#this is not a cw show but it sure felt like i watching one

[ssa-danhotchner]

please i need a least angstier version of happier maybe reader has to go to a mision like s7 aaron in pakistan a he sees how much he really misses her

What we left behind | Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

note: I tried my best, I hope you like it!

english isn't my first language so please be kind

cw: BAU reader, beth is in here, angst, regret, past relationship struggles, unspoken feelings

wc: 1.5k maybe?

It wasn’t like you hated Beth.

She was kind, warm, and approachable—the kind of woman people gravitated toward without hesitation. She seemed good for Aaron, too. For all his years of shielding himself, she brought out something softer in him. When you saw them together, he smiled more. He laughed in a way that had felt rare, almost forgotten.

But watching them together hurt in a way you hadn’t anticipated. It wasn’t jealousy exactly. It was grief.

Grief for what you and Aaron had been, for what you thought you might have been.

He was the one who ended it, after all.

You remembered the night so clearly it still stung, like a bruise you kept accidentally pressing. He’d invited you over, his voice softer than usual on the phone. At first, you thought nothing of it. But when you arrived, the heaviness in the air made your stomach twist.

Aaron wasn’t one to stumble over his words, but that night he did. “You mean the world to me,” he’d said, his voice breaking slightly. “But I can’t give you the life you deserve.”

You’d stared at him, stunned. “What are you talking about? We’re fine.”

“No, we’re not,” he said quietly, looking at you like it physically pained him. “You deserve someone who can be there for you, who isn’t constantly distracted by the job, who can give you all the things I can’t. And I... I can’t keep holding you back.”

His words shattered something in you. “I didn’t ask for perfect, Aaron. I asked for you.”

He closed his eyes, his jaw tight, and shook his head. “You’ll see, one day, that this is what’s best.”

You didn’t fight him after that. You couldn’t. And maybe some part of you even believed he was right. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

--

For months, you carried that pain with you like a shadow. You buried yourself in work, throwing yourself into cases until you were so exhausted you couldn’t think about anything else.

It helped, a little.

But then Beth showed up.

The team was supportive of Aaron’s new relationship, of course. They were profilers—they could see how happy Beth made him, and they teased him lightly about it. Even Rossi, who had a knack for keeping things professional, cracked a joke now and then about Aaron’s “smiling problem.”

You played along, smiling and laughing at the right moments, even as it chipped away at you.

“You okay?” Emily asked one day, catching you lingering at the coffee machine longer than usual.

“Yeah, fine” you replied quickly, avoiding her eyes.

Emily didn’t press, but the look she gave you made it clear she didn’t buy it.

---

When the opportunity to work with the State Department in Pakistan came up, you jumped at it. The mission would take you halfway across the world for months, giving you the distance you desperately needed from Aaron, Beth, and the suffocating reminders of what you’d lost.

“It’s a great opportunity” you told the team, forcing a smile as you shared the news during a team meeting.

Morgan gave you a skeptical look. “You sure about this, kid? Seems... sudden.”

“I’m sure,” you said firmly.

Rossi, always perceptive, gave you a knowing look but said nothing.

Aaron, however, was harder to read. He’d been quiet during the meeting, his dark eyes flicking to you now and then, but he didn’t say a word.

Later, as the team dispersed, he stopped you outside the conference room.

“You’re really going?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

“I am,” you replied, meeting his gaze.

He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “You didn’t mention you were thinking about this.”

“I didn’t think it mattered,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended.

Aaron flinched slightly, his jaw tightening. “Of course it matters.”

You sighed, softening your tone. “Look, this is a good opportunity for me. I need... a change.”

His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he nodded. “Be careful,” he said quietly.

---

Pakistan was everything you expected and more. The work was intense, the days long, and the challenges endless. But it was exactly what you needed. The distance, the change in pace, the focus on something new—it all helped you start to piece yourself back together.

And yet, there were nights when the loneliness crept in, catching you off guard. You missed the team. You missed Garcia’s bright enthusiasm, Morgan’s playful teasing, JJ’s steady calm.

You missed Aaron.

You told yourself you didn’t have the right to miss him, not after everything. But you couldn’t help it. You missed the way he grounded you, the quiet strength he carried even in the hardest moments.

---

Back in Quantico, Aaron found himself drifting. The bullpen felt emptier without you, and he hated how often he caught himself looking at your desk, expecting to see you there.

He tried to focus on work, on Jack, on his relationship with Beth. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the nagging emptiness you’d left behind.

Beth noticed, of course. She was too perceptive not to.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” she said one evening as they sat on the couch, a glass of wine in her hand.

“I’ve just been busy,” he replied, though they both knew it wasn’t the whole truth.

Beth studied him for a moment before setting her glass down. “It’s because she’s gone, isn’t it?”

He froze, his heart skipping a beat.

Beth sighed, setting her wine glass down. “I’ve always felt like I was competing with someone who wasn’t even here.”

“I’m sorry,” Aaron said quietly, his throat tightening.

“I know you care about me, Aaron,” Beth said gently. “But it’s not enough, is it?”

He looked at her, guilt and regret twisting in his chest. “You deserve better than this. Better than me.”

Beth nodded, her eyes sad but understanding. “And so does she.”

---

When you returned to Quantico, the familiarity was both comforting and suffocating. The bullpen buzzed with the usual energy—Garcia’s colorful office lights glowed from the corner, Morgan leaned casually against Spence's desk, and Rossi greeted you with his characteristic warmth. But despite the smiles and hugs, there was a lingering sense of unease.

You tried to shake it off. You were home now, and that was what mattered.

But then you saw Aaron.

He stood at the far end of the bullpen, just outside his office, his dark eyes locked on you. The usual stoicism in his expression faltered as you met his gaze, something softer, almost hesitant, bleeding through.

Your breath caught in your chest. It had been months since you last saw him, and yet it felt like no time had passed at all. He looked the same—polished suit, perfect posture, the slight furrow of his brow that you’d memorized years ago.

He started walking toward you, his steps slow and deliberate. You tried to prepare yourself for the moment, but when he finally stopped in front of you, the carefully constructed walls around your heart wavered.

“Welcome back,” he said softly, his voice carrying a gravity that made your pulse race.

“Thanks,” you replied, forcing a small smile, though your throat felt tight.

There was a beat of silence. The bullpen buzzed with life around you, but all you could focus on was him—the way his eyes lingered on your face, the way he seemed like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.

“Can we talk?” he asked finally, his voice low enough that no one else could hear.

You hesitated. Part of you wanted to say no, to protect yourself from whatever this conversation might bring. But the way he looked at you—vulnerable and intent—made it impossible to refuse.

“Yeah,” you said quietly.

He led you to his office, holding the door open for you before closing it behind him. The sound of the latch clicking seemed to echo, amplifying the tension in the room.

You stood awkwardly near the desk while he lingered by the door, as if trying to keep some distance between you.

“How was it?” he asked, gesturing vaguely. “Pakistan, I mean.”

“It was... intense” you admitted. “Challenging, but good. It gave me a lot to think about.”

He nodded, his jaw tightening as he seemed to weigh his next words. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Thanks” you said again, the word feeling hollow on your tongue. You couldn’t take the tension anymore. “Aaron, what did you want to talk about?”

His shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath, and when he finally looked at you, his eyes were heavy with regret.

“I owe you an apology” he said, his voice low and rough.

You blinked, startled. “An apology? For what?”

“For walking away” he said, stepping closer. His gaze held yours, steady but full of something you couldn’t quite name. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought letting you go would... would give you the chance to find someone better, someone who could give you what I couldn’t.”

Your heart clenched painfully at his words, but before you could respond, he continued.

“But I was wrong” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was hurt both of us. And every day you were gone, I felt it—I felt how wrong I was.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. “Aaron, I—”

“I missed you” he interrupted, taking another step closer. “Every day you were gone, I missed you. And I realized that I’d rather spend my life trying to be enough for you than spend another day without you.”

Tears blurred your vision, but you blinked them away, trying to process his words.

“You ended it” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You told me I deserved better.”

“I thought I was doing the selfless thing,” he admitted, his expression pained. “But all I did was rob us of the chance to fight for what we had. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The rawness in his voice cracked something open inside you.

“Aaron, I...” You trailed off, shaking your head as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I don’t even know what to say.”

He stepped closer again, closing the remaining distance between you. “You don’t have to say anything. Just... tell me if there’s still a chance. If there’s even a small part of you that still feels the same way.”

His vulnerability was overwhelming. This was Aaron Hotchner—the man who never wavered, never let his guard down. And yet here he was, standing before you, baring his heart.

“I missed you too” you admitted finally, your voice breaking. “But I don’t know if I can do this again. I don’t know if I can survive losing you a second time.”

“You won’t” he said firmly, his hand twitching at his side like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I swear to you, I won’t let you down again. I’ll fight for this—for us. Every day, if I have to.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way his dark eyes held yours, left you breathless.

And in that moment, you realized something: you still loved him. You always had.

Slowly, you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers. His breath hitched at the contact, but he didn’t pull away.

“Okay” you said softly, your voice trembling but sure. “Let’s try again.”

Aaron’s shoulders sagged with relief, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he smiled—a real, genuine smile that reached his eyes.

And as he squeezed your hand, you felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.

---

[komelliko]

manipulative!boss!sunday x timid!secretary!reader

summary: Now that he finally has you alone in his office, Sunday decides to further his goals of dominion. wc: 2.3k - this is nsfw! cw for dubcon! sexual fantasy, piv penetration, office sex, desk sex, softdom!sunday, huge massive misogynistic hypocrite sunday a/n: The guillemets «» are used to indicate Sunday's Harmony powers this time!

part 6 (nsfw) / part 7 (nsfw)

---

You've broken out your old typeboard to compensate for having to sit in an office all day. Most people don't bother with typeboards anymore. Not when phones can record speech or pull up a keyboard on the screen, and not when typeboards are so.. noisy. The flurry of smooth metal buttons clacking like cold rain on a tin roof is a sound that makes the younger Oak Family interns anxious, but you enjoy the sound. When you can't hear the clicking of your shoes against the floor as you walk around, the sound of the typeboard is a decent enough substitute. 

Sunday has been watching you from his desk, reading over grievances relating to The Family's congregation. He couldn't care less about the complaints of some of these corrupt, selfish reprobates. Not when watching you cross your legs and stare harder into the screen of your typeboard is more entertaining. 

He wonders to himself: Do you even notice the way his eyes linger? How his watchful gaze sticks to you like dew on a fresh blade of grass? How the slightest smile forms at the corners of his lips from the way your trousers are just short enough to show a sliver of ankle, soft and bared? 

Should you have no reason or means to protest, Sunday would sit in front of you and remove your shoe himself, gloved hands starting at your short sock, ascending to cradle your ankle, then disappearing up and underneath the leg of your pants to stroke your calf, fingers running calmly over your flesh as the outline of his hands stretches the fabric of your trousers. He smiles as he ponders if that, too, is something you would never even consider from him. 

Sunday leans back in his chair, his legs spread slightly open. There’s no reason for him to be ashamed of anything, he surmises to himself. His handling of you has been modest, after all, compared to the filth of Penacony. He’s seen what avaricious, lustful men do when they feel they can exercise their will, and he hasn’t done anything of the sort. None of those men enact their will for the sake of responsibility. 

Sunday gets up from his chair, which only draws his attention to how tight his pants have become. Still, he’s sure you won’t notice when he asks you: “Dear, I’ve been looking for something Madam Ellis sent me, but I’m afraid it got itself lost in my desk. While I fetch myself some water, can you look for me?” As you get up to do so, Sunday goes to fill a small paper cup of water from the dispenser near the door. He takes a single sip, glances to see if you’re watching him, and quickly disposes of it, locking the door to his office and gripping the handle. 

« Oh, Triple-Faced Soul, may your hands seal this entrance and isolate this space, so not a sound may pass through. »

You bend at the hips to search through the drawers of Sunday’s desk. It’s a learned habit: Even with how long your pencil skirts often are, crouching while wearing one has always felt way too risky, especially for the secretary of a Family Head. Whether this was Sunday’s intention or not when he put them in the dress code, you suppose you can never be sure. 

There’s this dull throbbing you feel as you scan over every paper and file, felt in tandem with your heartbeat, that settles itself in your core. Even as you try to take your mind off of those odd moments with Sunday, the knowledge you gained from them is something you can’t shake, tucked snugly within your body with no plans of extricating itself. It’s… not exactly lust, you reason, but more so an anticipation or a dread. You can feel the anxiety pool between your thighs as your eyes scan blankly over words you’re no longer reading; Whatever you want to tell yourself the feeling is, it’s potent and it clouds your mind.

By the time Sunday is back and pinning you against his desk, you've forgotten why he told you to look through it entirely. —In all fairness, it was meant to be a trap.

"I don't think I thank you enough, [Y/N].” His voice is soft and gentle as he keeps one hand resting on your hip, the other snaking around to find the button of your pants. “I can’t imagine what I’d do without you in my life, dear. I’m a much more fragile man than I present myself to be.” His eyes lock on the door at the end of the room. It would be entirely irresponsible to have left the door unlocked or even open, and Sunday wouldn’t dare take such a risk when a man like him had too much at stake. Still, his nostrils flare as he pictures what it would be like to fuck you in front of an audience. That Avgin scum especially. Perhaps the gambler deserved a demonstration of Sunday’s claim over you, both to send a message and to humble him. Damned wretch. 

You can feel his clothed cock poking against your backside even better now that Sunday has let your pants fall to your ankles. You stay put, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears as you switch between looking at the desk you’re pressed up against and the door in front of you. It would only be sensible to at least raise your concerns (even if making a scene was something you couldn’t bring yourself to do), but… that sense of anticipation building inside of you wants to be sated, even for a little bit. Even if your conscience disagrees.

Two of Sunday’s fingers breach you, and you flinch as they begin to move, stroking you from the inside. Just like before, Sunday lets out a groan, albeit softer and more controlled. You can’t see his face, but his eyes are now focused on where his knuckle ends and you begin, fluid dripping into his palm. Sunday is moved by the sight of it—by its beauty, and by the equal beauty of your mewling noises as he continues to finger you. As he moves closer to you, hips flush against his hand flush against your cunt, Sunday lets his other hand explore your bare legs, gloved fingers running over the soft flesh of your thigh.

“You don’t need to keep quiet, my love,” he reassures you, quickening the pace of his fingers. “I promise you, nobody can hear us right now. It’s just us.” Sunday takes a breath, and as he grazes your g-spot you nearly gasp with him. “I don’t ever mean to frighten you, you know. Sometimes, we simply have to be more forward when it comes to what is ours and what isn’t, yes?” Your brows furrow. What the fuck is he talking about? It would probably be easier to process his words if he hadn’t just slipped a third finger into your cunt, though, so all you can respond with to voice your confusion is a low moan.

“More than anything, I want you to be willing,” Sunday continues, maybe for no better reason than to hear the sound of his own voice over your cries of pleasure. “I want you to want this as much as I do, as often as I do. Only then can I be truly happy with myself. Do you understand that, my love?” You nod out of instinct, and Sunday takes it as his cue to finally free his erection. After cleaning the juices from his hand off on it, Sunday removes your panties, steadies your hips with his hand, and then penetrates.

Another mess of unintelligible noises leave your mouth from the feeling of him inside you. You’re too far gone to have reservations, so all you do is push your hips back into the feeling and grip the ledge of the desk. Your hair must be a mess by now, your face flushed and tear-pricked, your clothes wrinkled and wholly unpresentable—After all this work to get to the top through work alone, you should probably feel like this is an insult. Still, Sunday begins to thrust, and you can’t find it within yourself to care.

“[Y/N]! Mmh, Aeon— You’re divine,” Sunday gasps, his grip on your hips only tightening. “Oh, was this worth every minute of waiting! I’ve been so patient, darling, so incredibly patient.” As Sunday finds his pace, his hands begin to wander, the smooth cotton on his gloves running up and down your naked thighs and hips, gently kneading your flesh. In the safety of the closed-off room, he lets himself moan freely, gasping and crying out every time he feels himself bottom out inside you. Sunday flexes his abdominals to keep himself standing lest he falls over on top of you and loses himself in his own pleasure, the muscles in his stomach quivering and twisting. You’re sure that if you could see it, the sight wouldn’t be awful—Sunday has always been a very attractive man. Maybe his gaze softening into a semi-pained expression of ecstasy would enhance his beauty, if he didn’t have a pattern of fucking you from angles where you couldn’t see it.

Sunday reasons to himself that this instance is merely a fluke—An instance of your union (and of his rightful assumption of responsibility) that shall be the exception and not the norm. It’s the sin of haste that has him fucking you like a common whore, your cyprine rolling down your thighs and reaching your knees as his hips rhythmically collide with your ass. Regardless, it’s a sin that does not define him, and one he will not let define him: Any further instance will take the proper course and order, no doubt occurring in his room, on his bed, in the appropriate romantic fashion. 

Still, he finds he's getting close—In no doubt due to how perfect you are, how wonderful you feel around him. So, his thinking shifts: Who could blame him? Who could find this worth scorn? As you continue to suck him in further, further, greedily, he surmises that perhaps this act is no transgression. It is only the just thing to do, to give you what you so clearly and desperately need.

You hear Sunday ask you something, or maybe warn you, but you're too far gone to understand his words. The way his hands continue to run up and down your slick-soaked thighs has you paralyzed, and if you had any room to think between his thrusts your first thought would be to worry about whether the puddle of drool you've left on his desk has leaked onto any of his papers. You just let out another moan in response, another weak and mumbled "Sunday", and his own response is to start fucking you harder, effectively shutting out any chance of processing it. 

You can only make out bits of what he starts to whimper and mewl as his nails dig into your hips: "union", "perfect", "meant to be". A string of noises sounding awfully close to "I love you", too, amidst babblings sounding like your name. Sunday leans over, and you can feel his stomach press up against your back, his fingers prying your legs further apart. 

"The power you have over me is unthinkable, [Y/N]," he whispers in your ear. "You alone dominate every thought, every waking moment of mine." Sunday whimpers some more, his breath tickling the shell of your ear as it drowns out the squelching noises. "Please, you must understand. I need you as much as you need me. Nothing else can take precedence."

"Mmh, Aeons," you cry out, not really in response to his words more than in response to the way he's drilling into you. "Sunday, I'm-"

"Yes, yes I know," he coos back. "Don't hold back, please. You deserve this."

Sunday is barely able to even snake a hand down to attend to your clit before he feels you clench hard around him, your head thumping against the desk as the high of your orgasm overwhelms you. His hips start to move erratically, attempting to help you ride out that high, but soon it proves even too much for him to last through. Of course, you had given him permission to not 'pull out', so what issue could there be?

A wave of fatigue falls over you as reality sets back in, like a cold sobering splash of water to quell the summer heat. Your hair is a mess, you don't have anything on hand to fix your makeup, and your pants and underwear are likely ruined. As you shift in place, you can feel strewn papers underneath your stomach, all of them likely crumpled. You're not sure how much time was spent doing this that you could've spent working on sending emails or looking over reports. 

The anticipation has been satiated, and all that remains is an awful sense of dread.

Sunday plants a kiss on the shell of your ear and finally pulls himself out of you, even more cum and cyprine rolling down your legs. You're too exhausted to shut them to try and stop it. Sunday, too, is exhausted, given the fact that you feel him bend over to rest on top of you, his stomach once again flush with your back. 

"What excellent judgement I had in choosing you," he sighs dreamily. "You fit me like a glove—Quite literally, I've found." Sunday chuckles, and you feel his hands worm around your sides to wrap around you. "Thank you, [Y/N]. Geniunely."

The moment is interrupted by a phone call. Sunday gets off of you to pick it up, almost immediately discounting you. 

"Sister?" he asks, phone pressed up against his ear as he starts to redress himself. He fumbles through redoing his belt with one hand as he adds "No, I'm not busy at all. -Uhm, mind the noise, we're trying to rearrange my office. No, no, you're not bothering me at all, dear sister..."

Your head falls to meet the edge of the desk again. It will be at least half an hour before you get the motivation to move and look at yourself again.

---

a/n: someone teach this fuckass kfc bucket the concept of aftercare tag list: @j1yu425 @crepezinhos @i-am-tiredd @8x9d @ruruize @herrscherofprocrastination @ikevampharem @hirwishin @jill7848 @breadlmao @belovedoftheanemoarchon @moongirl-1 @qualitysaladfarmstatesman @cupcake54492

[concretejunglefm]

I'm not ready to let you forget me (part 1).

*edit credit goes to the lovely @defuckingthrone-dot-com

You told your friends you want me dead And said that I did everythin' wrong And you're not wrong

An anon request for lovers to enemies 

Summary: It’s been two years since Noah cheated on you, abruptly ending your relationship. However, the universe seems to have a peculiar sense of humor in its plan to reunite you.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader.

CW: none really. Mentions of cheating, Noah can be an overall asshole and a tad bit of angst.

WC: 3.2k.

Dividers: Silent-stories.

Had Noah cheated, you believe that you could've handled everything a lot better, but somehow what he did had been worse.

It wasn't cheating, even if you couldn't ignore the pit in your stomach when you thought about him and her together.

Noah's ex had joined the last leg of his tour as an opening act, and while under any other circumstances it wouldn't have bothered you, his nonchalant attitude about it did. 

This had been a man who spent time after time cursing her out to you, pushing aside any doubts or worries you had felt when it came to her, and now he didn't care if she was joining him in the most important aspect of his life.

Even worse was how he’d knocked back your own suggestion of joining him.

"It's only for a few days. I'll get to watch you play, and we can see it as a vacation." "You can see it as that. For me, it's work, babe. You know that, and you know how important it is to me." "I know I just thought." "Well, don't. Not this time. Maybe next time."

You did your best to brush off the hurt at the time, and now again as the memory resurfaces.

Noah didn't cheat, but what he did was close enough to make you feel heartbroken and forgotten about.

Messages and calls came less and less during this leg, and now you were sitting up early Saturday morning going through the posts on your Twitter feed like a fool, allowing yourself to be more hurt with each one that you came across.

@badoxmens: Did you see Noah and his ex on stage last night?

@ieatconcreeete: I hope this means they're finally getting back together !!

@artitficalsuicide: If I were his girlfriend, I would hate myself right now.

@deduckingthrone: Noah has a girlfriend? Are you sure? Him and his ex looked pretty cozy if he does.

The videos and pictures which accompanied the tweets did nothing to ease the rising bile in your throat, and every attempt to reach Noah was left unanswered.

Noah ignored every single text and call you made to him, not bothering to even make it obvious that he was ignoring you, the delivered and read notifications driving you mad until you had to stop yourself altogether.

Instead of breaking up with you, he ghosted you, your only proof of this coming a week later when another set of videos and photos showed up on your feed of him attending the album launch party of his ex.

There was no ignoring the closeness between them, the way he lingered by her in the one video, the way they were caught slipping off together and hovering a little too closely in another.

You almost went to write out a long-winded text, one full of all your feelings for everything that had transpired over the past week, but instead settled for a simple 'fuck you'. Even going as far as to block and delete his number to not allow for any temptation in reaching out to him.

You deserved better than this, that whatever had transpired for Noah to play with your feelings in this manner and you decided then that you'd do whatever it took to move on.

"What you need is a girls’ trip." The suggestion from your best friend came as no surprise, Sloan would always choose a spa day or a girls’ trip whenever she felt a need to unwind, which was practically every week according to her.

"Huh?" You snap back from your own thoughts, mindlessly stirring a spoon in your latte.

"Babe, please tell me that you are not still hung up on that guy." You hear both the pity and disdain in her tone.

To Sloan boys were nothing more than toys to be played with, to be thrown down and picked back up whenever she wanted. That was her trick to not being hurt.

"It's been two years."

"I know." You don't even need to give her a real answer for her to know, but it still doesn't stop your mind from wandering and from the pang in your chest each time you think about him.

“Girls’ trip, this weekend and I'm not taking no for an answer."

You wish that she had taken no for an answer.

A girl’s trip sounded delightful until she suggested Vegas and you were squeezing yourself onto a last-minute flight there. You wouldn't have minded had it not been for the fact that your seats were apart from one another and you had been given a middle seat, which meant you were now stuck in between two strangers.

Moving along the aisle towards your seat, you slide your weekend bag from your shoulder and toss it into the overhead bin. Looking down at your ticket, you confirm the seat number and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear as you tap on the shoulder of the man sitting on the end seat, covered up with a black hoodie.

"Excuse me. I'm 33B." You gesture to the empty space beside him, and the minute you catch a familiar pair of brown eyes gaze back at you, you feel your heart plummet into your stomach and bile rising up your throat.

Noah.

You're ready to make a dash towards the back of the plane, either to throw up in the bathroom or attempt to throw yourself out of the emergency exit.

"Sor—."

He cuts himself off on the sight of you, and you huff as he moves himself and allows for you to squeeze past.

When you fall into the middle seat, you find Jolly sitting on the other side of you and realize that they must be on their way to a show. 

In Vegas? 

You almost turn and ask him but decide not to. You spent the last two years ignoring his and his band's existence; you can do that for another hour on this flight.

When you dare a glance in Jolly's direction, he's already sliding his headphones on and looking out of the window, completely disengaging himself. You're almost jealous. You'd do anything to disappear from this moment's event, even exchange seats with the Swede so as not to be sat next to Noah.

As the flight pulls out to taxi, you feel Noah's leg bouncing against your own. You know it's his nerves. He's always been a nervous flyer, and it makes you wonder why he's choosing to fly instead of driving to Vegas.

You mentally smack yourself because it's not your place to wonder these things or even care about them anymore.

"Will you stop that?" You finally voice your annoyance as the plane begins its descent down the runway.

"You know I'm a nervous flyer!" He retorts, and yes, you do know, but he's not supposed to highlight that fact.

“Yeah, but it's annoying." You snipe beneath your breath.

"I can't help it!"

You sound like a couple of squabbling kids, and you hit your knee against his as if to prove a point for him to stop, but he only bounces his leg harder.

It's as if he's purposely trying to piss you off, and unfortunately for you, it's working.

"Just—" You reach over and press your hand down on his thigh, forcing his leg still. "There. Stop."

He does stop, but then you feel his larger tattooed hand atop yours, and his fingers slip beneath and around your own as if choosing to accept this as you giving him some form of comfort.

You're not, but you can hardly pull your hand away as the plane begins to take off and you feel his fingers tightening around yours, signifying his general fear and discomfort over flying.

That is until you're hit with the reminder that this guy ghosted you, and you owe him nothing.

You snatch your hand back, glaring at him as he looks down at you.

"What was that for?"

“Oh, please, you're a big boy. Hold your own damn hand if you're that scared." You don't hold back on the mockery in your tone, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I was always there for you, and this is how you repay me?"

“Oh, please, you were there for your own ego."

You feel Noah lean in closer to you and you edge yourself away as best as you can without causing too much disruption to Jolly tucked in the window seat.

"You could at least try to make this work."

You hear him whisper, and your mouth drops open due to the utter audacity this man has to even suggest such a thing.

"Why would I do that when you did such a great job proving you're not worth the effort?" You snipe back, keeping your voice low.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're really choosing now to play dumb? God, you really are all muscle and no brains now, aren't you?"

You couldn't ignore the fact that over the past two years he had buffed out even more than you can remember.

Noah had always been physically fit during the time you were together, with muscles coming in, but there was something more toned and larger about him now. 

It was a noticeable enough sight that could have any girl drooling over him.

But not you. 

You refused to engage with the thought.

"So what you're saying is you think I look hot?"

You don't need to look at him to see it; you can hear the smirk in his voice, and it makes you shake with anger at how unfazed he appears by all of this. 

You can't resist jabbing your elbow into his side, resulting in him letting out a whine which draws the attention of passengers around you to look over.

"What was that for?" Noah grumbles, bringing a hand to his side as he rubs the spot you’d caught. 

"Because you're a dumbass." You spit out between gritted teeth.

"Excuse me, is there a problem here?" You haven't even noticed the seatbelt signs turn off, and when you look up, you spot a young air hostess peering in at you both. The moment her eyes catch sight of Noah, you spot that sudden flash of recognition in her own.

"Here we go," You mumble under your breath, rolling your own eyes as you direct your head forward and press back against the headrest. 

You wait to hear it, his charm that he always uses whenever there's a fan who recognizes him in a place he doesn't want to be noticed.

He's suave with it, and it always made you swoon in the beginning because you believed that he was merely trying to seek out his privacy for you both, but now you realize it was just one of his many tactics for keeping up some reputation he felt the need to uphold.

"Well, well... It looks like someone has good taste in music. You just made my day… but if you don't mind keeping it between us?"

You scoff and press your lips together when feeling the heat of a stare on you, but the air hostesses' quiet giggling is enough to prove that his little charm worked.

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes. "Real smooth." You remark once she leaves down the plane aisle to attend to another passenger.

"It worked on you, didn't it?"

"Don't flatter yourself. That was after five drinks, and I'd been eyeing up Folio all night."

"Oh—"

"Will you both quit it before I bang your heads together!" Jolly cuts Noah off, interrupting your squabbling.

"She started it." Noah argues, and your head turns back to him as you shoot him a glare. 

If looks could kill, you'd have done it multiple times by now.

The rest of the flight wasn't any easier, between playing elbow hockey with Noah over the armrest and more snide remarks, you were thankful the moment the plane came into land, unbuckling your belt and attempting to move the moment the seatbelt sign turned off.

"The plane hasn't even come to a stop." Noah points out as you attempt to stand, ushering him to move out of your way.

"I don't care, just move." You huff and glare down at him as he remains still, his tattooed hands sitting and tapping on his thighs, barely giving you a brief glance.

"Not even a please? You're so rude."

You know that you shouldn’t, but you begin to attempt climbing over him, holding onto the seat in front as you try to drag yourself past him and over his lap, muttering as you go. "And you are absolutely incorrigible."

"Wow, that's a new one. Is it your word of the day?"

You glance behind him and see him attempting to push back into his seat more, as if that's helping you in any way, and when you see his hand raise, you instinctively swat at it with the assumption he's going to touch you. 

"Ow?! There was no need for that."

Finally free from your row, you huff and pull yourself together, reaching for the overhead bin and pulling out your bag. 

“Well, this was fun. I really hope we never have to do it again." You glare at him and begin making your way down the aisle with the rest of the passengers towards the exit door.

You've never been happier to see the back of a plane in your life, moving as fast as your legs will let you through the crowd of people, almost missing the sound of Sloan's voice as she calls after you.

"Wait up, speedy!" She laughs as she finally catches up, and you come to a slow down, shaking your head free of all the thoughts which had been swirling around in there due to the unexpected reunion you just briefly had with your ex.

"Sorry. I just had to get out of there."

"That wasn't who I think it was, was it?" You spare a glance over at Sloan, and your irritated expression gives that answer away. "It was? What was he doing on a plane to Vegas?"

"I can't say I really cared to ask him, Sloan." Your tone has a bite still left over from the sniping that you and Noah had done. "Sorry, he just really gets under my skin."

"I can see that."

"The sooner we're at the hotel, the better. Then I can wash this whole thing off me, and we can finally start enjoying our girls' weekend."

"Yes! Girls’ weekend. No talk about stupid boys." Sloan slips her arm around yours, linking you together as she lets out an excited 'woohoo'. It makes you laugh, and you finally feel the tension that being sat next to Noah for the last hour had caused, slipping away.

It's a feeling which is short-lived, however.

After making your way through the airport and standard checks, you reach the taxi rank outside, and as you open the door, you turn back to call for Sloan, only to be met with the 6'3 asshole who's covered in tattoos.

“Oh, thanks, you shouldn't have." He flashes you a grin as he slides into your taxi, followed by Jolly, who offers you a brief apologetic look. Maybe you should've been giving him a harder time if he was enabling this stupid behavior.

You stand speechless as they pull the door close, tossing daggers at the cab as it drives away and a scream rumbles in your throat. 

"Where's the taxi?" Sloan asks as she chooses now to join you. You grumble something incoherent under your breath as you turn to wave down the next incoming taxi.

She's now joining Noah and Jolly on your shit list.

"It's going to be perfect! There's a spa, three pool areas. One of them is an infinity pool off the balcony upstairs." Sloan continues to drone on about the hotel and everything it includes. You only have a weekend here, but she's already planning multiple ways for you to take advantage of everything.

Currently, your mind is back on Noah and his stupid, smug ass face as he stole your taxi. You try to distract yourself from it, shaking him from your thoughts and coming back into the present, to this weekend.

Seeing him was a blip, but you refused to allow him to derail your plans or excitement.

Counting the room numbers down the hallway, you look up as you come closer to yours, room number: 308. 

Sloan has the room opposite you, disappearing inside after making plans to knock on after shower and changing. A shower sounds perfect right about now, not only to wash off the plane smell but also with being in such proximity to Noah in general.

As you fiddle with the room key, you hear a familiar voice, which causes your back to raise. Turning your head, you peer down the hallway, watching a group of familiar faces grow nearer to you. Noah is the one trailing behind, while Folio and Matt's voices are the ones you hear echoing down the hall.

You hastily attempt to open your hotel room door, being met with the red light before trying again.

You huff and close your eyes to calm yourself from growing irrationally angry.

Hearing the voices past you, you open your eyes and look back to find Noah standing at the door next to yours, room number: 310.

"Hey, neighbor." Noah flashes you a grin, and you shake your head in protest.

"No."

"No?" He repeats back at you in a question, his brows knitting together. "What do you mean no?"

"I mean no, we are not neighbors, and you cannot be here. Not in this room, not in this hotel. Hell, not even in this state." You're being irrational, but you never did quite have much rationality when it came to him. You always found yourself diving in headfirst to whatever thought crossed your mind.

"And who said this? You?" Noah raises a brow at you, taking a step closer as he leans a hand against the wall.

He easily towers over you, and under any other circumstance before now, that would have you weak at the knees and buckling for him, but right now it has you infuriated that he's somehow here, ruining your weekend and attempting to charm you.

"Yes."

"Still as bossy as ever, I see."

"And you're still an asshole." You snipe back, your eyes narrowing, still attempting to get your keycard in your door and slip away from this conversation.

"Ouch, that hurt." Noah raises his free hand, bringing it to his chest, feigning a tone of disbelief and hurt while you roll your eyes in response.

“Oh, please, that would insinuate you had any feelings to begin with."

"I have a lot of feelings, actually. Such as feeling sorry for you while watching you struggle with something so easy. Here, let me."

Before you have a chance to protest, he's reaching out to take your hotel room key and slips it into the swipe, drawing it out to a flashing green light.

You huff as you open the door, pushing forward, and the last thing you hear before the door slams is another final snarky remark from him; "Not even a thank you?"

Once in the safety of your room, you let out a loud scream of frustration, only to hear Noah's chuckle from the other side of the door, and you gently bang the back of your head against the door as you lean back on it.

Great, now you really can't escape him this weekend.

[daughtersofzaun]

I want to make a long post about the hyperspecificities of arcane that have been eating me alive for the past couple months, for a couple reasons. For one, they are all I have been thinking about since I watched the show. It felt almost disoreinting how represented I felt while watching season one, and that was a new feeling for me. The second reason is because I see other people saying the same thing, and for the first time in a really long time, I dont feel alone in my relationship with my sister.

I heavily relate to Jinx. Part of that is the fact that she is a really good representation of CPTSD and BPD, and that isn’t something that is very common to see in my opinion, but more importantly, its her relationship with Vi. My parents are very good people and I never doubt that they did their best, but they never really cared much about me, and I was neglected. Most of the time it was just emotionally, so you know not really the end of the world, but it did mean that my sister was my only person. I have written a couple paragraphs on here about Jinx where I really have just been projecting, but let me write out the specifics of my situation and then you can try and spot the difference:

I had just turned 13 (powder act 1 is estimated to be 11/12?). I was already fairly mentally ill and it was probably going to get worse but it wasnt the worst thing in the world. I had my family that I’m sure loved me but I didn’t see or believe that at the time. I was really not doing that well, but I did have my sister. My sister was smart, and funny, and so insanley creative and talented and I absolutley worshipped that girl. Everything she did, I wanted to do it too and be just as good as her (I never was). And then my sister (who was 15 at the time) killed herself. And while this is obviously not the same situation as Jinx and Vi, I can’t help but obssess over the similarities. When my sister left me I felt so betrayed. I was angry that I was now alone, and even more than that I was angry that I had failed as a sister. After spending my entire life just trying to be like her and be like someone that she could like as much as i liked her, I was cut off. I no longer got to try anymore. It was essentially the world telling me game over. And I felt like I was the one that died. The disconnect from myself, my childhood, and even my name, were all things that I have spent years thinking about. And not only did I disconnect, but I went a little crazy. I ruined relationships, I destroyed any semblance of my old identity, and I yelled. A lot. I only started season one of Arcane back in November, coincidentally less than two weeks after the seven year aniversary of my sisters death, and holy shit. I saw me and her in jinx and vi before even finishing act one, and then I saw us even more in the following acts. Season two was maybe even worse. Some of the reasons for this I just physically cannot write out (maybe for lack of the right words, or maybe I just don’t want to), but one thing in episode eight was just discustingly specific. CW nightmares and suicide for the following btw:

For a couple years after my sisters suicide, I got these horrible reccuring nightmares. And they weren’t all the same, but the generaly plot line was that my sister was about to kill herself and there was nothing I could do about it. One of the specific ones- and you might see where this is going- was this nightmare where I was in some type of cell (occasionally a traditional one, other times something a litte wierder and more dream-like) and my sister was going to leave to go kill herself, and she woud tell me this. And there was nothing I could do. Anyways, there was something crazy gutwrenching about seeing the nightmare that made you afraid to go to sleep for years animated in a tv show with charcters you’ve already projected your entire life on.

Also, sibling grief is not a commonly relatable type of issue. Especially not sibling grief that was violent and traumatic. And after feeling so alone for so many years, seeing myself represented and seeing other people relate to these characters has been really intense.

I’m probably not ever going to be done rambling about them, but for now I think I am.

[911-wassup-bby]

.

[cherrixpie]

HOW NOT TO DATE A SLYTHERIN

part one of five

↬ being harry potter's sister wouldn't make dating theodore nott any easier - which was why you tried to hide it

↬ sfw; only fluff this chapter; wc: 3.4k; cw: none; secret relationship trope, potter!reader, griffindor!reader

( masterlist )

The chill of the night air bit at your exposed cheeks as you climbed the final steps to the astronomy tower, your breath visible in faint puffs. Winter had arrived particularly early this year, chilling your bones even now, on the last weekend of october. The school lay quiet below, the golden glow of the countless windows no longer having given in to the darkness of a cold autnumm night.

You pulled your robe tighter around you, wincing at the faint creak of the wooden door as it swung open by the push of your hand. You knew you shouldn't be out after curfew- your brother was usually the one breaking rules and making trouble- but the pull of him was irrestible. He, who’s voice cut through the haunting silence like a knife.

“I was starting to think you wouldn't show.”

You froze mid-step, your heart leaping to your throat at the familiar voice. Even though you had been expecting it. Theodore Nott was was leaning casually against the stone railing, his pale face bathed in the cold light of the moon that sharpened every dip and curve in the prettiest way. A light smirk was curling at the corner of his lips, his usual cigarette dangling from his pink lips. His green slytherin tie was loosened, his robes slightly crumpled, as if he’d wandered here on a whim rather than planned this meeting. But you knew better. Theo rarely did anything without careful thought.

“I had to make sure the coast was clear,” you replied, trying to copy his nonchalance. His dark eyes followed you closely as you crossed the space between you, coming to a halt a few feet away from the railing to keep some distance between you and the abyss. It was funny how you could ride a stick of wood regularly, tens of meters in the air, but looking down a great height with steady floor under you feet had nausea creep up your chest.

You tried not to shift under his prying eyes. Being eyed up by Theodore Nott was a rather particular feeling. Every time you met his eyes, you felt like he was staring right through you, blowing through every cover, every mask, every wall you had ever shielded your true self with and assessing it with disarming precision. As you returned his stare, his smile widened a little and he puffed on his cigarette. “You’ve gotten better at sneaking around, though. Tell me, do the Potter genes include an innate sense of rule-breaking?”

“And here I was, thinking I was your ‘good girl’,” you replied, quoting his teasing nickname. A rare laugh escaped his throat, more of a huff, really, that he hid in his hand holding the cigarette. You eyed it reproachfully.

“You’re going to die at a very young age, Theo.”

Slightly puzzled, he looked down at you, blowing smoke into the air and holding out an arm to beckon you closer. Answering the silent invitation, you let him nudge you towards him gently, the cigarette-free hand pulling you closer by the waist. “Is that a threat, cara? Because I could think of no better way to die than by your gentle hands.”

The charming bastard got a hold of said hands that were shivering slightly from the cold as you had forgotten to put gloves on, and pressed a gentle kiss onto your palm, carefully watching your reaction. You could only pray he took the flush on your cheeks as a symptom of the cold rather than your flustered reaction to his Italian.

“That's not what I meant,” you frowned, indicating the cigarette between his slender fingers. “What I meant was that you’re going to smoke yourself into an early grave.”

God, the way his eyelashes caught the few too-early snowflakes melting hopelessly on the ground. You gave a high-pitched tone of surprise when suddenly, he surged forward, pulling you even closer and trailing kisses up your jaw to your ear. “Tell me you’d hate that,” he whispered and you gave him an incredulous look he couldn't see.

“Of course I’d hate that!”

Before you could say anything else, Theo discarded the cigarette over the railing. Though you had no time to follow the tiny glowing ember on its way down, because just a fraction of a second later, his lips crashed into yours and you let out a startled squeak. Feeling him smile against your lips, you kissed him back in a weak attempt to take the initiative. He allowed you to play, but the movement of his hands, the caging of his arms and the way he beckoned your mouth open so easily proved his underlying dominance. Theo just wasn't beatable at kissing.

This was what you had been looking forward to all day, sitting through transfiguration, charms and defense against the dark arts, all subjects you had without him, stealing longing glances over dinner and quickly looking back as to avoid drawing the attention of your friends or brother to the silent exchange.

As the kiss got more heated, Theo’s fingers curled into your sides, spinning you around so you were with your back to the railing. Miraculously, you couldn't bring yourself to care. All there was in this microcosm of the two of you was him, you and the feeling of his lips on yours. One hand of his cupped your jaw, angling it slightly back to gain best access to your throat. As his lips trailed down the expanse of it, nipping, kissing and sucking, you found yourself snapping out of your theo-kiss-induced haze and pulled away aprubtly.

Panting, you covered Theo’s lips with one hand and he raised his eyebrow at you. He did that well, his eyes alone could make your stomach flutter. But you didn't give in. “Theo, what if someone sees marks on my-” You're were a little embarrassed about the subject matter, breaking off mid-sentence, and glared at his shit-eating grin, invisible behind your hand. “Well, I mean-” You were blushing. Oh god, you were blushing like crazy.

“Did you not enjoy that, cara?” Theo whispered seductively, carefully prying your hand from his mouth and kissing it gently. His eyes glinting with mirth, he looked at you challengingly.

“Of course I did!” you said, exasperated and embarrassed at the same time. You hated it when Theo took advantage of your unfamiliarity with intimacy and relationships. “But nobody can see!”

You expected him to tease you some more, so you were surprised when he merely breathed a long sigh and pulled you into his chest. Immediately, you buried your nose in his robes that smelled of him so deliciously. Smoke, old wood, a hint of mint, bookshelves. You felt him breathe your scent in as well, nose buried in your hair, and laughed lightly, but he didn't join in. His voice was a whisper, hard to make out.

“How long do you think we can keep this up before someone finds out?”

You didn't want to answer the question.

Something picking at the back of your hand snapped you out of your drowsy state. Still tired from last night, you had dozed off a little in history of magic, but as soon as you caught the culprit of the picking at your hands, a hardly suppressed smile pulled at your lips. It was a little paper bird, and the fancy handwriting clearly indicated it as a note from Theo.

You waited until Professor Binns turned his back to the class to write on the blackboard, before carefully slipping the note into your lap, shielding it from Hermoine who sat next to you, taking notes. When you carefully folded the note open, you were greeted by Theo’s elegant handwriting.

If you keep chewing on your quill like that, I might lose my ability to concentrate.

Your cheeks flushed pink as you glanced sideways at him, where he sat a few rows behind your brother who had his head buried in his folded arms, fast asleep. Theo was leaning back in his chair, his quill poised lazily over his parchment as though he had been diligently taking notes, instead of composing witty distractions. His lips curved into a light smirk when your eyes met, and he tilted his head slightly, as if to say, Well?

You hastily scribbled back, your handwriting looking sloppy and slanted next to his. Maybe I'm trying to distract you. Someone’s got to keep you on your toes, Nott. With a flick of your wand, the note floated subtly back to his desk, and you could barely contain a smile as his brows lifted in amused surprise before he began to write again.

Turning to the blackboard to copy the notes, you felt Hermoine's eyes on you and looked up from your parchment. She was eyeing you suspiciously. “What are you smiling about?” she whispered, sparing a nervous glance at the professor. “Nothing,” you answered, hastily grabbing the next messenger pigeon out of the air before it could enter your friend's vision. You could practically feel Theo chuckling at your unlucky predicament.

But Hermoine turned back to Binns once more to listen to his sermon and you stuffed the bird into your back subtly to read it after class and away from prying eyes.

“You’d be a half-decent Chaser if you didn't spend half the match showboating,” Theo drawled, his tone so casual it was clearly meant to provoke.

He leaned against the headboard of his bed, arms crossed as he regarded you with an expression that was equal parts exasperation and amusement. You, meanwhile, were sprawled across the emerald-green bedspread of his four-poster, arms tucked behind your head like you owned the place. At his words, you shot up immediately, propping yourself up on one elbow. “That's rich coming from the guy who winks at the crowd every time he scores- what’s that, part of your technique?”

The slytherin dormitory was quiet, except for crackling of the enchanted fire in the corner and the endless string of your playful teasing. Theo and you had the room for yourselves today as his mates were in Hogsmeade and Theo had stayed behind with the excuse of homework. As if he hadn't already finished all his work like the flawless O-grader he was.

“And anyway, I don’t see you scoring against Gryffindor’s defense without half your team clearing the way for you.” you teased, attempting to get a rise out of your ever calm and collected boyfriend.

But Theo’s smile only deepened, and he leaned forward just slightly, his voice dropping to a teasing lilt. “Jealous of my stats, are we, Potter? It’s not my fault you lot rely on your Seeker for every win.”

“You-” you started, your eyes narrowing, but his soft chuckle cut you off. You tossed one of his pillows at him instead, grinning when he caught it effortlessly. “Just keep laughing, Nott. You’ll regret it next match when I leave you in the dust.”

Suddenly, you felt his hand close around your ankle and shrieked as you were pulled towards him with alarming force. Before you could comprehend the shift in his behavior, he jolted forward as well, hovering over your body, sprawled out defenselessly underneath him. A light smile played around his lips as he took in your shocked expression with satisfaction and he brought a gentle hand up to your chin to tilt it upward, giving him access to your neck.

Theo dipped his head down to trail ghostly kisses down to your shoulder, muttering against your skin: “Are you sure about that, tesoro? Because I think you’ll have to work on your reaction time a bit before you can beat me.”

“Sneaky bastard,” you said, but couldn't suppress a high-pitched moan when Theo suddenly buried his teeth in your shoulder. Embarrassed by the sound that had slipped from your lips, you threw your hand over your mouth and blushed when he chuckled darkly into your neck.

“What, are you embarrassed?” he teased, looking up at you through his long dark lashes. Your pointed glare and flushed cheeks were answer enough.

When Theo broke out into a hearty laugh, you attempted to scowl at him, but it was hard when you were half in wonder by the sound of his laughter you got to hear so rarely. All the years you hadn't known Theo except for that one slytherin boy, you thought he couldn't laugh. When he did it for the first time with you, talking in the library over a muggle book you both had read and neither of you could talk to anyone else about, that was the first time you felt a flutter of butterflies rummaging in your stomach in his presence.

Awestruck by the sound of his laughter, you realized you had spaced out for a moment. Theo’s cackle had faded into a soft smile you could only reciprocate. His handsome features were painted with a gentle brush by the light of the fire. “You should laugh more often,” you said, not for the first time. “It’s beautiful.”

Theo hummed amused and leaned on his elbows to hover only a few inches above you. At this angle, his dark curls fell into his eyes, obstructing the view somewhat, so you reached up to run a hand through them. Savoring your touch, he closed his eyes and when he opened them, they held an implicit hunger that made you gulp. “I like your laugh too, tesoro. Love it, in fact,” he murmured, lips barely an inch from yours and you were itching to close the space in between. “And what I also love is y-”

Something banged at the door and both of you shot up, startled. As you stared at it unmovingly, the chatter of boy’s voices now unmistakably being heard through the closed door, Theo, the ever-quick thinker, jumped off the bed and beckoned you to follow. You shot up, heart thrumming with horror, scrambling onto your belly and rolling under Theo’s bed as far back as possible. With one quick glance to check if you were okay, that you answered with a silent thumbs-up, Theo got to his feet and walked over to the door, opening it.

“Theo, you bloke! Why did you lock the fucking door?” you heard a voice that sounded very much like Mattheo Riddle's shout. Several heavy steps resounded against the wooden floor and from under the bed, you could make out four pairs of shoes, undoubtedly belonging to Riddle, Malfoy, Berkshire and Zabini.

“I was studying,” Theo said, annoyance shimmering through his voice. “I prefer to do that undisturbed.”

You silently thanked the heavens that you and Theo had actually been studying before and therefore supplanted convincing evidence consisting of books and parchment. But suddenly, another realization dawned on you and your stomach curled with dread. Your parchment was up there too, with your handwriting and your name on it!

Theo’s eyes had also fallen on your parchment and he casually strolled over to his bed to collect it, concealing it with his and setting it aside. He felt annoyance rise within him and tried to keep it at bay. Of course his mates would barge in unexpectedly early in the exact moment he was about to confess his love to you. Clearing his face of any resemblance of emotion, he turned back around, leaning against his bedpost and trying his best not to worry about you, squeezed under his bed.

“You’re early,” he remarked, raising one brow. A memory almost made his lips twitch, of you trying to imitate the way he was able to raise one brow.

The boys threw glances at each other, some wary, but Blaise laughed. Only now did Theo notice his bleeding lip, and the others didn't look better of. Damn. He was really distracted when he hadn't even noticed it until now, when he always counted on his flawless perceptional ability.

“Who did you brawl with?” he sighed, though amused, looking directly at Mattheo who raised his hands in defense.

Draco nodded his way, dapping at a cut above his eyebrow with his shirt. “Mattheo picked a fight with Potter and some of his mates and we had to flee the scene before the old McGonagall caught us. Potter and Weasley got detention though.” He laughed in malicious joy and Theo's lips twitched slightly at the thought of you rolling your eyes under the bed.

“Potter’s sister wasn't with them though,” Enzo pondered, swapping out his slightly bloody hoodie for a clean one. When his head ascended from his collar, hair slightly disheveled, he was met with four pairs of raised brows. Well, three pairs plus one.

“What do you care about Potter’s sister?” Mattheo grinned wolfishly and Enzo rolled his eyes, chucking his bloody hoodie at him that got Mattheo right in the laughing face. Over that, he thankfully missed the subtle clench of Theo’s jaw at hearing him say ‘Potter’s sister’ in such an invidous tone.

Enzo, evidently, didn't like it either, which didn't help Theo’s irritation that he hid behind a mask of indifference. “She’s actually quite nice,” Enzo retorted, rolling his eyes at Mattheo’s and Blaise’s teasing whistles.

“Where’d you talk to her?” Theo asked, making his words sound so utterly indifferent nobody picked up on his sudden focus on the subject.

Under the bed, your heart did a little leap when you realized why he was asking. Though Theo was no outright jealous person, you sometimes caught him stealing glances at your male friends, voice tightening subtly when he talked about them. Anytime you teased him for it, he denied it, of course, saying jealousy was irrational and for fools because he knew you would never even glance at them. Hearing his inquire, you made a mental note to taunt him with it when this was all over.

“The library,” Enzo said, sitting down on his bed and taking one of his novels off the shelve. “I’m lousy in Arithmetic, as you know, and she isn't.”

“I’m surprised she even talked to you,” Blaise said as he magically fixed his lip in the mirror, making sure it looked flawless and untainted. “From what I gather, she’s the biggest goody-two-shoes in school, and a Griffindor ontop of that, why would she associate with a Slytherin?”

Enzo only shrugged, and Mattheo let out a loud groan as he longed himself at his bed that creaked under his impact. “Merlin, why are we still talking about Potters? There is so much more interesting stuff to talk about. Like what Theo has been doing today. Or who.”

He threw a teasing smile Theo’s way who raised his brow nonchalantly. “I told you, I was studying.”

“Yeah, sure,” Mattheo yawned, but kept his gaze fixed in his friends indecipherable expression. “You’re already five steps ahead in class, every assignment this year you got back with an O, what would you need to study for? Not to mention, you’ve been sneaking out more lately, and I bet it’s not ‘cause you’re dating Filch.”

Theo returned his stare unblinkingly, keenly aware of the fact that you were listening to every word. “So what if I am?” A slight smile graced his lips as he leaned his head against the bedpost. “Can't I fuck who I want?”

“Sure,” grinned Mattheo, unrelenting. “But you haven't done a lot of sleeping around for the last few months, from what I can gather. Seems to me like your man-whore-heart finally rests in the hands of only one unlucky girl.”

“Your audacity calling me fickle when you’ve slept your way through every willing girl in our grade is obnoxious,” Theo sneered, making the other boys laugh and directing the conversation towards the ravenclaw girl who’s heart Mattheo had broken just yesterday. With the other boys distracted, Theo dared kneeling down, pretending to tie his shoelaces while at the same time peering into the dark under his bed.

His eyes met yours in an instant as you raised your brows teasingly, and as he rose to his feet, Theo could hardly suppress a little smile that dared creep upon his face.

[swanlikely]

Current Brainrot: Helping Husband Nanami! Unwind

Author's Note: This scrumptious gem graced my timeline today, and I couldn't resist writing a fic about it. Do yourself a favor and follow the artist on Twitter, and while you're at it, check out her Patreon—it's totally worth it! (Artist & Her Patreon)

not proof-read! (sorry if there are any errors - let me know and i'll fix it!)

CW: AFAB! reader, usage of she/her, handjob (m! receiving), oral (m! receiving), pet names, role-play (prostitution), public sex

word count: 2k

✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖

Nanami was the epitome of dedication, tirelessly clocking in countless hours at the office to ensure his sweet wife lived in the lap of luxury. He was a gentleman in every sense. Yet, sometimes, this relentless work ethic could be his Achilles' heel.

Stress was making its unwelcome presence known in Nanami, with shadows deepening under his honey-gold eyes and the weight of the world pressing down on his broad shoulders. He was beat. After surviving yet another grueling twelve-hour shift, he was at his limit. All he craved was to return home to you, his loving wife.

And as his loving wife, you couldn't miss the signs. You saw how he would collapse into bed like stone after a long day, too exhausted to even finish his dinner. You heard the frustrated groans as he dragged himself out of bed each morning. But most importantly, you felt the strain in your bedroom.

Not to say Nanami wasn't satisfying you—quite the opposite, he was only satisfying you.

Despite his exhaustion, his touch was tender yet fervent, his kisses a mix of urgency and devotion. He'd make sure to lap at your cunt each night, with his talented tongue. Letting you know just how much he loved you, how he put your needs above his own. But that was exactly it—what about him? It worried you to no end; all you wanted to do was make sure your husband was happy. Seeing him give so much of himself, you felt a uncomfortable combination of gratitude and concern. You wanted to reciprocate, to show him the same level of care and passion. You longed to ease his burdens, to be his sanctuary just as he was yours. The thought of him carrying all that weight alone tugged at your heart, and you resolved to find a way to bring balance, to ensure he was taken care of as well.

Which was exactly why you weren't at home, playing the doting wife as always, but leaning up against his car hood, dressed in something completely out of character for you.

Fishnets, Daisy Duke shorts, and a tank top that hugged every curve clung to your body, making you a walking temptation. You watched your husband approach the car through glittery, half-lidded eyes. Letting out an exaggerated whistle, you purred, "Well, hello handsome," catching your husband's eyes.

He was just a few steps away, his furrowed brows and confused smile giving away his exhaustion. The dark circles under his eyes were still visible, and his button-up shirt was slightly wrinkled. It had clearly been another long day for him, and you were ready to melt away all that stress. But you couldn't do it as his wife; no, you needed to become someone else entirely. You had to offer him an escape from reality.

"What're you doing here, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice gruff and drawn out. His hair was still neatly groomed, and oh, you wanted to make a mess of that. Make a mess of him. "Also, I'm not one to tell you what to wear, but this is different." His eyes roamed your body, lingering over your breasts to the tips of your black heels. He was right, this was different.

"Mmhm, you like?" You bite down on your glossy, plump bottom lip. Nanami swallowed hard.

"Just a girl trying to make some money tonight," you continue, against the hood of his car. Your elbows prop you up, pushing out your breasts that were practically spilling out. "Ah, I see," he murmured. His eyes, though shadowed with exhaustion, now swam with an almost predatory hunger that swirled in the depths of his amber gaze.

You giggled at the fact that your husband was playing along with your little game, as he always did. Though tonight wasn't for you; no, it was all for him. Placing your delicate palm against Nanami's sculpted chest, he shivered for a moment. That was new.

"So, Mister, would you like to help a girl out and make use of my services?" Your voice was hot and breathy as you slowly undid the first button of his dress shirt. Nanami's eyes tracked the movement of your perfectly manicured fingers, lingering on the way they teased each button. A surprising rose-tint spread across his cheeks, his usual stoic demeanor giving way to a vulnerable flush. You could get drunk off of him.

"What kind of man would I be if I didn't help a pretty girl like you out?" Nanami chuckled, a bit sheepish, as he fumbled with the car keys, finally managing to unlock the doors. Seeing such a strong, composed man acting so coy made your thighs clench. This outfit and role were really doing it for him, huh?

After hearing the car beep, you quickly pulled both yourself and your husband inside, sliding into the backseat. It was a tight fit, with Nanami's broad frame hovering over you, his arms and legs straddling your body. The closeness made you acutely aware of just how much bigger he was than you. Instinctively, his mouth found your neck, immediately shifting into husband mode. But tonight, you wouldn't let him neglect his own needs just to please you.

"Stop," you groan, fighting the urge to let Nanami do what he normally does. He immediately pulls away, his eyes filled with worry. He searches yours for answers but only finds eyes brimming with lust. "No touching, you're paying for my services, remember?" you giggle, pressing against his chest to flip him over. Now, you were on top, straddling his lap. His heavy cock pressed against you, straining against the confines of his trousers, yearning to be free. The two of you were panting, the heat between you making the car windows fog up. You were lucky the parking garage was deserted at this hour.

"I, uh, sweetheart…" he stammered, struggling to find the words as you mirrored his earlier actions. Your mouth traced a path from his neck down to the exposed part of his collarbone, licking and sucking gently. Lips parted and teeth against skin. You couldn't help but think, God, you needed to do this more often.

His hips jerked against yours, causing the both of you to throb with want. The fabric of your shorts was already damp, barely able to contain the heat building between you. Your hands roamed down his muscular frame, your fingers tease as they reached the zipper of his trousers. You fumbled with it, the anticipation making your breath hitch. His low groan in your ear sent shivers down your spine, and you pressed closer, feeling the urgency of his need matching your own.

"Please let me touch you, just a little," he pleaded, his grip tightening on the leather seat, veins on his arms standing out. The desperation in his voice sent a thrill through you. You had made Nanami Kento, usually so proper, whine like a slut. You leaned in closer, your breath mingling with his, reveling in the power you held in that moment.

"Here, you can get a kiss, but it'll cost you extra," you laugh, pressing your open mouth to his. The kiss was sloppy, tongues intertwining with a fervor that made your head spin. His mouth was hot, and he tasted delectable—an unexpected blend of mint and cinnamon. You were melting into him. "Nghhh, sweet girl, let me touch you..." Nanami's voice was trembling, his restraint barely holding on. This was absolute torture for him; he wasn't used to being the one pampered.

"No," Your fingers hooked onto the belt loops of his khaki trousers, slowly tugging them down to reveal his throbbing cock, leaking precum. A frustrated moan caught in his throat as he waited for you to do something, anything.

His cock was pretty, more so than usual tonight. It was a darker shade of pink, thick and pulsing, with veins prominently visible at the base, likely from all the accumulated stress. Nanami hadn't cum in the past two weeks, so naturally, he was this pent up. His cock was so tempting, begging for attention.

As you wrapped your glossy lips around the tip, Nanami's hips jerked involuntarily, aching for more. The desire to thrust into the back of your throat and make a mess of your slutty makeup consumed him, but Nanami, being the gentleman he was, forced himself still. After all, he wouldn't want to harm his lovely wife, right?

But that's not what you wanted. You wanted Nanami to take out all his anger, all his stress, all his bad days on you. To defile you in a way he would a slut. That's who you were tonight, right? No longer his wife, but the whore he needed.

"Don't hold back, use me," you groaned against his cock, your mouth still wrapped sweetly around it. Drool dribbled down as you pleaded for him to let go. Getting Nanami to be rough was like asking to be struck by lightning—rare, but when it happened, it was electrifyingly intense.

"Such a dirty girl," without hesitation, Nanami began to buck his hips, driving his cock deep into your throat. Your mouth watered, saliva pooling at the base of his needy cock. He was so thick, making it a struggle not to gag. "Such a good whore for me," Tears welled up in your eyes, and your cheeks hollowed as you fought to keep up with his relentless pace.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…" He kept repeating, babbling at this point as he used your mouth. He was drunk on pleasure, feeling the plush, wet insides of your mouth and the back of your throat. The sensation was overpowering for him, and you could see it in the way his body shuddered and groans flying from his mouth. It felt so good watching him writhe in ecstasy, completely lost in the moment. His hands gripped your hair tighter, guiding you as he continued to lose himself in you. The sight of him so vulnerable only fueled your urge to push him further into this blissful state.

You began to hum as he thrust into you, the vibrations around his length driving him insane. He let out the most beautiful grunt, a sound that sent jolts straight to your dripping cunt. You could tell he was close; his movements were becoming erratic and more forceful, causing you to gag and choke each time he hit the back of your throat. Perfect. He needed this release, and so did you. The anticipation had been building for weeks, and now you were desperate to taste him, to feel that connection you had been craving.

"Sweetheart, I can't," he breathed out, his legs stiffening and back arching slightly, plunging him deeper into your throat. His tip was bruising your throat by now, but you didn't care. You needed to see your husband come undone. Using a free hand to grip the base of his length, you began to pump up and down in rhythm with his thrusts. You were going to send him into a spiral, make him regret not being more selfish these last two weeks, make him wish he'd never taken that overtime at the stupid office.

"Gonna come," he winced, the words dragging out as his handsome face contorted in pleasure. Nanami's grip tightened on the back of your head, thrusting his length into your throat with desperation. You could definitely feel the bruises forming, but the feeling only heightened the moment. His hot, salty cum erupted into your throat, filling your mouth and leaving you with barely any time to savor its taste. The sheer force of his release made your eyes water and throat flex, but you reveled in the raw, filthiness. As he pulled back, you licked your lips, catching the last remnants of him, a satisfied smirk playing on your face.

His mouth agape, cheeks flushed, and eyes completely spent as he was panting to catch his breath. You completely wrecked him. "God, you're...incredible," he managed to say between shallow breaths, still reeling from his orgasm. The sight of him so messy only made you want to see him like this again and again. You could see the way his muscled chest heaved, each rise and fall a testament to the pleasure you had just given him. His hands, which had been gripping you with such fervor, now lay limp at his sides, fingers twitching slightly as if still remembering the feel of you.

As he slowly regained his composure, a lazy smile spread across his face. "I don't think I'll ever get enough of you," he whispered, his voice hoarse but filled with sincerity.

"Now, how much extra for another kiss?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

"It's on the house,"

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Breeding Habits of the Common Mothman

Kinktober Day 4: Oviposition

Mothman Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader

CW: Noncon, oviposition, stalking, kidnapping, non-human genitals, general yandere behavior, sweet delusional yandere

Word Count: 526

(This wasn't beta read and I kinda rushed, sorry for any mistakes and hope you enjoy it!)

On your back with your legs resting on his fuzzy shoulders. Large red eyes staring hungrily into your fearful ones. Pleasure started to overtake the initial panic as his cock plowed you with lewd squelching noises for the whole forest to hear.

How did you find yourself in this situation? 

You were a park ranger. Your duties centered around keeping the forest safe. Mostly, this meant picking up litter, monitoring wildlife, preventing poaching, and a lot of keeping drunk fools from hurting themselves or lighting the forest ablaze.

It also meant being spied on by the mothmen. One in particular became fascinated with you, their leader.

He found himself spending most of his days watching you care for the forest, tending to it so diligently, defending it, and the creatures it housed. Fascination turned into obsession. You felt like something was watching you but dismissed it. There were plenty of animals in the woods. 

The mothman began fantasizing more and more about you having a belly fully of his eggs. He could no longer control himself. His dreams had to be a reality!

He was positive you would respond positively to him. Who would not want to have a nice big mate to protect them? He could help you protect the forest so you would have time to rest and breed lots and lots!

And that's how you ended up whisked away, taken into the pocket dimension of the mothmen. 

You kicked and screamed, but he didn't let go. He trilled and cooed to calm you as best he could. His poor mate was scared. 

He sat you down in his hovel, a hut made of silk, moss, mud, and branches. You were still scared, so he showed you his huge cock. He was very proud of it. Surely, seeing his wonderfully large mating tool would show that he was not a threat and merely intended to breed with you! What mate wouldn't be excited to have such a nice cock inside of them?

It seemed to just frighten you more, though. Did you not know what it was for? He supposed it looked different from a human's. Much larger, slimy, tapered, and normally sheathed. Or maybe you had never mated before and were nervous.

Either way, it was okay. He would show his darling human what it was for. You tried resisting him, your hands pressing against the soft, thick fur covering his hard abs. 

The mothman definitely showed you what it was for.

He cooed and trilled and hummed, praising you for taking his cock so well. Your toes curled, and eyes rolled back into your head as he slowly bred you over and over and over. Each of his orgasms deposited more and more of his eggs deeply into you.

You were such a perfect incubator! A nice, warm place for his eggs to hatch. With your caring and protective nature regarding nature, he was sure you would make an amazing parent. 

You seemed to enjoy his cock so much he let you fall asleep while warming it for him. He nuzzled, cuddled, and willed you to have sweet dreams as you rested. 

[honeybubblebeeeeee]

Arranged marriage AU!Toji x Reader

Summary: Your son with toji, Megumi, said his first words today

CW: toji is cold and distant mostly hurt and no comfort mild fluff i guess??

Idk this was a random thought and now its here

REQUESTS OPEN!

Marriages were not always done out of love. Some were done out of necessity or desperation. Much like the one you were currently in. It was necessity of clans and land squabbles and power hungry old men that didn't care for the feelings of those around them - only getting what they want.

And in your case they got what they wanted. Did you get anything you wanted? Well kinda.

Being in an arranged marriage to Toji wasn't the worst thing to happen to you. It could be worse but it could also be much, much better.

You had known each other since you were children as it was planned from a young age that you two were to be married. You hadn't minded. Toji was attractive and you had a mini crush on him for the longest time but he always detested you. You knew of the numerous women he had slept with before your marriage, having run into them multiple times. It felt like he was trying to push you away, to force you to beg for an out but you both knew that wasn't happening.

You had only been married for a short time now almost two years. It had been mostly uneventful in the name of new marriages aside from - ya know - the whole baby you had. Toji and you were told to waste no time in trying to produce an heir and really that was the only Toji showed you any affection. Outside of those moments he was cold and inattentive. Those moments were only out of the necessity to reproduce anyway. He didn't interact with your son Megumi very much either.

You cleaned up the kitchen after dinner in your large but yet lonely house. Toji was still out. Work or something else you weren't sure. Megumi babbled and bounced as he watched you move around the kitchen from his highchair, music played in the background. You smiled at him as he babbled. "Hi 'Gumi." You waved at him smiling wide. He laughed giddly at your voice, his mop of black hair bouncing with his movements.

He was the happiest and the cutest baby you had ever seen. You were more than proud of yourself. It was only mildly hurtful that Megumi was identical to Toji. His dark hair, his facial structure screamed Toji. The only thing he had gotten from you was your eyes. They reflected back at you as you approached the bouncing baby putting him on your hip.

You danced along to he music, bouncing him around as he laughed and babbled.

You put him down on the floor as you turned off the music. He continued babbling to himself as he crawled around. "Dadadadadada"

You turned almost comically slow to look down at your son. "What?!" Your smile was wide and your face was full of surprise.

Megumi babbled on again almost coherently. "dadadadadada"

You were so in shock you could barely move. Picking him up and swiftly sitting him on the counter. "Gumi did you say dada?! Say it again! Say dada."

Megumi laughed and babbled at you. You repeated the word multiple times, he watched intently his mouth moving as if trying to copy you. More coherent this time. "Dada"

You smiled wide and clapped at him. "Good job Megumi!! Oh my we have to tell Dada don't we? Such a smart boy."

Within the same moment Toji burst through the front door. You looked up at him as he passed by the kitchen, not even taking off his shoes before going to stomp up the stairs. "Toji! Oh my gosh come here Megumi just-"

"Leave me alone." He marched up the stairs. You heard his footsteps through the house and his bedroom door slammed. You looked down at Megumi as his small hands held onto your shirt and he looked up at you with big eyes. "Dada." You smiled softly at him. "Yeah baby... dada." Looking towards the stairs as if seeing him stomp up to them all over again.

Hours went by and he never came back down. You texted him that his dinner was in the fridge, that you wanted to show him something, that you were here for him if he needed anything, that you were sorry he had a bad day and he never answered or even read a single message.

Since figuring out he could say 'dada' Megumi had not stopped repeating it. You knew it wasn't to annoy you but you couldn't help feel a pang of hurt every time he said it. Toji was rarely around. Why couldn't his first word be mama, the one who is always around?

It was Megumi's bed time but you really thought Toji hearing Megumi would lighten up his day a little. You sighed to yourself as you built lego towers with Megumi upstairs in his playroom. Here you were, still trying to be the wife but he really was making you into a stranger.

You bathed and dressed Megumi in his pjs and held him close as he looked up at you. "Should we go see if dada is busy Megumi?" His eyes widened at the word and continued his babbling mantra of it. You walked through the east half of the house where your room and Megumi's plus your own office, some extra rooms and Megumi's playroom were. Toji's side was the west wing. If you were actually husband and wife you would share the north wing, where the extravagant bedroom - apartment practically - sat bare and collected dust. You looked to the double doors at the end of the north hall with disappointment before making you way to the west end and stepping up to Toji's door.

You hesitated before knocking softly. Waiting a moment before looking down at Megumi and shrugging. "I don't know if he's awake bud." You thought for a moment before slowly pushing the door open and peering inside. The light were on so you entered even though you knew you shouldn't. Toji never let you in his room. You'd only be in here a handful of times and all those times were unpleasant.

You walked through the sitting area into the bedroom until you noticed the bathroom door shut. You shook your head, looking to Megumi, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "I think we will show dada tomorrow okay?" Megumi was unusually quiet, maybe being able to feel the tension that grew in your body. Turning swiftly you made for the door you came through but before you made it out of the bedroom the bathroom door opened.

"What are you doing in here?" Toji's voice was loud and cold. You turned to look at him. Water dripped from his wet hair, his body damp with steam. A towel hung loosely around his waist. "Did I say you could come in my room?" His eyes bore holes into you. The heat that rushed into your face gave away your fear.

You looked down to the son you both created, trying to look anywhere but at the way his muscled form rippled infront of you. It was easier to pretend you didn't find him attractive or care about him or have feelings for him when he wasn't right infront of you.

"Oh... sorry... I just..."

He eyed you, how you stayed focus on Megumi. The small boy holding onto your free hand. "What happened? Is Megumi ok?" His expression changed as he approached the two of you. His voice still cold and annoyed but a hint of concern hid underneath it all.

Your head snapped to him. Eyeing him closely for a reaction. "Nothing I just... he said his first word today. I thought it might cheer you up to hear it if I can get him to say it again."

His features softened ever so slightly. "His first word?" Toji tilted his head in thought. "What was it?" You couldn't help but notice the small amount of excitement in his voice.

Megumi bounced in your arms at Toji's voice, babbling along as if trying to figure out how to say it all over again. I smiled at Toji and then back down at Megumi. I pointed at Toji. "Who's that Gumi? Hmm? Say dada! Say it again baby show dada."

Megumi babbled and pointed towards Toji for a few moments before sounding out dada once again.

Toji's face immediately brightened. "What?! Dada??" He chuckled deeply, one that sounded genuine and it shook something in you. "He actually said it. Good boy Megumi." Toji stepped up to you and the baby as he spoke. Brushing Megumi's heap of hair back.

You kissed to side of Megumi's head as he bounced on your hip. "He hasn't even said mama yet." You chuckled softly but the tinge of hurt was in your voice. "Anyway that was all I wanted to tell you. Sorry for coming in your room, I know I'm not supposed to."

He shook his head. "it's okay." He assured as he watched Megumi babble and squirm in your grip. He was overtired for sure. Toji seemed to be a different person than the one you had come accustomed. His permanent scowl was gone and he looked almost happy. "Can I hold him?"

His question shocked you. Eyes widening but you handed him over.

Toji softly cradled him, rocking him back and forth as he whispered to him. Megumi didn't cry or fuss, even his overtired babbling stopped. Slowly his eyes got heavy and closed. You watched intently as Toji interacted with your son. If it could be like this all the time.

"He really does have my hair. He's got your eyes too." Toji commented quietly while admiring his son. His eyes flicked up to yours for a moment.

I smiled at him. "Yeah... he does..."

Toji chuckled softly. "He really does look like me. It's kinda scary."

You laughed a little more sincerely than you intended. "He does, has your personality too."

Toji chuckled low. "Yeah, he's cold and distant just like me?"

Your smile dropped, panic set in at his words. "Oh n-no I didn't mean it like that..."

Toji shook his head and looked up at you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips at your panicked expression. "I was joking, I know what you meant." He assured as he watched the sleeping Megumi in his arms.

You let go of a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. "oh right."

Toji whole aura seemed to relax when he held Megumi. You wished he could be around all the time. That he could be the father figure Megumi needed. That he could be the husband you wanted. To come home after a long day, and sit together. To be able to go to him when you needed a hug or reassurance or just wanted to feel loved. Your eyes focused as you realized that Toji was watching you deep in thought. Shaking your head you held out your arms. "I can take him now if you want. I don't want to bother you."

He held onto Megumi for a moment, seeming almost reluctant before handing him over to you. You smiled and nodded at him, turning to leave. He called out to you as you reached the door. "Wait, Y/N-"

You turned to look at him. "What's up?"

He opened his mouth to say something but closed it slowly. "Never mind sorry. Goodnight."

You eyed him for a moment before reluctantly turning away. "Alright... goodnight."

He couldn't bring himself to tell you the things he wanted to say. He couldn't find the words. How does he make up for the suffering you already endured? You had always so easily melted his cold dead heart, so he kept you at a distance but you had been so close. He already felt it melting.

[anantaru]

hii <3 do you think that dr ratio or argenti would be into eating you out? like argenti just being so sweet abt it, he’s such a cutiee. and dr ratio doing it like he claims you or smth. idkk they could be anything but i’m interested if these two boys would be into thatt. ( ps your writing is so good… i love it sm 🙏🏻🙏🏻🫶🏻)

including. dr ratio, argenti

cw. oral (fem! receiving), petnames used: doll, angel, fem! reader

— ꒰ VERITAS RATIO ꒱ + rough & sloppy

veritas cannot lie to himself but he finds it adorable how you cannot mutter out a single word right now, and the only thing you were still capable of doing was holding your thighs apart so he could fit his head in between and fill your tummy with consistent pleasure.

"you don't want to show me how you feel, doll?" he utters in that unbearably arrogant tone he adored to use on you whenever he proved you wrong as you shake your head, your sticky cream coating his chin, "hmm... well, i'll just force it out of you then, don't you think that's fair?" a refined mewl spills from you when he licks at your folds again, never breaking the eye contact and not caring if you'd end up making a mess of his entire face with your sweet liquids.

and the way his tongue vibrates on your pussy was turning you head over heels for the man, the coarse laps of his tongue full of affection that your toes curl at each lick, and he only gets rougher with proactive drags of his tongue rolling over your hole and collecting everything you give him.

by now, your core has been drenched by a mixture of your slick and his spit, and your legs shake when he kneads the skin on your thighs as to simultaneously comfort you and hold you deep against his greedy face.

one more, just to taste you once more, and you're finally showing him what he does to you, your labored breathing exhaling with the rapid thumping of your heart as your thighs clench around him to ride his face, his enthralling eyes looking more graceful and dark with no mercy reflecting off of them.

you lift yourself onto your elbows to get a better view of the mess on your lower area, watching him closely as the sensation of his mouth made you lose your mind.

your fingers move swift as to reach down and twist into his soft hair, holding him tightly into your cunt when he flips his tongue left and right, his breath hitting your pussy with every exhale— your folds were just so hot, so wet, and squishy that he needs to suckle on them before filling you with his cum later.

— ꒰ ARGENTI ꒱ + attentive & fast

oh, you sure as hell are starting to see stars when argenti suckles on your folds, with his nose dragging into your cunt the more he forces his head in between your thighs— but you're unable to meet his gaze and it saddens him, despite the fact that it felt so deliciously good, doesn't it?

"argenti.." you moan his name just above a whisper of your labored breathing, your lower lip trembling at how dirty it felt to have him lap around your cunt like a mad man, his hands continuously feeling you up when you arch your back into his mouth.

"yes, angel?" his eyes flicker up with lust, "enjoying yourself for me?"

argenti receives no response, at least not a verbal one, instead you hum dazedly as your eyes flutter shut when his nose rolls between the flesh that protected the little pearl on your cunt, your swollen pussy aching to feel more of the friction it so desperately desires.

"such a good girl," he groans into your pussy, lowering one hand from your thigh to your hole as he gently pushes into it before curling deep to scissor your cunt. fuck, argenti simply cannot tear his eyes off you.

you're just so impossibly perfect to him, and he treats you like an ancient treasure whenever he received the gift of going down on you.

you repeatedly whisper his name imbedded in praises as you left it to your crumbling voice to find his ears— and argenti wasn't sure on who, out of the two of you, would break under the pressure first.

because listen closely now, your pussy was like none he has ever tasted before and he hopes you know it by the way he circles the tip of his pink muscle so precisely into you.

you turned him achingly hard, his tongue pressing upwards and back only to lap slightly faster, ugh, he swears that every time you chant his name or tremble your legs around his head he can feel his cock throb in his pants, pushing harder and harder against his boxers.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[bunny-jpeg]

kink-o-ween - day seven

lando norris - lingerie

cw: smut/pwp, body worship, dirty talk, missionary, established relationship

kink-o-ween: formula one edition - call of duty edition

you never thought that orange was your colour. in fairness maybe a softer orange or a burnt orange would suit your body better. but mclaren knew very little about nice colours, the glaring orange they use was great on the track. but terrible on your body.

after his most recent win, you wanted to impress your boyfriend of the last several months. he worked so hard to get where he was, so close to the championship that he could almost taste the champagne of victory! and it was your job to make sure that morale was high for him, so he could see his victory to the end.

and sometimes that meant wearing the garish mclaren orange.

you wore the lingerie all day on the track. you were thankful that the clothes you wore over top were made of a thick enough material to hide any showing of what was underneath. no one needed to see your orange panties. but, that did mean you were fanning yourself more often due to the heat.

damn if you do, damn if you don't.

however, you were the most happy about the fact that despite the colour. the set was rather comfortable. the bra had enough support that it didn't dig into your sides and the panties were made of a lacy material that didn't scratch at weird places. and most of all you were happy to see lando score his victory.

he was all smiles as you two headed back to the hotel room for the night. you were practically guiding him to your room. he was attached to you like barnacle. his arms wrapped around you, you were wearing his mclaren hat.

he was even getting a good feel of you which made you squirm a little as you tried to get the key into the door. once it was opened you managed to get enough distance from him to get your shoes off. he followed suit, he knew you wouldn't let him get his dirty runners into your shared bed. he was running off the high of the weekend. he wanted to dig his hands into his beautiful girlfriend and give her all the loving he could.

he was eager to get his black t-shirt off and strip down to nothing. but he got curious when you got closer to the bedroom and hadn't taken a single thing off (other than your shoes). and once you got into the bedroom, you sat on the bed while lando stood there partially undressed.

"is everything okay?" he asked.

you nodded, "oh yeah, of course! i just had a surprise for you. and i didn't want to ruin it in the living room." you giggled, "come sit and i'll show you."

lando, eager to please, sat down and got his belt out of the loops of his jeans. he watched you get up before you reached for the hem of your t-shirt. you paused for a moment and lando leaned forward.

"god, this is going to be embaressing. you better not think it's tacky."

lando chuckled, "babe, you could wear leopard print and tiger print at the same time and i wouldn't think it was tacky. c'mon, show me." his voice gave you enough confidence to fully get your t-shirt off. revealing the bright orange bra underneath. lando's eyes went wide and he said, "oh, wow!"

you dropped the shirt and crossed your arms, "ugh, this is stupid."

"no, no! i love it. is that my number right there." he leaned a little forward and pulled your arms away from your chest. as an added detail you put on it you sewed lando's number over the left cup of the bra. he beamed at you, "oh, this is beautiful." then took you by the arms and pulled you onto the bed.

he was soon over top of you, his hands on you as he kissed you passionately. he continued to give you praise for your undergarments. you were such a thoughtful girlfriend. you were perfect for him and he loved you so much. he soon got out of his clothes rather quickly, but admired the lingerie on you for a little while longer.

he touched your breasts, he grabbed hold and felt the fabric and you soft skin under his palms. his cock was hard as he admired your beauty. and you couldn't help but feel hot in the cheeks as you laid there under him.

"you look good in this colour."

"i don't know if you'd be saying that if you weren't driving for mclaren." you replied then lando leaned in a kissed you on the lips. you felt him start to undo your bra and you did your best to get the panties off. he wished that you couldn't left them on the entire time you had sex. but, the only think better than you in mclaren orange was you naked.

"as long as you had my number on you, i'd be happy. you could be in a potato sack with the number four, and i'd still make love to you." he chuckled as he got the bra off. then slowly got the panties off.

once you were naked, lando started to undress himself, your eyes lingered on his toned body and you leaned in to kiss him over the heart which made him shudder a little bit. you giggled against his heated skin.

"maybe next time i should make you wear something with my name on it." then kissed his collarbone.

he worked at his jeans and laughed a little, "i'll happily do that." before he kicked off his pants and eventually his boxers. now both naked you two were together in the bed.

you moaned into the kiss he placed on your lips and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. you rubbed yourself up against him. lando's hands roamed your body.

when he pulled away from the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours. he smiled at you, "you're beautiful. so beautiful. i can't believe you were wearing that all day today. i wished you showed me, i would've happily take it off at the track."

"oh my god, you perv." you giggled as you raked your fingers through his dark hair, "you'd happily have me over your car if given the chance."

he pulled away and beamed at you, "will you." and was met with a slap on the chest. he laughed, "i'm joking!" before he took you by the hips and brought you closer to him. he eyed your body for a moment and licked his lips, "plus, i'd hate for anyone else to see all this beautiful. call me selfish, but i want this all to myself." his cock twitched at the sight of you.

"good then, because you have it. every last inch, from top to bottom." and you watched lando smile before he leaned in once more for a heated kiss. you held onto his shoulders while he got a better hold of your hips.

when he pulled away, he got himself properly in between your legs. then slowly inched his cock into your pussy. you held onto the covers under you as he got himself into you. you made a soft moaning noise and he felt excitement run through him.

*

you were perfect, so perfect that you got lingerie for him. based off of his number and team colours. you looked amazing in it and he wished you'd wear it more. to know that you were wearing his colours. he leaned in for another kiss as he started to move against you. he pressed his chest up against yours. his lips found yours and held onto your soft hips.

"i love you." he said when he broke the kiss for a moment. he groaned a little before he went in for another kiss. he deepened it and he felt his heart rate increase.

you moaned against his lips, you said you loved him too in your mind as you soon held onto his shoulders. you felt lando move against you, and his hungry gaze on you as the two of you fucked on the bed.

you two made a good pair, most people would say that. especially when you greeted lando when he won and when he'd hold you so tightly after a race. you were his good luck charm and always pushed himself past his limits on the track when he knew you were watching. he didn't believe that was a 'number one fan' of his, but if there was, you'd have that title.

"i love you." he said again as he moved faster against you. he watched your breasts move with each of his movements. your hands were back on the covers and he could see you panting.

there was a bit of sweat on your bodies as the two of you moved together. you quickly found lando's pace and met it. which only made the two of you hotter. the added pleasure seeped into your brains as the bed creaked under you.

"you are the most beautiful woman in the world. when we're done i'm going to kiss every part of you. you need to know how beautiful you are. how you look under me. you drive me crazy every day, i can't do a day without seeing you or a photo of you. but no photo does it justice." he groaned as he pulled back and re positioned himself on his knees to get the perfect angle to fuck you.

"you're making me blush." you giggled as you tried to hide your face for a moment, but lando soon pressed your hands onto the bed and continued to thrust into you.

"don't hide from me. you're too beautiful to hide yourself. i want to see every inch of you." he panted a little heavier as he really moved against you. his thrusts were hard and made you see stars.

"lando!" you whined.

he looked at you as he really worked himself against you. his tanned and toned body really moved well against you. he could feel his brain full of lust as he started to lose his pace, pleasure fully taking over.

you held onto his hands tightly as you really felt the thrill of pleasure in your body. you held on tightly as you came around his cock, the pleasure washed over you like a wave and it left you panting like an animal. you could feel the sweat at your temples as it all came crashing down on you.

"lando."

"i got you, beautiful." he chuckled softly as he kissed the apple of your cheek before he continued to rut against you. the kisses continued once more and with a few more heavy thrusts, your boyfriend finished inside of you.

you whined against him and felt a shudder of want through his body. he continued to rut against you a few more times before he eventually slowed down to a stop.

he was panting heavily and so were you. he pulled out and laid next to you on the bed. he wrapped you up in his arms and kissed you on the mouth. he melted a little bit into a kiss as he felt the after waves of pleasure.

"can you put the lingerie back on? i want to see it on you again, maybe take some photos." he beamed at you lazily. you pinched his cheeks and kissed him once more.

you'd do it for him, after all you paid good morning for it! <3

[reidrum]

the many names | s.r

a/n: i could not get the idea that spencer would have little explanations for all the names he has for you so i give you this enjoy

summary: in which the many names that spencer calls you each have a special meaning

cw: mind rotting fluff

wc: 1.1k

honey:

spencer’s childhood was anything but ordinary. graduating high school at 12, with a schizophrenic mother, and an absentee father is a combo meant to mess anyone up. the one thing he felt was constant were the sitcoms his mother would watch when she had her good days. shows like i love lucy and cheers filled his ears as he watched the picture perfect families navigate through mundane and seemingly normal scenarios. the comfort he found in these televised families, something he wasn’t afforded in his own, was a nice little bandaid on the gaping hole left by the oddities of his life.

until he met you, of course. you changed everything for him, showed him what it meant to be loved and cherished, what family really was outside of the textbook definition. as a young boy he’d always envied ricky ricardo coming home to lucy at the end of every work day, bursting through the door and saying “honey, i’m home!” the phrase itself encompassed what he so dearly longed for; a home.

so when spencer calls you honey, he means it because you’re sweet and sappy and all the things normally associated with honey. but for him, specifically, when he gets to come back from harsh cases, bursting through the door of your shared apartment yelling “honey, i’m home!”, it heals that gaping hole from his childhood little by little, replacing the wound with the home you’ve built together.

sweetheart:

for someone who absolutely loves sweet things, calling you sweetheart was an obvious title in his book. the way you cared so deeply for the people in your life, the people you didn’t know, even those involved in heinous crimes were offered some of your never ending empathy. it inspired him, to know that someone who sees the true horrors of humankind on the daily can still hold hope and love for the world’s inhabitants.

when spencer calls you sweetheart, it’s in the more domestic moments of your lives. when he asks which tea you want, when he can tell it’s been a rough day and he lets you rest in the comfort of his arms saying “it’s okay, sweetheart. i’m here now.”, when he leaves you long and loving voicemails for when you’re not able to go on cases together. spencer’s sweet tooth could probably never be satiated, but if it keeps you around forever he has no problem with that.

angel:

calling you angel is still something he finds a little ironic. he’s an agnostic atheist, has no faith in the gods or whatever power that may be. he’d always say if you couldn’t find it in a textbook then it’s not a real thing. but here you were, defying literally everything he ever knew or thought he knew. spencer thinks that if angels were personified they would surely look like you.

his job has so many moments that put him in near death situations, he’s not proud of how many times he’s felt the pearly gates come for him. but every time he was close to that end, flashes of you would roll through his mind like a movie reel and it would tether him back to this realm.

add to that, you just always happened to be there when he needed you. if he was about to drop a cup of coffee you’d be there grab it, you had his back when you were on the field together, and you’d let him talk your ear off about the most obscure topic just to see him smile.

if proof existed for the theoretical, it would be you. you were his guardian angel, and he never let you forget it.

princess:

this one was rare, only invoked in the super intimate and special moments between you both. usually in the bedroom is where you hear this one used in both sides of the extreme. on one side he says it when you’re being just so needy, so pliant and willing for whatever he wants it just makes him want to give you everything in return. on the other side, when you’re being for lack of a better word, a brat, it’s used as a tease, a taunt for your slutty bad behavior. a reminder that even though you’re spoiled by him he’s still going to give you the world.

it’s also used when you both get dressed up, for an fbi event or a party at rossi’s. it always takes the wind out of him when he sees you getting ready or you come out to show your outfit to him. it makes him feel like falling in love with you again every time, like he’s been so blessed to live a fairytale where he prevails and gets the princess at the end.

baby:

calling you baby is quite literally second nature to spencer, probably the easiest thing for him to do. it slips out all the time people might think baby is your real name. he uses it when he asks what you want for dinner, when you’re upset over something he did at work that put him in danger, when he just really wants you to watch this one russian romance film he finally got his hands on and promises you’ll love it.

you also find it really funny to play songs that you know he doesn’t know that have the word baby in it, because even if he doesn’t know the words to always be my baby to mariah carey, it never stops him from giving you the biggest smile in the universe when he listens to you belt the song to him.

pretty girl:

he didn’t even come up with this one, derek did. stemming from his nickname for spencer, when derek realized that there was something between you and pretty boy, it just became so easy to get under his skin and call you pretty girl, telling him “don’t look now, your pretty girl is coming.”. before you had started dating and spencer was just pining from afar, he would get so red in the face when derek would let the name slip.

after he finally grew some balls and asked you out, spencer adopted the name for himself to use in situations he had you alone, where he could admire you in your entirety and no other prying eyes. to use when you just wake up and the sunlight hits you perfectly like a glowing halo, or when you’re both in the office and you’re explaining something relevant to the case and you just sound so smart and beautiful, and he can’t help but truly believe that the aphrodite reincarnate is his.

[latenightdaydreams]

Crazy thought… but konig with a shy fem ready that’s insecure about their coochie 🫠 I got too much cooch for those cute Victoria secret panties bruh 😭 phat coochie a man we have the meats

From on phatty to an other, I understand😏

König x Shy!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, insecure, phat pussy, oral

1.3k word count

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You’ve been with König for five months now and things have recently gotten sexual between the two of you. His body is perfect, his cock is huge, and the sex is perfect. The only thing is you don’t let him finger you, eat you out, or see you without pants with the lights on. Your pussy is thick, fat, puffy…it’s big. You’ve always had trouble finding cute panties that could fit and have always been embarrassed by the mound they make in leggings and other tight pants.

You’re too embarrassed to tell König why you don’t want him to touch you or see you. He is of course upset; he loves you and your body. He wants to touch your clit and eat you out, finger you, but you won’t let him. So, he has a plan to get you to let him.

Since he has a key to your apartment, he got there before you got home and set up a romantic date night for the both of you. He spread rose petals from the front door to the bathroom. Inside the bathroom he has candles set up along the counter and around the edges of the bathtub. He found your favorite scent in a bubble bath as well as finding soft and pillowy his and hers robe set for you both.

He sees on your phone’s location that you’re almost home so he rushes into the bedroom and takes off his shirt and pulls off his pants. He looks at himself in the mirror and checks himself out, making sure he looks good for you. Leaving the bedroom, he goes to the kitchen and fills two glasses with wine. He waits by the door for you to come in.

You open the door to see König standing there with a big smile and wine in his hands. Your eyes travel over his body, appreciating his form. Closing the door behind you, you kick your shoes off and walk closer to him.

“What’s the special occasion?” You ask with a giggle in your voice.

König hands you one of the glasses and leans down to kiss you. His pale blue eyes looking at your sweet face.

“I wanted to have a special evening with you, Liebling.” He reaches out for your hand and walks with you, following the trail of red rose petals.

You follow them to your bathroom, a warm bubble bath and candles all around the room. You couldn’t help but to smile and feel all warm and bubbly on the inside, no one has ever done something like this for you before. No one has gone out of their way to make you feel special.

“This is beautiful König…” You walk in and sip some wine.

“Also,” he closes the door to show you the robes hanging behind the door. “They actually had my size.” König says with a big smile.

“You did such a good job babe!” You wrap one arm around König and hug him.

“Let's undress Liebling.” He takes the glass from your hand and puts it on the sink counter.

You begin to peel off your top and König’s eyes drop down to your breast. He watches closely as you pull your bra off next, he can’t help but to smile. You begin to pull down your jeans, but you turn away from König. He frowns watching you do this.

“Liebling, don’t hide from me,” He walks up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder.

“You know I’m shy.”

“But why? Can you help me understand? It felt… normal on my cock, so what is the issue?”

“There’s nothing ‘wrong’ with it, just…aesthetically isn’t pretty.”

König looks visibly confused and moves back. He turns your body to face him, his eyes drop to your breasts before looking up to your eyes.

“I’ll love your body no matter what.”

You shrug and look away, feeling embarrassed.

“Please let me decide how I feel about your body.” His hands cup your face and bring your gaze up to meet his.

His eyes look so sweet and genuine. You take a deep breath and then nod your head. König smiles and kisses you.

“Ja?

“Yeah…”

König steps back and lets you finish undressing. He watches with anticipation and you pull your pants down and expose your purple cotton panties. His eyes glued to the mound underneath the fabric. You take a deep breath and then fully pull your panties down. My god. You’re absolutely beautiful. König’s boner is rock hard and undeniable under his boxer. He reaches for his waist band and pulls them down.

You stand slightly embarrassed as he looks at you, his face full of lust. He walks towards you and puts your hand in his, pulling him towards you. His arms wrapping around you.

“Are you ready to get in, Meine Liebling?”

You nod and smile up at him. Both of you are walking towards the tub. He gets in first and makes room for you on his lap. You step in and König watches as your legs part to see your beautiful labia and he just thinks about burying his face in that soft looking pussy.

You rest your body back on his and he wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly against him. You rest your head back on his chest and allow yourself to melt into him. His hands move up and begin caressing your breast and playing with your nipples. His hard cock is pressed up against your rear.

.

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Once you both step out of the bath, he grabs your robe and wraps it around you, your eyes glued to the way his cock bounced as he walks. He wraps his around himself as well, grabbing the wine glasses and hanging you yours. He watches you take a sip as he takes one himself.

Grabbing your hand, he leads you out of the bathroom and to the bedroom. “Lay down.” His voice is low and sensual.

You do as he says and lay down in bed. He walks over to you and slowly unties your robe, exposing your soft body to him. Instinctively you reach down to your pussy and place a hand to cover it.

König gently moved your hand out of the way, “I think it’s about time I teach you to love this beautiful pussy Schatz.”

“But it’s so fat.” You say with a nervous giggle.

“That’s what makes it so yummy. It’s thick and juicy…just perfect.”

He grabs your legs and moves them over his shoulders as he gets on his knees in front of you. You look down and feel bashful as you see his eyes stuck on your cunt. He begins to kiss the chubby mount of your pussy before kissing down. You started to let out tiny sounds of pleasure and it excited him.

The feeling of your soft pillowy pussy on his face is godly. He presses his face into it and takes a deep breath but sliding his tongue up your folds. It’s a shame that you’ve hidden such a precious part of you from him for so long. He is instantly obsessed with your smell, taste, and look. He pulls back to look at it, pulling apart your folds to see your tight little entrance that stretches so perfectly to take his cock. Fuck.

“Such a beautiful fucking pussy.” He says quietly as he moves one hand to the top and squeezes the soft fat mound.

König leans in and begins to kiss you before lapping like a thirsty dog at your cunt. Your body trembles as you look down at him, your chubby lips surrounding his lips as his eyes are closed just enjoying you.

“Oh god König, too much.” You try to wiggle away but König just grabs your arms tighter and pulls your legs back, bringing your ass into the air as he shakes his face back and forth, coving himself in your slick arousal.

König has missed out on months of giving you the attention you need and deserve, he will be here all night.

[onlinedolly]

think about dad!Toji fucking us in front of his buddies from work he has over + piss and degradation kink☺️

this is exactly what i needed my lovebug

cw: incest, piss, p in v, slight degradation, dubcon elements, exhibitionism

your father had little shame, especially when it came to you, when it came to how affectionate he was with you. he found solace with you nuzzled into his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as he mumbled with some work friends. they were shady, all dark clothes and scary faces and it made you curl into your father more.

“you scared baby?” he hums into your ear, working his hand up your thigh, “ain’t nothing to be scared of.” you mumble something incoherent into his shoulder and you notice how the room is suddenly deadly quiet, different from the laughter and coarse conversation a few moments earlier. you can feel their eyes on you, staring daggers as toji leans forward and places a kiss against your collarbone. “can’t hear ya, speak up child.” he scolds you lifting your head out of his shoulder.

“…..said i’m not scared, papa.” you squeak out.

“sure ya ain’t!” a friend bellow out in laughter, “you sure she’s your kid fushiguro? she’s so shy so….. pretty.” toji laughs along, moving your hair away from your neck as he peppers kisses along the hollow.

“ain’t she? pretty alllll over,” his hand is close to your upper middle thigh, toying itself under the hem of your skirt as you flush. “i was just telling the guys—“ he stops for a moment to place a kiss back behind your ear, “— just how pretty all over you were, think we should show them?”

oh. oh. that’s why they were so quiet, they were all expecting something, expecting you. they all stared you down, a hungry pack of wolves ready to devour as toji moved you around in his lap until your back hit his broad chest. you were used to your fathers desires by now, even looking forward to them when he crawled into your bed at night. but this? this was too much. your face was red hot as you protested, trying to push your body away from his, but tojis grip was too tight.

“be still and be good.” he demanded out, moving his arms around your waist to lift your top up. you were shaking in fear, the eyes of his friends hooded and dark as they watched toji lift your shirt high enough to make your tits pop out. you were wearing a bra, the coldness of the air making your nipples pebble as you shake like a scared dog.

“your nipples are hard.” toji states the obvious, nipping at your ear, “you must like this, nasty girl.” no. no that wasn’t true, it couldn’t be, yet you felt the wet leaking out of you onto your panties while you thought about how fucked this was. toji wasted no time in lifting his big hands up, tweaking the nipples between his fingers hard. you yelped, raising your hands up to place over his big ones but that didn’t stop the way he twisted them, rolled them between his fingers, and pressed him thumb down into them.

you were panting at this point, tears flowing from your eyes as you watched a couple of his friends palm themselves through their slacks. “papa i don’t—“

“shut the fuck up.” he bites out, focused in on pulling at your puffy nipples. you sobbed and whined underneath him, kicking your feet in an attempt to escape. “keep being a brat and this will really not be fun for you, am i clear?” he says sternly, like a father scolding their kid for making a mistake.

you were overwhelmed and embarrassed, and ontop of that toji’d been feeding you water all night making you feel a familiar pit in your stomach. “papa please—“ you whine out, “think i have to pee.”

“hold it. i’m not done.” he grunts out, moving to lift your skirt up and reveal a pretty set of lace panties. you hear a couple of his work friends groan, you watch as they lean in closer to get a better look at the way your puffy cunt spills out the side of you underwear, how the dark wet spot grows with each glance, and you’d never felt so much shame.

when he moves your panties to the side, revealing your cunt, you hear the belt buckles begin to unbuckle, pants unzip, as you watch most of them pull their cocks out hurriedly. you felt like a piece of meat on display and it made you involuntarily buck your hips.

“now you wanna play, huh?” your father coos out, running his finger up your slick, “all it took was seein’ a couple cocks and now you’re beggin like a whore, hm?” he wraps his other hand around your neck, squeezing it lightly as he begins fast pace, mean circles around your clit.

“papa no no no.” you beg out, tears spilling down your cheeks as you hear the skin-on-skin of a couple men touching themselves. “told you—“ you attempt to take a big gasp of air before coughing, “gotta pee.”

“and i told you to wait.” toji says, before looking at his group of friends, “wanna see my fuck her?” he asks crudely and it makes you whine out. his friends whoop and cheer in agreement as he’s standing up pushing you back first against the table. “put on a good show, alright?” he snickers, pulling his pants down.

tojis cock springs out, mean and large and he wastes no time working himself into you. you’re panicking at this point, the pressure inside your stomach bound to snap at any time as toji begins a brutal pace. it’s almost like he’s trying to make you piss yourself, with the way he smirks as he abuses your g spot, to the way he leans down and places a fist against your tummy. you were already embarrassed enough being fucked in front of his friends like this, but to piss yourself? you’d never live that down, he’d never let you either.

“papa wait—“ your sentence breaks with a large moan as he rams himself into your g-spot, smiling evilly as his friends around him are groaning, jerking themselves off in the pace in which he’s fucking you.

“did i not say shut the fuck up? be quiet and—“ he rams himself into you again, pressing his full weight down onto your tummy “—take it.”

this was too much, way too much, and you sobbed as you felt the pressure inside of you finally snap. “i’m so—“ you hiccup out a sob as you piss around his cock, so ashamed and embarrassed, “—sorry papa. so sorry.” you whine our apology after apology as toji just fucks you harder as piss leaks around the base of his cock with each thrust.

“you’re fucking disgusting.” your father moans out, thrusting so hard the table is scooting across the floor, the men around you fuck themselves faster as you piss around tojis cock, one groaning out so loud you were scared the neighbors heard. “did i not tell you to hold it? are you that fucking stupid?”

for a man who’s disgusted he’s fucking you like a beast, hard ruthless thrusts as he pushes your legs into your body. he’s close to cumming, you can tell by now in the way his legs shake as his movement gets sloppier and sloppier. eventually he does, along with the rest of his friends. him, deep inside you, while his friends could only wish. you cum when he does, trained like a good little thing, walks spasming, milking him dry.

when toji pulls out of you and scoffs, “you made a big fuckin mess, darlin’”

[arvlelt]

pretty mechanic.

pairing - vi x fem!reader

cw - reader's attractiveness makes vi nervy, reader is a smarty pants duh, for the sake of the plot vi doesn’t like cait, fluff, teasing, etc. lmk if i missed anything.

request - For Vi, something with a fem reader, who she meets through Ekko. Reader is apart of the Firelights, a mechanic or a healer, and she's getting parts and Vi just spots her rummaging through old stuff that she's intent on using to fix a hover board, and gets all tongue tied because she was expecting some scrawny pack rat kid, not a pretty woman

w.count - 1.1k+

a/n - kinda short did w what i could, also it's not letting me tag the person that requested this so if you see this, this ones for you gang<3 not proofread

"this better not be a waste of our time," grumbled a pretty grumpy violet who was following ekko with caitlyn not too far behind.

they were on their way to maybe find some clues about powder before ekko insisted that they make a pit stop to fix his board.

ekko scoffed, "if you want my help, i'm going to need my board. which needs fixing. so i need to go to our mechanic, genius."

vi smirked, "what, you can't fix it yourself, big guy? need a lil 'ol mechanic to fix it?" her tone was teasing as ekko didn't reply.

vi thought that was the end of that and that her point was proven right at his silence.

so you could imagine her shock when she see's not a scrawny little nerd, but in fact a very pretty and fit woman.

vi felt her cheeks warming up as she eyed the woman bent over, rummaging through boxes of whatever you were looking for, vi wasn’t as fixated on that — and more on the woman in her eye frame.

she couldn’t help her wandering eyes as they examined your curves, taking in all of your body that she didn’t even seem to notice ekko and caitlyn watching her watch you.

she took in your complete outfit, short shorts that showed just enough but not a lot of your ass, fishnets underneath with a few layered t-shirts you had laying around that made you look so good.

vi seemed to sense a presence behind her she turned around with a slightly flustered expression, “who, uhm— who’s that?” she whispered. ekko couldn’t stop the shit eating grin from forming on his face.

you seemed to hear the commotion as you looked over your shoulder for a quick sec, not giving much attention to the newcomers, before going back to your little invention you were working on.

“what happened now, ekko?” he could hear the desperation in your voice as ekko had quite a habit of damaging his board after coming back from raids, which would make you pause whatever you were working on.

ekko moved past vi, caitlyn straying behind him, and walked into your work space, taking a comfortable seat on your desk next to you, "this is our mechanic, y/n! she can typically fix anything aaanddd, she's a huge help around here."

you scoffed at his praise, wiping the sweat off your brow as you turned around and vi fully saw your face.

she swore she could've fallen on her knees right then and there. you were down right gorgeous. and not just that, you for sure had to have brains. it certainly doesn't take the average person to know what they're doing with being a mechanic and fixing equipment.

vi couldn't help the words spilling out her mouth, as she suddenly felt flustered, "she's your mechanic?" sounding a little more loud than she intended to.

caitlyn was quite amused, not quite used to seeing big bad vi so tongue-tied over someone. and it's not like she could blame her.

you tried not to take offense to her little comment but your face betrayed you as you responded, "and what's that supposed to mean?" you had a bit of an attitude as you reached over and grabbed a rag, cleaning your hands of the grease.

vi could understand why, it's not like everyone in the undercity was as accepting of women doing 'man jobs'.

she winced at how she might've sounded, hands coming up in defense and immediately was fumbling over her words, "that's- that's not what i was implying-! you're.. you're just so.." she trailed off, suddenly feeling awkward under your gaze. you were looking at her with a raised brow, waiting for her to finish.

well it's not like she was implying a bad thing, you were just so pretty. and she could never imagine a pretty dainty thing like you getting your hands dirty, and honestly, she found it so hot.

"i'm soo..?"

oh vi was gonna piss herself at the tone of your voice.

ekko cleared his throat in attempt to save vi, "anways! we're here because i once again busted my board. you guessed it. so if you would be so kind," you scoffed and let go of whatever vi was trying to say and looked over at ekko, who was handing you his board.

vi swallowed hard and she could feel sweat forming on her forehead as she watched you two chatting, caitlyn grabbing her attention as she came next to her, "what's got you so.. not.. you...?" she questioned her but she knew very well what the reason was.

she was trying to tease her, honestly.

vi scoffed, rolling her eyes a bit at her question, "oh, please, you know exactly why," she walked out your workspace with caitlyn trailing behind her.

as they walked out you gave a slight glance at where they walked out before looking back at ekko, "who's that pink-haired chick? she got a problem?" you tilted your head as ekko let out a slight chuckle.

"oh, her only issue would be that you weren't trying to get at her," ekko let out a little laugh as your face dropped in shock.

well that's not what you were expecting. it's not everyday that a woman finds interest in you.

and honestly, it kind of intrigued you.

vi and caitlyn came back in, and once again vi couldn't find the will to speak in your presence. you looked at violet, this time taking a good look at her which seemed to make her blush as she felt her cheeks warming up under your gaze as you eyed her up and down.

"can i help you with something else?" your tone was kinder and more inviting as you could feel the nerves basically rolling off of vi.

vi looking to the side at caitlyn before looking back at you, "uh, just wanna know if you guys are done. we need to, uh, head out soon."

you hummed, looking at ekko and signaling for him to borrow your board, "well if it's urgent, ekko can use mine while i fix his," ekko took the courtesy of walking out, caitlyn as well.

which finally left you two alone for a split sec before the nerves got to vi again and she turned on her heel, ready to run for it.

"i didn't catch your name?" vi was going to faint, good lord.

there was no way such a pretty girl was asking for her name.

she turned over her shoulder, giving a shy smile, "violet, vi for short."

you hummed slightly in response and she watched as you moved along your workspace, grabbing ekko's board and placing it on your work desk, "well, vi, you should come by some time. let me get to know you," your back was turned to her as you started working on the disaster in front of you.

vi was going to explode. she couldn't help the little hops of victory she did quietly behind you before replying calmly.

"yeah for sure, that sounds nice."

[diejager]

Yandere Pyramid what if he gets reader pregnant Just go crazy with this hahaha

(IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE I DON'T KNOW BUT WITH HIS AMOUNT OF CUM I WOULDN'T DOUBT IT)

Paring : YANDERE Pyramid Head x fem!reader

Cw: smut, possible NON-CON/DUB-CON, tentacle tongue, possessive behaviour + sex, breeding, pregnancy, creampie, belly bulge, tell me if I missed any.

Wc: 674

He'd go wild at the idea of knocking you up, watching your soft stomach bloat with a new life and your breasts swell, nipples leaking milk that he could suck until his kid came out. He'd fuck you until you get pregnant, stuffing you with his cum and his cock, keeping every little swimmers inside your bulging heat. He liked watching you strain around his girth, walls twitching and closing tightly around him, your cries echoing under his metal pyramid.

It's a ritual, every night, any spare moment, he'd have you sprawled under him, rutting his length into your red, swollen cunt until you grew limp, a little cumdump for him. His bulbous tip kissed your cervix, pushing against your womb's entrance and pumped generous load after generous load into your warm, fertile womb, a virgin to childbirth.

Whether he had you under him, pounding away the hours of the night - or day if he felt like it - over him, riding his thick and veiny cock until your slick covered his whole abdomen, or against a wall, rattling the structure with his punching thrusts when felt especially feral; he made sure to cover you in his musk, body smelling of him with reminders of last night, dark bruises marring your skin.

They were brandings of the finest he could give (other than his seed branding your spasming cunt as his little cockdrunk survivor.) to show others who you belonged to. He's had his possessive strikes, growling at killers and survivors who got too close to you for his liking, waving his broadsword and shaking the ground in strong ripples.

Pyramid Head was exceptionally possessive, being a creature of grief and regret created for a sole purpose, granting him nothing to his name or soul to own. Such a situation makes a person - any person - possessive of their things, like a child deprived of toys and love, they grow possessive and careful.

And to add a child, some would think he'd hate his child for taking most of your attention, your affection and your time, but this child was from yours and his blood, a creation of yours. It was the second thing he could call his own, a living being - beside you - he could care for and nurture, it played with a more domestic side of him. It would simply mean he'd take more drastic and scary measures.

Just a big, broad Pyramid Head growling at anyone with his equally big toy in hand, truly the scariest guard dog in The Entity's world (Guard dog privileges+).

Extra: during the pregnancy

Man is oblivious to the struggle of women, especially pregnant ones. Mood swings and odd cravings make him scratch his head in confusion. Was it safe to eat pickles, then peanut butter and tuna in a sitting? Would it be bad if you woke up in discomfort and your stomach was ready to empty itself?

He's as clueless about childbirth as a baby, every step had to have help from The Nurse and The Doctor, both having some experience with pregnancies in their previous lives. Reluctantly, he'd call for them once he sees you hunched over a bowl, puking yesterday's food. If there was a step-by-step book about pregnancies, perhaps a 101 tips about pregnancies for noobs, Pyramid Head would need it, he needs all the help he can get.

He knows not fuck you, naturally, for the safety of his child. That, however, doesn't stop him from pleasing you, using his thick fingers to pump and curl into your upper wall and flick your swollen clit when your hormones act up and you get horny; or he'd tonguefuck you into overstimulation, with his tentacle-like tongue that slithers from under his mask, long and wet. He's agile with it, twisting his tongue in every sense and curling it into a ball to fuck you.

He's talented with his cock, his fingers and his tongue, nothing can stop him from caring for your needs, he's skilled in many ways.