him to be alone for any longer, you took a deep breath and walked up to him. He didn’t even react, just staring blankly at the ground before him as you stopped in front of him. Reaching up, you cupped his cheek in one hand, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb.

“Gojo.” No reaction, not even a hint of recognition towards you. “Hey, Satoru.”

He still didn’t react, and you could sense the agitation growing in the people assembled behind you. No longer caring what they thought, consequences be damned, you firmly grabbed his face between your palms, and pulled him down until his forehead rested against yours.

“Toru. My love. I missed you so much. Please come back to me.” His breath hitched, and the tears on your cheeks began falling faster. “Baby. You’re not alone anymore. I’m here. I’m not  going anywhere. So please, come back to me.”

His eyes shifted, settling on yours. The fog in them cleared a little and he quietly said your name, relaxing a little into your touch. 

“That’s right. It’s me. Let’s get you home, okay?” You paused, giving him a moment to respond. Once he had made a small noise of agreement you pulled away and took his hand, guiding him to your car. 

Helping him into the passenger seat, you couldn’t help but notice just how much his muscles had atrophied when you gripped his arm. While somewhat lanky, he had always been well built, with defined muscles and a solid body. Leaning across him to buckle his seatbelt, you noticed the way his once snug uniform bagged around him concerningly. Just how much had he been through since you last saw him?

The car ride to your shared apartment was silent as he leaned his head against the window and watched the world blur by. From time to time you glanced over at him, unable to comprehend how much he had changed. Pulling into your usual spot, you parked and turned the car off, watching him carefully. Continuing to stare blankly out the window, he gave no sign that he recognized where you were, or that he knew you had arrived at your house. 

Disappointed but not discouraged, you got out and walked around the car to help him out and into the building. As you walked him through the lobby and into the elevator he remained unresponsive, merely trailing after you as you led him by the hand. He showed no emotion until you punched in the code to your front door and led him inside.

The instant the door clicked shut behind you he leaned against it, sliding down until he was sitting against the door. Pulling his knees up, he buried his head in his arms and just sat there, not making a sound. Seeing the man you love sitting there so broken nearly broke you as you crouched in front of him.

You reach out to touch his shoulder, but pause before you make contact. “Can I-is it okay if I touch you?” He doesn’t respond, so you take his silence as a yes. Squeezing in between his side and the wall, you sit beside him and wrap your arms around him the best you can. You sit there for a long period of time as you rub comforting circles on his back, reminding him of your presence. 

Eventually the silence is broken by a loud gurgle from his stomach, reminding both of you that it’s been seventeen days since he last ate anything. Pulling away, you stand up. 

“Love. Let’s get you something to eat, okay?” You help him to his feet, and get him situated at the kitchen counter wrapped in a fuzzy blanket. Turning on the kettle for tea, you open your refrigerator and survey its contents. Seeing as it’s been weeks since you went shopping it’s practically empty. After hunting through your freezer and pantry you find a frozen pack of beef and the rest of the ingredients you need to make miyeokguk. 

Once the kettle goes off, you make him a cup of green tea with three massive spoonfuls of honey; just the way he likes it. Leaving him to nurse his drink you run to your room and change out of your filthy uniform into a pair or sweatpants and a t-shirt, throwing your hair up in a messy bun before returning to the kitchen.

You get to work, leaving the seaweed to soak as you cut, and brown the beef in a large pot. Going to the seaweed, you scrub, wring, and cut the seaweed and add it to the pot. After adding water, garlic, soy sauce, and sesame oil into the pot, you measure out some rice and wash it before starting the cooker.

You weren’t the best with emotions, or knowing how to comfort people, but to you there was nothing more intimate than taking the time to prepare a warm meal for someone you loved. If you didn’t know how to express what you wanted to say through words, you would express it through a warm bowl of soup.

When the soup was done, you ladled him a big bowl, and got out a small plate to put his rice and white kimchi on. Murmuring that you would be back, you jog into your bathroom and start running a bath for him for once he finishes eating. When you reenter the kitchen, he’s quietly scarfing down the food you made for him. Finishing the first bowl in record time, he sets it down and you refill it without him having to ask. Three large bowls later he’s done eating, and you ask him if he wants to take a bath.

He nods, and you walk with him to the bathroom, not bothering with the dishes or cleanup. That can wait. You help him pull off his uniform, and step back so he can climb into the tub. As he moves, you can see each vertebrae in his spine shifting between his skin and count each of his ribs. It pains you to see him like this, to imagine how much pain he must have endured. 

Once he was comfortably submerged you sit on the bench behind the bathtub and wet his hair. Pouring some of his expensive purple shampoo into the palm of your hand, you begin washing his hair, feeling his body relax as you massage his scalp. 

The echoing silence of the bathroom is only interrupted by the quiet splash of water and the sound of your breathing. As you gently rinse the soap from his hair, he speaks for the first time since getting home.

“Suguru?” You know exactly what he means. “That was Kenjaku, he possessed Suguru’s body after he died.”

“Ah.” Gojo leans back more and closes his eyes. “I knew it wasn’t him. What about…everyone else?”

You take a deep breath, aware that he needs to know what happened, and that you can’t coddle him, no matter how much you may want to. “Yaga, Yuki, Nobara, Nanami, Tsumiki, and Megumi.” You watch as grief contorts his features. “How?”

“Yaga was sentenced to death and killed by Gakuganji. Yuki sacrificed herself to kill Kenjaku. And Mahito got both Nanami and Nobara. Although there is a slim chance that Nobara survives.” You stop, needing to steel yourself.

“And what about Tsumiki? Megumi?” The pain is his voice is overwhelming, silent tears streaming down his face as he mourns his mentor, student and friends. “What about our kids?”

You swallow a sob, unable to stop your tears from falling. “There were these culling games, and Tsumiki became the host of Yorozu, who took over and challenged Sukuna to a fight. Sukuna, he-”

You break down in tears, needing a moment before you continue. “Sukuna used Megumi’s body to do it. Sukuna has Megumi now.” The weight of your words linger in the steamy air.

“I failed them.”

Gojo’s words were so quiet you almost missed them. “What?”

“I failed them. I was supposed to take care of them, to protect them. I’m supposed to be the strongest sorcerer in the world. Yaga. Yuki. Nanami. Nobara. Tsumiki. Megumi. It’s my fault all of them are dead. I was a damned idiot, let myself get distracted by an imposter of my dead best friend, I-”

“Shut up!” Your words ring off the tiled walls.“Just shut up!.”

“No!” He yelled, suddenly angry, although he was unsure why. “I failed them. Me. It was my job to-”

“Shut the fuck up.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but the quiet fury in it brooks no room for argument. 

“You did the best you could. But you were trapped in a cube. What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t even be there. I but I could, and I was. So hate me. Scream at me all you like. Tell me it’s my fault and it should have been me. I can take it. I deserve it. But don’t you ever blame yourself. You’re not a god. Some things are out of your control. I-I should’ve-”

Sobbing into your hands, you’re aware that you should be the one comforting him, but here you were, crying instead of making anything better. Sloshing water tells you that he’s moving, and you’re only given a second’s warning before you’re being tugged into the tub, clothes and all. Long arms wind around you and crush you into a warm chest, water lapping up at your neck. 

In the arms of the man you love, you finally take the time you need to grieve. You cry into his chest, feeling his body shake with the force of his own sobs. Together you cry, mourning the loss of those you love, and the children you raised together. The two of you become pruny, and the water becomes cold, but neither of you move. 

“It’s not your fault.” His words drown out the sound of your cries. “It’s not. And I would never blame you, or wish it was you. I couldn’t live without you.”

“I’m going to end this.” You speak, lip brushing against his damp chest. “I swear. I’m going to save Megumi and kill him before he kills another person. I won’t let him take another person.”

“I believe you.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m useless now, but I’ll do everything I can to support you.”

“What do you mean you’re useless?” You pull away so you can look into his eyes. “You’re not useless.”

“Baby, look at me.” He lets out a dry chuckle. “Have you seen me recently? I’m pretty sure a light breeze could take me out right now.”

You frown. “Satoru, you didn’t eat, drink, or move for seventeen days. Of course you’re a little weak right now. But don’t worry. We’ll get you back in shape in no time.”

“We’ll?” He asks, vulnerability shining in his eyes. 

“We will.” You confirm, locking eyes with him. “I’ll make sure you get good food in you and I’ll work out with you. We’ll start small, but pretty soon you’ll be back to normal. Just stay with me.”

He nods. “But what about you? Do you promise to stay with me? No matter what? I meant what I said. I can’t lose you. Losing you will kill me.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay with you.”

And curled up in his arms, you meant it. Fate be damned, you were going to stay by his side until the end of time.

[heartbreak-sandwich]

Summary: Getting caught speeding has its consequences. When you realize it's all fun and games for the both of you, you're willing to play along for the reward. A secret and spontaneous getaway in the woods -- it's the perfect place to work out your differences, don't you think? Words: 2.2k CW: Gator being kind of a dick, police encounter (pulled over for speeding), unprotected p/v sex, fem!reader, misogynistic overtones if you squint, minor oral fixation, technically public encounter. A/N: I'm sorry it has taken me so long to post! I really struggled through this one, but I've gotten it to a place where I'm okay with it. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you so much for reading my thing!!!

NSFW below the cut, 18+, MDNI as usual ✨

The air is thick with fog, and you let out a long sigh while you wait for the deputy to approach your driver’s side window. The red and blue lights flash in your rearview mirror, and you start to feel heavy with resentment for last night’s power outage that reset your alarm clock, causing you to wake up half an hour later than usual. You know you were speeding; you can’t deny that. You’re late for work, and this pitstop is the last thing you need right now.

You sigh with disappointment when you realize Gator Tillman is trudging through the roadside gravel to your window. Why did it have to be him?

“Mornin’, sunshine.” Gator grins smugly, a toothpick hanging half out of the side of his mouth. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“I’m late for work,” you grumble, avoiding making eye contact with him.

You two have a history, if you can even call it that. Half-memories flash through your mind of the one night stand you had after a heart to heart and one too many at the saloon downtown. If you’re being totally honest with yourself, Jack Daniels and summer evenings still make you think of him, but you’d never say it out loud.

“Goin’ 69 in a 60, huh?” Gator holds back a giggle as he waits for your response.

“Really, Tillman?” Your eyes narrow at his juvenile comment, and his smile falls flat. His mood shifts in an instant, and you see him push a small button on his body worn camera followed by a series of small beeps as it powers on.

“Just so you’re aware, you’re being audio and video recorded. The reason I stopped you is you were going approximately 69 miles per hour in a 60 mile per hour zone, clearly marked. License and registration,” he demands coldly, holding out his hand expectantly. You search through your glovebox for the documents and hand them over, steeping in the icy silence surrounding you, thinking that maybe if you had just laughed at his joke, he would have let you go on your way.

Gator takes your documents, shuffling them as he looks each one over before speaking to you once more. “You sit tight. I’ll be right back.” You prop your elbow up against your door and rest your head in your hand, letting your mind wander as you try your best to be patient.

After just a few minutes, you see Gator sauntering your way again through your sideview mirror. The way he walks makes your stomach flutter as more flashes of your night together run through your train of thought – his teeth sinking into your plush thighs one by one, the hungry growl rumbling from deep within his chest as he tasted you, and the pathetic whimper he couldn’t hold back as he pushed his desperate, twitching cock into you for the first time –

“Here you go, Miss.” Your daydream is cut short by his drawl as he hands your papers back to you. “I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle now.” Your eyebrows shoot up in disbelief at his request. Why the hell is he doing this?

“Excuse me?” You ask, incredulous.

“Am I speakin’ Chinese?” Gator was serious. He wasn’t budging. You’re kicking yourself on the inside at this point, knowing he was only doing this to get back at you for bruising his ego over his stupid joke. A pang of regret hits low in your chest as you realize telling him you were late for work was a mistake.

“Gator, please –”

“Don’t make this harder on yourself, sweetheart. Step on out now.” He looks far off into the fog as he waits for you to comply, but you don’t move. Taking the toothpick out from between his teeth, he points it at you, cocking his head to the side. “You don’t want me to ask again.”

“What is it you want from me?”

“What do I want from you?” Gator chuckles, bending down to rest his forearms on your car, his head dipping into your window to meet your eyes. He hits the small button on his body cam once more, and you hear the device power down. “You know what I want,” he whispers softly, being careful not to let the rest of the world hear him. He leans in further until your faces are only inches apart. Your heartbeat hammers in your ears as you take in the scent of his musk mixed with remnants of fruity smoke, and you’re suddenly feeling lightheaded.

And just like that, you’re drowning in flashbacks again – the candy sweet taste of watermelon flavor on his tongue, his hair falling into his eyes as he fucked into you hard and slow, and the way he begged you to say his name as you came for him – and now you’re aching to play his games. You know exactly how to get him going. Softening your expression, you concede to the heat building in between your thighs, and despite the bone-cracking urge to mouth off to him, you try something new instead.

You decide to comply and let yourself out of your car, closing the door behind you, and you see a hint of shock flash over his features as he fights to keep his composure. He clears his throat.

“Place your hands on the hood of the vehicle,” Gator orders, and you follow his instruction dutifully. You palm the hood of your car, a seductive curve in your spine, and you can tell his resolve is starting to crumble with the way he’s eyeing you up and down, biting his bottom lip.

“Do you like me like this? Helpless?” Your eyes grow round and wide with innocence – the look of prey – and you notice Gator’s eyebrows raise just a fraction, but he ultimately maintains his poker face.

“Maybe,” he admits, his voice low and gravelly, dark chocolate eyes boring into yours. “Maybe I like having that kind of authority. Maybe I like knowing I could do whatever I wanted to you right now, and there isn’t anything you could do about it.” He approaches you slowly, each step making your anticipation burn brighter.

“Just maybe?”

“Okay,” he admits with a scoff. “You got me. I do like it.” He leans in closer to you so you can feel his breath on your lips. “I like you helpless because I like knowing that if you were to beg and pray, I would have the power to tell you no.” He lets the tips of his fingers brush up against your arm gently. “I like knowing that there would be nothing you could say or do to stop me from…” he trails off, a smirk playing on his lips as he licks his teeth.

“From what?”

Gator’s hands glide up to hold your wrists, removing your touch from the hood of your car. He pulls one of your hands to meet his jaw, grazing your soft skin over his stubble before pressing an almost chaste kiss to the tips of your fingers.

“From doing anything and everything I could dream of doing to a woman,” he murmurs, grinning against your skin. He grips both of your wrists firmly in front of him once more and pulls you against himself roughly as he makes his demand. “Now, ask me again, politely, what it is I want.”

“I think I already know,” you whisper against his lips playfully before he crashes them into yours, his strong arms circling your waist. He grips your asscheeks from underneath and pushes you up onto the hood of your car as he licks along your bottom lip, and you deepen the kiss. His tongue rolls over and over yours, lips locking perfectly together, and you can taste his familiar sweetness as he pushes his hips into you, grinding his already hard cock against your sweet spot over your jeans.

You moan into his mouth as his thrusts become even more needy, and your nails dig into his shoulder blades through his shirt. You’re not even thinking about the fact that anyone could drive by at any moment and see what’s happening – you’re too tangled up in each other to care. In a swift motion, Gator swipes at the bill of his hat and throws it to rest on the hood of the car beside you. His body weight presses into you before he finally breaks away, taking a deep breath and looking at you with wild eyes.

You suppress a smile as you take in the way he surveys you, soaking up his energy, loving every sick second of stroking his ego, giving him glimpses of the control he craves and getting your own physical satisfaction in return. You have him right where you want him, and he has no idea.

“Should we go somewhere?” Gator’s crooked smile makes your knees feel weak as his gaze flicks back and forth between your eyes and lips, and you can tell he’s doing his best to behave at least long enough to pose the question.

“Where?”

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

The ground underneath the picnic blanket is hard and uneven, but you don’t even feel it anymore. The sun speckles everything around you through the trees, and you vaguely notice the rustling of leaves and twigs as the birds change branches above you every so often. Gator had taken the two of you in his cruiser just far enough up the nearest hill to escape the fog, and the nip in the air didn’t bother you at all as soon as he was on top of you, in between your legs, tactical gear still in place while he ran his hands over your body, his hungry eyes feasting on every curve.

He started slow and gentle, purring soft requests in between light touches everywhere you wanted them. It didn’t take you long to realize he was playing you the same way you were playing him, and now you’re here, rolling your hips languidly as you ride him, using the straps and pockets on the front of his vest for more leverage.

He’s a moaning mess underneath you, his blunt nails digging into the flesh of your thighs as he grips them to stay grounded in reality. You let yourself wonder for a split second if anyone has ever pleased him like this before – if he has ever been so loud, so free, so incessantly desperate for more of someone like he is right here, right now, with you.

You pick up your pace and lean back just enough to put yourself on full display for him, his length reaching the perfect angle inside of you, eliciting a filthy whine you couldn’t stifle if you tried. Your eyes brim with tears as the pleasure builds at your core like an explosion threatening to detonate at any moment. You reach down and pry one of Gator’s hands from your thigh, bringing his fingertips up to your kiss-swollen lips.

He grins through his own bliss as he realizes what you’re about to do. Almost unable to form words, he breathes, “I swear, you’re tryin’ to kill me, woman.” With a sinful smile, you graze two of his fingers past your lips and teeth along your tongue until they reach the back of your throat. Creating the perfect amount of suction, you move his fingers in and out of your mouth in time with your hips, your pussy flexing around his cock with the idea of being just a little bit more full of him.

A strangled half sob slips past Gator’s lips through his gritted teeth as his brows knit together, and his free hand pulls you down onto him harder and faster, the lewd sounds of flesh on flesh filling the space around you.

“Gonna cum. Don’t fuckin’ stop,” he demands, a string of expletives following just as the wave of your own climax crashes over you. Sordid sounds pour from your mouth as you release his fingers from its grasp, gushing and writhing on his cock in a way you know you’ll be ashamed to relive after this.

You feel a bruising grip on your thighs as he holds you down, burying himself up to the hilt in your soaked pussy while his hips buck and spasm against his will.

“Gonna fill you up so good,” he growls just before you feel a hot rush inside of you, his thick release coating your walls in bursts as his mouth falls open and his eyes roll back, his fingertips clawing into your skin, holding on for dear life.

Coming down from your high, you use your hands on his chest to steady yourself, resting your weight on your knees as you both catch your breath. The sounds of the woods in the background become louder again as you take in your surroundings.

“Damn,” Gator breathes, letting out a sigh and a small chuckle.

“Been a while,” you muse, a smirk playing on your lips as your eyes meet his once again.

“Sure has,” he agrees. “Can’t keep me waitin’ like that again.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you promise with a cheeky wink.

tagging: @mrprettywhenhecries @b1tchywheeler @stevesxyellowxsweater @atinyliliflower @darleenjade @floredaqueen - ily guys, thank u for your encouragement and love, it means the world to meeeee!!! 💕

[missy4176]

Facing Betrayal

Kim Dokja x Reader

Kim Dokja is not a man who wears his emotions openly, but when someone betrays you, there’s a subtle, chilling shift in his demeanor that only those closest to him would notice. His dark eyes, usually calm and calculating, become sharper, almost like the edge of a blade. His lips press into a thin line as he processes the situation, his mind already running through dozens of scenarios and countermeasures. Kim Dokja doesn’t believe in wasting time on futile displays of anger; he knows that real strength lies in controlling it, shaping it into something that can be used effectively.

When you first come to him, shaken by the betrayal, he listens to you without interrupting, his gaze steady and unyielding. You might expect him to lash out, to curse the one who wronged you, but that’s not Kim Dokja’s way. Instead, he moves closer to you, his presence a quiet but undeniable source of comfort. He reaches out, his hand brushing against yours, his touch warm and grounding.

“I’m here,” he says softly, his voice low but firm, a quiet promise that you’re not alone in this.

Kim Dokja understands betrayal better than most. His life has been shaped by countless deceptions, some so deep and intricate that they would have broken anyone else. But not him. He’s learned to take the pain and turn it into something else—something that drives him forward rather than holding him back. And now, as he looks at you, he’s determined to do the same for you.

His mind works quickly, calculating the best way to protect you, to ensure that this betrayal doesn’t cripple you. He’s already thinking three steps ahead, mapping out every possible outcome and how to navigate them. There’s a cold, ruthless edge to his thoughts, but it’s tempered by the warmth he feels for you, by the need to see you safe and whole.

Kim Dokja is not the type to offer empty reassurances. Instead, he helps you see the situation for what it is, guiding you through the fog of hurt and anger until you can think clearly again. He won’t let you wallow in despair; he knows that’s a luxury neither of you can afford. Instead, he’ll make sure you’re prepared for what comes next, ensuring that you’re not just a victim of betrayal, but someone who can rise above it.

In the days that follow, Kim Dokja stays close, never straying far from your side. He’s not one for grand gestures, but he shows his support in the little things—making sure you eat, checking in on you, offering quiet words of encouragement when you need them most. He’s a steady, unwavering presence, and it’s this quiet strength that helps you begin to heal.

When it comes to confronting the one who betrayed you, Kim Dokja’s anger is a cold, calculating force. He doesn’t lash out recklessly; instead, he channels that anger into a precise, almost surgical strike. He dismantles their schemes with an efficiency that’s terrifying in its effectiveness, leaving them with no doubt that they made a grave mistake by crossing you.

But even in his anger, Kim Dokja never loses sight of what’s most important—your well-being. He ensures that the consequences of the betrayal don’t fall on you, that you’re protected from any further harm. And when it’s over, when the dust has settled, he’s there to help you pick up the pieces and move forward.

Kim Dokja might not be the most expressive partner, but in moments like these, his love for you shines through in the way he stands by you, unyielding and steadfast. He’s your shield, your sword, and the quiet strength that helps you rise above even the deepest betrayals.

[mamayan]

OK hear me out

Punishing sub Genya

I love this soft good boy so much but smth about him crying and begging for forgiveness is... Hot... 💜

I am literally screaming I can’t believe I didn’t see this ask sooner, my apologies Nonnie. I was just thinking about how cute he’d beg for forgiveness—

Punishment

Genya Shinazugawa x Fem! Reader

cw: NSFW • Sub! Genya • Dom! Reader • Fem! Reader • Paddling • Spanking • Misuse (or correct use ;) of an obi to make a cock ring • Orgasm Denial/Overstimulation• Dacryphilia • Begging/Whining • Male Squirting • Teasing/Slight Humiliation • Punishment • Fingering (M) • Bondage • Not proof read!

Visible puffs of air fog his face as he looks around, head hung as he drags in as much air as possible. Wrists tied above his head, silk perfectly knotted and holding him up straight, his bare feet planted on the tatami below. Each muscle tensed in anticipation, Genya prepares himself mentally for the blow before it happens.

He can’t truly prepare himself though, not when you tease in between with feather soft touches and kisses always checking in on him. “Doing okay, baby?” Breathing in his ear and making his leaking bruising cock beg for release even harder as it bobs against his abdomen. The soft obi once tied around your waist now hangs down to his knees, wrapped tightly around the base of his cock and only allowing just enough circulation to prevent any lasting damage. His balls to his tip are a nearly alarming purple, but the rest of his pale skin is flushed a bright red, and his ass an even deeper shade as it slowly forms bruises from the paddle you held.

His eyes tracked you as you moved around him slowly, circling like a predator might their prey before attack.

He shivers in anticipation, drool dripping down his chin as his lips wobble, watery gaze wild and pupils dilated to nearly cover all the purple.

“Poor thing… you need to cum don’t you, sweet boy?”

“Pl-please…mistress—,”

“Ah ah,” your hand raised to stop his pleas for mercy, shaking your head as you eye him in disappointment.

“I remember very clearly the rules, do you remember?”

“N-no cumming without pe-permission…” he swallows thickly, grunting softly as you trace just over the tip of his engorged cock with the pad of your finger.

“And what did you do?” You pry further.

“I—I came! Fuck—mistress, please, please let me cum! I-I can’t, please,” he sounds broken as he begs, legs shaking and more weight being shifted to the ceiling beam keeping his arms up. The creak is drown out by his whimpers, the way his body shifts and muscles flex as he nearly breaks his own bonds.

It must be pity, as you round behind him, and prod his hole with the finger which had collected his precum. The digit slides in easily, and the way his entire body rocks back into you a clear indication of his pleasure.

“Yes, ah, mhmm, s-so good—never disobey again, be so good for you, m’sorry,” he’s a delightful sobbing mess as you finger him, watching how his eyes roll back and head hand limp while he tries desperately to hump the air. He can’t cum with the obi around his cock though, but his mind is too far gone to think further.

“Really, what am I to do with you? Such a slutty thing, always desperate to cum. My sweet boy can’t help himself can he?” You slip another finger inside, his moans increasing an octave as he nearly passes out from the pressure in his groin. Slick squelching fills the small room as Genya chokes and cries for more, even as the paddle comes down across his flesh with a resounding smack—

“Alright, I’ll let you cum, are you ready, baby?” He’s hardly coherent as you talk calmly, reaching around his sweaty body to easily untie the belt preventing his orgasm.

He’s cumming instantly. Body jerking violently as he hunches as if to avoid your touch as you wrap your fingers around him and jerk his cock until a copious spray of cum and liquid releases and he’s going completely limp in your arms.

“Ah!,” his howl nearly sounds pained as he makes a mess on himself and the floor, your fingers sticky and wet as you keep a firm grip on his cock and keep going.

“M-mistress…?!” His panicked cry only brings a smile to your lips. Tears spill down his reddened cheeks. You keep him caged against you, still moving your fingers in his ass as you work him hard again despite the pained whines leaving his lips.

“What’s wrong sweet boy? I thought you wanted to cum?” He’s shaking, realization dawning late as he realizes your true punishment for him.

“P-please forgive me…”

“Go ahead and cum until you can’t anymore.”

Dividers created by the lovely @benkeibear

[whumpsoda]

Adrastus’ Timely Trance

WOHEO Masterlist

cw: hypnosis, induction, implied kidnapping

———————————————————————

“Mmm-! Mmmngh! Myyy!” You drawled, clawing lazily in front of you.

Your watch.

Your watch.

The pocket watch passed down for generations of your family until it landed in your hold, dancing about the fingers of a stranger by its cord. Swinging, curling up and over their skin it twirled, as they studied it with a sly grin. 

You-

Who-

“Oh, hello!” The figure chirped from a few feet further, flashing you a fang toothed smile. “I see you’ve woken up a bit, haven’t you?”

Carefully tilting your head just a tad, like that of a confused puppy, you could clearly tell the sensations of a strained expression on your face. 

You didn’t… where…?

You were… walking home. The memory floated up through the fog, still hazy but there. That was right. Were you not? You’d just gotten off work, a long and grueling shift, impatient to leave. But everything else was mixed up in your mind and dreadfully fuzzy, blurred out by the heaviness of something spinning you in circles.

As you stole a moment to sluggishly digest your surroundings, you were, an obvious fact, not walking home any longer. Inside a lavish home you appeared, tool of a dress puffing extravagantly from your midsection and hands smeared with nail polish. Your face itched horridly, the sensation of caked on makeup apparent even in your daze. Even with your brain coated by thick clouds, your heart pounded violently inside your chest.

Where were you, where were you, where were you-

“You want it back?” The stranger cooed, stealing your attention once again and gesturing to your property still dangling between their hands, condescension dripping from their voice. You nearly scoffed, stopped only by the cumbersome nature of your tongue that simply flopped over your lips. “I mean, I can see why. A very pretty thing, it is. Why don’t you take a closer look.”

You couldn’t help but turn your gaze right to it as they shoved the pocket watch to your level, sticking there and watching with intense focus as the magnificent clock of yours swung back and forth with its glittering glass. You didn’t know why you obeyed, why you couldn’t stop when all you wanted to do was figure out what exactly was going on. Alas, you continued your staring.

Back and forth it went, again and again.

Back and forth…

Back… and forth…

Back… and… and forth…

“Back and forth, now. Back…” They paused, the object slowing in time, twisting and capturing your full attention with an iron hold, before falling swiftly back into rhythm. “And forth.”

Yes. Back and forth. Against all inhibitions it felt no short of magical to follow the watch like they instructed, eyes glazing over glassy. You failed to realize the string of a pleasant smile creeping it’s way over your cheeks, and the manner of which your head was slowly sinking into your chest. A bead of juicy drool dribbled down your chin.

“Getting sleepy, aren’t you? Doesn’t it make you so very sleepy?” A stretched yawn stirred from the back of your mouth, straining your jaw and purring inside your head. “That’s right, love. So tired. Just keep watching, allowing the drowsiness to inch right over you with peaceful submission.”

You did just as they commanded without a question, body melting into a group of pillows conveniently already piled up below you. “Back… and… forthhh…” you slurred, head drowning in pleasant slurry of comfort.

It was becoming increasingly hard to think. Even more difficult to make the attempt, anything other than simply ogling the watch almost impossible.

“Yes, good, good. Sleepy, sleepy. Just dozing off so nicely.” The clock dipped in air, skipping through time as your eyelids opened and closed continuously with the heavy call of sleep.

“Sleepyy…” The churn of fear in your belly disintegrated to dust as they pressed a hand to your outstretched leg, beginning circular motions of bliss with a soft thumb. A small moan of bliss curled from your lips, causing the magical stranger to giggle.

“Back and forth. Back… and forth.” They repeated.

No longer could you recall how you’d come to such a delightful situation. Somehow, you simply ended up across from this smooth voiced stranger, and that was that. Even so, you knew you had to leave. To get back to your responsibilities, to your stressful life.

But…

“Stay a while, darling. Just watch the pretty little clock of yours, swinging back and forth. Back and forth until your tiny mind is too far gone and mushy to understand what I’m saying.”

You nodded, still fixed on the watch. You couldn’t really have processed what they had said, too intertwined in the trance of the clock, as captivating and alluring it was. You never wanted to look away.

“Back and forth. Back… and forth.”

Of course you wanted to stay. You could barely even consider the act of leaving.

You would gladly follow their accord as long as they would allow you to continue trailing after the beloved clock of yours, falling deeper and deeper into heavenly enthrallment until they again decided to wake you and repeat the whole sequence all over.

Surely next time you’d be even easier to ensorcel.

——————————————————————-

Taglist- @softvampirewhump @iys-cloud @battyfantasy @xx-adam-xx @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @mylifeisonthebookshelf @mis-graves @3-2-whump

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[lovings4turn]

oooh can i request SCREAM w james potter or neil perry and prompt number 8?

of course darling! i wasn't sure exactly which 8 you wanted, so i went with "our muses are on a road trip but a thick fog forces them to take a break.  they have sex inside the car while waiting for it to clear" but please lmk if it was another!! contains unprotected sex (remember protection is important!) banner taken from cafekitsune!

"you've got to be fucking kidding me." james voice is laced with annoyance as he briefly removes his hand from your knee to throw them it up exasperation, the other remaining firmly on his steering-wheel.

the road ahead of you both is essentially censored by the thick cloud of fog that hovers in the distance, making seeing anything more than a metre or two in front of you absolutely impossible. what was promised to be a light bout of mist has rapidly grown into almost impenetrable fog. james doesn't have the greatest eyesight at the best of times, so having his vision impaired by a deep cloud of grey is a less than ideal situation. clearly, you wont be able to continue driving for much longer.

it's no surprise, then, when james pulls over into the first slip-road he comes across, flipping the engine off and slumping back against his chair with a grunt.

"looks like we're stuck here for a while," james says, his voice slightly taunting as he begins to trail his hand further up your thigh. "such a shame."

through laughter, you make a futile gesture of pushing his hand from your knee. it's halfhearted, and james can tell that you're not really protesting to his advances. it's a game of cat and mouse, a way for you to see just how far james is willing to go for you.

"stuck two minutes off of the motorway, jamie," you remind him, a gentle reprimand. "we're still practically in public."

"ah, it's not like anyone'll see us, doll," james drawls, his lips forming a playful smirk. "fog's far too thick for that. doubt many people will be out and driving, anyways."

you consider his words and look at him with a coy grin, unaware that you're shifting closer to him in the already cramped front seat.

"yeah?" james asks, searching your face for any sign that you aren't comfortable. when you nod, he's leaning over the gearstick, cupping your face with his large palm and pushing his lips against yours.

it's a little messy, all tongue and teeth as james licks into your mouth, groaning lowly at the taste of you. he pulls back just enough to nip at your bottom lip before he attaches himself to your neck, sucking sharply against the skin there and delighting in the moan you let out.

just as he moves to kiss at your exposed collarbone, he huffs at the restricted movement your position in the car causes. pushing his seat back, james pats his lap, cocking his head towards his spread thighs in an attractive display of dominance.

not needing to be told twice, you manoeuvre yourself over the gearstick, being extra careful as to not bump your head on the car's roof and send james into a laughing fit - something which had happened once or twice before. the moment you lower yourself into his lap, james' large hands come to rest on your hips as he grinds up into you, pressing his hard cock against your clothed core with a shaky groan.

you're thankful you chose some loose gym shorts to wear for the journey, wanting to be comfortable more than anything. turns out, not only are they comfy, they're incredibly easy to push aside, something james finds out as he slips his hand into your panties and collects your wetness on the pads of his fingers.

"y'gonna ride me, darling?" his voice is hoarse and low, lips parted as sounds of pleasure escape his throat. "so fuckin' wet for me already. c'mon, love. take what you want from me."

james' loud, low moan signals the moment you sink down onto him. your walls flutter around him at the sound, body desperate to keep him deep inside of you and have him fill you up so nicely.

the way he snaps his hips up to meet yours is almost primal. you're sure that there will be tiny bruises littering your hips thanks to the way james is gripping onto you, lifting you up and down on his cock as he throws his head back against the headrest.

"fuck, love, taking me so fuckin' well," he grunts, praise splintering off into another low moan as he administers a harsh slap to your ass. "look at you. always so pretty when you're all filled up."

paired with his thrusts, his words make you chant his name like a prayer as you chase your orgasm, a whined 'james' leaving your mouth every time your hips meet.

a sharp sensation of pleasure runs through you as james' thumb circles your clit, the sensation causing you to see stars as your mouth falls open. your thighs twitch as you come with a broken moan of his name, eyes rolling back slightly as you twitch and writhe on his cock. the sight of you coming undone causes james' hips to stutter, and he drops his head to rest against your chest as he fucks you through your orgasm.

you can feel his dick twitch inside of you, and with a gentle warning, james comes with a strained fuck, collapsing against you and holding you tight in his arms. content with your skin pressed against his, james makes no effort to pull out. instead, he takes full advantage of the fog outside and the steamed up windows of his car to keep you all to himself for just a while longer.