#this is not quiet scent no matter the brand

[thetarttfuldickhead]

Plz tell us what you think Jamie smells like when he's not training (I'm sure he doesn't smell like lynx outside of work)

To be honest, nonny, I’m not fully convinced Jamie doesn’t smell of Lynx outside of work – and I do remain rather fond of the notion that Lynx was something he thought of as fancy when he was a poor kid and as soon as he could afford it he began to indulge, and now it’s just habit and positive connotations. (And I mean, not all Lynx scents are bad! Some are quite nice! It’s just not the luxury brand you’d expect someone constantly walking around in expensive brand clothes to pick.)

That said, I think we can count on our fashion-forward boy to have some other and actually nice scents stowed away for special occasions and such! For instance, Boss Bottled Pacific by Hugo Boss might be something he picked up this summer – it’s a warm, fairly sweet scent, with aromatic notes from the coconut and cypress layered over fresh citrus and wood. It’s playful, fun, modern and a little unusual, without getting too silly – and I think Jamie would prefer that over a very clean or masculine or classic scent. There’s some salt in there as well, mingling with the sweetness, and making it a nice match symbolically for our darling prick!

[crystallinestars]

If They Were Your Pet Cat (Part 2)

Headcanons for what Aventurine, Argenti, and Jing Yuan would be like as your pet cat.

This is a part 2 because I have a part 1 with Genshin characters here.

Part 3 (Gepard, Ratio, Dan Heng, Sampo)

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

Aventurine:

🦚 Is a domestic shorthair.

🦚 You picked him up as a stray off the streets. Aventurine looked so pitiful in his dirty and starved state, that you didn’t have the heart to leave him like that, so you brought him home. Initially, he appeared nervous and quiet during the first few weeks. Once he became accustomed to living with you, you discovered that the little, scrawny feline has a big personality.

🦚 Aventurine loves to be pampered. He always purrs whenever you brush or pet him, give him belly rubs, or chin skritches. He simply adores your attention. When you coo that he’s such a pretty kitty? Aventurine looks as smug as a cat can possibly look and follows you around the house while affectionately rubbing against your legs.

🦚 He’s very loyal to you. Anyone that comes to your house and tries to coax him to come play or get pats, is promptly ignored by the feline. The ability to cuddle and pet him are luxuries he reserves only for you.

🦚 You’d think starving out on the streets would have made Aventurine eager to eat almost anything, but no. The little rascal only eats the most expensive cat food brands and turns his nose up at anything else. Either that, or he will steal your food off your plate when you’re not looking. He’s a spoiled cat.

🦚 Aventurine likes to sleep next to you. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing—he will saunter up and lay down somewhere close to take a nap. It’s also a given that he sleeps cuddled up beside you in bed during bedtime. He simply likes feeling your presence since it makes him feel safe.

🦚 As such, Aventurine hates when you leave him home alone for extended periods. He’s surprisingly clingy and gets lonely easily. If you’re gone for most of the day, he’ll be very upset by the time you get home and might tear up a pillow or the curtains out of spite. If this this pattern continues for a long while, one day you’ll notice that your keys are gone. Aventurine is a smart cat and quickly figures out that when you leave the house, you always bring your keys with you. To make you stay, he’ll hide them in a spot that only he can reach with ease. Good luck getting your keys back…

🦚 That said, getting another cat or pet won’t cure his loneliness. If anything, Aventurine will become possessive and jealous because he hates having to share your attention with another cat. He’s a bit territorial of you. Similarly, he dislikes you coming home smelling like another animal, so expect him to rub against you to overwrite the scent of that other animal.

🦚 Most of all, Aventurine hates it when you get mad at him. He always looks guilty whenever you scold or yell at him, and immediately flops over onto his back to expose his furry belly to you. It’s his attempt to placate you and ask for your forgiveness. He anxiously follows you around the house and rubs his body against your legs until he’s sure you’re not mad at him anymore.

Argenti:

🌹 An Ocicat breed.

🌹 Argenti is the most photogenic cat you’ve ever encountered. He always looks graceful and dignified no matter what he’s doing or what angle you take photos of him from. Every picture comes out looking lovely. Anyone who sees your cat always says that he looks beautiful.

🌹 To keep such a gorgeous appearance, Argenti often grooms himself. He does a very good job of it, too, which is why you barely have to groom him yourself. The most you have to do is give him the occasional bath, brush out shedding fur during shedding season, and clip his claws.

🌹 As gorgeous as he is for a house cat, Argenti is a free spirit who doesn’t like to be cooped up at home for long periods of time. Whenever he wants to go out, he’ll paw at the door or windows to signal for you to open them. You were nervous about letting him out at first but soon learned that his desire for the great outdoors was unstoppable. He would venture outside one way or another, much to your befuddlement. He enjoys exploring the neighborhood but always makes sure to come home before dark. As much as he loves adventuring, he loves being in your loving arms more.

🌹 Argenti has the temperament of an angel. You could do whatever you wanted to him, and he would gracefully take it without complaining or struggling. It makes doing things like taking him to the vet, bathing, and grooming extremely easy. You could even make him wear different outfits, and he won’t mind at all. He might even like wearing some of them.

🌹 Is very friendly. Whenever you have guests over, Argenti greets them at the door and purrs while rubbing against their legs. He also readily engages in play and comes if they call him. He does this with everyone who comes through your door, so he’s pretty well-liked among your social circle. However, he doesn’t sit on your guests’ laps or cuddle with them since he’s too active to be a lap cat. Such privileges are available only to you.

🌹 His overly friendly and affectionate personality extends to more than just people. He can purr for other animals he finds during his little excursions outdoors, or even inanimate objects. You once caught him rubbing up against one of your potted plants…

🌹 If you’re scared of insects, then Argenti is the cat for you. Whenever he hears you shriek because you saw a bug, he runs over to your side and promptly fends off the heinous critter. He easily catches and kills any insects so that you, his owner, don’t have to be scared anymore. You can sic him on anything, and he’ll get rid of it for you.

🌹 Argenti is sensitive to your emotional state. Whenever you’re upset, Argenti brings a toy over to you to try and get you to play with him and take your mind off whatever is bothering you. If that doesn’t cheer you up, then he lays down on your chest and licks at your face with his rough tongue. It’s his way of soothing you. He’ll purr on your chest until you feel better.

Jing Yuan:

🦁 A Maine Coon.

🦁 Is a big and lazy cat. Jing Yuan will chase a toy around the house if you play with him, but he generally prefers to snooze by a window while catching some rays of warm sun. He can more often than not be found napping in some cozy and warm corner of the house. When you’re not home, he’ll also sleep in your bed under the blankets.

🦁 Jing Yuan has a calm temperament. He’s very well-behaved during grooming and handles bathing, drying, and brushing like a champ. He’s chill as a cucumber and doesn’t put up a fight while you do your thing in maintaining his long coat. In fact, he’s so laidback, that you could squeeze and rub him all over and he won’t lash out at you, instead tolerating everything with what you can only describe as a smile.

🦁 As accepting as he is of all your affections, he has boundaries. Jing Yuan is generally not fond of being squeezed and terrorized, especially by people who invade his personal space (like rambunctious children or people who bury their faces in his fur). If one such person is in your home, Jing Yuan will vanish without a trace as soon as he hears their footsteps. He only tolerates such treatment from you because you’re his beloved owner.

🦁 Jing Yuan likes being petted and praised but prefers it if these affections come from you. He especially enjoys being brushed by you, and purrs when you comb through his fur. He can even fall asleep on our lap during brushing since the process relaxes him so much.

🦁 He’s a very intelligent cat. Sometimes you talk to him as if you were talking to a friend or family member, and Jing Yuan would meow back in response at appropriate times during the conversation, as if he were replying to your comments. He also has this intelligent look in his golden eyes, as if he understands everything you’re saying. It can be a bit uncanny at times.

🦁 On top of his ability to respond appropriately to your speech, Jing Yuan also easily senses whenever you’re upset. If you feel down, he will stick to your side or lay on your chest and purr until you feel better. If you cry, he’ll lick your tears away. He remains by your side until you’re all better, and won’t leave you alone for anything.

🦁 Is very curious about everything that you do. When you cook, Jing Yuan sits somewhere in the kitchen and watches you busy yourself with whipping up a meal for yourself. He likes to sniff the ingredients you’re working with, either to identify them or discover a food he hasn’t encountered before. Rest assured that he won’t eat anything without you explicitly offering it to him. However, if you have something yummy like fish or chicken cooking, he expects you to share some of it with him once it comes time to eat. He wants to eat delicious things too, not only cat food.

🦁 Frequently sees you off when you leave the house. Likewise, he patiently waits for you at the door when it’s time for you to come home. He’s a bit like a dog in that way.

[juliewillruinu]

Do you think you could write Sukuna spoiling his concubine?

Your wish is my command, but let me add a bit of spice 👐

18 +MDNI

☆ Toxic/Possessive Sukuna, fingering, oral (fem receiving), cunnilingus, mentions of double p, and mentions of childbearing. ☆

The night air in the palace is thick with tension. The queen and other concubines whisper bitterly amongst themselves, their eyes often narrowing with jealousy when you pass by. Yet, none of that matters. Not when you feel Sukuna’s gaze, sharp as a blade, following your every move. It’s a gaze that sends shivers down your spine, a gaze that makes you feel both vulnerable and utterly desired.

Sukuna Ryomen has had countless concubines, each more beautiful than the last, but there’s something about you that’s different. Something he can’t quite place but knows he can’t resist. You’ve become his favorite, a position that comes with both perks and perils. He admires the way you carry yourself��graceful yet strong, submissive yet possessing a quiet defiance that intrigues him. The softness of your skin, the curve of your lips, the way you react to his every touch—all of it drives him mad with desire. He likes that you aren’t like the others, who cower and bend to his will without question. You challenge him in your subtle way, and that only makes him want you more.

You’ve seen how the others envy you, their eyes dark with jealousy whenever Sukuna pulls you close or lavishes his attention on you. They hate how he spoils you, how he indulges your every whim. But what they don’t understand is that Sukuna’s affection is as dangerous as it is intoxicating. He doesn’t love you in the conventional sense—he doesn’t know how to. But in his twisted way, he is utterly and possessively yours.

Sukuna shows his affection through acts that blur the line between dominance and devotion. When you’re alone with him, away from the prying eyes of the court, he’s different. He’s still the cruel, unpredictable King of Curses, but with you, there’s a softness in his touch, an almost tender care in the way he handles you. He likes to watch you to see how you react to his presence, and it’s during these moments that he’ll reach out, pulling you to him with an unbreakable strength.

One night, after a particularly heated day of courtly duties, Sukuna summons you to his private chambers. The air is thick with the scent of incense, the dim light casting long shadows across the room. As you enter, you find him seated on his throne, a wicked smile playing on his lips as he beckons you closer. Without a word, you approach, and he pulls you onto his lap, his arms wrapping around you in a way that’s both protective and possessive.

His chest is solid against your back, his breath warm on your neck as he leans in, inhaling the scent of your hair. “You know you drive them mad,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “All of them wish they could take your place.”

You can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles flex beneath your touch. He likes that they’re jealous. He likes that it only solidifies your place by his side. His hand moves to your chin, tilting your head back so that your eyes meet his. There’s a darkness in his gaze, a hunger that never seems to be fully sated, no matter how often he has you.

Slowly, Sukuna lowers his head, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s both demanding and possessive. His mouth is hot against yours, his kiss searing, as if he’s trying to brand you as his own. His other hand slides to the small of your back, pressing you closer to him, as if he can’t get enough of you. The kiss deepens, and for a moment, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you in this moment of heated passion.

When he finally pulls away, you’re left breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. Sukuna’s eyes are half-lidded, a satisfied smirk on his lips as he takes in the sight of you. “You belong to me,” he says, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. “Don’t ever forget that.”

In the days that follow, Sukuna continues to spoil you, giving you everything you could ever want or need. Whether it’s the finest silks, rare jewels, or simply his time, he gives it all to you without hesitation. He enjoys seeing the others fume, their jealousy only fueling his desire to spoil you even more. But he also knows when to give in to you, when to let you have your way. It's a dangerous game you play with him, one that both excites and terrifies you.

A joyous day it was when your birthday came along. Not only did you have the king all to yourself, but the servants and the men of his court found it to be a day they didn't have to worry about losing their heads. Sukuna had you sitting on top of your desk where you read and wrote on. His lower hands came to rest on either side of your hips, gripping them with intimidating strength that anchored you in place. His upper hands cupped your face, his touch surprisingly gentle given the power that lurked beneath his skin. His thumbs brushed along your jawline, tilting your head slightly upward, forcing you to meet his gaze.

His lips hovered just above yours for a moment, the anticipation thick in the air. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the scent of him intoxicating. And then, without warning, he closed the gap, his mouth crashing onto yours with a hunger that left no room for hesitation.

The kiss was anything but soft—it was demanding, all-consuming, as if Sukuna was intent on claiming every part of you with just his lips. His tongue slid past your parted lips, exploring your mouth with a fierce possessiveness that made your heart race. He tasted of something dark and forbidden, a flavor that was uniquely his, and it sent a jolt of pleasure through you.

As his upper hands held your face in place, his lower hands tightened their grip on your hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the desk until there was no space left between you. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, seeking to bring him even closer, though the solid weight of his body had already pressed you firmly against the desk.

Sukuna’s kiss deepened, growing more intense with every passing second. His tongue moved with a skill that left you breathless, a mix of rough and smooth alternating between coaxing and commanding. The sheer power of his kiss made it feel like he was drawing the very breath from your lungs, leaving you lightheaded and completely at his mercy.

His upper hands slid from your face, one tangling in your hair, gripping it just tight enough to send a delicious thrill of pain down your spine, while the other trailed down the side of your neck, his fingers tracing the pulse that raced beneath your skin. His touch was a reminder of the control he held over you, a control that you both knew you could never escape. The moment you pulled away to breathe in the air was the time he took to ask you,

"Tell me what you desire. It shall be yours."

"I'm not sure I know what more I could want?"

"Perhaps more jewels, dresses, a pet to keep you company when I'm away from court, or maybe," he leaned towards your ear, his hot breath grazing your skin as he whispered, "You need me to pound my cock in those spoiled holes of yours for the rest of the day as a gift, hmm?"

"Those do sound like great gifts, but something crossed my mind this afternoon. I wonder..." her eyes shifted to him, "what would it be like to have a king on his knees and in between my legs?"

He’d smirk respond with a smirk, his crimson eyes narrowing as he leaned in closer, his voice dripping with a mix of arrogance and desire.

“Oh? Is that what you want, my little temptress?” he’d purr, one of his hands trailing along your thigh. You sheepishly grin as you turn your head. You knew he would end up doing it. Not because he felt like he had to. Oh, no — he was doing it because he found your boldness amusing as always.

When Sukuna Ryomen decided to indulge his favorite concubine, he did so with the same intensity and dominance that defined everything else he did.

Sukuna wasn’t one to rush, especially not when it came to you. He would begin by having you stripped bare before him, taking his time to admire your body with an appreciative gaze. His eyes would linger on every curve, every mark that he had left on you in moments of passion. It was ecstasy to his eyes.

With you sitting before him, Sukuna would lower himself, his breath ghosting over your skin, teasing and taunting you with the anticipation of what was to come. His hands, large and powerful, would grip your thighs, spreading them wide, ensuring that you were completely exposed to him.

"Look at this beauty." You shivered at his fingers that grazed over your exposed cunt.

"Don't tease me, my king."

"So impatient. We'll have to work on that one of these days."

When his mouth finally descended, he would start slowly, dragging his tongue languidly along your most sensitive bud, testing your reactions, savoring every shiver, and gasp that escaped your lips. Sukuna was a master at knowing exactly how to drive you wild, alternating between feather-light touches and deeper, more insistent strokes that sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. One hand brushed through his hair as you slowly felt a knot in your stomach tie itself up.

He would pull you closer, his grip tightening as he buried his face deeper between your legs, his tongue flicking and swirling with an almost torturous precision. The sensation of his mouth on you, combined with the raw, primal hunger he exuded, would be overwhelming. His teeth would graze against your skin, not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to send a jolt of sensation through your body, a reminder that he could be both your pleasure and your pain.

Sukuna’s lips sucking with a deliberate slowness that built the tension within you to unbearable heights. He’d revel in the way your body responded to him, your back arching off the bed, your hands grasping desperately at anything within reach. He’d chuckle darkly at your helplessness, his voice vibrating against you, adding another layer of stimulation that pushed you closer to the edge.

As he continued, Sukuna’s fingers found their way inside of you, pumping in and out. They would delve deeper, exploring every inch of you with a fervor that spoke of his insatiable desire to consume you entirely. The rhythm would shift between slow, torturous strokes to quick, relentless flicks that had you teetering on the brink of release. He chuckled as he admired your heat. Your flesh was gripping down on him tightly, not wanting to let him go for even a moment.

"Haa...I can never forget how tight you get when I tease you. Look at these juices you're producing. I wonder if you'll make even more if I reach deeper."

"My...king, you, ahh—shouldn't say such lewd words."

"My words can't compare to your shameless moans. It's almost like you want everyone in the palace to hear you."

And when he sensed you were close, Sukuna would pull back, just enough to leave you aching for more, to remind you who was in control. “Do you want to come?” he’d ask, his voice husky, his breath hot against your soaked skin.

"Y-yes, please, my king. May-I?."

"Don't hold back then. Be a good girl and come for your king."

The climax he would wrench from you would be nothing short of earth-shattering. Your body would arch and quiver beneath the relentless onslaught of Sukuna’s expert touch, his mouth working you over with a ferocity that left you utterly undone. Every flick of his tongue, every graze of his teeth, would push you closer to the brink until all coherent thought dissolved into a pure, raw sensation. Your hands would clutch desperately at his head, fingers curling as you tried to ground yourself, but it would be futile against the overwhelming wave of pleasure crashing through you. Sukuna would take his time, savoring each tremor that coursed through your body, his dark, satisfied chuckle the only sound that cut through your final moan as your cunt finally caved, leaving your legs shaking and you whimpering.

You laid your back against the wood of the table, grazing your hand over your neck just to make sure you were still alive. Your eyes flickered to Sukuna when you found your legs being forced to open wider than before. You could feel something hard, something angry and desperate rubbing against your abused clit. His cock was staring straight at you, pent up from being ignored till now.

"I think I can offer you a gift far more precious than the last." His nails lightly grazed your stomach, a predatory smirk tugging at his lips. "I’ll let you bear my seed—carry the heir of a king. Consider it the highest honor you’ll ever receive on this glorious day."

[beomiracles]

hi not too sure if u write hybrid so feel free to ignore this if u don’t! but could i request taking care of whiny and desperate cat hybrid taehyun during his heat?

⌞ 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 ⌝

DREAM RECALL “I am”, he admits, his voice low and shaky as he inhales against your skin. His almost entirely blacked-out eyes meet yours and in a split second his pupils narrowed down into their usual sharp vertical slits. You gulp, gripping the sheets either side of you as your lips part in bewilderment. His tongue darts out to drag across the bottom row of canines, his attention remaining solely on you as he says; “I need you.” 

wc. 3.2k

pairings cat!hybrid taehyun x fem!reader warnings well um, unprotected sex + creampie, heavy breeding kink, heat-cycles?, marking, brief kissing, vaginal fingering, taehyun wears a collar, switch!taehyun, whiny/desperate taehyun, mentions of ownership.. lmk if I missed something (most definitely did)

#serene adds ✎.. eek this is my very first hybrid fic, apologies of it's ass. hmm might've gotten slightly carried away but I'd say he's pretty desperate n whiny still :3 it might be a little rushed at the end but.. let's rock with it

@thetxtdevil the way I promised to do this over a week (two weeks?) ago. oopsies.

this is not proofread, I gotta get up early tomorrow so we have no time for such trivial matters as proofreading.

With a deflated sigh, you heave the last step of the staircase leading to your small apartment. Throwing a glance toward the heavy bags clutched in your hands, your wallet painfully empty after today’s purchases. — If this doesn’t win him over… 

When your colleagues had described their experience of owning a doberman hybrid, your heart practically melted. Soobin was both kind and handsome, politely thanking you for the meal you’d cooked for him as he offered to help with the dishes. And he was social too, providing you with the companionship you so lacked in your life. In all, Soobin was perfect and suddenly your colleagues' promising words all made sense.  — So naturally, you thought that acquiring one of your own wouldn’t be much different. 

Wrong. 

Since the day he’d first stepped foot inside your home, Taehyun had been nothing but a nuisance, and that was putting it lightly. From tearing your couch cushions apart to leaving heaps of dirty plates in the sink as he struts back to his room, the door slamming shut behind him. Not to mention how near heartless and cold he was. Refusing to even coexist in the same room as you apart from when absolutely necessary. 

But you had tried your hardest to prepare yourself, taking measure of every need he might have. From allergies to sleeping and eating habits, scents he might like or dislike, you’d even stocked up on both movies and books for him to indulge in, none of which he ever did for the record. — In all, you had done everything you could to accommodate your new housemate, and how were you repaid? With nothing but the short glare of his sharp feline eyes as Taehyun’s lips curled into a small scowl. 

At your wits end, you resorted to buying him gifts, spending the little money left from your monthly salary as you brought home new clothes, expensive jewelry, more books and even a brand new phone. — But Taehyun didn’t even raise a brow in the direction of your offerings, and now they all lay discarded in a corner of his room. The heavy ipad in your hands was your last piece of hope, and with a small sigh, you turned the key in the lock, pushing the door to your flat open. 

It’s quiet, eerily so, which isn’t unusual and so you venture forward. Not bothering to announce your arrival back home, because you never got a response back. Instead you head for your room, planning on spending a few more minutes by yourself before attempting what you thought to be your last shot at winning the sour cat over. 

It is therefore with much surprise that you halt in the middle of the hallway, eyes landing on the door leading to your bedroom, ajar. That in itself wasn’t too alarming, you would ever so often forget to close it, and you weren’t exactly worried about Taehyun sneaking inside, for he seemed to have no interest in doing so… Except today he did. 

Rocking back and forth on your heels, you listen to the soft pants carrying out into the air with a confused frown. What on earth was he up to? With a hand on the wood, you push the door open as your lips part, “Taehyun what are..” 

The words get stuck in your throat, suddenly feeling thick and constricted as your gaze trains on the sight of the feline before you. You think he might’ve seen your room once, the day you brought him home and gave a half-assed tour, in which he’d paid your personal space very little mind. — But right now, he was everywhere, the mess he’d left in his wake evident as you eye the open drawers, your clothes scattered across the floor and your desk practically turned upside down. 

A strangled noise coming from the bed averts your attention in its direction. Taehyun is drenched in a sheen layer of sweat, making one of the very few sweaters he’d obliged to wear, cling to his toned chest. His dark hair falls in front of his flushed face and your jaw might as well dislocate as you behold the leather collar you’d bought for him, which he had bluntly refused to even acknowledge, wrapped around his neck. 

Clutched tightly between his fingers is a familiar piece of garment, and as you squint you recognize it as one of your sleep-shirts. Confused, you watch as he brings the fabric to his nose, fervently inhaling your scent with a small groan as his hips twitch. — “Taehyun..?” You speak up, feebly trying to make your presence known. And you do. 

You think he might crack a bone with the speed he snaps his head your way. His eyes seize on you, narrowing at the sight of your figure by the doorframe, and for a moment, you think, almost hope, that he will revert back to his usual self, giving a small grunt as he slips back into his own room. — But he doesn’t, if anything he becomes worse as he tears the shirt in his hands, the cotton ripping under his fingers and you wince at the loss of one of your favorite pieces. 

“Come here”, he practically snarls and you respond by dumbfoundedly blinking back at him, turning your head to see if there was possibly anyone else he might be addressing. With the small roll of his eyes, Taehyun lets out huff as he beckons you over. — “Are you sick?” You hesitantly wonder as you carefully creep forward, baffled by his sudden initiating behavior. The hybrid merely gives a twitch of his jaw as his gaze narrows down on you. 

As soon as you’re within arms reach you feel the steel-like grip of his hand around yours as he yanks you onto your bed. The sudden force takes you by surprise and you let out a startled yelp as you go crashing against the cushion. Within milliseconds does he have you caged against the mattress, knees sinking in place either side of your hips as his arms close you in. “Taehyun what-” But the question is swallowed by the raspy whine coming from his throat as his eyes hurriedly search yours. 

It’s when your gazes meet that you finally notice his pupils, blown wide to the point where they might as well swallow his entire iris, completely lacking their usual vertical slits. Frantically you scavenge your mind for answers as you note his near panting frame, from the flushness of his face and neck, to the copious amount of sweat pooling on his forehead. You’d read about this…somewhere…But your mind remains blank as you squirm beneath him. 

This couldn’t possibly be the same hybrid you’d brought home a few weeks prior, the one who did his utterly best to avoid you, who scrunched his nose in disgust whenever he caught a whiff of your scent. — This wasn’t the Taehyun you knew, and the uncertainty of your current situation terrified you. “I think you’re unwell..” You try and coax him off of you, but it was useless as Taehyun pressed himself near impossibly close, nose nudging the juncture of your neck. 

“I am”, he admits, his voice low and shaky as he inhales against your skin. His almost entirely blacked-out eyes meet yours and in a split second his pupils narrowed down into their usual sharp vertical slits. You gulp, gripping the sheets either side of you as your lips part in bewilderment. His tongue darts out to drag across the bottom row of canines, his attention remaining solely on you as he says; “I need you.” 

Needs…you? You? Had he not had you locked beneath his large frame and on your bed, panting like he’d ran a mile, his statement would’ve been a laughing matter. But there was nothing humorous about the way his expression practically ate you whole as his eyes roamed your mundanely dressed body; from the plain leggings you wore to the far too big t-shirt draped over your chest. 

“You’re sick, Taehyun. We need to-” — “No.” He cuts you off, it’s abrupt and he suddenly sounds stern as he shakes his head. “I know what I need”, he murmurs as he dives for your neck once more, hot tongue darting out to drag across your exposed skin. — With a small shriek your hands fly to his shoulders as you attempt to push him off. But the feline merely groans against you, hips grinding into your own and when the prominent bulge, straining in his sweats, reaches your thigh, you freeze. 

Suddenly, it was as if a lightbulb had been turned on within you and your eyes widened in horror as you realized what was going on. His heat, of course. How careless of you, you should’ve gotten him suppressants, asked him about it in advance. This was all your fault and now…now he was.. — “No!” You exclaim, trashing against him as you try to separate the two of you, earning a displeased whine from the hybrid. 

As a last resort, your fingers clasp around the leather on his neck as you give it a harsh tug. The action sends a shiver through him as Taehyun moans into your neck, though finally tearing himself from you, if only a mere two inches. — “This isn’t..” You begin, biting the inside of your cheek as you release your grip on the collar, “I mean this…This isn’t how it was supposed to go!” 

The crease of his forehead as Taehyun frowns is prominent and he sends a warm puff of air your way as he exhales. Blinking rapidly, you try to come up with a solution for the situation at hand, eyes darting across the room. “There’s a procedure for this and I’m sure it’s written somewhere I just-” 

Oh!

Sharp teeth scraping against your shoulder jolts you from whatever meek thought process you had managed to accumulate. The feline scoffs against you, one of his hands traveling up your loose shirt, causing goosebumps to ripples across your stomach as he groans; “You and your fucking books.” All too familiar with your frantic researching habits, always feeling the need to learn as much as possible, just in case. 

Your face is contorted into a mixture of surprise and pleasure as Taehyun refocuses his attention to your clothed cunt, moving intently as he emits soft moans and whines. “B-But this isn’t how it’s supposed to- H-ah.. to be..” — Not paying your meek protests much mind, your hybrid continues to litter you in reddish marks, undoubtedly ones that would blossom into something far darker when given the time. 

“Been waiting for you to come home for so long”, he sighs as his lips travel up your neck, finally reaching your jaw as he plants soft kisses and licks to the skin there. — “Don’t want to wait any longer”, he whines, hips jerking forward and you gasp, “need you now.” 

He wasn’t thinking straight because of his heat, that had to be it, because in no universe would your Taehyun be acting like this on a normal Thursday afternoon. With that in mind, you try to be a bit more understanding before speaking again. — “I-I’m sorry, I would’ve been home earlier if… If I knew”, you murmur, tentatively reaching your hands up to rest on his shoulders. 

The small action seemed to spur him on even further as he immediately went to tug your leggings down. Alarmed, you seal your legs shut but his desperate fingers are already hooked around the fabric as he pulls it down. — “Taehyun, wait! Isn’t this..Isn’t this all a little too fast?” You shriek, feeling hesitant as his hand wedges itself between your thighs, dangerously close to your already damp panties. 

Subtly shaking his head, the feline bites his bottom lip as he lets his gaze drop to your spread legs, kept apart by him as you squirm. “Smell so good”, he squeaks, nostrils flaring as he inhales, eyes fluttering at the overwhelming sensation. — You bite back a small whimper when he ventures beneath the sticky fabric covering you, fingers immediately swiping across your clit before circling your hole. 

You tried your best not to think about the fact that this was your hybrid, your cat hybrid, the one who seemed to loathe you like you were the deadliest curse to walk the earth. — “S-Soft”, he breathes, almost drawing blood with the way his sharp teeth sank into his lip. It was impossible not to flush at the subtle praise, and you were unable to hide the wanton moan slipping past your guards as he curled a finger inside of you. 

Taehyun’s arm was near trembling as he watched his fingers disappear in your slick and pretty cunt, his jaw slacked as he inhaled your prominent arousal. Your nails dig into his biceps, he felt scorching hot to the touch and you wondered just how long he’d been in here, on your bed, doing god knows what. The thought in itself made you dizzy as you clung into him. 

He looks conflicted as he licks his lips, torn between tasting you and needing to be inside of you. In the end he shoves his soiled fingers in his mouth, a high pitched moan ripping from deep within his throat as he lets his eyes roll back. “More, more, more”, he drawls, hands feverishly tugging at his sweats as he pries them down. 

Given a small moment to catch your breath, the reality of your situation sets in and as his hard cock springs free, slapping uncomfortably against his shirt-covered stomach, your heart drops. Were you really about to do this right now? — Your gaze gets stuck on the obscene amount of precum that leaked from his flushed tip, sliding down the large veins and you swallow. 

He was still your hybrid…and you were still technically his owner…was this really right? — “Fuck, you’re so pretty”, he whines, a large hand fisting himself as he watches your fluttering cunt. Whatever doubt and guilt that lingered in your mind simmered once you felt him align himself, the head of his cock sliding between your folds before nudging your swollen clit and you cry out. 

Suddenly, your eyes meet once more, but this time there’s a quiet question lingering within his. “Please”, he pleads and it catches you off guard, “please, please, wan’ breed you please.” The bluntness of his request makes your jaw drop, but you couldn’t deny the way it made you clench as your hips raise in an attempt to seek him. Timidly, you nod and as if a switch had been flipped within him does Taehyun ease himself inside with one deliberate thrust. 

The stretch of his thick cock makes you wail as your nails scrape across his arms. And despite his soft pleas, the hybrid gives you little time to adjust before relentlessly rutting himself against you, blabbering nonsense into your ear as he does. — Part of you doesn’t register half the things he’s saying, and you’re pretty certain he isn’t either as his lips chase yours. 

He kisses you hungirly, sloppily but with desire; like he’d been longing to do so all his life, like this kiss was the air he breathed. In a way, the kiss made you feel empowered and within seconds you found your hands by the hem of his shirt, tugging it over his head as you do. — It was no secret that the cat hybrid was fit, because when he wasn’t avoiding you, he would spend his time working out, whether that was in his room or the living room. The equipment you’d gifted him were the only ones of your presents that he’d actually used. 

Shamelessly, you let your fingers trail his stomach, the outline of taut muscles, flexing beneath the pads of your fingers as he thrust forward. His pace was jagged, uncalculated and desperate, like that of an overly horny teenage boy who had little clue of what he was doing. — Yet he managed to make you feel absolutely insane. You didn’t know if it was because of the near burning stretch of his cock or his teeth dragging across your sensitive neck. 

Your eyes glue to the leather around his neck, the collar making a small jiggling sound with each move of his and you find yourself completely entranced. It might be why your hand moves on its own, reaching up and clasping around the collar lightly. Taehyun emits a strangled moan as his hips jerks forward uncontrollably. “Hmnpf, more” He gasps and it takes you aback as your gaze flits between his pleading and flushed face to the fingers around his collar. 

Another pull makes him whimper as a pleasant purr builds in his chest, something you’d never heard him do before. And much less had you ever caught a glimpse of his long and soft tail, the very same tail that currently curled around your body as Taehyun hoists you from the mattress. — “Wanna give you kittens, my kittens”, he grunts, hands clawing at every part of your body that he managed to access. 

You knew better than to listen to his words, that it was just his heat controlling the nonsense slipping past his unguarded lips. But the idea still made your heart flutter and you felt yourself clench around his cock, drawing a sharp hiss from him. — His fingers are on your clit, rough and all over the place but the raw and sheer need he emits is more than enough to have you spiraling as you cling to him, legs wrapping around his waists as you feel your climax pulsate through you with a loud cry. 

Taehyun continues to rut against you despite your wails of overstimulation, his hips jerking into you with such vigor that you thought you might break in half. His whines are near ear piercing as they ring out in the hot air of your bedroom, teeth threatening to break skin as he anchors himself on your neck. 

When he releases inside of you, it’s with a drawn out mewl, rocking himself close to you as he sloppily continues to fuck his cum back inside, ensuring that you have his kittens. “So pretty with my kittens”, he hums, his voice is near drowsy as his trembling arms give out. — With a low grunt he pulls you against him, flopping down on the mattress, his cock still nestled deep inside your sensitive cunt and you shift uncomfortably, the small movement immediately met by an irritated whine as Taehyun’s tail curls around you.  

“Stay”, is all he says, strong arms wrapping across your body as he locks you in place. The feeling is surprisingly comforting and you find yourself relaxing in his embrace. A small part of you wishes to stay like this forever worried that he might revert back to his old self as soon as this heat passes. 

But as you wake the next morning you find that Taehyun is more than ready to show his need for you once again, and the day after that. 

And the collar stayed on.

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[ervotica]

Ik this isn’t part of the prompt but can u plz do a eclipse Jasper x human reader whenever she can feel her anxiety worsen or even a panic attack about to start Jasper uses his ability to calm her down (since he can manipulate emotions/moods) and he usually does it by talking to her and kissing her gently🥹😭

summary; jasper eases your anxiety and kisses away all your worries.

warnings; fem!reader, reader w anxiety, soft, soft!jasper, jasper uses his gift on reader but it’s sweet, pure fluff! no use of y/n

Jasper's rasping Southern lilt pulls you out of your haze; he can feel the rushing thrum of your pulse beneath your skin, the way you tense and burrow further into the comfort of the blanket that’s loosely draped over your shoulders. You're vacant, eyes glassy and unfocused despite the lively chatter of the Cullen house, the raucous booming of Emmett’s voice and Rosalie’s quiet scolding that follows as the rest of the family talk animatedly. This upcoming fight has everyone on edge and it’s evident in your stance, the way you curl up small on the couch and wring your fingers until they flush ruby.

"Hey, sugar," Jasper murmurs, a finger hooking over your cheek to draw your gaze to his own. It's a miracle he can stand to be so close to you now, almost desensitised to your scent, the warmth of your touch, the ravenous hunger that claws at his throat when you're close. Your eyes crinkle at the corners, carving lines into the soft skin when your eyes meet his.

"Hey, Jas."

His icy lips are on your cheek and you soak up his touch, resisting the urge to lean into it as you really want to, still cautious of overwhelming him. The sense of calm that washes over you feels artificial, the only indicator that the feeling isn’t quite your own, but rather the emotion that Jasper is weaving into your frazzled nerves as the anxiety untangles like yarn and dissipates. The crushing thunderstorm is reduced to small, sweeping waves that lap at the corners of your mind but no longer engulf it.

You accept the feeling regardless of its origin, your muscles uncoiling as Jasper strokes slow lines over your cheekbone. Your eyes track the swish of his blond tresses when his head dips further, the bridge of his nose pressed to your cheek, and one golden eye that watches you right back.

His mouth ventures to the corner of your lips and you feel the imprint of his smile as you giggle and your features scrunch with unbridled adoration. It’s a rare display of such emboldened affection from him and you’ll be damned if you don’t wring him for every ounce whilst he’s willing to offer it.

All background noise melts away when he catches your lips between his own. You gasp a sweet little noise into his mouth and he swallows it greedily; the feel of his cold fingers on your cheek brands you, leaving a lasting tingle that reminds you that you’re his and his only. He nips at your bottom lip, the ghost of a laugh echoing against your mouth when you whine and cant your body towards his, wanting, needing, to be close. His forehead stays anchored to your own when he draws himself away.

"You’re beautiful," he murmurs. "My beautiful girl."

The cadence of his voice alone is enough to have you going soft and pliant in his grasp, tired eyes watching his every move as he nudges your chin upwards and presses another gentle peck to your mouth.

"Everything’s gonna be jus’ fine, okay?" he coos, gathering you up and into his arms in a way that has you biting your lip to suppress a whimper. "And then we’ll have forever, my darlin’."

"You promise?" He almost laughs at your question, but he hears the warble in your voice, feels the tightening of your fingers against the sleeve of his shirt, and he knows you need the reassurance. Something white-hot lights in his chest, fondness and something deep and primal all mixed into one— the urge to protect you always, no matter the cost, even if the world burns to ashes. He’ll protect you always.

"I promise." He sits back until you’re tucked beneath his arm, pushing stray curls out of your face as you nestle into the crook of his armpit. "Why don’t you sleep for a little while? You need it."

Suddenly the ruckus of the Cullen house dulls in your ears, your only focus on the blond you’re tucked against, his fingers curling around the blanket to pull it flush to your frame. The last thing you register is his arms tightening around you as you doze, and an arm hiking you into his lap when you go limp against him.

[runariya]

The Auction (JJK) • Chapter 2

pairing: wolf hybrid!Jungkook x cat hybrid!female reader genre: mafia!AU, hybrid!AU, dystopian!AU, S2L, dark romance, slow burn, angst rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: angst, thoughts about past violence, trauma, mentions hybrid trafficking, JK is an Alpha, nightmares, being held hostage, a lot of fear, sniffing, obsession and possessiveness, mentions of branding, lmk if I forgot smth - THX word count: ~ 1.6K

a/n: Please make sure to turn on notifications to my blog if your tag doesn't work ☺️

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

01 • masterlist • 03

You fight sleep with every ounce of strength you’ve got left, a desperate battle that’s been raging for four long hours now, despite the way your body trembles with bone-deep exhaustion. Since the branding, since the wolf hybrid had you cleaned and cared for again by the retrievers, you’ve been brought back to his penthouse and then ushered into a different room, apart from the others. It’s nothing like the dirty, grimy holes they’ve kept you in for the past few weeks—it actually looks like a proper guest room this time. Still, there’s no peace for you here. You don’t want peace here, you don’t want your thoughts to quiet down. You refuse to let them. So, there’s nothing left but for you to strain your ears to catch every sound from beyond the door, refuse to think, refuse to consider this place, this room, this life, as anything close to home.

But your body is failing you. No matter how hard you try to stay alert, your mind slips under, sleep overtakes you, pulling you into its abyss at last. Not for long though. You snap awake with a strangled scream, gasping, hissing, chest heaving as you push yourself back against the bed, trying to escape the claws of the nightmare. It plays again and again, on a loop, behind your eyes, every nerve in your body thrumming with terror. 

Your cat eyes, hazy and wide, finally make out the dark room around you, and with growing despair, you realise that waking up doesn’t mean the nightmare has ended. It’s still here and you’re still trapped in it. And it’s far from over when heavy footsteps thud outside your door, and before you can steady your breath or calm down at least a little, the door bursts open, slamming against the wall with a loud crash.

There he stands, the wolf hybrid, silhouetted in the doorway. He’s angry, you can see it in the tense lines of his face, his nostrils flaring, his gaze sharp and glowing in the dark. His only clothing is a pair of pyjama trousers, his muscular chest and tattoos visible, but it’s his eyes that do the damage—they rake over the room, scouring it for threats, his nose twitching as if scenting for intruders. You shrink back further into the headboard, instinctively pulling the blanket up high over your nose, desperate to muffle the sound of your fearful, ragged breaths.

His eyes lock onto yours, and there’s a dangerous glint there as he snaps, “What was it?”

Sheer terror grips you once more, your body trembling as he starts sniffing around again, yanking back the curtains, peering into the closet, searching for some phantom threat, missing that it’s him. His frustration grows as he finds nothing, and slowly, he turns his attention back to you, narrowing in with predatory instincts. “What scared you?” His voice is a fraction softer now, but it’s still laced with impatience.

You can’t answer. You’re frozen in place, breath quickening as he starts towards you, as panic flares hot in your chest. You try to scramble away, desperate to get further from him, but the blanket tangles around your foot, trapping you. There's nowhere to go. You whimper, barely a whisper, “Please… don’t hurt me.” A hiss of fear slips out, sharp but trembling, in a hopeless attempt to make him back away.

He catches your foot, but it’s not rough, it doesn’t hurt the slightest. His grip is almost gentle, and instead of dragging you down to the floor, he pulls you towards him with unsettling care, sitting down on the edge of the bed and drawing you onto his lap. Your body curls up instinctively, small and tight, fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt like a lifeline, as if making yourself as small as possible might keep you safe. He strokes your hair, his hand smoothing down your back over and over. It’s supposed to be comforting, you think, but you’re still overwhelmed too much to calm down. You can feel his eyes sweeping the room, on guard, even as he murmurs low against your hair, his voice soft with an eerie tenderness. “You’re safe here, kitten. Shh, shh… don’t worry, I’m here.”

His words don’t bring you any comfort. How could they? He’s part of the reason you feel anything but safe. This isn’t home and you’re definitely not safe, and as he scoops you up and carries you into his bedroom, your mind refuses to quiet. The fear doesn’t ebb away; your trembling continues, the nightmare clawing at your consciousness, flaring your instincts without a break. 

As he lays you down on his bed, the sheets are still warm from where he must have been sleeping moments ago. He lies silently behind you, his body radiating heat that seeps into your cold limbs, though it brings little relief. The penthouse is too cold, the air too biting for your kind to ever feel truly comfortable. Despite your resistance, silent tears slip down your cheeks and dampen the pillow beneath you. It’s strange, but somehow his alpha scent dulls some of the terror wracking your limbs, even if it does nothing for the ache in your chest.

“Why are you crying?” His deep voice cuts through the darkness, halting the sobs trapped in your throat.

You think for a moment, heart heavy with longing, and then, in a shaky voice, you try honesty, praying that it might stir some pity in him, some mercy that could set you free. “I… I want to go home.”

His reply is cruelly simple, “But you are home, kitten.” There’s no hesitation in his voice, just pure conviction in his own words.

You don’t have the strength nor courage to argue anyway. You just nod, letting the tears flow freely as they please. You wait until he’s fast asleep beside you, until his breathing turns deep and steady, but still, you don’t even close your eyes for the rest of the night. You’re wide awake, heart thrumming, still battling the nightmares that won’t leave you in peace.

Even when the first pale light of dawn filters through the curtains, you remain alert and awake. He leaves, pressing a kiss to your head while you feign sleep, your body stiff under his touch. Hours pass before another enters the room—a cat hybrid this time, with a tray of food and juice and a tentative smile.

“Hey there, may I come in?” he asks softly, his eyes kind, white ears perked as he stays by the door, careful not to startle you more than you already are. “I’ve brought you some food.”

You don’t reply, just lie still, biting back any noise that might betray how lost and utterly shattered you feel.

He takes your silence as an invitation of sorts and steps closer, placing the tray carefully on the bedside table. Then, slowly, gently, he shifts your blanket and sits near the edge of the bed, careful to still keep his distance. “I know you’re scared. I was too,” he says quietly, not looking at you, but at the floor instead. “But I promise, you’re safe now with Jungkook.”

Jungkook. That must be the wolf hybrid. You know it must be him—he’s the alpha, after all. His mark now burns on your skin, a reminder of who your body belongs to now. But you can’t bring yourself to respond, your wide, scared eyes fixed on the other hybrid, watching warily.

The cat hybrid sighs, breaking the silence again. “I know what it’s like,” he continues. “I was trafficked too. Jungkook found me just in time. I didn’t have anyone back then to tell me I was safe, but I’m here now, telling you—you don’t have to be afraid anymore. No one here wants to truly hurt you.”

His words twist something in you, a raw anger bubbling beneath the surface. You growl softly, involuntarily, a bitter sound that slips out without your consent. Safe? How could they call this safe? The one who ‘saved’ you had branded you without mercy like you were some possession and not a living being.

The cat hybrid only chuckles lightly at your reaction. “I know,” he responds, almost to himself, “he’s a bit… extra. But you’re different. He won’t hurt you again.”

After a moment of silence, he turns slightly, his soft eyes finding yours. “I’m Jimin, by the way. Would you like to tell me your name, or should we stick with kitten for now?”

There’s something in his gaze that reminds you of family, of something warm and familiar. Against your better judgement, you let your guard slip—just a little. You whisper your name, barely audible.

But he hears it. His expression softens as he takes your cold, stiff hand in his, drawing small circles on your skin, soothing. “Nice to meet you, ___,” he says with a gentle smile that creases his eyes into crescent moons. It’s a small thing, but enough to make your shoulders sag, just a fraction, and allow the tiniest hint of a tired smile to touch your lips.

01 • masterlist • 3

a/n 3: hope you enjoyed it👀 lmk what you think in any way you like!

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[scenesniper]

☆ "weeping clown" ; general sfw & nsfw headcanons

pairing / weeping clown x afab gn! reader

disclaimer / possessive nature, choking fixation, body worship, orgasm denial

word count / 1,335 words

author's note / i wanted more miserable, pathetic, lore accurate toxic weepy so i decided to just write it myself.

SFW

☆ a very clingy man that is far too quiet to ever be the one to initiate a conversation with you. after all, how dare he have such thoughts when you’re shining all so bright. altruist you can say but behind it, he is all but possessive.

☆ you will always find letters forwarded to you by someone of anonymity but his handwriting is all but so familiar. you will always feel a set of eyes following you in everything you do around the circus. whether it be practicing for your next act, applying your makeup, eating, or paying attention to your own body care, it's always on you.

☆ weeping clown by his stage name is very self explanatory. even with his wishes of being so much more than what he is branded by, he carries on his sorrowful demeanor behind the stage. meeting you, whether you’re the first to ever truly acknowledge him or give him the light of day of your time, he will think of that interaction of so much more.

☆ he’s completely infatuated by you, not having the guts or confidence to ever approach you, he will make gifts for you in secrecy, going to great lengths to have it personally delivered to you by a postman to possibly hide the fact that it was him all along.

☆ however, you have suspected the clown for awhile now. the way his eyes avoid your own, his stuttering and brightening red state of his. you have always thought of it as normal for the clown, his cowering state, but there is just something about him that rang alarm bells.

☆ weeping is easily flustered. any hint of your attention on him has him already a profused bashful state. especially any physical contact with each other, even if it’s just holding hands, his hands will instantly clam up and become so warm. he gets embarrassed at these times and would begin to avoid eye contact so you wouldn’t have to see him in such a “pathetic condition”.

☆ kissing the weeping clown is rough due to his very chapped lips. he’s a clumsy and messy kisser, having no prior experience and frankly, only kisses with pure want and no thoughts at all behind it as if you’re going to disappear on him. you’ll always feel his hands messily messing the back of your hair and at times, when he’s pushing his tongue down on you, he loves it when you tug down on his scarf.

☆ his love, to be blunt, is completely unconditional. it doesn’t matter if you kill someone with your own bare hands, even if his idea of you shatters, his ideology still stands. he’s a man that is completely obsessed with the idea of you and while it is a harmful train of thoughts, that obsession turns into a sick love.

☆ even if his love comes from a twisted place, he cares for you in his own little way. he’s overprotective of you and attentive to your mental and emotional needs of yours. if someone is bugging you, he’s immediately on the band wagon in planning on how he’s specifically going to privately and in secrecy, handle it.

NSFW

☆ joker is not a confident man as we all know, and especially in bed. even if he’s bigger than most, around 8 inches or so, he is all but insecure about the approach. he’s a virgin and only has experience by touching himself late at night, clutching a crumpled picture of you and imagining your hands pumping his cock.

☆ he’s always the type to indulge in his personal fantasies and to finally have it happen to him, he’s all but overjoyed but extremely confused and insecure on how you can ever pick someone like him. he has always dreamed of you touching him, even when he’s ashamed of such thoughts when facing you upfront, he’d always go hard over the smallest things from you.

☆ your voice, your lips, your eyes on his, your scent, you brushing skin contact with him even if it’s just a small graze, oh god his dick is practically about to burst out his boxers. he loves the rough feeling of his dick begging to be dicked down and would often grind himself in his own boxers, imagining that friction is your pussy.

☆ he would get so long in those surreal fantasies of his, wanting to just breed you. but once actually having you, his insecurities of having little to no experience comes crashing down once more. you’ll be on his lap and he’ll be completely dumbfounded, absolutely having no idea where to put or place his arms and would stare at you undressing on him which god, is so hot to him.

☆ he’s the type to just cum right then and there in whatever you do to his body. touching his cock, oh he’s already seeing stars and tearing up. your warm mouth on his, he’s grinding his waist and dragging you by your hair to go deeper and deeper, causing you to choke and him getting off by your gagging sounds.

☆ he’s a big crier during it all, his eyes seeming to always tear up whenever he feels absolutely stimulated or from pure happiness, he’ll always throw his head back and bites his lips to the point it begins to start bleeding and then planting his blood soaked lips on yourself.

☆ body worship. weeping clown is ashamed of his disability and amputee, but you praising it and giving it utmost attention (not just only during sex of course) gives him an unexplainable emotion such as relief of your acceptance of him. how you don’t immediately shun him.

☆ he loves to worship you and your entire being, not just being the only one praised. he will always be going on and on, muttering about your beauty. he always feels as though he shouldn’t even have the privilege to be in your presence, let alone touch you. it’s an emotional moment for him the entire time, enveloping himself to your existence.

☆ he absolutely can’t get enough of you, always loving it when he’s the one on your lap or vice versa, he loves to look up at you and you wiping his tears off with your thumb. he loves to nuzzle on the palm of your hand every time you do it. once he’s more familiar and confident with your body, he finds himself more and more lost in sex.

☆ he’s a verbal partner, always gasping and lowering his moans. it’s not a hard feat to have him a mess over you and especially when you’re verbal, he can’t help but feel good knowing he’s the one getting those reactions out of you.

☆ he loves it when you deny him of his orgasm. tie him behind his waist and fuck his cock with your finger, palm, boobs, thighs, anything. he’ll start whining and drawing his voice out, begging for your touch, his tears practically streaming out by then.

☆ bouncing on his cock, he’s still so scared over the fact that you’re in his but he can’t help but get so lost in your touch. he’ll watch you with astonishment, watching your boobs bounce along your actions and begin latching his mouth on the bud of your nipples and sucking on it to the point there’ll be a prominent, red mark.

☆ aftercare with weeping clown would be him cleaning you up with a rag and bringing you the glass of water from the bedside, very quiet and unsure on what else to talk about. it’s a comfortable silence on your part but for the clown, he’s particularly anxious. you’ll have to be the one praising and tucking him for the night. during these moments, he’s especially emotional. he never wants to let go of this moment and then, decide to do everything that he can to keep you by his side no matter what.

[nixoon-again]

"I wanna fly high…”

Sonic doesn't remember when was the first time he caught Tails singing this melody or where the kit picked it up from but what he does know is that whenever the hedgehog sung it in a hushed tone — in soft murmurs to match the steady breathing of the fox cub in his arms  cuddled close to his chest — it will be enough to put him to sleep.

He can't deny that catching Tails singing it to himself while tinkering alone in his workshop is cute and all, especially when he catches him dancing and the kit gets a little embarrassed afterwards and Sonic has to tell him it's nothing to worry about, but there's just something different about the nights when his baby brother just couldn't sleep, whether it be nightmares or thunderstorms or simply insomnia plaguing his cunning little fox brain, when he shyly tiptoes to Sonic in the dead of the night whenever the hedgehog decides to crash in his place and, with a quiet request, climbs onto his chest as Sonic holds him close. He scritches the back of his ear as his free hand brushes through the golden fur on the kit's back, both of their hushed breathing and soft heartbeats combining to make the melody even more peaceful.

To Tails, it was simply always more peaceful when it was Sonic's voice singing it.

It was never about the melody, about the song, about the lyrics. Just his big brother's voice.

Calm, soothing, safe.

"So I can reach the highest of all the heavens..." Sonic shifts a bit, just to give his sleeping arm some movement before he drapes it over the small of Tails’ back, the kit snuggling into the crook of his neck in return. Tails hums, content with his place atop the hedgehog's chest, listening to his (steady?) heartbeat as he wraps his twin tails around the both of them to provide enough warmth to fight off the cold that isn't necessarily the weather's fault this time. 

Just their own bodies failing to generate enough heat for comfort.

"Somebody will be waiting for me,” Sonic tries his very best to ignore the blood on his hands, the blood tainting his baby brother's chest and his own through the contact as well. He doesn't want to open his eyes, he doesn't want to see the red when he can pretend he's simply lulling Tails to sleep on a cold winter night and not to a slumber he might never wake up from. “So I-I have gotta fly higher..."

Tails purrs in his hold, secure and Sonic doesn't want anything else. He can't ask for anything else — well, he can. He can ask for a life that's going to be snatched away from his arms way too soon, for years yet to come, for wanting to see the boy in his arms grow up, for his bright smiles, for the wafting scent of breakfast in workshop he's returning to after a morning run, for a little more time, for home.

But Sonic doesn't ask for it. 

He's already using all of his leftover energy to stay awake just long enough for Tails to go first.

He doesn't want Tails to be alone, he doesn't want him to be scared, hurt and terrified in Sonic's arms who won't get up no matter how many times he begs every deity out there — Sonic doesn't want that. So he'll stay. Just long enough for Tails.

"Gotta keep goin'... Everything is a brand new challenge for me," If a tear rolls down Sonic's muzzle, he doesn't regard it. If anything it's hidden from sight when he lowers his head just enough to plant a soft parting kiss on top of Tails’ head. 

He continues with his lips still hovering above the boy's soft golden fur, "I will believe in myself..."

He can't feel his hands anymore, he doesn't know if he's still petting Tails. He doesn't want them to stop, his baby brother needs all the comfort he can offer to him right now. 

“This is only the start…”

His voice betrays him next.

Within moments, the world goes numb.

Sonic doesn't know which one of them went first.

[nocasdatsgay]

To Be Marked as Yours

Pairing: Neris | Rating: T | Word Count: 1813

Summary: Nesta refused a bite mark from her mate when they wed. But seeing her sister’s fresh mark has her questioning that decision.

Warnings: Omegaverse, Omega!Nesta/Alpha!Eris, Inner turmoil (Nesta’s worrying) Biting marks, Eris using his High Lord commands.

Part 1 | Part 2| Read this on AO3 | Read below

For Day Five of @acotar-omegaverse-week Marks

Gen Tag: @mybestfriendmademe @hieragalbatorixdottir Borders by @tsunami-of-tears

Nesta was staring. She could hear the voice of her mother harshly scolding her in the back of her mind even still. But she couldn’t look away. She was having tea with her sisters in Valaris. A monthly tradition once she agreed to marry Eris, so they could visit. They had skipped the month prior due to Elain’s mating ceremony. Now Nesta was staring at her, the mark on her neck to be precise.

Thoughts were rushing through her mind. She’d never seen a fresh mating mark. When they first saw Feyre after she turned fae, hers was concealed and when she saw it later, it was healed. But Elain’s. Elain’s was deep red, teeth markings over her scent glands. Nesta glanced at Feyre, her eyes going to the faded mark on her neck. Then her eyes dropped to her hands.

Nesta didn’t have a mating mark.

She refused it, telling Eris she would not be branded like a cow. She remembered him asking coldy what she would have them mark the marriage with instead. When he struck down the idea that the marriage agreement from the Night Court would suffice, she asked for rings.

“It’s what humans do,” She said.

He scowled but returned a week later with glistening red bands to go on their respective ring fingers.

“How will anyone know this is a mating ring?” He muttered when he walked away, still looking at it on his hand next to all the other rings he wore.

Guilt twisted in her stomach. She wore a high neckline to hide her lack of a mark outside of the Forest house. The ruby dress she wore today for tea had one. At home it didn’t seem to matter. The Autumn Court didn’t care or were too afraid to voice their opinions.

Nesta wanted to ask so badly if Elain wanted the mark. Or if her mate had forced it on her. Did it hurt to receive it? She was told it didn’t if it was during a heat. Elain had always been regular, it was possible even now she planned her ceremony right before it.

“Nesta.” Her gaze snapped up to Elain’s. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she blinked and took a sip of her tea.

It was not lost on her how Feyre and Elain exchanged a look. If they were communicating silently, she tried to not show she cared. They all finished their tea like nothing had happened. That afternoon, Nesta sequestered herself to her freshly cleaned nest, with a book and a pile of Eris’s shirts she hid from the maids.

“You’re unusually quiet today.” Nesta glanced up from her book. Her mate stood at the door, not entering. “Did you fight with your sisters at tea?”

“No,” she curtly replied. She deliberately did not grant him entrance. “I just thought you’d appreciate the silence.”

“You know I can feel when something bothers you,” he replied smugly. “And you’re here. You may as well tell me now.”

“You are what is bothering me. I’m trying to read.”

He hummed. “Shall I have Cassandra bring your dinner here?”

She pretended to think on it. With a sigh she flipped her page and replied. “No. I’ll be at dinner.”

He nodded and left the doorway without an argument. She closed her book with a huff. Then she pulled one of his shirts up to her face, annoyed and thankful that he let her be.

At the next breakfast tea with her sisters, Nesta was staring again. Only now Elain’s mark had healed to a faint ring, looping up past the sleeve of her dress onto her neck. Unlike last time, however, Elain didn’t dismiss her stares.

“It healed nicely, don’t you think?” Elain said, so soft in that airy tone of hers.

“Yes,” Nesta replied and without much thought asked, “Did it hurt?”

Elain furrowed her brows. “I suppose? Only for a moment when I received it. Did yours hurt?”

Nesta felt her face flush. She could feel the stare from Feyre next to her, no doubt watching her reaction intensely to see what she’d say.

“I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to discuss.” She finally answered.

“Nesta.” It was Feyre who reached over, placing a hand on her forearm. Her blue eyes held such concern, Nesta was taken aback. “You know you can talk to us. If something is wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong,” she shrugged her shoulder to get Feyre’s arm off of her.

“Just know we are here for you Nes.”

She wanted to scoff but instead swallowed down her urge to run or to be worse. The tea went by quicker than planned and when Nesta returned home, she stomped through the halls. When she found her mate lounging in their sitting area, she decided to be blunt the moment he looked up at her.

“I want you to mark me.” She turned her head, baring her neck. “Just do it and get it over with.”

“Why?” He put his book aside and sat up fully on the couch.

“Why?” She glared. “I am obviously a disgrace of a wife- mate, whatever the terms are.” She added with fluster. “So do it. Mark me.”

Eris’s features became dark, so much that fear crept into her stomach. He stood, towering over her and his power rolling off of himself in waves of heat.

“Who said that to you?”

“No one-“

“Someone did. Tell me now.”

She felt the magic wash over her. She only felt a High Lord’s command once before and for Eris to use it- tears welled in her eyes from shame. She fought it for a moment, tilting her chin up and steeling herself.

“It was myself. I said it.” She let the tears fall, spewing truth like it was venom. “Do you not notice the high collars on my dresses I wear outside of court? To the hide my shame? To hide that I am a coward who cannot submit to her husband fully?”

There was heavy silence between them for a moment. Nesta tensed, fighting back her sniffles as she watched Eris carefully. He was good at hiding his emotions like she was. The stern look on his face only faltered when he finally spoke again.

“Do you want it? Tell me yes or no.”

She winced; another command to answer truthfully.

“No.”

“Then it’s not up for further discussion.”

His features soften to that laced with sadness. Nesta was uncertain of what to do. She felt the magic of the command leave her.

“You commanded me,” she whispered.

“Would you have spoken truthfully if I didn’t?” His voice cracked, eyes laced with silver. “I will burn those dresses. I thought you preferred them because they were close to human fashion. If you only wear them to hide a lack of a mark then they are not needed.”

“Why are you not angry?” Nesta yelled. She didn’t understand. “I will not bear your mark!”

“But you already do.” He grabbed her hand and held it up, the red ring flashing under the fae lights. “This is my mark. You accepted it and you wear it.”

“But this is-“

“Human. Yes.” His grip loosened slightly. He pulled her hand up and kissed the tips of her fingers. His voice was softer when he added. “But it is you. This is the only thing you’ve asked of me. I’m not going to take it away from you.”

Amber eyes stared back into her own. She could feel the love he sent her though their shared bond. She shoved back her tears.

“The other courts will talk.” She said softly.

“They always talk.”

“What if they think less of you?” Because I won't submit. Her mind finished where her voice could not.

Eris pulled her to him. Her knees felt weak from the scent of him.

“I do not care what the other courts or high lords think.” He gently tilted her chin up with his free hand. “You are my mate and I love you. The rings are proof enough if they wish to see a physical representation of it.”

Rarely did they utter the words to each other, so when Nesta said them, her voice cracked a little. “I love you too.”

Eris then swept her off her feet into his arms, making her yell at the sudden movement.

“I think we should retire for the night,” he smirked carrying her down the hall. “I do owe you an extensive apology for commanding you earlier.”

“That you do.” She added sternly, “And you better not ever do it again.”

“Are you threatening me, love?” He grinned and he nudged open the door with his foot.

“Would it be me if I didn’t?” She smiled.

The next time Nesta saw her sisters, she wore an off the shoulder gold dress. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she approached but she held her head high. Both Elain and Feyre’s eyes went to her neck. Then Feyre yelled out, pumping her fist in the air.

“I knew it! Nesta, you just won me so much money.”

“Excuse me?” Nesta stopped, glaring at Feyre.

“Rhys swore Eris would make you take his mark. I told him he didn’t know how stubborn you were. I told him!”

“As if Eris makes her do anything,” Elain giggled.

“I’m right here!” Nesta’s face had flushed and she turned her glare to Elain. “You both made bets on me?”

Elain shrugged. “You’ve been mated for so long, I didn’t think the mark was an issue. You were acting odd the last two months. I suspected you might be pregnant. So I lost that bet.”

Nesta scoffed, so uncomfortable with her sisters bombarding her. “I should go back home; you both are insufferable.”

“You also wear a ring,” Feyre teased. “They don’t know what that is on your hand. But we do.” She guestered between herself and Elain.

“Then why didn’t you just ask? Or say something?” Nesta snapped.

“We asked you the last time we saw you if something was bothering you!” Feyre put her hands on her hips. “You got defensive!”

Nesta couldn’t argue with her on that, she paced for a moment in a small circle. “By the mother, can we just have our tea?”

Elain let out a laugh that rang throughout the little garden they were sequestered in. Nesta sent her a glare but neither pushed it further. When they finally sat down, Elain eyed her as she poured the tea.

“So what made you finally stop wearing high collars?”

Nesta huffed. “I’m going to need a stronger drink than tea if we are going to have that discussion.”

Feyre, ever the prepared one of the three, pulled out a bottle of whiskey from a pocket realm and winked at her. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

[p4p1l0nn]

crimson tears.

pairing: ex!jaemin x reader

genre: drama, angst, romance (second chance romance, betrayal, humiliation)

in the quiet corners of your world, where the weight of missed opportunities lingers, every day unfolds as a haunting reminder of what once was. in the echo of each passing minute and the silence of every hour, the ache of longing for jaemin becomes your constant companion.

memories of shared laughter and stolen glances linger, casting shadows on the canvas of your thoughts. you navigate a world colored by the absence of his touch, a world where the void left by his departure becomes an indelible mark on your soul.

the air is thick with the bittersweet scent of memories as you yearn for a second chance, a chance to rewrite the script of your love story with him, desperate to escape the confines of a past that holds you captive in the echoes of what could have been.

in your lonely nights, your bed felt empty, missing the warmth he once brought. his laughter echoed in your room, making the silence in your chest even louder. sleep, once a comfort, turned into a battle where dreams showed what you lost. tears stained your pillow, telling the tale of an ache that wouldn't go away. each new day without him was like a punch, and the pillow became your confidante.

with the seasons changing, your feelings changed too. spring's colorful flowers only highlighted the dullness of your life without him. summer's warmth couldn't melt the icy pain around you. autumn came, showing that even vibrant leaves fall, just like you fell deeper into a love that slipped away. winter brought a cold reminder of the frostiness between you and the world. festive lights outside mocked the hope in your heart, dancing to a sad tune.

your mind replayed the painful conversation with jaemin, each word a searing brand on your heart. as you summoned the memory, the wound reopened, and the ache intensified.

jaemin's once-familiar voice turned venomous, the words cutting through the air like shards of glass. “a second chance?” he scoffed, the bitterness dripping from every syllable. “you really have the audacity to ask for that after what you did?”

his friends, haechan and jeno, tried to restrain him, but the words poured forth like a relentless storm. “you think i'd give you another chance? you're delusional, living in some fantasy where your mistakes don't matter. well, guess what? they do.”

you felt the weight of his anger, and it hit you like a brick. “do you even realize how humiliated i am to be standing here, begging for something you don't think i deserve? i never expected you to forgive easily, but this . . .”

his eyes, once warm, now held a coldness that sent shivers down your spine.

“i thought we meant more to each other. i thought our history counted for something,” you pleaded, desperation clinging to your voice. but jaemin's retort was like a slap in the face, stinging with a cruelty you never anticipated. “history? all it does is remind me of how foolish i was to trust you in the first place.”

haechan and jeno intervened, trying to quell the verbal assault, but the damage was done. the words reverberated in your mind, a painful mantra of rejection. “don't bother. you're not worth the second chance you're asking for.”

his eyes bore into yours with a mixture of resentment and disappointment. the weight of his hatred lingered, and you were left standing there, the remnants of shattered hope scattered at your feet. the humiliation cut deep, a wound that no amount of pleading could heal.

the sting of betrayal cut deeper as the realization unfolded — jaemin had orchestrated the meeting with malicious intent. he lured you with sweet words, concealing the venom that awaited. the pain of humiliation gnawed at your core, leaving you raw and exposed.

as the truth settled in, jaemin's deceit played like a cruel melody in your mind. “i just wanted to talk,” he had said, his tone dripping with false sincerity. “i thought we could find some closure.”

yet, his intentions were far from closure. in that orchestrated encounter, his words became daggers, each one aimed to wound. “closure?” he sneered, the facade crumbling to reveal the deception. “i wanted to see the desperation in your eyes, watch you beg for something you can never have.”

the revelation hit you like a tidal wave, the emotional wreckage leaving you breathless. “you tricked me,” you whispered, the words carrying the weight of betrayal.

jaemin's triumphant grin confirmed your realization. “you played the part perfectly. falling for it was your mistake, not mine.”

the scene unfolded like a cruel play, and the script had been written with your pain in mind. as jaemin and his friends walked away, laughter echoing behind them, the sense of betrayal settled in your chest like a lead weight.

the wound inflicted wasn't just from lost love; it was a mark of a trust shattered, a heartbroken by a deliberate act of cruelty.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for ducksandswans behind the cut; Jason gets knocked up and accidentally goes home about it. ( chrono || non-chrono )

Jason tightens his grip on Pup Brother and Quiet Sister tightens her grip on him. He can smell the whole pack's scents–smell the whole pack's packscent–and he feels . . . good about that. He likes that. 

He missed them. He shouldn't have stayed gone so long. Though now there's a pup, and maybe even more than one, so he supposes it was worth it. 

And either way, he's home now. 

Grandpa said. 

“ETA on B?” Big Brother asks. 

“Eighteen minutes, if they avoided the downtown traffic,” Big Brother’s mate says. Jason hums acknowledgment, then lets himself relax just a little more. More than he even thought he could, really. 

It's nice. 

It's really nice. 

And they're all safe, too. 

“Holy crap, is he purring?” New Brother mutters under his breath. 

“He is definitely purring,” Loud Sister confirms. “Like a big grumpy motorcycle.” 

“Pretty sure I've heard quieter motorcycles,” Big Brother's mate says wryly. “It's pretty cute, though.” 

“It is so cute, oh my god,” Big Brother says in despairing delight. “This is bad enough, how are we gonna handle him being like this with an actual baby?” 

“I think that's mostly a ‘you’ problem, Dick,” Little Brother says. 

“That is definitely a ‘you’ problem,” Loud Sister agrees. 

“For sure,” New Brother says. 

“Very cute,” Quiet Sister hums, nuzzling the back of Jason’s neck and patting his shoulder. “Baby brother.” 

“Thank you, Cass,” Big Brother says with a huff, folding his arms. “This is so adorable I can’t even stand it.” 

Jason huffs, rolling his eyes, then just settles in and closes his eyes. It’s safe to. And he has a nest to let his scent seep into and through, and “bred” pheromones to let settle into and fill up the den. He’s early enough in his pregnancy that it’ll probably take a little while, so it’s past time to concentrate on putting those off and scenting the room. The nest’s all made, and Pup Brother and Quiet Sister are in it, and Grandpa’s by the door and Big Brother and Little Brother are just outside the nest, and Loud Sister and New Brother and Big Brother’s mate are all here too, so . . . 

So once Alpha’s here, then everything will be perfect. 

“He’s purring again,” New Brother mutters. “I literally did not even know he was physically capable of making that sound.” 

“Capable of making it to motorcycle-shaming levels, apparently,” Loud Sister says with a laugh. “Damn, Jason.” 

Jason doesn’t know what she’s talking about, but he isn’t worried about it. If it’s important, someone will take care of it. 

Everyone’s here, so of course someone will. 

“Silence, all of you,” Pup Brother grumbles, sounding long-suffering but staying settled secure in Jason’s arms, which is good. Definitely. He should be there right now. 

Jason nuzzles him some more, for obvious reasons, and then just concentrates on letting his pheromones spread through the room. His nest already smells like the pack and so does the den, obviously, but it doesn’t smell like pup-is-coming.

It needs to, obviously. 

Someone’s purring. It’s not Pup Brother, but Jason’s not sure who else could be. 

Well, it doesn’t matter, really. 

Some of the others talk about some things, their voices soft and quiet. Jason doesn’t worry about it. It’s just little stuff, like patrol schedules and classes and appointments. Normal little things for a pack to talk about, and easy to settle into the background as white noise while he lets his pheromones fill up the room and makes sure Pup Brother’s eaten. 

He eats some of the apple slices and peanut butter, himself. The pup needs to eat too. 

It’s the same cheap, shitty store brand that he used to insist on as a pup himself. 

“ETA five minutes,” Big Brother’s mate says eventually after checking her phone. Jason’s not sure what she’s talking about, but isn’t worried about that either. If it’s important, someone will tell him. Or handle it. Or both. 

All he has to do right now is wait for Alpha to get here, and then everything will be fine. 

Everything will be perfect, actually, once Alpha gets here. 

The others talk a little more. Their voices are still soft and quiet, so Jason still doesn’t worry about it. He just stays curled up around Pup Brother and in Quiet Sister’s arms, and letting his pheromones fill up the den with bred and home-safe and all the usual things that are usually part of presenting a pup to the pack. 

It’s nice. The . . . being here. It’s nice. 

He missed it here. 

He wonders why he missed it so bad. Has it been that long, or . . . ? 

He just missed it. 

But now he’s here, so he doesn’t have to miss it anymore. 

Grandpa turns his head towards the door and pushes himself up out of his chair. Jason whines in disappointment. Is he leaving? Why’s he leaving? 

“I’ll just be a moment, my boy,” Grandpa assures him, and Jason settles, a little. If Grandpa says it’ll be just a moment, then he means it. 

Grandpa steps out into the foyer again and everyone else goes quiet all at once, and Jason realizes–oh. The front door just opened, didn’t it. He doesn’t hear footsteps, though. 

. . . does that mean . . . ? 

“Alfred?” Alpha says from the foyer, sounding just barely concerned, and something in Jason vibrates at the sound of his voice. “What’s going on?” 

“Is someone purring?” Alpha’s mate asks curiously. 

“Master Jason came home, Master Bruce,” Grandpa says. 

“. . . he what?” Alpha says, his voice sounding–strange, just a bit. Jason isn’t sure why it does, but feels . . . 

“Just–the living room, Master Bruce,” Grandpa says. “You should come and see for yourself.” 

Grandpa steps back into view of the doorway, and Jason still feels unsettled and just a little bit uncertain, and isn’t sure if–

Then Alpha steps into view too, and Jason forgets everything else

[sempersirens]

yes, chef | part two

summary: navigating work and home with joel was tough but sweet, with you both learning to manage in your own little ways

pairing: no-outbreak, chef!joel x f!reader

content/warnings: 18+, mdni. slow-burn smut, tenderness, pining, angst

a/n: you ask and you shall receive. you guys know i'm a slut for a spotify playlist, and this is what i imagine reader and joel listening to while they cook together. i took inspiration for this chapter from @spookyanamurdock's comment on the previous chapter because i loved her ideas so much.

There was no such thing as a quiet shift at the restaurant. Whether it was the clatter of pots and pans, expletives darting across the room, or the unrelenting tick of the ticket machine rolling off order after order. It was exhilarating. The constant loudness quietened every decibel of noise in your mind; no matter what was happening outside of work, you could count on the pressure of controlled creativity to drown it out. Family drama, heartbreak, grief - it all slipped away as soon as you slipped your uniform on and heard the first shout of fuck! blaring across the room.

It should've been impossible for your heart to race any faster than it already did. But there it was. So subtle, unnoticed by all except you. His fingers brushing against yours when he would snatch the knife out of your hands, loudly berating you for dicing the onions too damn big. Your eyes would catch for just a moment, but it was enough. You were obsessed, infatuated.

Not only with the feel of his rough skin against yours, or the intoxication of his scent but with the secrecy too. Something stirred inside of you every time you would pass him, knowing he could still taste you on his tongue, your perfume lingering in his nose. At any moment to yourself, you would squeeze your eyes shut and remember the feeling of his hands on you. Grabbing for god knows what, the thrill of it all, taking any inch of your skin in his grasp that he possibly could. Devouring you in the knowledge he would have to wait hours until he could have you like this again.

Working beside him drove you insane. You constantly toyed between accidentally slicing a carving knife through your pinky just to feel his touch on you, or being a good girl for him, knowing you would relish in his praise later that night.

You didn't know how no-one else could feel the spark between you both. It consumed your entire being, only ever finding sweet release pressed up against the shelves of the supply closet. You managed to keep your meetings secret. Sometimes they felt concealed even between the two of you, never wanting to brave the question of what you even were in fear of it all dissipating beneath your fingers.

Most mornings began with your bare feet padding across his kitchen floor. He always woke before you, the smell of coffee coaxing you from his sheets. You felt feral. You were drunk on the sheer scent of him like an animal searching for its first meal after hibernation.

What had begun as lust had turned into something almost ugly, you didn't want to acknowledge the person you had become. Desperate for his affection, his praise, him. Each touch, kiss, and clash of your hips, felt like a nicotine rush surging straight to your head. You were addicted.

"So fuckin' needy for me baby, ain't ya?" He would laugh into your hair, whether he had you pinned against the bathroom door or tucked softly between his torso and bed sheets.

In the kitchen, you would find yourself subconsciously gravitating toward him.

"Back to your fuckin' station." He'd growl, loud enough for the others to hear.

"Yes, chef. Sorry, chef."

Later, tangled in his bed, he would coo "you gotta stop doin' that, baby. People are gonna start noticing."

"Maybe I want them to. I want them to all know I'm yours." Fingers in his hair, his teeth gently sinking into your shoulder. Yes, you would think, mark me, brand me yours.

"You're too good for that, baby. You gotta make a name for yourself."

"I know, I know." You'd whine. He was right, and you knew it. You didn't want to be known as Joel Miller's girl. It was a cut-throat, misogynistic business as it was, you had to have your own exposure, not be known as the poissonier chef fucking her head-chef.

The restaurant was always closed on a Sunday. Saturday nights rolled into Sunday mornings so sweetly. Peeling each other's garlic-scented clothes off, a smell only you could find satisfying. In those long-awaited moments alone, the collision of your bodies was ravenous. You were ruthless in the greediness of taking everything from one another.

Those Sundays would flow like honey, sickly sweet, slowly sticking to every inch of you. You savoured every moment alone with him. At around 7 pm, you would begin prepping dinner together. Experimenting with love, trust, and maybe a new recipe you had found in an Ottolenghi cookbook. In his kitchen, you bounced off one another. Otis Redding flooded the background, mangled with the sharpness of metal cutting into the chopping board.

"Did you get the parsley from the market?" You shouted, rifling through his cupboards.

"Still in the bag, on the table."

Tonight, you were making a pumpkin and cinnamon oxtail stew. The oxtail had been slow-cooking all afternoon, filling his small apartment with a warm, hearty smell. You chopped the parsley, lemon, and garlic for the gremolata, while Joel decanted the mixture of tomatoes, thyme, and rosemary into an oven dish.

"Smells so good, baby." He kissed your cheek, hands around your waist. "I'll set the table. Want a glass of red?"

In moments like this, maybe you didn't need the world to know Joel was yours and you were his. His kitchen was your utopia, and you would happily live out the rest of your days bathing in the smell of simmering vegetables and his cologne.

taglist: @cool-iguana @skysmiller @lhymer1995 @brittmb115 @moonlightdivine @reallyidontcare @nana90azevedo @spookyanamurdock @lovely-ateez

[lamemaster]

Elves Reaction to a Mythical S/O

Request: I saw the “ Feel free to request “ in the bio and I wanted to ask if you could write something like a Mermaid!Reader Or Fairy!Reader headcanons with Maedhros Celegorm Caranthir Glorfindel and Ecthelion? I would appreciate it <3

Characters: Maedhros, Celegorm, Caranthir, Glorfindel, Ecthellion

AN: Took some creative liberty with some of these but I hope you still like them. Also, the way I got carried away with Celegorm is not real. I hope you like it and thanks for requesting this! (Divider by @cafekitsune)

Celegorm- Celegorm lay wounded, his lifeblood seeping into the quiet forests of Beleriand. Beside him, Dior's lifeless form grew cold, devoid of the light that once animated it. As he awaited his inevitable end, Celegorm allowed himself a moment to embrace the surroundings. The scent of damp earth, the gentle rustle of leaves in the air, and the murmurs of the horrified trees—all of it reached his senses, and even in his pain, he found solace in these simple pleasures. He dared not contemplate his fate, for whatever awaited him was yet unknown. Suddenly, a subtle thrum of activity surrounded him, a buzz that reverberated through the forest. Even the trees whispered a name he couldn't grasp. And then he smelled it—the sweet, cloying scent of decay. It was reminiscent of rotting grapes, withering to produce wine, or overripe fruits dissolving into the soil. "Oh, look what they left us this time—one still alive," your voice chimed like a symphony of bells in Celegorm's pain-addled mind. From his blurred vision, Celegorm observed as flowers bloomed beneath your every step. And then, you stopped right in front of him. "Help," he managed to croak, and you laughed. Mirroring your laughter, Celegorm felt a surge of mirth course through him, even as his blood continued to flow excessively. "Ah, my pet," you crouched down, and Celegorm instinctively leaned into your touch as your fingers grazed his cheek. "Should I truly save you?" You tilted your head innocently, your silver-hued skin shimmering in the dappled sunlight. A crown adorned with sapphires rested upon your head, complementing the brilliance of your sparkling eyes. "Think carefully," you whispered with a playful smile on your lips, and Celegorm became captivated by their allure. "A bargain with the fae is no trivial matter." As a sharp pain invaded his mind and body, Celegorm's gaze lost focus. Your talons, sharp and unyielding, grasped his wound, prying it open further. Despite the agony coursing through him, Celegorm found himself nodding, his voice barely a plea, "Please…". “Alright, then elf,” in seconds the wound that you had pried open closes and Celegorm stares in disbelief as his skin stitches itself back together under your touch. By the time you are done, there rests a brand where Dior’s sword had once impaled him. Your brand on him.

Ecthellion- Long ago, in the Ages of the Trees, Ecthelion had felt the weight of the ocean, a burden he carries with him even now. However, it is not the brine of the ocean that floods his lungs, but the water of his own fountain, leaving him gasping for breath. The misery he experiences now seems more profound than the incident of his childhood. Back then, he held onto hope that someone would come to his rescue, and indeed, you had come. Through the darkness, you swam with your shimmering green tail, and in your arms, you cradled a young Ecthelion. That single act had been enough to ignite his fascination with Alqualondë, drawing him to its shores in search of glimpses of you, the mermaid familiar with the Teleri's realm. Admiration had blossomed into love as Ecthelion fell for his savior. But now… hope has faded. Ecthelion finds it harder to believe in the possibility of a rescue as he drowns in the shallow waters, mere feet from the depths of the ocean. The day he departed the bloodied shores, he shattered any chance of your care. He knows you would not spare a thought for one who sided with the kinslayers. “I wish I had left you…I wish I hadn’t saved you,” the echoes of your final words haunt his ears, replaying over and over as he envisions your tear-stricken figure on the ravaged shores. Even as he draws in the water, he feels his own tears mingling with it, his heart heavy with regret.

Caranthir- Caranthir sighed in frustration as the thread snapped once again, the fifth time within the last two minutes. "Will you please stop already?" he exclaimed, giving up on the futile game of searching for the elusive cause of his thread's constant breaking. Finally, he looked up towards the branch where you sat, a mischievous grin playing on your lips. "Oh, me?" you replied, feigning an expression of shock, vigorously shaking your head. "How could I have possibly done anything from wayyyy up here?" Your playful act may have fooled others, but Caranthir, after years of knowing you, remained unconvinced. Caranthir's frustration simmered as he contemplated your mischievous presence on the branch above. His impulse to chuck a rock at you was quickly suppressed, knowing it wouldn't deter your playful nature. But you weren't oblivious to his internal struggle. With a dramatic flourish, you folded your wings, mocking innocence evident in your eyes. "Oh, look at you," you taunted, your voice carrying a blend of seriousness and amusement. "What did a poor, dainty little fairy do to you? I hope all your needles break and all your threads end up in a tangle." Despite the biting nature of your words, a glimmer of mirth danced in your gaze. Tired of your antics, Caranthir abandoned his position and began to make his way back. But before he could take more than a couple of steps, he felt a familiar weight land upon his back. Your arms encircled him, and your head rested gently on his shoulder. His hands instinctively moved to support your legs, preventing any chance of you slipping. "Forgive me," you whispered softly, your fingers idly playing with his braids. Caranthir didn't utter a single word in response, but the way he his hands securely supported your legs on each side spoke volumes.

Maedhros- Maedhros found himself engulfed in a sea of grief, his heart heavy as he watched his father burn the ships that were meant to aid their kin. The weight of witnessing his father's gradual descent into darkness, coupled with the burden of blood and oath, had taken its toll on Maedhros. The shores were ablaze with the burning remnants of the ships, and amidst the chaos, he discovered you. Your countenance was hidden beneath the veil of long, flowing hair, but one striking feature remained exposed—a majestic teal tail that identified you as a creature of the sea. Lying on the shore, your body bore the scars of burns, rendering you unconscious and vulnerable. Drawn by an invisible force, Maedhros knelt beside you, gently parting the strands of hair that obscured your face. In that moment, he couldn't discern whether it was love or lust that gripped his heart, but he found himself rooted to the spot, unable to tear his gaze away from you. As he pulled you from the water, your tail transformed into naked legs, signifying a profound change and a bridge between worlds. Draping his cloak over your form, Maedhros carried you to the sanctuary of his tent. With tender and feather-soft touches, he applied a healing paste to your wounds, his eyes fixated on your closed eyes. In that intimate exchange, he felt an indescribable connection. You belonged to him, bound together in mind, heart, and soul, intertwining with his own unguarded being. When the following morning arrived, you awakened, your memories of the past washed away like wet ink fading on a page. A new dawn emerged, and the eldest Feanorian rejoiced. For in your rebirth, he saw an opportunity to offer himself to you completely. The sea had dared to separate him from his home, his mother, his people and so he took away something precious from it. Something he keeps a secret even as he hangs from the cliff of Thangodrim. You are to him as the Silmarils were to Feanor. Even in death, Maedhros' spirit would follow you as you traversed the world, your past forgotten in the depths of ages long gone. You were his eternal companion, a tether to a forgotten era, forever intertwined in the tapestry of destiny.

Glorfindel- "Do you truly think Asfaloth's bells are better than mine?" you ask, your figure delicately balanced on the balcony as you fix a piercing glare upon Glorfindel. He finds himself in a predicament he never anticipated, caught off guard by your sudden confrontation. "It's not a matter of comparison, really," the Balrog slayer tries to deflect, hoping to avoid further conflict. However, you refuse to let him off the hook so easily. "Oh, really? Because if I recall correctly, your past romantic odes were filled with praise for the sweet chimes of my own bells, not those on Asfaloth," you remark, plucking at the tinkling bells adorning your anklet to emphasize your point. "These bells carry the essence of my magic, and yet, you hesitated. You faltered at Elohir's foolish question." Glorfindel winces, inwardly cursing Elrond's son for inadvertently causing this current predicament. Stepping closer to you, he channels his sweetest voice, accompanied by a subtle loosening of the top buttons of his shirt. "Melda," Glorfindel begins, his voice tender and sincere, "there is truly no comparison. Even Asfaloth's bells were born out of the days when I pined for you." He gazes into your eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips, as you instinctively reach out and fiddle with the buttons of his shirt." Is that true?" you inquire, a hint of vulnerability lacing your voice. Glorfindel nods, relief washing over him. Crisis Averted for now. He would make sure to apologize to Asfaloth tomorrow.

[h-c-u]

No Longer a Secret - flashback 08.06.2019

Summary: The moment it became serious. [flashback to about a year before the 1st part]

Pairing: Toto Wolff x fem!reader

W/C: ~800

Rating: PG, age gap (not mentioned here, but applies to the whole series)

A/N: This short describes a moment when the reader realizes she wants to be with Toto more than she cares about potential blowout. It's short, simple, and not much happens, but in my experience - that's how all long lasting relationships (doesn't matter if romantic or platonic) happen. But I still wanted to share with you this short glimpse into their relationship :)

And like I've mentioned earlier today - I'm in the hospital and that means I'm on mobile, so please forgive the mistakes and if the formatting will be a bit... off.

Taglist: @crimeshowjunkie, @omgsuperstarg

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | List of tags | Playlist for the series

There was still an hour before qualis, and you already did the interviews you were meant to do about driver's experiences on the track during the last practice, so now you had about an hour to yourself.

You still felt a little bit weird using your paddock club pass considering the circumstances you got it under. However - you were hungry, and the food there was excellent, so you started climbing the stairs, but you stopped because something in the corner of your eye caught your attention. A tall figure covered in familiar branded merch slumped on the floor with his back against the wall and head hidden between his knees. There were no sounds coming from that direction, and he wasn't shaking, so you were almost sure he wasn't crying or panicking, but something pulled you to him like a magnet... Like there was an invisible line connecting your hearts, and right now it was getting tighter and tighter with every passing second, so you eventually caved and slowly walked up to him.

During the last few months, Toto asked you out a couple of times, but you always politely declined. He understood your reasons, but that didn't stop all the flirting and teasing, which you honestly didn't mind, because he was always respectful and never did that when there were too many people around. It's not like you didn't want to say yes, and because of that your nos were more of a "not yet..." than "definitely not".

But today none of that mattered. Today you just sat on the floor next to him, allowing your shoulders to gently touch, and even through the jacket, you could feel him relaxing. He didn't have to look up to know it was you...

He knew how your steps sounded in the thickest of rains, so in here, in an empty, quiet corridor, they were deafening, but instead of pain, they brought him relief, because with them occupying his ears, he wasn't able to hear his own thoughts. And when they stopped, your quiet breathing replaced them, shielding his brain with a layer of soft down, he could drown in. He was expecting a familiar scent of burned rubber, but instead was met with... wind. He couldn't explain it, but right now you smelled like air right before the storm. Thick, slightly sweet, cold, and refreshing... Your presence was all-consuming and surrounded him with the gentleness of a heavy blanket. Warm and comforting, but there was no chance of forgetting you were there.

Toto eventually straightened his back and leaned his head against the wall. Up to this point, you weren't sure if he has been crying, but when you saw his eyes, you knew he wasn't. However, that didn't mean there wasn't a storm roaring in his head, and you could just tell that it wasn't because of the race... You couldn't explain why or how, but he was more clear than an open book to you, and even though he didn't say anything, you knew what it was about.

It was the first race after Niki's funeral...

Very gently you reached for his hand, and at first, he didn't move it, not even for an inch... He didn't want your pity... But then you tugged on it again, and he went without any more hesitation. He allowed you to intertwine your fingers with his; but only when you put your other hand over his, completely engulfing it in your warmth, something changed. The heat traveled up his arm almost against his will, and then to his chest, the other arm, down to his stomach, legs, and lastly to his cheeks. He didn't realize how cold he was until your hand found his...

You couldn't take your eyes away from the mess of your tangled fingers, fascinated by how well and seamlessly they fit together; like they were made to hold each other for eternity. How even with his hand dwarfing yours, it snuggly fit in the space between; how despite the difference in skin tone and size you had trouble recognizing which finger belonged to which hand because you weren't sure where you ended and he began; how his rough, worn skin felt softer than feathers against yours... How just by holding his hand, you were able to understand him better than anyone before after hours of conversation.

And your whole world changed in that short moment... One touch. A simple gesture, unattached to any words... And you knew you wanted to have him in your life till the end of the world. But today wasn't a good day for that, not when he was so obviously grieving and in pain, but you knew that when he'll be ready to ask again, you would no longer be capable of saying no, or even "not yet". 

A/N 2: Please don’t feel obligated/pressured to reblog, because I write mostly for myself. A comment would be appreciated though :)

Love,

G.

[tropes-and-tales]

DRUNK DANCING with Ghost, plz!!! 🖤

Everyone in the 141 unwinds differently.  Captain Price likes a quiet spot to let his thoughts spool out as he smokes a good cigar.  Gaz goes home, slips into the civilian life like a second suit.  Soap and Ghost both like to go to a dark bar and enjoy a pint, let the alcohol dull the edges of their pain of the things they see and do in their work.

You?  You like a dark bar and a pint too, but you prefer to find a club—a certain type of club, one of those shady looking warehouses full of shadowy corners and drumming basslines and floors sticky from spilled drinks.  Ghost has tailed you enough times to see the frenetic way you drink and then the frenetic way you dance, the way you lose yourself in the alcohol and darkness and music and crush of bodies.  

It’s a strange thing to witness from the sidelines.  You’re in your own world, eyes squeezed shut as you dance.  Ghost knows the weight you carry as the team’s sniper.  The judgement calls that you always have to make.  The possible guilt of killing an innocent.  The possible guilt of getting a teammate killed.  Being perched somewhere alone while the rest of the team works on the ground.  It’s strange to know that these moments of unwinding come from a desire to shed that guilt, to unburden yourself from the perpetual sadness you feel.

It's a strange thing to witness because Ghost knows what drives you, but he also can’t help but admire you as you dance.  The abandon of it, the way you move…he hates that it affects him the way it does.  He hates the way it heats his blood, makes him half-hard just to watch the sensual way you sway to the heavy beat.  He hates the way jealousy bumps up against rage when you dance with another man.  He hates the way his thoughts get away from him, imagining you with your dance partner in a random seedy hotel room, being taken advantage of.

Any random man would never understand you the way he does.  Any random man would never see the contradictions in you:  the killer with the heavy guilt, the hard exterior hiding the softest heart in the world.

Ghost always leaves you alone on these nights, no matter how much it hurts to see you take random men by the hand and lead them away.  He always swallows down his jealousy, his disappointment.  He’d never interfere in your life, but yet….

But yet, no other man understands you the way he does.

His feet lead him out of the shadows and through the crush of people on the dance floor.  Those that see him move for him, the hulking man in the skull mask.  Those that don’t see him are gently pushed aside as he makes his way to you.

You’re dancing with a seedy looking asshole, but the seedy asshole is smart:  he catches sight of Ghost and scampers away.  You turn and see him, and your face twists into confusion before you smile and throw your arms around his waist.

“Hey!” you shout above the music.  “What’re you doing here?”

“Keeping an eye on you,” he answers.  He bends his head and wraps a tentative arm around you, meets you halfway in the hug.  Even through his mask he can smell your hair, the softness of your shampoo mingled with the honest scent of your sweat.

“Dance with me, Ghost.”  You release him, and it’s an order, not a request.  You reach out and grasp his wrist, lift his arm, do a little spin underneath it.  You hold onto him and lean against him, your back to his chest.

Ghost isn’t a dancer.  He can’t think of a time he ever has danced, yet his body reacts to the feeling of you leaning into him.  You still have a hold on his one wrist—you’ve caught him under the cuff of his jacket, and your hand burns his bare skin like a brand.  He places his free hand on your waist, steadies himself.  He finds the rhythm and sways with you, both of you lost in the music and the darkness and each other.

[pocketramblr]

If the ask games is still open: A sibling swap in where Touya, Fuyumi and Natsuo are all Iidas (and thus Tenya's older siblings), while Tensai is Shouto's only sibling.

Oh wow this produced such healthier family dynamics I'm sure-

1- Tensei is, of course, Rei and Enji's pride and joy. When he's born, Rei immediately tries for another but it's too soon for her body, and she miscarries. Tensei's quirk isn't quite as strong as Enji hoped for, but he's worried about Rei being able to carry any child at all again -what if the last baby had been "too hot" for her cold body, he really should have gotten more information on genetics, pregnancy, and quirks before he decided to do a mini eugenics experiment but you live and learn ig- so he trains Tensei carefully. Tensei thinks being a hero is Cool™ and is more obedient to his parents than Touya would be.

2- still, over the years, Enji begins to think it still won't be enough. Perhaps, with how good Tensei is using support gear to keep up his health, with how well he works with others, he'll lead the Endeavor agency and do far better than his father, break his records cases. But... He won't surpass All Might. And Rei always wanted more children, and she's 33 this year and after 35 isn't it supposed to be riskier... Why not try again? And then Shoto is born the week Tensei gets into UA, and he's perfect.

3- Meanwhile, the Iidas have always had big families (if you're cynical: gives them a better chance of having as least one in the generation with an engine quirk to keep the brand going. If you're less cynical: they're rich enough to care for as many children as they want and since they remember childhoods with siblings and cousins, they want the same for their kids.) Touya ("Mercury") has engines on his ankles, Fuyumi ("Nike") on her shoulder blades, Natsuo didn't inherit the engine quirk, and Tenya of course has his calves.

Now... You know how Dabi gets carsick when Spinner drives? Great ok because now his body is the car. And he doesn't have brakes. So even here, his quirk and body do not get along.

4- Tensei adores his baby brother just as his parents do. He's so excited his second year when Shoto manifests his quirk. But that said, he's a busy kid. He's interning at his father's agency after school, but taking on more responsibility there. He leads a lot of people, and he's very good at it. When he graduates, he's the second in command. When he's twenty, he's practically in charge. His father is at home more, after all. He thinks nothing of it... Until he visits unannounced one day, and hears shouting from the training room, opens the door just in time to hear "he's already five" and have the scent of vomit hit his nose.

Enji's hand is raised to hit Rei, though it falls on seeing Tensei. His expression shifts, asks if something is the matter, an emergency. Tensei stares, jaw slack. It's quiet as the whole picture sinks in for everyone there. Then Shoto gags, and Tensei moves to go to him. "Trainings over." He declares. "I'll get him cleaned up, we'll talk after dinner."

"Tensei-"

"We'll talk after dinner, Endeavor."

5- Touya, to no one's surprise I'm sure, sucks at working in teams. Given that is Idaten's whole shtick, Fuyumi steps into a team leader role instead. But her quirk is far more limited than her brother's, really only lets her go up and down, so on the field Touya is playing the main character while Fuyumi organizes his backup dancers. She's too nice to admit if it bothers her, but she and her parents have quietly planned to have Tenya take over in her role if he has a knack for it, then inherit the agency, because even Fuyumi doesn't have the patience to want to babysit her older brother forever. They hope that Touya's attitude tempers out by then.

Instead what happens is Stain attacks Mercury who frequently goes off on his own. He, improbably, survives. In the hospital, he calls Tenya to talk to him alone. He is not there to give Tenya his hero name, in fact, it's the opposite:

Touya: "don't you dare take my hero name, I know you pick them next week, and Mom and Dad are idiots if they think I'm retiring just because they tell me to."

Tenya looks at the scope of the injuries. But he looks up to his siblings and is relieved to not have that pressure on him, so he agrees.

Touya: "great, now even more important: don't you even think about taking my revenge. I'm going to be the one to kill Stain, and if you take that from me I'll kill you too, and then Fuyumi will kill me and die of a broken heart, and Natsuo can't pass on engine. Do you get what I'm saying?"

Tenya: "... That continuing the cycle of violence and revenge would destroy our family and ourselves, instead of bringing justice?"

Touya: "oh my god no I don't care about that. Just know that if you even look in Stain's direction before I put his pieces in a body bag, you're going to be in there with him."

Tenya agrees to not go after Stain... Though he does think of backup plans.