#this man occupies my every waking thought

[electracution]

Boromir, 02.2024

Hi everybody, just so you know I love to talk to people so if you want to chat about anything (Tolkien related or not) go for it :)

Anyway, I wish whoever sees this post a very good day or night <3

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

sits up in bed. so lana and ema definitely thought they were responsible for edgeworth "choosing death", right?

(the rest of this post was supposed to go in the tags, because it's not very well organised or written, but it got too long so. here are the slightly edited tags for your reading pleasure (or otherwise)):

i was going to make this solely about ema because she's the obvious one with her open adoration of edgeworth, but the thing about rfta is that it goes to great lengths to emphasise the connection between lana and edgeworth as well.

the sl-9 incident showed that lana grows attached to people deeply, hence angel starr's comment on how, when neil marshall died, 'she (lana) felt like her own brother had died.' with edgeworth, i think it was similar but worse. because he's not just a coworker or subordinate who's dear to her. he saved her life. and it cost him his own.

at the beginning of the case, edgeworth says he was mistaken for thinking that lana was always looking out for him post sl-9 (a statement interesting on its own because that's when everyone else says she grew distant), and, later on, he brings ema fingerprinting powder because lana asked him to. then, of course, there's the 'lady luck' comment he makes.

similarly, on lana's side, you obviously have the end of the trial when she says he did well, but there's also that additional moment post-trial where she's the only one to notice — in a group comprising her, ema, phoenix and gumshoe — that he's 'hiding', listening to their conversation. point is, there's enough to suggest that she might have been the nearest thing edgeworth had to a mia; his 'chief prosecutor' to phoenix's plain 'chief'. they're as close as two people can be in a relationship where one of them is constantly lying and the other is von karma's star pupil.

rfta is pretty straightforwardly depicted as the case which solidified edgeworth's resolve to do what he did; i don't think i have to prove that. rumours about him have reached new heights, his car and knife were involved in goodman's murder, he makes an unprecedented mistake in court by failing to connect the evidence room and carpark incidents, thus forcing the chief of police to enter the trial to do so himself, and he's publicly revealed to have relied on falsified evidence to secure a conviction in the sl-9 case, all of which only happened because of lana. jake marshall even claims that from the beginning — that if you trace edgeworth's rumours back to their source, you end up meeting one person: lana skye.

and it gets worse because at the end of rfta, she thinks he's fine!! she literally says, 'i was afraid the pressure would break you, but you rose above it,' and reminds him he's nothing like gant because he's not alone. she leaves the case thinking he will be okay. and then, what, like a week passes, and she finds out that he wasn't, and that he's gone, and it's her fault. even after she was freed from gant's control, even after she had finally stopped lying, she couldn't prevent herself from claiming another life. so much for 'lady luck', i suppose.

and the game reiterates this multiple times. gumshoe states at the start that edgeworth's ties to those higher up in the department have made him the subject of constant rumours, and phoenix says (in front of ema) that he shouldn't be held responsible for the forged evidence because that was all lana's doing, which then leads to edgeworth commenting (again in front of ema) that he feels as though 'something inside him has died.' it all goes back to lana. we can argue and say that it was technically gant's doing that caused all of this, but lana still took actions that led to it. even her complicated friendship with edgeworth isn't spared; it's that closeness between them that exacerbated those rumours. how could she not feel responsible in some way?

and with ema, it's rather obvious, isn't it? if she hadn't gone poking her nose into things, none of this would have happened or come to light. and, of course, she'd never choose anyone over her sister, not for anything in the world — it's simply not a question, but that's the problem, isn't it? it's not a question. it's not some hypothetical moral dilemma. it just is. she may not have killed neil marshall, but she still has one king of prosecutor's blood on her hands. and now she has to live with that. she just. has. to live with it. no matter if he chose otherwise.

moving on from that a little, i think it's actually wild how much of ema's journey to becoming a forensics investigator is paved with bad memories. neil marshall's death and her subsequent inability to testify are what drives her to begin pursuing it, her first proper investigation results in her idol's "death" and when she finally graduates, the person who saved her sister has been disbarred, and she can't even help because she isn't allowed to. all that pain and constant pursuit of her goals, and she's still the same ema skye, still that girl shrouded in darkness, always one step behind the truth, one step a little too late. no wonder she was angry in aa:aj. i would be furious.

[cherry-dr0p]

Some Kenji doodles I did today to feed all the Kenji fans before I finish the bigger drawing 🙏

(To be fair I am quite obsessed with drawing him)

VVVVVVV

One I did on the bus whilst I was bored and stuck in traffic;

A couple more I did at college;

That's all for now! :3

[drawfee-quot3s]

have i mentioned that im violently in love with julia lepetit

because im so normal ab her who wants to have a conversation where im very normal ab her

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ You invite them to live in your Serenitea Pot

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe 

After prolonged years of adventuring, traveling, and battling, you decided it was the appropriate moment to invite your partner to your Serenitea Pot. It’s like inviting a significant other to move in with you, right? You are delighted, and even though your beloved is acting honored and calm on the outside, little do you know - he is secretly screaming with victory on the inside. 

✧ A tender smile graced Pierro’s cold expression. The first time you spoke about him taking residence along with you in your Serenitea Pot mansion, The Jester's inner machination was already planning a wedding. He loved you, with every fiber of his being. And whether you decide to live in the grand Snezhnayan Palace or somewhere private, it won’t hinder his plans to spoil you as his beloved.

It was all according to plan. You wake up, breakfast is already prepared. You start your day, the house is already cleaned. You wish to rest, his arms are already open.

He took his duties as a resident of your humble abode as if he were the househusband of this home. All matters were taken care of by him. And the fact that you two are already leading a private life together like a proper couple ignited his cold demeanor with softheartedness. It suited him; the commotion of the Fatui and Snezhnayan delegations were far away from you two. And with no peering eyes, the Fatui Director was busy with so many thoughts about your future: making your home better, showing himself as a man who would coddle you all day long, choosing a ring for you…

“Dear? You are deep in thoughts again,” - You called out suddenly, your gentle voice breaking his train of vehement thoughts. “I told you, you’re here to rest, not overwork yourself with chores!”

“Ah, my apologies. It seems I was lost in my mind once more. You know my habit of preparedness is often prevalent.”

✧ The honorable Il Capitano went silent the first time you invited him, and his pitch-black helmet did not provide any clues to his already stoic body language. At first, you hesitated. Perhaps he did not feel comfortable taking such an importan-

Next thing you know, the mighty captain is kneeling in front of you, his head hung low in utter reverence. “It would be my greatest honor to receive your blessings. I shall conduct myself with utmost obedience in your domain.”

“Goodness gracious, It’s just my house, Capitano! Not the Tsaritsa’s throne!” 

After much convincing and assurance, you finally had The First of the Harbingers in your dwelling. In the beginning, you pondered, what a man of his caliber would do in his private time. Perhaps more training, or planning for battles? You decided to create a separate area for weaponry storage and training duels. After all, you wanted to be considerate.

To your surprise, Capitano never brought his “work” in the privacy of your home. Instead, he treated you to some of the best home cooking in the seven nations. With a broad outdoor area like your Serenitea Pot, Il Capitano finally managed to flex his grilling skills. You never knew BBQ grilled vegetables could taste so heavenly. And on colder nights, he preferred some home baking.

“Who would’ve thought the strongest man in Teyvat relished such a peaceful routine when he’s at home,” - You teased him once. Feasting like a monarch with his cooking, you have your cherished prepare the best food and provide the strongest cuddles - what else would you need?

“I would never bring you the turbulence of war to the footsteps of your home. After all, mundanity is a luxury that the common folk cannot comprehend.”

✧ When Il Dottore moved in with you - he became an absolute menace to your mental well-being. The upper floor of your manor was entirely occupied for his scholarly needs. From your library to your study; the upper rooms were regaled, making a mini makeshift lab filled with vials of obscure chemicals or too-long-to-read medical names.

But that was not the main issue at all. The greatest conundrum was that Dottore considered your privacy as our privacy. According to him, the Serenitea Pot was a private residence, secluded from the turmoil of the world’s idiocracy. Any temporary visitors would receive a nasty glare from him whenever they stayed. This was his confidential sanctuary with you, not theirs. And in his private time, when it’s only you and him in the house, the Doctor would forget that people often get dressed after a shower - because he would exit the bathroom wearing only a towel around his hips, and keep waltzing around your room like it’s nothing.

“...Uh? Please dress first, Dottore.”

“Very well.”

“Not here!!!”

Nevertheless, you managed all that. What you didn’t manage, however, is how Dottore took the most amount of space in bed. Your bed, mind you. Before he joined your travels, you created a comfy bedroom in your Serenitea Pot, a separate, quiet setting for your favorite mad scholar. Alas, every night you peacefully went to bed, only to wake up with a figure wrapping his arms tightly around your midsection, taking half of your bed.

Today was one of those days. The blankets were a mess, some had fallen to the floor. You feel uncomfortable and claustrophobic in your own bed, something nudging you to almost fall off. You already knew the culprit of your situation - Dottore. He was dozing off comfortably behind you, his arms sleepily thrown around your form, glued to your torso.

You whined groggily, trying to get away - “... You have your own bed. Stop pushing me.”

“Shush. Come here.” - Dottore's arms encircled around your waist, pulling your back flush to his chest. “It’s our bed now.” 

It seems The Doctor didn’t take long to feel at home. Oh well. The only way to deal with this was to use him as a mattress from now on.

✧ At first, you hesitated to invite Scaramouche to your Serenitea Pot. It was still a work in progress, and not all areas were refurbished or prepared. Yet surprisingly, it was he who opened the discussion of a joint dwelling. Perhaps it was his instinct to keep you closer, to be certain of your safety in his arms.

After asking and discussing, you were pleasantly surprised when the Balladeer stated: “I do not expect you to build a palace. I will help you with the renovation. You can ask for my help.”

And so he did. You felt timid with your emptied Serenitea Pot, yet The Harbinger took it upon himself to aid you. He worked with you on where the house should be, and what type of garden or entrance should accompany it. There was something about his serious gaze whenever he discussed with you the matters of home. As if some old memories were reemerging.

“It doesn't matter. We won’t clutter the place, as a busy environment becomes a nuisance. The less one has - the better.”

With a profound touch of contemplation and minimalism, You and Scaramouche managed to plan an elegant abode. It was simple, yet perfectly maintained - with the best aspects of Inazuma and other foreign nations in the craftsmanship of the furniture. You were surprised but content. You even went as far as to ask your beloved whether he wanted a more traditional Inazuman style for this private dwelling but he strictly rejected it.

He didn’t want any more memories of his “birthplace” to resurface. Not in a place that will be private for you two.

So here you were, giddy with excitement as the interior of your manor was settled and ready. The bedroom was cozy and comfortable, a perfect place to lounge and rest. The Harbinger would groan whenever you tugged and pulled him to sleep next to you. 

“If you move once in your sleep, I’m pushing you off the bed.” 

You promised him you wouldn’t. But it was he who relented and held you close to his chest during the night. He did not need a home or a safe haven from the cruel world; You were already his home. 

✧ Bring in the fine china, and roll out the red carpet - because Pantalone was coming over to your Serenitea Pot. You know that your sweetheart has a manor pricier than Mondstadt’s entire GDP, with fancy knick-knacks and luxuries. But as a couple, it was always Pantalone who insisted on you living with him, since he could spoil and pamper you after long travel expeditions. In his manor, you can simply have everything you ever desire. 

But today was a grand occasion. You decided to invite him to your humble home, even if you had little to impress him with. The Harbinger was ecstatic, this was a step he desired and longed for. Should he dress formal-casual or more extravagant? No, no. His hair must be well-kept. Perhaps he should bring an expensive bottle of Fontainian wine… The evening must end flawlessly. It’s his first night in your home, for crying out loud. An evening designated to culminate with lovely cuddles in your bed, lavishing you with kisses or more. 

Upon entering your cozy home, all his worries dissipated after you embraced him in your usual jovial way. You proudly displayed your manor, tugging at his hand and pulling him closer. Mirroring your pride, he stood analyzing each item or furniture as if it were a priceless relic in a museum.

“Ah, yes. I see this must be a traditional Inazuman doll, one used in ancient arts and rituals.”

“Oh, these round things? This is just a tanuki daruma… They bounce funny.”

“And I see this figurine must be imported as well, my dear? A marvelous craftsmanship of wood and carvings. Interesting.”

“This is just a wooden figurine of an Aranara” - you smiled proudly.

“I like your funny words, darling.” 

✧ If Tartaglia never invited you over to his family home back in Snezhnaya, you would’ve thought this man was homeless. The 11th often stayed in your Serenitea Pot, always giddy yet conscientious. Whenever you wished for any help around the house, his sleeves would roll up and the apron was on; all you had to do was ask, and you shall receive.

Thus, the two of you would help each other. If you were cooking, then he would do the laundry; all chores were equally divided. Childe was naturally hardworking, and you loved him for his dedication to the house. It always felt warmer and cozier whenever he stayed, and you made sure to display your appreciation throughout the day by providing kisses to the cheek or gentle caresses to his hair.

Who wouldn’t be thrilled when their beloved greets them home and kisses them on the cheek? Now that he is residing in your private adeptal realm, it makes him look forward to returning home even more. To be back from a mission, only to kiss you, pick you up, and squeeze you lovingly in his arms.

Alas, despite his domestic joy, he was also becoming restless. Such a huge realm, you could have a whole area for dueling or training an army here. Therefore, he would start nagging at you throughout the day, asking you to join him.

“Come now, sweetheart! Just a quick morning stretch!” - He said from the living room’s doorway.

“Oh, I know! How about we make a shooting range outdoors and see who’ll get the most bullseye.” - his voice rang from downstairs.

“Or a one-on-one sparring match. That will get the blood flowing.” - he even stood behind the bathroom door, still imploring you through closed doors.

All this and more persisted. Even in the early morning, when your eyesight barely adjusted to the sunlight, the first thing you’d see is him leaning over your shoulders “Perhaps we can-” 

“Nope,” - you intercepted, albeit sleepily. Pulling him closer to bed, you made sure he went still in your arms. “No fighting. Only cuddles...”

“Oh? Is that your form of a challenge, darling? Be prepared, because I won't back down.”

[navybrat817]

Out of My Head

Pairing: Chubby Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky feels a bit insecure during a romantic evening and you do your best to get him out of his head.

Word Count: Over 2.6k

Warnings: Unprotected v. sex, dirty talk, possessiveness, a/b/o dynamics, insecurities, self-doubt, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes and he's crazy about you (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: More Beach Fun Nonsense! Hope you lovelies enjoy. @missvelvetsstuff, @honeyglee (chubby!Bucky), and @bucksbabee (rose petals) all requested for alpha!Bucky to Go for a Swim (smut) with prompt #27 and #32 in bold. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky wanted tonight to be romantic. Candles, rose petals, the works. Not for any sort of special occasion, but because his omega deserved only the best. Day in and day out. He hoped it was enough to make you feel loved and adored. It was a wonder that you were with an alpha like him.

If you looked inside his head, you’d tell him there was no reason for him to think he wasn't the perfect man for you. That he was a good partner and alpha. Had been from the start. That you loved him. And you did. You never once gave him a reason to doubt that.

If only he could push away the negative voice in his mind that seemed determined to bring him down tonight.

“Bucky?”

Tilting his head, everything around him became muted as he focused on you. Laying on your side with your naked body exposed to him, he watched the candlelight cast a glow upon your skin. Both of you lost your clothes earlier in the evening, content to lay beside each other for the time being. He wished some days that you didn't have to wear clothes at all. You and your body were made to be worshiped.

Unlike him.

Bucky almost covered himself up with the blanket. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but he was soft in places where he was once firm. While he had been on the thicker side for years, he now had some pudge to go along with it. Handsome or not, he just wasn't in the same shape he used to be when he was younger. What if one day you didn’t like that? What if you wanted someone different? Stronger?

Better?

“You're thinking too hard again,” you said, picking up one of the rose petals to brush across his forehead. He smiled when he realized you traced a heart. “I can feel it.”

He inhaled your scent to ground himself. Orange, cinnamon, honey. The aroma of you made his mouth water. It comforted him, too. He hadn't associated any kind of smell with a sense of home until you.

“I’m thinking about you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You smiled, nuzzling into your pillow more as you gazed at him. “What about me?”

“Just how amazing you are,” he answered.

When he looked into your eyes the first time, he expected to see his imperfections staring back at him like they had with so many others. But the way you looked at him with kindness, acceptance, and want, everything fell into place. Pieces of himself he didn’t know were missing found their way back to him and made him while again. His heart didn't stand a chance.

It belonged to you.

Beautiful. Perfect. Mine.

How is that possible? How does a goddess want me? What the hell is wrong with me tonight?

“You know you look at me some days like I'm not even real?” You asked, reaching over to run your fingers through his hair. He moaned and turned his head to nose along your wrist. He craved your touch and scent like nothing else. “Like you're in some sort of a dream and you're afraid you're going to wake up if you look away.”

“Because you’re everything I could ever want. You occupy every single thought in my head, and every single dream,” he whispered. Even his dreams couldn't come up with someone as amazing as you. “And maybe I am afraid that this isn't real.”

Your brows pinched. “Why is that?”

He leaned over to kiss your forehead, wanting to ease the worry from your face. “I’m not sure. You just seem too good to be true and it feels like I might wake up to find you gone. Or that one day…” He rested back, swallowing hard. “You’ll decide you just don't want me anymore.”

You whined, a distraught sound that broke his heart. He wanted to take back those words, but he didn’t want to hide his feelings no matter how much it hurt to talk about them. “Bucky, I’m not going anywhere.” You shook your head vehemently as you sat up. “And I want you. I always do. Why would you ever think I wouldn't want you?”

“Because look at me.” He waved his hand over his torso, averting his gaze as if to hide his vulnerability. “How can someone like you want someone like me?”

He wanted to take the words back the moment they left his mouth when another wounded whine spilled from your lips. You placed your hands on his cheeks and brought his gaze back to you. There was mist over your eyes like you were going to cry and he wanted to chase that look away. “How can I want you? Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are? How wonderful you are?” You kept a hand on his face as the other slid down to his neck. “Bucky, look at me, please.”

His eyes slowly opened. He hadn't realized he shut them. “Doll, I’m sorry. I-”

“You're perfect. Inside and out. And don't say you aren't because you're perfect to me.” There was a hint of a growl on your tone as your hand moved lower. Well, as much of a growl as an omega could muster. You defended him so fiercely. “No one takes care of me the way you do. No one loves me the way you do. I’m the luckiest person in the world because I get to call you my mate.”

A strangle moan escaped when your hand brushed along his stomach. He never thought it would feel so sensitive, but no one else has really touched it since he got bigger. Except for you. “Omega.”

“You think you aren’t everything I want?” You tilted your head so he could see the mark he left. His chest swelled with pride. You never covered it up or put a collar over it, wanting everyone to see that you were claimed. He had a mark, too.

He was yours just as much as you were his.

“I know in my heart that you want me, I know that. I can feel that. But my head keeps reminding me tonight that I’m just bigger than I used to be and I have no idea why,” he said, shutting his eyes again. “It’s stupid.”

Why was his body such an issue this evening? This was supposed to be romantic, not a time to pick at his inner wounds. Maybe there was a reason he wasn't aware of. Maybe he needed to cut the wounds open so the warmth of your bond could slowly heal them.

“It isn’t stupid. Your feelings are never stupid, do you hear me? And you being bigger? Isn't that just more of you that I get to love?” There was no disgust or judgment as you rubbed his stomach again. Your sincerity almost made him choke up when he opened his eyes to gaze at you. “Bucky, believe me when I say that this isn’t a dream. This is real. I'm real and I love you. I’ll love you no matter what. That is never going to change.”

His chest rumbled at your declaration and he couldn't help but reach for you, needing to feel your body close. “I love you, too.”

He closed his eyes again when you pressed your lips to his. The bond crackled with your affection and care before his tongue slipped past your lips. The crackling intensified, your desire and need flowing into him like molten lava. It was going to burn him alive. He’d gladly perish that way.

Thank you. I love you. I’m sorry.

“Feel this,” you urged when you broke the kiss, putting his hand over your heart.

“Is that for me?” He asked as it raced under his touch.

“It’s only for you, Bucky,” you promised, slowly guiding his hand down your body. “Now feel this.”

You didn't stop until his hand rested between your thighs. “And that’s for me?” He growled as he touched your pussy, your slick coating his fingers.

You gasped and he half expected you to agree that it was, but you pulled away. He tried not to let his insecurities bubble back up and hoped his scent didn't change to something unpleasant. You assured him that he was perfect in your eyes. That you wanted him. And loved him. But it didn't mean you had to-

“It’s for you. Only you,” you said, turning toward the front of the bed to press your chest against it. “See, alpha?”

Bucky sat up as you raised your hips higher and presented yourself to him. He growled softly as he licked away the wetness from his fingers and eyed your twitching, slick-drenched hole. The blood that roared in his ears quickly rushed south and the beast inside snarled at the insecure voice to not say another word. You wanted him. Would always want him. You assured him of that with both your words and your body.

“Take a good look. It’s such a pretty hole for you to ruin. You want to ruin it, don't you? Ruin me?” You asked sweetly, briefly lifting your head to look over your shoulder. The blue around Bucky’s pupils shrank to a small ring, barely visible from how aroused he was at the sight of you. “Please, wreck me. Make me say your name.”

He had a hand wrapped around his cock, the alpha within him clawing to break through the surface. Biology would've screamed at any alpha to take you. Knot you. Breed you. But you didn’t want just any alpha. Wouldn't beg for just any alpha.

He was the alpha you chose.

“And you know that isn’t my instinct talking since I’m not in heat. This is me wanting you, Bucky Barnes,” you said as if you read his mind, snaking a hand between your legs. He almost wished you were on your back so he could play with your beautiful breasts, but he had all night to do so. “I’m so wet for you and so empty. I’m aching. You don’t even have to prep me. Just get in me. Take me.”

You gasped when he was suddenly behind you, his large body draped over yours. “That’s my pussy you're touching, omega,” he growled, pinning you down by the neck. “And I’m the only one getting you off tonight.”

“Yes, alpha,” you purred.

His belly rubbed against you as he raised your hips an inch higher and he tensed up only for a moment before he realized you pushed back against him, trying to take him in. He growled as he sat back and looked down at you, your body quivering from the low and feral sound. Deeply inhaling, he could taste your lust and love on his tongue from how strong it was. As much as he wanted to dive down and devour you, he needed to fill you up and leave his mark inside you once again.

“Not just gonna ruin you with my cock,” he said, brushing the thick head of his cock between your folds. “Gonna ruin you with my mouth after. Make your flood it with that sweet slick and drink it down ‘til you scream how much you love me.”

“Yes. Please, alpha. I want your cock. Your mouth. Anything,” you begged, keeping your head down when he folded over you again. You didn’t fear his size or weight crushing you. It excited you. He could smell it.

“You need me?” His lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Say my name.”

You whimpered when he pressed himself against your entrance. He tried to go slow since he hadn’t prepped you, but you could take him. “I need you. Only you, Bucky,” you sighed, trembling as he pushed in an inch more.

He gasped out your name, powerless to resist the pull as he sank as deep inside you as he could. His eyes fluttered when you clenched around him. Nothing felt as good as your slick cunt. Tight, but opened up for him so beautifully. And nothing else mattered or existed outside of you.

“Move, please. Don’t hold back,” you moaned.

Overwhelming pleasure flowed through him as his body blanketed yours. You embraced every part of him and he wanted to smother you with his scent. “Remember, omega, you begged for this.”

Whatever sense of control he had disappeared as he thrust, the slapping sound of skin on skin and his grunts a stark contrast to the romantic setting of the room. You couldn't push your hips back, but your pussy welcomed each movement as you cried out. Even with his vicious thrusts, it was somehow sensual when he nuzzled your neck.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

“Yours,” you moaned.

He hadn't known he said the words aloud, too lost in his primal haze. By the sounds of your moans and feel of your clenching walls, you were close already. It pleased him knowing how much he pleased you. He wanted to draw it out, make it last. He also wanted to bring you over the edge again and again.

“Does that feel good? You love getting fucked by your big, strong mate?” He grunted, heat pulsing through his veins.

“Yes. So strong,” you whimpered, reaching back to grip his hair. “So big.”

He groaned, raw pleasure bubbling through every part of his body. “Yeah, I'm big and you love it. And you love my cock ruining your pretty hole?”

“Yes, Bucky. I, hmm, love your cock.” You mewled when his teeth scraped along your skin. “Love you.”

He nosed along your neck again, slipping a hand beneath your body. “Then show my cock how much you love me,” he ordered, teasing your swollen clit. “Come all over it.”

You screamed his name as promised, slick gushing as you spasmed around him. He didn't stop, his hips snapping faster and harder as you shook through it. To feel you let go and hear those sounds of ecstasy as you rode out the waves was an honor. He needed to join you on the ride.

“Such a good omega. My omega. Gonna fill you up. So. Fucking. Good.” He growled the last word as he spilled inside you, panting with his release. The sensations blended with your earlier words, surrounding him in bliss. You were bliss.

Careful not to crush or jolt you, he rolled to his side and took you with him as he stayed nestled inside you. He murmured praise against your skin as you snuggled back against him. He didn't want to leave your body just yet. Not when you felt so good. Not when the terrible voice remained quiet.

About time you shut the fuck up and let me enjoy the evening with my mate.

“Better?” You breathed, looking over your shoulder with hopeful eyes.

Both of your hearts racing still, your purr mixed with his rumble, he wondered why he was so bothered before since his insecurities weren't a constant thing. Everyone had their off days though, including you. Sometimes for no concrete reason at all. That was life, but he couldn't ask for a better partner and mate to help him through the ups and downs, big or small.

“Much better. Thank you,” he whispered, brushing his lips against yours. “But one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

He wrapped his arm tighter around you and didn't flinch as his stomach pressed more against your back. “I love you, too.”

Always, my sweet omega.

And should you ever doubt his want or love for you, he’d be sure to assure you the way you did for him.

Lovelies, I was TERRIFIED to post this, but I'm in love with them. Maybe we'll see them again? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[tsukimefuku]

voice kink: the reckoning (or so you thought) ♪ nanami kento

This is the continuation drabble to that because this teasy man occupied my every waking moment, it’s not even funny. Have my horny once again.

You thought you had the upper hand when Nanami got back home at night after relentlessly teasing you in the morning. You had confessed finding his voice sexy and oh did he leave you completely pent up after whispering dirty talk inches away from your ears and leaving for the day.

Needless to say, you body slammed him onto the mattress the minute he stepped inside the apartment, thinking you had surprised him.

However, the only upper hand you had was both of your hands pinned above your head as he pounded you on the bed relentlessly and whispered obscenities in your ear.

“Were you needy like this... ah... all day long? Horny for... ah...  this? To have me fucking you... like this?” His warm breath tickled all around your cheek and earlobe, and it just added another layer of sensations sending shivers down your entire body.

His low, usually well collected voice was now breathier, raspier and slightly stuttered in between his own moans.

Your brain had turned to complete mush by this point, and that very familiar pooling heat began concentrating in your body, the lewd sounds of his cock slapping in and out of your folds filling the room along with your whimpers.

“Y-yes... Kento I-I’m... I’m gonna... kiss me-“ you begged, wanting nothing more than his tongue — by this point completely glazed with your taste after he made sure he had his dinner before giving you what you were begging for — thrust into your mouth.

“No... how would you hear me if- ah... I’m kissing you...?” This time, his tone was a little more playful, but just as intense and truthful. 

Oh no. No no no. Ohhhhh he did not.

He was very serious about it.

The teasing demon had not only not left his body, it was actually trying to kill you. You were sure of it.

The heat in your belly was unsteady, wavering, and you were nothing short of desperate for it to burst — something especially hard to do when your man would deny you that warm, sloppy wet kiss he’d always give you to tip you off the edge.

“K-kento... please please oh- I’m begging I’m ahhh- please, p-please, God... I’ll die... don’t, I’m... fuck, pleas-” you weren’t even making sense anymore. All that came out of your mouth were senseless begging pleas through whimpers and pathetic moans.

He chuckled.

That relentless little devil chuckled.

“Die? Ah... don’t be so dramatic-“ he huffed, honeyed tone gnawing at your frustration by the second, “cum and I’ll kiss you”

He’s trying to kill me.

“I c-can’t... I just... please, please please- I can’t Kento I can’t without-”

You sounded pitiful.

“Come on... be a... good girl for me, love...” Nanami answered, husky voice brushing over your skin before he planted a warm kiss on your cheek.

To help you out, Nanami drew one of his hands down and began circling his thumb over your throbbing, desperate clit.

It took less than five seconds to have all of your pent up frustration and desire completely bursting at the seams. Your entire body jolted and convulsed as you came with a strained cry, blabbering away his name and your own desperation, your cunt tightening with ungodly strength around his cock.

“Good girl,” he cooed, before sliding his tongue wetly over your cheek and thrusting it inside your open mouth, giving you the taste you had been begging for those past few minutes.

His hip thrusts became erratic, his moans broke into your breath, and he, too, reached his peak.

You felt his thick, white cum blossoming warm inside you, and for a second, you felt like you had a tiny second orgasm just from it.

Letting go of your pinned hands, Nanami held your waist and parted his lips from yours. 

“Is this what you wanted when you attacked me by the door?” Nanami asked with a sly smile to his face, panting as he locked his gaze to yours under his completely messy, disheveled hair.

“Shut up, Kento. Just shut up.” 

He let out a soft chuckle before pressing his lips on yours again.

Little devil.

[starfishstark]

PRINCESS AND THE SITH

NOTE guys this prompt got a hold of me, so blame @ofstarsandvibranium for the midnight horrible writing

WARNINGS 1.6K words, violence, death of a non-MC, smut (you freaks), lots of religious imagery and refrences to Qimir being god-like (he is)

PAIRING qimir x princess! reader

you and young jedi qimir fall in love when he's guarding you as a member of the royal family. you're stricken away from each other in the name of duties and responsibilities, and the love is thought to be a lost cause to you...until you see him again, holding a vibrant red saber to the throat of your betrothed.

Oh my stars, he was just as beautiful as the day he left. Even with grim over his face, and sweat glistening over his skin. The red reflected off of him in a way that she could only compare to heavenly. Oh what a horrible idea…

It was just a mistake, that was all. As a kid, she should have known she couldn’t have grown close to any Jedi. As a teenager, she should have recognized her faults, and moved past them. Not whatever happened between them then, puppy innocent love. Nothing tainted, nothing impure, simply just a love that bloomed between them, first love. 

But it could never meant to be. She knew she had to grow into her royal duties, one day marry into a rich royal family somewhere out there to settle down and provide heirs for that family as she wasn’t the eldest.

And Qimir…he was a Jedi. He could never have that without forsaking what he has stood for all his life. So once the threat on the royals’ lives had ended, he was sent away. And she never thought of him again…

That was completely false, by the way. It was like every waking second after his departure was spent in reminiscence of him. 

Every lesson became a guess if he would like the subject or not. Every lonely stroll became a daydream about his presence. Every late night was spent wishing he was there guarding her room from the inside, holding her in warrior strengthened arms and confessing the sweet love he had for her. 

As time washed past, the remembrance faded away, until the impending face of reality dawned upon her. There was no point in wishing over something she would never have, something that wouldn’t serve her people. 

She had a royal duty to be bound elsewhere and provide heirs. It was time she forgot about the boy that only stayed weeks, but occupied her mind for years.

But he stood here, grinning like a madman, but at least he was grinning.

“Qimir?” She asked softly, not daring to guess if it was him or not. 

The guard took her by the arm, pulling her away, "Princess, you need to step away. Our priority is getting you to safety—”

“What do you mean- oh.” 

She saw it, the reason he was grinning so widely. In his arms he held the man she was meant to marry in the crook of his elbow, squeezing the neck so tightly that the eyes started to bulge out, but her eyes stayed focused on the sheer mass of muscle he displayed. He wore white…white, like her husband was supposed to on the wedding day. White, and red that made him glow in her eyes. 

“Qimir, what is this?”

“I read…” He started off, clearly his throat, trying to soften his voice. “I read about your laws and traditions, princess…” He glanced off at the man he was currently strangling, holding the end of a small dagger like saber, to his head, a look full of disgust and malice. “And this idiots’ laws too…If I kill him off, I get his wife or his kingdom…and to your laws, all you need to provide is a backup heir for your kingdom…it doesn’t matter who the father is.”

“Of course it does, it needs to be of royal blood,” She answered simply, face and thoughts going more and more blank the longer she spent in his presence. He was really here, and it was flattering he wanted to marry her, but really it could never work out he was a Jedi-

The red saber stared back at, as if taunting her to continue her thoughts. 

No, no, ok, makes sense, he’s a Jedi anymore, but…if he wasn’t Jedi, what was he?

Qimir cocked an eyebrow and smirked at the ministry to her right. “Is that so?”

The Ministry looked down in shame. “No, you are wrong princess…He…he is right. The father does not matter if at least the mother is in direct blood of the throne.”

Her face dropped, looking at them equally with shame and a repulsion, and then panicking, looking suddenly at her fiance’s impending death in the eyes. “Wait, wait, Qimir, don’t be rash, we don’t have to kill him, you’ll enable an entire army of attacks, think rationally here-”

“Oh princess…” He crooned, a glaze in his eyes that never left her, not even for a second. He tilted his head, turning her fiance in tow with him. “Shh…If it’ll hurt, you can close your eyes this time. This isn’t the first time I’ve killed for you…and it won’t be the last either. Shhh, sh…close your eyes.”

“You…you can’t do this,” She tried again stupidly. 

“Yes, yes I can…” he whispered, voice impossibly soft when the subject was the murder of a royal in front of her, her supposed fiance… well not anymore, a little voice in her head cooed, sounding impossibly like Qimir in that moment. 

“Just close your eyes, princess, nothing to see here…the wedding will commence like normal…and nothing will come between us again.”

“Qimir, please, he’s innocent,” She whispered, tears springing in her eyes.

“Princess, c’mon now, don’t make this more difficult for yourself…close your eyes, and cover your ears.”

She glanced at the man she was strangling, taking a full moment to beg for forgiveness in herself, before she turned around closing her eyes and covered her ears. She thought she could practically feel Qimir’s grin resonating around her, and the second her ex-fiances’ body hit the floor. After a moment of silence, a hand rested at her shoulder, turning her around. 

Qimir’s handsome face tugged at her heartstrings, even when she knew that the hands he touched her so softly with were stained with blood. His eyes were alike to a puppy, with hope filling a spark in them that she would marry him and they could love again, the love that never truly fades. His hair framed his face, since when was it that long? Oh she hadn’t seen him in that long.

“Ready to get married, princess?”

__

After the marriage, no one really dared to come near him after he so simply beheaded the heir to a million count kingdom. Suffice to say, no one would bother them for a while…especially during their wedding night. When he had face pushed against the pillow while he took his time learning his way around her body once again. 

“When I-” He cut off with a sharp thrust that rendered her useless under him, whining some nonsense about how good everything felt, “saw the wedding announcement, princess, I nearly killed him that night. Almost consumed him in the force itself, that bastard, trying to take what’s mine.”

“Yours, yours, yours, Qimir, I’m so sorry—”

“Shhh, it’s ok, princess, I’m not mad at you,” he crooned into her ear, his nose tracing a line up and down her neck in comfort as he forced himself further into her, the mess dripping onto the bedsheets and down her thighs. “You didn’t have a choice, you thought you had to do it…I know you would have chosen me if you could, oh poor baby, you thought you were all alone…”

His voice was so soft onto her, like velvet that soothed all the cuts left behind by the years he wasn’t there. “It’s ok… I’m here now, princess…”

She gasped softly when he pulled out just to thrust all the way in again, his fingers coming up to push her head back into the mattress, forcing her hips higher and straightening back out. “Stars, princess, I dreamed of this so much when I didn’t have you…did you dream of me?”

“Almost every night, Qimir, missed you so much,” She blabbed, feeling tears peak at her eyes with how long he was dragging this out. “Please, please, please, need you, need you now, please—”

“Shhh, shh, baby, maybe if it’s easier, you should close your eyes,” He whispered, a mockery of the circumstances before their wedding, sending a shiver involuntarily down her shoulder. “I know what you need, just-” he thrusted again, pressing a spot inside her that made her see stars “-relax.”

She practically melted in his grip, while he breathed heavily above her, the sound like a symphony to heaven’s gates to her. Like pure bliss exploding on her skin, ever second he was with her. 

“Fuck, I love you so much, princess, baby, you love me too, don’t you? Stars, I did this all for you, I fucking love you.”

“I love you, I love you, Iloveyou, Iloveyou-” The phrase became a mantra on her tongue, a prayer that died the second he started to move on her. Prayers were answered, an alter laid before her. He had the wings of an angel, and the eyes of the devil when he peered at her with such power laid in his hands. His blood-streaked hands, like the acceptance of a sacrifice, sacrifice in her name, if he was god, what does that make her? The worship he gave to her, laying practically at her feet, jumping down from his pedestal for a touch of mortality from her lips, and the dangers of being young forever when they touched. 

“You’re mine, princess, no other dirty prince will ever touch you,” He whispered to her, and she knew she believed in faith when his words rang like truth itself in her core. 

When they both finished, he laid next to her, curling her hair behind her ear and pressing gentle kisses to her forehead, each one like sunlight on her skin. She knew what it was like to be touched by a god. 

[parfaitblogs]

you're losing me ❀ s. reid x reader

in which he's an entirely different person after prison, and your relationship is crumbling. 

pairing: spencer reid x reader genre: angst tags: post prison reid. no happy ending. argument/fight. strong language. word count: 2.0k a/n: big fan of soul crushing angst. clearly. i dreamt this one up in an everything shower. likely place for me to plan fics? whole lot of nothing happening i love yapping about sadness!! my least favourite spencer trait is that he doesn't think he deserves good things so he pushes them away so obviously i have to write novellas on him doing just that? this used to be based on tolerate it but i listened to ylm the entire time so erm. things change! lol enjoy xoxo

Perhaps you were stupid. 

Very, very stupid. And ridiculous. And every other synonym for those two words that your brain could not possibly imagine up right now. You were all of them. But also none of them. Because you also felt like there was not a single word that could describe you anymore; if there was, maybe you'd consider yourself a person. But clearly you weren't a person. Not anymore, at least. Not to him. 

An awfully painful year it had been. And maybe that's what stripped you of your right to be a person. Maybe it was the overtime. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was everything all at once. Maybe it was nothing at all. 

Three years of dating one man meant you learned quite a bit about who he is as a person to you. Eight years of knowing him meant you knew very well what sort of person he is in general. 

And this wasn't him. 

He was sitting on your couch. A piece of furniture that had, in just one year, erased the memory of you from it, there no longer being an indent on the right side where you always sat. A book was sat in his lap, but he wasn't properly reading it. You could tell from how slowly he turned the pages. From how he stopped every few minutes to rub his eyes, his eyebrows creasing and a quiet, irritated huff leaving his lips. 

It was a habit he had developed. 

This was how it was every night. Three o'clock came, and your body would wake you up from an otherwise restless sleep, and you would drag your feet out to where the man who should be occupying the other side of your bed, actually is. And he wouldn't look up, but you both acknowledged each other's presence, silently. 

And you would watch him for an hour. Until your eyes began to droop, and your feet started to ache, and your heart couldn't handle any more shattering for the night. And then you would drag yourself back to the bedroom, and you would climb into a now cold bed, and you would fall back asleep for another two hours. 

Like clockwork.

You were good with him. So patient. You would make him mugs of morning coffee that he wouldn't drink, and you would wash clothes he wouldn't say 'thank you' for. You wondered if he was actually grateful or not. 

You were too scared to ask. 

"Hey," you said, quietly, when he had come home from work, shrugging his bag off his shoulders, and slipping shoes off his feet. 

"Hi," he answered. As if on instinct, he moved to where you were seated at the barstool to kiss you in greeting, before brushing past and heading into the kitchen. 

You watched him for a few moments as he found a piece of bread to eat, nothing on it. Just... dry. Before your eyes returned to the laptop screen you had open in front of you, fingers tapping away at your keyboard. 

"There's been another terror threat," you said to him, tilting your head to the side. "But they let me work from home."

"Why'd they do that?" he asked, but he could not sound less interested. 

You lifted your head, because you thought he knew. "Because of you, Spence."

"Oh, okay," he answered, and you watched as he threw out half of the bread he did not eat, before he disappeared down the hallway. 

He didn't even care. 

You stared at the empty space down the hall, where he had once been, heart lodged in your throat in an uncomfortable lump you couldn't swallow. This was why you felt stupid. 

Maybe you were sick of feeling stupid. You must be, because subconsciously, your feet had already planted themselves firmly on the floor, and your legs were already taking you down the hall in the exact direction he had just disappeared to. 

He was taking his button up off when you appeared in the doorway to your bedroom, replacing it with a t-shirt. You had never seen him wear so many t-shirts until now. 

You cleared your throat, alerting him of your presence, and he turned, his eyebrows furrowing when he saw you. 

"You know you can talk to me, right?" you said, voice wavering with cautiousness. 

His lips parted, then they closed, and all he managed was a short nod, before he turned back around to find pyjama pants in his drawers. 

"Spencer, I'm serious," you pressed, taking a step into the room. "You need to talk to someone about this."

"I have those counseling sessions at work," he answered, turning back around to face you only once he was wearing pants. 

Your lips pursed. "You hate those."

"Yes, but I'm talking to someone."

"Not someone you trust!"

"And if I talk to you, it would be so different compared to a counsellor, right?"

You froze. He froze. Maybe he realised the implication of his words, you certainly did. That such a simple spoken sentence had your heart stuttering in your chest. 

You shakily exhaled. "I'd hope it would be different," you decided to say. "But I wouldn't be surprised if it isn't anymore."

He stood straighter at your comment. Perhaps not the best thing to say. Certainly not the most mature. 

"What does that mean?"

Right. The reason you decided to follow him in the first place. "I just—I don't feel like you care anymore. And I have tried to be patient, Spencer. I really have. But you shut me out, and we don't even talk anymore. I make you coffee, I do your laundry, I offer to cook, I clean up the house, I do everything I possibly can so you can focus on healing, and I can't even get a proper sentence out of you unless we're arguing."

He inhaled sharply, staring at you. "I don't know if you forgot, but I was locked in a prison for three and a half months."

Your shoulders deflated, your eyebrows creasing and lips pulling down into a frown. "Seriously? I express that I am feeling neglected, and your only response is that you've been in prison—"

"—Well, it kind of changed who I am!"

You fell silent for a few moments, trying to collect your thoughts before you threw them all in his face and actually ruined things between you two. 

"I just feel like you don't care anymore," you repeated, voice awfully soft compared to how hard your body was shaking in anxiety. 

He ran a hand through his hair, and he opened his mouth to speak with that same frustrated frown, so you cut him off. 

"And yes, I know you're dealing with everything that happened to you in prison. I only know what they told us, so I can't even imagine how much you're withholding. Because I know that's what you do. But that doesn't give you an excuse to treat me like I'm not important in your life anymore. I mean, If I'm not, then tell me. If you really don't care, or you've decided that you can't be in a relationship and process everything at the same time, then I'd like to know."

The silence is uncomfortable. And thick. And you're staring at him with eyes that burned with tears you weren't ready to shed yet. He's coming up with a response, so slowly you think maybe prison actually did break his brain. 

"I do care," he finally said, and you wondered if it took him three minutes to come up with that because he was controlling a lie. You pushed that thought out of your head. "But I also don't want you to wait for me to be better, if it's making you feel this way."

Oh.

"Okay," you manage to say, voice not above a whisper as you stared at him. 

"Okay," he echoed, and the tears you were trying so hard to keep in brimmed your waterline, blurring your vision. If he hadn't become one big blob in your vision because of them, you might've seen his eyes soften and his shoulders deflate. 

Maybe he was waiting for you to confront him about it all. So he could end things. Maybe he's been thinking about this for too long, and this was just the final push he needed. You'd like to hope it was a spur of the moment decision, and he wasn't banking on this relationship ending. 

"I'll stay at a friend's," you then murmured, wiping the tears from your eyes, sniffling pathetically. 

"No, this is—"

"—You deserve familiar walls," you cut him off. "I'm sure anything else would freak you out."

He fell silent, because you were right. But he didn't want to kick you out of your own home. He didn't want to kick you out of his life, a sickening revelation he was having all too late.

Maybe that was why, when you turned around to leave, he called your name. Pleadingly. So, you turned back, and he stared at you, and silence fell over you two again. 

"What?" you breathed out after a few too many minutes of quiet. 

"I don't know how to talk to you. Or anyone. Not—not just you."

"About what happened?"

"In general."

You stilled, confusion sweeping across your features, for the thousandth time tonight alone. "You don't have to talk to me, if you can't. Regularly, I mean. That's not... that's not what I'm asking of you. I just need you to communicate with me. I feel like you don't even have feelings for me anymore. That's where most of my issues lie."

"I do have feelings for you."

"It doesn't feel that way."

More silence. More thick, deafening silence that felt like you had submerged your head underwater. And you really just wanted to come to a final conclusion. If this was the end.

"Then is it just that you don't want to be with me anymore? If it is, please tell me," you said, voice pathetically desperate.

He stared at you some more. Silence accompanying him, like some (annoyingly) comforting best friend amidst this conversation. And you slowly nodded your head as what he wanted became clear to you, your heart stuttering uncomfortably in your chest. Your stomach flipping. 

"Indecision doesn't look good on you," you finally cut through the blanket of quiet. "I need a verbal answer, Spencer."

"I do want to be with you—"

"—Then fight, dammit!" you finally snapped, the tears you had managed to control coming back to you, a sob lodging in your throat. "I am sick of you saying you do feel this, and you don't feel that. Make a fucking decision. Please. I cannot keep up a fight for the both of us anymore. You're losing me here, Spencer."

"I'm scared!" he shouted, and you took a step back, his voice vibrating throughout the room. He waged an internal battle for a few moments at your recoil. "That. That right there is what I'm scared of. I am so scared of scaring you."

"You scare me more when you shut down. I will take your anger over your silence."

"I won't," he snapped, watching you flinch. Again. You wanted to stop flinching. 

"It proves to me that you're actually feeling things. Spencer, I feel like I've been living with a ghost."

"I can't control my anger anymore," he added your name with a voice crack, mirroring your heart.

You blink some more tears down your cheeks. "You don't have to. You are allowed to be angry."

"Not around you," he shook his head, his hands brushing curls out of his face. "What if I—I hurt you."

"What if you don't?"

It seemed he hadn't considered that possibility, because he fell silent, and averted his gaze to the ground. He shook his head after a beat. "I can't take that risk."

You stared at him for a moment longer, weighing up your options, before you sighed. "Fine. Don't." He said your name again. "No. If you're not willing to fight, then... then fine. Don't fight. But neither will I."

He didn't say anything as you took a step back from the room. And even as you stilled for a few seconds longer, achingly but silently begging him to ask you to stay, he didn't utter a word. Which was, really, all you needed in confirmation. 

And so you left.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[maxlarens]

hi lilli!! i heard angst and i came running, how about searching for each other in crowded rooms, finding each other everywhere with logan or oscar, whoever sparks the most inspo, but plot twist—not being able to be together for some reason (the why is totally up to you, feel free to ignore if this isn't your cup of tea). thank u thank u <3

kait!!! hello!!! thank u for sending this in!!! im gonna do oscar 😁 it genuinely hurt my feelings SO BADLY to not have them make up at the end of this. so i sympathise with everyone that im about to make sad it was a bad time for me too❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

It's familiar, this feeling.

The squeeze of your chest, the grieving, panicking thing climbing up your throat. You've been feeling it a lot lately, every time you catch a glimpse of someone with hair the same colour as Oscar's; wearing clothes you swear that he has; a person with the same shoulders, the same gait.

You've been seeing him everywhere. You just think you have. Monaco is small… not that small apparently.

When it had first happened, at the beginning of summer break, you’d half expected to be back together within a week. For Oscar to message you and half-beg to talk to you again. In your dreams, you’d both come grovelling back to each other, apologising for cruel words, making amends for various mistakes. Then you would kiss him and you’d tell him how much you love him and things would get better.

Instead, you’ve spent weeks of your summer break totally and utterly miserable. Missing Oscar like a phantom limb. You reach for him, he’s not there. You go to text him, find a thread of messages discussing the logistics of returning the other’s belongings.

You sit in your flat and you watch the Lord of the Rings trilogy twice in a row twenty two hours and forty-four minutes because it doesn’t remind you of Oscar and it occupies your time in a way nothing else can right now. You cry until your eyes are puffy and you write in a diary you’ve never touched before, because it needs to go somewhere. The feeling stuck in your throat needs to be written down said out loud and you can’t say it to Oscar, who you would usually tell everything, because he needs “distance from you right now”.

Briefly, you convince yourself that “right now”, indicates that there still might be a later for the two of you. That this thing between you that’s fallen to pieces might one day be salvaged. In the quiet moments of Lord of the Rings you spiral down a rabbit hole of ways to get Oscar back, pathetic fantasies of how you might convince him to talk to you again. Then Arwen says, “I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone” and you cry for two hours straight.

You sob, your face in your pillow and you think that was supposed to me! That was supposed to be us! And maybe it wasn’t, maybe you’re not an elven maiden giving up her immortality for a mere man, but you love Oscar. You wanted to spend the rest of your life with Oscar. And now… now…

Well—

It is the waiting that’s the worst.

No texts, no calls. Lando sends you a few, but you can’t bear to hold a conversation with him, knowing he’s playing both sides. And anyway, you’re just thinking about Oscar. Is he there? Is he reading your texts? Seeing the pathetic selfies of you on your couch in days-old PJs? Is he staring at your stagnant text thread just like you are? Has he blocked you?

Your every waking thought is consumed by him. You drag yourself out of the apartment for coffee down the street and you wonder what he’s doing. Has he been rotting at home like you? More than likely he’s been doing things. Playing padel with Lando, going out for lunch, training at the gym, FaceTiming his family.

You feel sick to you stomach. You can list on one hand the activities that you’ve done since Oscar broke up with you at the beginning of the month:

Sleeping, crying, watching Lord of the Rings, ordering takeout, training because you have to. Going for coffee had been a big step out of your current comfort zone. You’re wearing pants that aren’t sweatpants… you’d even showered properly for fuckssake.

You got your most noise-cancelling headphones on, blasting sad Taylor Swift (who you don’t even like. It’s just something to fill the void) and staring down the barista so you can lip-read if they’re saying your name or the words Large Oat Latte. And then—

Then. The barista is mouthing Oscar and your stomach lurches as the exact object of your ire temporary depression walks to the counter. You try to convince yourself it’s not him, you keep seeing him places but it’s never really him. But it is, that’s his burgundy shirt, his swoop of hair, his knobbly little ankles.

You release a ragged breath that you hope isn’t too loud. You duck your head, try to avoid his gaze as he turns, pretending that you haven’t seen him. Try to look occupied by your phone though you’ve only had time to open to your home screen. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, you blink furiously, trying your best not to fall apart in this coffee shop.

At least he’s not with someone else, you think as a tightness crawls up your throat to settle at the base of your tongue. But he looks happy, he looks fine, he looks better than you feel right now. God, what if he’s better off without you? What does it mean that you don’t seem to better off without him?

There’s something wet sliding down your left cheek and then you see Nike trainers entering your vision, still directed firmly downward. Someone puts a hand on your shoulder— you don’t jump but it’s a near thing. You reach up to slip your headphones off, wiping the tear discreetly as you go. Then you look up and it’s him, it’s Oscar.

He’s holding out a paper cup labeled, Oat Latte and smiling at you tightly.

“They were calling your name,” he says by way of explanation.

“Right,” your voice is shaky, weak, “Thanks.”

He nods, you take the coffee, careful not to touch his hand. You’re trying to swallow down the lump in your throat that’s rising rising trying to claw its way out of your mouth. You blink away the tears filling the corners of your eyes. You can’t look at him.

You’re looking up at the ceiling instead, biting the inside of your mouth. Breathing in and out, in and out.

He says your name, and then, “Do you want to talk?”

You feel like a tonne of bricks has just hit your chest. Knocking the wind out of you. Tears, hot and wet, are slipping down your cheeks. You can’t speak, you turn around and leave the coffee shop without saying anything because surely you’ll just start crying if you open your mouth. Oscar finds you again across the road, in a dark cobbled alleyway. The heel of your hand is pressed to the middle of your chest, you’re hiccuping, trying to stifle heavy sobs that you’d much prefer to let out in the privacy of your own apartment.

“Hey,” he says, gathering you into his arms before you can push him away, “It’s okay.”

You whine, collapsing into his chest, face pressing into his shoulder, “No, it’s not.”

You cry loudly, trying fruitlessly to keep the sobs in. Oscar’s hand rubs comforting circles into your back, which makes it better until you realise it’s Oscar, which makes it immediately worse. You stay there a while. Until your eyes are puffy and your throat sore.

“Better?”, Oscar asks, the crease between his eyebrows prominent.

You sigh tiredly, shrug, “Sure.”

Your coffee is cold now, your chest feels void, hollow.

You shake your head before Oscar can say anything further, before you’re set off on another fucking pathetic crying fit in the arms of your ex-boyfriend, “I can’t talk, Oscar. I really can’t.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding and swallowing some lump in his own throat.

You bite down hard on your tongue. Turn to leave the dark alley to go home, your back prickling with Oscar’s wet brown-eyed stare on you. He lets you leave. You spend the ten minute walk wiping tears before they fall and itching to run back, to kiss him, to pour all the emotion in your chest into some physical action.

There’s an awful grieving ache in your chest that’s carving out your insides and when you check your phone after walking in the door there’s a text from Oscar that reads:

I miss you. I’d really like to talk to you soon.

not sure if it was weird but the lord of the rings Mentions were kinda about how you’re in such a fragile state during a breakup that something as irrelevant to your break up at lord of the rings will make you cry for hours for no real reason. (and not to expose myself but after a break up i did watch the lotr trilogy two times in a row. told my friends and got a text from one of them asking if i was depressed 😭 like yes… temporarily alright)

send me a prompt/req + driver and i'll write something. pls check if my requests are open first 💖

[luvyeni]

genre smut 𖹭 warning kissing, unprotected sex pairing — idol!leeknow x fem reader | back to library .

request: can i request a story where the reader went to visit Lee know while stray kids is on tour because you miss him so much and when you go backstage to surprise him he engulfs you in the biggest hug but every time you try to kiss him he pulls away because he knows if he does he won’t stop and when they finally return to his hotel room you finally touches you ...

Call it codependency; but you missed your boyfriend, it was almost painful waking up with him not by your side, his space normally occupied by the cats; but it wasn't enough , you needed to visibly see him— physically feel him.

So the moment you got time off from work , you were booking the first flight out to surprise your boyfriend on tour, getting in contact with chan so that he could help you with the surprise, arranging a car to pick you up and drop off at the hotel they were staying at.

The staff gave you a key to your boyfriend's room, so that you could get ready for the show. you put on his favorite skirt on you, with his favorite top— you'd ordered a fan made headband with his name , putting it on as you made your way out of the hotel, ready to see your man again.

the show started , and the lights went low as the music started. your immediately went on your boyfriend's and stayed on the entire show, his voice , the way he danced; the way his hips fluidly moved to the beat, it made you think about all the times he had you under him , his hips moving identically to how he was on stage, his cock deep inside you — you couldn't help but get turned on, could the show end faster?

Soon the show was coming to an end , a staff came out and got you , escorting you to the back where you would see your boyfriend; touch him, kiss him for the first time in a very long time.

the heat in your stomach warmed your insides as you stood in their dressing room, waiting for him; you could hear the adrenaline filled boys coming down the hallway through the door , screaming mostly from changbin as they got closer to the door. “lee know you go first.” you heard chan's voice.

The door handle rattling; getting ready, standing up. “why the hell do i need to go first?” you rolled your eyes, your boyfriend just likes to argue sometimes. “to see if there's any crazy fans in there.” you smiled. “seems like a chan— open the damn door minho.” The door finally opened , and there he was in all his glory. “baby?”

He thought he was seeing stuff; but it was really you— in his favorite outfit nonetheless. “oh my god, baby.” he ran up to you engulfing you into a big hug. “When did you get here, oh my god.” you laughed as his arms tightened around your waist. “fuck you look good.” he said, everyone out of earshot. “I missed you so much , I needed to see you.”

you tried to go in for a kiss but he dodged it , his grip on your waist tighten. “not here baby.” you pouted. “why can't I kiss you?” He bumped his nose against yours. “because I'm afraid I'll take you right here on this floor , all these people in here damned.” his voice low. “now can you be a good girl and wait until we get back to my room?” you nodded. “good girl.”

and wait you did; it was hard , but you both finally made it back to his room; and the minute his door was closed he was all on you, his lips crashing into yours. “fuck baby I missed you so much.” he moaned , kissing your neck , biting down making you moan out in pleasure. “fuck you want everything to hear how much of a whore you are for me kitten?” wasting no time, pulling your panties down , getting rid of his pants and his underwear.

spreading your legs open, getting in between them. “Look at how wet you are.” he ran his cock head up and down your slit. “you missed me that much?” he smirked , before pushing his cock inside you. you moaned out in pleasure as he bottomed out. “mi-minho , deeper please.” you moaned. “deeper?” he moaned. “fu-fuck kitten , your sweet pussy is sucking me in.” He cursed. “Missed this pussy so much, I felt like I was going crazy without it.” he was just as a mess as you are. “fuck you're so tight.”

he pulled out of you; you desperately whined due to the loss , laying back. “fuck get on top of me baby, I want you to ride my fat cock baby.” you shakenly straddled him , sinking down him , his cock stretching you out. “fuck kitten.” he cursed. “Now bounce on my cock.”

you moved up and down , holding yourself up by his chest. “fuck that's it kitten , bounce on it, fuck I missed you so much.” he moaned. “fuck minho I'm gonna cum.” you moaned , his hands coming down to where your bodies met , rubbing your clit. “cum for me baby.” you gasped out , legs locking as you came, he took a hold of your waist , fucking up into you until he came. “sh-shit baby.”

he flipped you back over , sliding right back into your warm cunt. “fuck minho!” he groaned.

“fuck kitten I'm not done, been away from this pussy for so long , this whole floor is gonna know how much I missed her.”

©️MAZEOFYENI

[coco-loco-nut]

Blue Birthday

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: charles accidentally missed your birthday

a/n: thanks for the request 🫶 i hope you like it! my requests will be fully open again soon

masterlist

———————

You met Charles through your Uncle Ayrton’s foundation. You were at an event with your Aunt Viviane before the Brazilian GP and Charles was a volunteer.

Everything was so easy with him, he made every effort to make sure you knew how much he loves and appreciates you. Charles didn’t even force you to move to Monaco, but as soon as you told him you were moving there for the foundation, he cleared space for you.

You never celebrated things for yourself, but Charles made sure that you knew how special you were to him, so maybe that’s why the situation you found yourself in hurt so much.

“Mon amour, I have to go to Maranello for a few days. Ferrari emergency, will you be okay?” Charles asks, and you can’t say no to him. The look he gives you tells you that he genuinely wouldn’t go if you objected.

“I’ll be okay Charles,” you tell him, following him to the bedroom to help him pack up. “Drive safe, môr,” you kiss him before he leaves. Charles didn’t tell you how long he would be gone, so there was a small bit of hope in you that he would be back home for your birthday.

The few days passed until it was the night before your birthday. You spent the day working at the foundation, eagerly awaiting Charles’s return that evening.

“I’m sorry, I have to stay a couple more days. I miss you,” Charles says over the phone as you make dinner.

“It’s okay, I know you tried,” you can’t help but to hide your disappointment for the rest of the phone call. Yet again, you crawl into an empty bed. When midnight strikes you can’t fall asleep, but that doesn’t matter much when your phone rings.

“Happy birthday! We’re sorry we couldn’t fly over from Brazil,” your father says on the video call. Your smile hides the sting.

“Thank you, Papi. It is just another day,” the words feel fake. You used to believe that, but the man who isn’t here changed your view.

“Nonsense. It is your day. I am giving you the day off, treat yourself to a spa day and a nice lunch,” your aunt tells you.

“Thank you, I won’t do any work, promise,” you yawn, wiped from the day.

You wake up late, immediately checking your phone for a message from Charles. Unfortunately for you, it feels like everyone but Charles messaged you. Hell, even Carlos texted you. Maybe he is just waiting to call you later.

The spa is wonderful, and takes up most of your afternoon. Despite the air of relaxation, you can help but to check you phone for a message from Charles, even a silly instagram reel would suffice.

Heidi invites you to a birthday dinner with Carmen, Kelly, and Lily.

“How has your birthday been so far? I just know Charles gave you the most thoughtful gift,” Heidi says as you sip on wine. You mask your grimace with a smile.

“It has been very lovely. I was able to sleep in late then I enjoyed a long afternoon at the spa. Very relaxing,” you tell them, leaving Charles out of it. The dinner is long, and you do enjoy it, but as time goes on, your heart hurts more.

Heidi pulls you to the side before you get to your car, well, Charles’s car.

“Charles forgot, didn’t he?” She asks, not giving you time to respond. “Listen, the teams have a way of occupying our guys so much that they don’t realize what day it is when they get called in. It isn’t an excuse, but keep that in mind,”

“Thanks, I needed to hear that. And thank you again for organizing the dinner,” you pull Heidi into a hug.

During the drive home, you can feel tears pricking in your eyes. When you get home all that awaits you is a text from Charles saying that he is stuck in meetings and to not wait up for him, that he will call in the morning.

You lay in bed, finally letting the tears fall. You are mad at Charles, Ferrari, the world. There is nothing you wish for more in this moment to be back home in Brazil. You don’t answer your father’s phone call, knowing he will ask how your birthday was, and you cannot lie to him. Instead, you fall asleep, still in the dress you wore to dinner, wondering if you would ever really be the number one priority to Charles.

meanwhile in Maranello…

Charles and Carlos leave the meeting, nearing Midnight. Carlos drives them to the nearby apartment they are staying in for the duration of time Ferrari needs them.

“How was Y/n’s birthday today? Did she enjoy your gift,” Carlos asks, thinking to the many thoughtful gifts he’s received from Charles.

“Fuck. That was today?” Charles panics, looking at his phone calendar.

“Charles, you didn’t?” Carlos feels his heart drop for his teammate.

“I did. I got so caught up here. I need to call her,” Charles immediately calls you, but you don’t pick up. “She didn’t answer, she’s probably asleep,” Charles can feel the tears in his eyes. He feels awful.

“I’ll call Fred, you start packing. Drive back tonight,” Carlos tells him as he parks the car. Both waste no time. Charles is packed to leave within five minutes, and Carlos left no room for negotiation.

Charles drives all night, making it back to the Monaco apartment just after 4:30 in the morning.

He walks into your bedroom quietly, not wanting to disturb your sleep. His heart breaks at the sight of you clutching his pillow, still in the dress from the night before. Charles is quick to carefully strip the dress off of you, and put his t-shirt on you. After getting you under the covers, he slides in beside you, holding you close. Even if you are upset with him, he is even more upset with himself.

When your alarm goes off in the morning, you feel the familiar warmth beside you and your heart melts a little. Charles groans, wiping his eyes as you quickly turn off the alarm. You realize what him being here means, he drove all night.

“Charles, go back to sleep,” you whisper, carefully getting out of bed.

“But I missed your birthday,” he groggily says, fighting the sleep that is trying to pull him under.

“I know, we will talk about it when I get back from work, okay? Get some sleep, you must’ve driven all night,” you tell him gently, silently getting ready for the day.

When Charles wakes up, he spends the day cleaning, restocking the fridge, and picking up the gifts he bought you months ago. He even makes your favorite dinner and his mom’s tiramisu. Carlos called while he was cooking to ask how things were going and to wish Charles luck.

“Charles? You didn’t need to do all this,” you tell him when you get home, the delicious smells from the kitchen leading you to him.

“I did, mon amour. I feel awful,” Charles wraps his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I know, and Ferrari isn’t an excuse for what you did, but maybe you can make it up to me,” you offer a small smile.

“I have a whole night planned. Let me make it up to you,” Charles takes off your jacket for you, instructing you to sit at the dinner table. Your face lights up at the meal sitting in front of you, the candles burning, a perfect dinner date.

“Môr, you didn’t have to do all this,” you tell him when he sits beside you, serving you before you have the chance to do so for yourself.

“I was going to cook for you regardless. I will always treat you like the queen you are,” Charles smiles. You make small talk over the meal, avoiding the elephant in the room. You want to stay mad at him, but you can’t. You love him so much, and he’s made so much effort into making it up to you. Honestly, you forgave him as soon as you woke up and saw him, but you might as well milk it.

“Okay, I have a few gifts for you, but come into the bedroom first,” he tells you when you finish the dessert together. You follow him to your room where new matching silk pajamas wait on your bed, fuzzy blankets, and some snacks.

“Cuddles and a movie?” you ask with a small smile.

“Of course. While you change, I’ll go get your gifts,” Charles says, stepping out of the room. He returns a couple moments later with three boxes. You carefully open them in the order he gives them to you. The first is a white hoodie with his racing number and your uncle’s racing number stitched on the left arm, subtle but thoughtful.

“I thought that you might want something cozy for race days, especially the colder ones. There is one in red and one in black in the closet,” Charles smiles as you hold the softest hoodie known to man.

“Thanks, môr, I love it,” you smile, setting it to the side. You open the second box, it is a signed photo of your uncle and parents together, it must’ve been right before he crashed. You look a Charles a little teary-eyed.

“Ah, I should’ve saved that for last. There is someone who collects a lot of memorabilia and I reached out to see if he was willing to sell anything of your Uncle’s. When I told him it was for you, he gave it for free. Said you deserved it. Truthfully, I was going to give it to your dad for Christmas, but I thought you’d want a piece of your family here,” Charles rubs his neck shyly. You let the tears fall down your cheek as you look at the trio.

“Thank you,” you choke back a sob, flinging your arms around Charles as he holds you tightly.

“One last present,” Charles smiles, handing you a small box once you’ve composed yourself. There is a set of keys and you look confused at him. “Those aren’t your keys, it’s more symbolic. Your Ferrari Roma will be delivered next week,” he tells you, worried you are about to freak out.

“You bought me a car?”

“Well, even though I’m fine with you taking the keys to my cars, I know you don’t always feel comfortable doing so. So, I got you a car,” Charles smiles, watching you process it.

“Wow, thank you. I’ll, um, put these away. Put your pajamas on so we can watch a movie,” you carefully pick up the hoodie and picture. Charles doesn’t hesitate to put on the comfy pajamas and get in bed with you. He puts on your favorite movie and holds you close.

“I really am so sorry I missed your birthday,” Charles says as your head rests against his chest.

“I know. I’m happy you are here now though. Thank you for coming home last night and making it up to me. I love you,” you turn your head so you can look at him.

“There is nowhere else I’d rather be. I love you too,” he kisses you sweetly, happy he didn’t ruin everything.

[darkeunology]

♡ Dirty Little Secret ♡

Word Count: 2830

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Derek Morgan x Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ only, oral (M receiving), public sex, mentions of sexual acts

Summary: Derek has an idea of something you can do on the jet while everyone is asleep, except Spencer wakes up.

This is my first entry for the CM kink bingo 2024, this is a fic I had originally posted on an old account of mine, just in case anyone thinks it's familiar, it has been rewritten today since I wanted to rewrite my old fics and make them all better, I thought this one would fit perfectly with three prompts on my bingo card so I decided to rewrite it now. Updated bingo card here

Prompts used: Friends with benefits, Caught in the act, Oral

CM Kink Bingo Masterlist

The jet was quiet, a far difference from how the jet was on the way to Texas, with everyone talking about the case before you arrived; now that the case was solved and the unsub in cuffs, the jet ride back was silent, only the noise of people breathing quietly as they caught up on the sleep that they had been desperately lacking the past few days. Well, everyone except you and Derek. The two of you were sitting together on the sofa, your head resting on his shoulder as his arm was wrapped tightly around yours, his thumb stroking the bare skin of your shoulder, his lips every so often moving to place a chaste kiss on your head. 

 The two of you weren’t dating, it had never really been a discussion of the two of you actually becoming official, even if sometimes that was what you wanted, however, right now, the two of you were simply friends with benefits, whenever one of you would need some form of stress relief, the other was willing to help - initially it started out innocent, just going to each other’s places to watch movies or play some video games, but it slowly started turning sexual. Starting with making out with Derek on his couch after one particularly tough case, to Derek pounding into you, begging him to let you cum after another tough case. You weren’t exclusive, Derek had told you a number of times that you were more than welcome to find someone else and end this arrangement whenever you wanted, and you told him the same, but neither of you found yourselves wanting to pursue anything different; you were addicted to each other, addicted to the little sighs, the touches, the kisses, the moans, everything about each other. Both of you swore to the rest of the team that there was nothing going on between the two of you, you were simply good friends; the team never believed you both. They would see the way you would both look at each other, the hugs that would sometimes last a beat too long for most friends, the way that your hands would linger on each other, the signs were subtle, but they were there. 

-

Derek and you were simply just whispering amongst yourselves, talking about everything and anything you could think of, just trying to keep your minds occupied, neither of you really able to sleep after the many days of this case. Derek quickly looked around the jet, checking to see if everyone truly was asleep, his gaze finishing once he’d checked that Spencer, who was sitting opposite the two of you at the tabled seats, was also asleep, the realisation made the man smirk at you. He moved slightly so that his lips were now at your cheek, placing sweet kisses there, you moved to give him better access, “You know something I’ve wanted to try with you for a while now?” He asked, a teasing tone clear in his voice as his lips trailed down to your jaw,

You hummed lightly, prompting Derek to keep talking, you gasped at Derek’s lips now right by your ear, whispering seductively, “I’ve always wanted you to give me a blowjob whilst everyone’s asleep around us.” his teeth grazed your earlobe, forcing a shiver out of you, 

“Fuck.” you mumbled, not meaning for Derek to hear the desperation in your voice, but he did. 

“You like the idea of someone waking up to see your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock, don’t you sweetheart?” he asked, the amusement clear in his voice as one of his hands moved down to your thigh, squeezing it harshly, he loved the way you were squirming under his touch. His cock hardened in his jeans at the thought of you on your knees for him. Derek noticed you hadn’t answered him, he moved his hand to your throat, squeezing at the sides lightly, just enough to hitch your breathing, a small whimper spilling past your lips, “Answer me honey.” he demanded, his voice still quiet to not wake anyone. 

Shakily, you nodded your head, arousal pooling in your belly at the thought, “Yes, yes I want that.” you stumbled, causing Derek to take his hand away from your throat, moving it to the back of the couch, sitting with his arms spread out, waiting for you to start. 

“Good girl.” He smirked, knowing what those two words always did to you, his body slouched down in the seat slightly, his legs opening wider. He raised an eyebrow at the fact you hadn’t yet moved, “You know what to do honey.” he spoke cockily, watching with hunger in his eyes as you slid off the sofa, taking your place on your knees in front of him, your body fitting between his legs perfectly, almost as if you were made to be down here. Your hands reached out to his zipper, eagerly pulling it down, Derek helped you get his jeans and boxers off enough so that you could release his hardening cock. Instinctively, you clenched your thighs together. No matter how many times you’d seen Derek’s cock, it always amazed you every time, he was the perfect size to fill you perfectly. 

His cock was begging for attention, so you started with just your hands, gripping his cock in one hand, you slowly started moving your hand up and down, twisting your wrist slightly as you did so, going slow enough to just tease him, “Don’t tease.” he muttered out, his eyes looking down at you, a warning look in them. Looking up at him through your eyelashes, you leaned forwards, licking a strip up his cock before circling his head, collecting his pre-cum on the tip of your tongue, he groaned lightly, his head falling back on the couch as you wrapped your lips around him fully, your head sinking down as far as you could without gagging, knowing that you needed to be quiet. 

Derek moved his hands to your head without looking back down at you, beginning to thrust his hips ever so slightly, also being cautious of going too deep since he didn’t want you to wake everyone up with your gagging. He threw his head forwards as you began hollowing out your cheeks, your mouth working faster. Instead of looking down at you, his eyes met Spencer, who was now awake, his eyes trained on watching you on the floor, watching the way you were taking Derek’s cock perfectly. 

He hadn’t woken up immediately, but Spencer tended to be quite a light sleeper, so when he heard the mumbles of you and Derek talking he started waking up, turning his head slightly and having to take a double look to believe what he was seeing in front of him. If he was being honest with himself, he’d always had a crush on you, pretty much from the moment you’d joined the BAU, he’d thought your intelligence and charisma was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He never had the courage to try anything with you or let you know how he felt about you, and when the rumours started about you and Derek being just a bit too close, he gave up, hoping that it wasn’t true, but from what he was watching now, he couldn’t deny it anymore. He deflated slightly, knowing that he now didn’t stand a chance with you when you were Derek’s, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you, he knew he probably should before Derek could catch him staring, but he was transfixed on you, his cock stirring slightly in his jeans, imagining that you were on your knees for him instead of for Derek. 

“You’re doing so well for me babygirl. Taking my cock so well.” Derek spoke, only slightly louder than last time, just loud enough that he knew Spencer would be able to hear him - which he did. His eyes snapped up to Derek’s which were looking directly at him. Spencer thought he’d be angry, but the only expression in Derek’s eyes were lust and amusement as he sent a wink in Spencer’s direction, that, in Spencer’s eyes, was permission enough that he could keep watching, his hands gripping his thighs tightly, teasing himself as he watched your head bob up and down on Derek’s cock. 

Spencer resisted the urge to touch himself, not wanting to do with Derek watching, embarrassed enough that he’d been caught watching you and was hard from watching. His eyes constantly flicked between you on the floor and watching Derek and the way he would moan quietly, the way Derek would look down at you with so much love and lust in his eyes as you worked. Derek was doing the same, looking down between you and looking back at Spencer, watching as the young genius was so pent up from watching. 

Derek smirked to himself as a thought formed in his mind, thrusting his hips up quicker, his grip in your hair tightened, pushing you on his cock quicker “Go on baby, I’m so close. You’re doing such a good job for me.” he groaned quietly. You hummed around his cock, pushing him over the edge. His hips stuttered as he came into your mouth, his cock twitching, he kept thrusting his hips slowly, drawing out his orgasm. You moaned around his cock as his cum filled your mouth, swallowing it as you pulled your mouth off his cock, using your thumb to collect what had spilled out your mouth, chuckling as Derek groaned above you. 

You sat back on your heels, your breathing slightly ragged, you looked up at Derek who was smirking again, you being still blissfully unaware of the second set of eyes plastered on you. “You’re such a good girl for me.” Derek praised you, leaning forwards to catch your lips with his, kissing you fervently, his tongue pushing into your mouth, claiming you as his in front of Spencer. He pulled away after leaving another short, chaste kiss to your lips, quickly looking around the rest of the jet to ensure you hadn’t woken anyone else up, which thankfully, you hadn’t. His eyes ran back over to Spencer for a split second before looking back down to you, his eyes full of mischief. “Why don’t you go and give pretty boy over there the same treatment.” he spoke, nodding towards where Spencer was sitting across from you. 

Eyes widening, you whipped your head round, watching as Spencer’s face turned red after being called out by Derek, he looked away from you. You didn’t need to be told twice by Derek as you stood from the floor, your steps wobbly for a second after being on the floor for so long, Derek quickly tapped your backside, urging you to move quicker. You took the few steps over to where Spencer was sitting, kneeling down in the seat next to him, one hand going to the curls on his head, running your hand through them lightly, “Do you want me to help you relax, Spence?” you asked, not doing anything until Spencer told you that you could.   

Spencer whimpered slightly, giving a feeble nod as his eyes moved back to you, one hand coming to your waist, leaving a feather-like touch there, almost like he was scared that you would disappear if he touched you too hard, “I need to hear you, Spence.” you told him, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Please.” he whispered, nodding again, more confidently this time. 

“Okay then, pretty.” you spoke, using your hand to turn his face, allowing you to place your lips on his, sharing a slow, almost tentative kiss. You pulled away first after a moment, chuckling lightly as Spencer followed your lips. Giving him another chaste, quick kiss, you moved onto your knees, slipping down onto the floor, your body concealed by the table above you. You placed your body in between his legs, your hands running up his thighs causing him to shiver slightly, your hand hit his clothes erection, pressing down slightly causing Spencer to whimper again. 

You looked up at Spencer as you started pulling his jeans down, “Lift your hips for a second honey.” you spoke lightly, moving his jeans and boxers down as he lifted his hips to help you. The size of his cock happily surprised you, he wasn’t as big as Derek was, but he was still well endowed, enough to have you rubbing your thighs together again, your own arousal tortuous to you. Spencer didn’t need to get any harder, he was already hard enough just from watching you with Derek, you pumped your hand around his cock only a few times before licking a stripe from the bottom to the top, collecting his pre-cum on the tip of your tongue, the exact same way you did with Derek. You wasted no time with sheathing him inside of your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat instantly. You bobbed your head up and down, slowly to begin with, until you had Spence begging above you. 

Spencer was a lot louder than Derek had been, his moans and whimpers almost too loud. Derek had sorted himself out and moved over to sit next to Spencer, placing his thumb in his mouth, giving him something to suck on to keep him from waking the rest of the team up. Derek didn’t really fancy having to explain this to everyone. “You need to be quiet pretty boy. You don’t want everyone to wake up do you?” he asked. Spencer nodded his head, moaning a bit quieter around Derek’s thumb, which he kept inside his mouth, “Good boy” Derek mumbled, his lips going to Spencer’s neck, biting and sucking to leave a mark that Spencer would cover with a scarf when getting off the jet.  Derek moved away from his neck for a moment to look down at you, “Don’t tease him honey, I think he deserves a treat, don’t you?” he asked you. 

Humming around Spencer’s cock in affirmation, you started moving your head quicker, taking Spencer’s cock almost all the way down. One of Spencer’s hands was fisted in your hair, helping bob your head up and down, the other was on Derek’s thigh, squeezing tightly. You knew Spencer was close as his cock started twitching in your mouth, his body being pent up for too long watching you earlier. 

Derek could tell that Spencer was close too as his moans started getting too loud again. Spencer looked towards Derek, lust taking over his eyes as he whimpered around Derek’s thumb, his eyes flicking down to Derek’s lips. Derek quickly took his thumb out of Spencer’s mouth, replacing it with his lips, kissing him aggressively, allowing Spencer’s moans to be swallowed by his mouth, muffling him enough as he came into your mouth, his lips struggling to be able to kiss Derek back, the kiss was all teeth and tongue, but it was able to keep Spencer quiet, he was under the control of the both of you, he would do anything either of you asked him to do. You hummed as Spencer’s hips stopped thrusting, your mouth moving off of him,looking up at Spencer and Derek who were still kissing, Spencer now able to kiss him back a lot better, tucking Spencer away, you made your presence known under the table again causing the men to break away from each other.

“C’mere honey.” Derek murmured, his hand reaching down to help you get up from under the table, you groaned slightly as your knees cracked as you stood. Carefully you draped yourself over Derek’s legs, your legs resting on Spencer’s, his hands coming to grip your thighs, keeping you planted on him, Derek’s coming to wrap around your waist, holding you close to him. 

“If Spence is up for it,” Derek started, looking towards Spencer for a second before moving his attention back to you, “We’ll take him home with us and give you a little reward for being so good for us.” he finished. You looked towards Spencer waiting for his reaction first, 

“God yes.” he chuckled, his mind running wild with what was going to happen once the three of you got off the jet. 

“I’m in.” you spoke after Spencer, giving Derek a quick kiss on the lips. 

The team didn’t question when they woke up to the sight of you draped over Derek with your legs on Spencer, they figured you three had stayed up talking and you decided to get comfy. They did question, however, when the three of you were the first off the jet, almost rushing off, and they definitely questioned when they saw a blatant hickey on Spencer’s neck that certainly wasn’t there when they first got on the jet.

[hanihaato]

a/n: jealousy themes, yandere sunday x reader, mentions of abduction, incapacitation, drabble

Your artistic silence is broken with a snap of fingers and a question.

“Now, who is that man?”

Before the vision disappears, you have a split second to admire your efforts. Your skills have improved over the last three hours where Sunday had left your dreamscape to attend to some urgent and questionable matters.

This time, you have delved into the concept of imaginary creations that followed your newfound belief that even in this kind of twisted dream, deliberately manipulated by Sunday, you could still treat it like… a dream.

Do wonders. Keep yourself occupied to take care of your sanity.

The man you’ve created doesn’t have a name as you don’t recognize him. Maybe he was your own creation, or maybe he was one of the countless tourists at Reverie Hotel whose face you’ve been fortunate to remember. He would have made for a much more entertaining company than Sunday is, especially as he presses his lips into a thin line and looks disappointed in you.

“A secret boyfriend. We were planning to elope tonight, before you…” The story cuts short, as Sunday closes his eyes and sighs heavily, as if dealing with a troublesome kid. You take the warning and end your joke here, but because you know you have the privilege to as his beloved, you pout at him. “Alright. I was bored. Happy now? I thought you said I can do whatever I want here. Well, you keep calling it my dreamscape, after all.”

Sunday sits you down on a sofa that materializes within a blink of an eye. It’s another reminder you’re not in Penacony; there, nothing like that could happen, as it’s a dream with rules you are bound to obey. But at least there, you could understand its mechanism as it was created to mimic the real world.

‘Your’ dreamscape was solely ruled by Sunday’s whims.

You fall on a stack of heavenly puffy cushions, with his arm draped around your waist.

“Dearest. It’s our dream. This fantasy wouldn’t exist without any of us,” Sunday promptly corrects you and smiles gently at your irate gaze. “Believe me, I wholeheartedly would love to give you a fair share of power over this place, but it would be a bit dangerous to someone not practised in lucid dreaming.”

If you didn’t exceed his tolerance for defiance for today, you would have hit him with one of the pillows. Instead, you sink yourself deeper into them.

“Alright, then… What do I have to do to be classified as experienced? As far as I am aware, spending a whole three months in a dream should have made me an expert.”

“That’s a lovely conclusion. But does spending time in a library make you able to get a degree in every subject that’s written in the books?”

The question silences you. The break is long enough for Sunday to design your surroundings: a coffee table that matches the times, a porcelain tea set with golden details and some infusion with fascinating taste. They go with a tray of cookies and little sandwiches, as well as a bowl of fruits and nuts that would taste better if they were real.

However, you have to do with what you have on your hands.

You bite into a biscuit. “Then, what should I do? To be adept enough, that is.”

“There are many other requirements…” He falls into a reverie, and just as you think he closes the topic—you’ve been willing to give it up at this point, solely for the quiet to continue—Sunday speaks again. “If you can wake up on your own or overwrite any of the aspects of this dream, for example, gravity, I will consider giving you a little more power here.”

So, he’s asking you for the impossible.

“…I won’t be wiping myself out only for you to ‘consider’.”

Sunday takes a sip of tea. The porcelain can’t hide a tenderish smile, but the unexplainable gleam in his eyes is exposed.

“There is always a shortcut.”

“That doesn’t, um, doom me for eternity?”

“Yes. If I have a say in this, it’s a very delightful one.” And after the next sentence, you know why he’s so engaged in this discussion. “Marrying me.”

…

Sighing, you cross your arms and shake off Sunday’s arm from your shoulder. “I thought you hated liars.”

“Which part of what I said do you consider a lie?”

You ignore him and get up from the sofa, heading towards the big door. Sunday might have changed the look of the place, but the layout always remains the same. Behind that door, you will find a short hall that leads to several other rooms that don’t have Sunday in them and so are preferred.

“I don’t want to talk (to you) anymore, sorry,” you mutter out the apology just to defend yourself if Sunday was going to accuse you of being rude. “I am going to daydream—dreamdream?—about, I guess, men, if I can’t have anyone here. Goodbye.”

You reach for the pair of doors and find them uncharacteristically too heavy. You try to open the door, but just then a big silver chain crosses over their handles, a small lock appears, but you don’t have time to notice the details as you find yourself staring into a plain wall.

“Now, no need to rush,” Sunday purrs, and you turn around to see your beloved doors behind his back. “Would you like to play a round or two with me? I think we could have a wonderful conversation about how to pry the imaginary door locks and who are the people you’ve been thinking about so much.” He smiles. “All with names and examples. There shouldn’t be any secrets between us, isn’t that so?”

[nastybuckybarnes]

Mouse Trap

Pairing: Ghost X Reader

Summary: Ghost's little mouse finds herself stuck in a trap. Who better to save her?

Warnings: Violence, Language, Angst, Fluff, kinda unhinged Ghost?, Torture ig, murder, Injuries, self-hate kinda i guess

Word Count: 2.5k

A/n: I'm literally in love with this little series, i think it will forever have a special place in my heart

~*~

Days go by since Ghost last saw you, since he fucked you, and the skulls seem to disappear once again.

His little street mouse has disappeared without a trace.

Ghost is a man of logic. A man who can use the information at hand to come to the most realistic conclusion.

And, in this case, you've realized what a fucking nutcase he is and have decided you never want to see him again.

I mean, what else could it be?

His sour mood is taken out on anyone and everyone unfortunate enough to get in his way.

And today is no different.

His brows are permanently furrowed and his grip on his riffle is unwavering as he and Soap do their rounds.

The Scot is quiet for a long while before deciding to try and poke the bear.

"Still nothin from yer mouse?" He asks, knowing damn well the answer.

Ghost says nothing, doesn't even address the fact that the man has spoken.

"You ever think of... lookin for her? I mean, she doesn't exactly spend time in the safest areas," he presses.

If Soap hadn't spent as much time with the bigger man as he has, he wouldn't have noticed the slight falter in Ghost's steps.

Sure, he'd looked for you, but the idea of you being hurt or even killed wasn't one he entertained.

In his mind, no one would be stupid enough to touch what's his, but people have certainly tried before.

His world shifts slightly, the tension in his shoulders changing. He's no longer worried that you're hiding from him, no. Now he's wondering who would take you and where they'd hide you.

Those are the thoughts that occupy his every waking moment for days, until he finally gets his answer.

While combing the streets for any sign of you -or the hostiles he's supposed to be looking for- there's a gift from God.

On the ground, in what looks alarmingly close to blood, is a skull drawing. And a trail of the same blood-like substance leads him better than breadcrumbs.

"Soap, on my six," he murmurs into his radio, carefully following the blood trail as it leads deeper into the city, into enemy territory.

Soap is quick to meet up with the Lieutenant, eyes and ears peeled as Ghost comes to a halt outside of an old office building.

"Wha're we doin' here, Lt?" He asks quietly, watching his back as Ghost picks the lock.

"Savin' my mouse."

The lock opens with a soft 'click' and he shoulders the door open, staying low and scanning the first room quickly.

He motions for Soap to follow and the Scot does, sticking close as the slowly sweep room after room.

As they go up the stairs, Ghost slows, tilting his head to the side as he hears the sound of muffled voices not far away.

He follows the sound, being extra careful as the voice gets louder and louder, until he can make out the words.

His stomach drops the tiniest bit as they approach the third floor.

He's done this countless times, this should be no different.

But it is different.

You're in there. He has no room for error. Not when your life could be on the line.

A man is speaking, and Ghost takes that as his cue to creep into the hallway.

Soap grabs his shoulder, giving him a strong look.

"This could be a trap. We should call the rest of the team."

The skull-faced man only stares at him for a long while then tugs out of his grip.

"S'not a trap, Johnny. She's in there. You wanna leave, go. M'not leavin without her." With that, he turns back to the hallway and moves forward.

Though he has his doubts, Soap follows closely behind, staying silent as the voice gets louder.

Other sounds are able to be heard now, too. These ones confirming Ghost's suspicions.

Feminine grunts, groans, and cries of pain.

At the sound of your voice, a switch flips inside of the large man and he's quickly and silently moving forward, taking down any hostiles in his path. Anyone that stands between him and you is promptly killed, dropping to the ground with quiet 'thud's.

The man that's been torturing you drops his knife onto the table and yanks your head back by your hair, forcing you to look at him again.

"I'm gonna ask you one last time, doll face: who sent you?"

Your eyes roll in your head for a moment before finally focusing on him.

It's been several days of this, if not longer, and you're starting to worry that your Ghost, that Simon, isn't coming for you.

You still stay strong, saying nothing.

This only seems to aggravate him further. He drops your head and walks back over to his table of torture toys, looking for something suitable for what he has planned for you.

Your eyes flutter to a movement in the doorway of the room, and you feel your heart fill with hope as one of the guards gets yanked into the hallway.

Familiar eyes peer into the room, immediately locking on yours, and you feel safe.

He's here. He came for you.

You knew he would.

He presses a finger to his lips, urging you to stay silent, and you give him a soft nod of understanding. Your eyes flutter back to your kidnapper, and you watch as he picks up a pair of pliers.

He clicks them together a few times then turns to face you, a wicked grin on his face.

"If you're not going to use that tongue, there's no sense in having it, is there?" He asks rhetorically.

He steps forward, grabbing your jaw roughly, and then he's collapsing on top of you, his blood spilling across your face.

You let out a startled scream, jerking your head back as he rolls onto the floor.

The room is suddenly filled with chaos.

A gun is pressed to your head, and Ghost has another man in a headlock, his eyes on yours.

"Keep those eyes on me, Mouse," he orders, making sure your gaze is locked on his as he snaps the mans neck.

"Don't come any closer!" The man holding the gun to your head warns, pressing it against you harder.

You wince but your eyes never leave Ghosts. Not even when he produces a small blade and whips it at the man beside you.

Ghost steps toward him as he writhes on the ground, yanking him up by the collar of his shirt and ripping the blade out of his eye socket.

"That's for lookin' at her. Imagine what m'gonna do to you for touchin' her," he snarls, big hand nearly crushing the man's windpipe.

You stare at them as Soap comes to your aid, freeing you from the rope binding you to the chair.

"Maybe, if you apologize nice and proper, I'll let you live," Ghost whispers, his eyes empty and hard as he looks at the man.

"Look at her with your good eye and tell her how sorry you are."

The man's head whips around to you and he stutters out an apology.

"Now, tell me how sorry you are."

He turns back to Ghost with his mouth open to apologize and you flinch as another gunshot rings out, and then he's crumpling to the floor in a heap, blood pouring from both eyes.

You stare at his corpse, at the dead man who threatened your life, then slowly bring your eyes up as the man who saved you approaches.

"How's she lookin', Johnny?" He asks, crouching down in front of you as Soap presses some gauze to your thigh tightly.

You whine at the pain, and Ghost gives one of your hands a squeeze.

"Not great. Bleedin' real heavy. We can drop her off at one of the med tents and-"

"Not happenin'," Ghost interupts.

He pulls you from the chair and carefully lays you on the floor, working with Soap to try and slow the bleeding as much as possible.

Your head spins as the adrenaline slowly leaves you, and you lift a hand in search of your big soldier.

"Simon," you whisper, vision going blurry.

Soap's eyes shoot up to you, shocked that you know the Lieutenant's real name. He can't help but wonder what exactly would happen when Ghost would go on patrol alone. How many nights were spent with you if he's trusted you with his name.

Ghost grabs your hand in an instant, his eyes over yours.

"M'here, Mouse."

Your bottom lip quivers and tears streak down your temples into your hair.

"Tired... so tired," you whisper.

He shoots Soap a worried look then gives your hand another squeeze.

"I know, but you can't sleep yet, Mouse. We'll stop for a coffee on our way back to base, how's that sound?"

You frown, edges of your vision slowly going dark.

"Simon," you whisper once more, pushing your hand up to dust over his masked face.

Soap watches, eyes full of wonder as Ghost, the man who just murdered over a dozen people, is soft and gentle with you.

Your fingers smooth over his masked lips, and then your hand is tumbling down beside your head and your eyes are falling closed.

"No, none of that. Eyes on me, Mouse. On me."

You try, you really do, but you just need a moment to rest. That's all. Just one moment.

~*~

You're in and out of consciousness from that moment forward, finally fully coming to in a dimly lit room.

You're groggy and confused, blinking several times to get the fog clouding your vision to go away.

When things finally clear up, your heart jumps in your chest and you look around frantically.

This isn't familiar.

None of this is.

"Easy, Mouse. You're safe. M'here."

Except that.

Your eyes dart over to the source of the sound, finding those familiar piercing eyes.

Instinctively, you relax and reach for him, stopping with a hiss when something tugs at your arm.

"Easy, love," Ghost murmurs, reaching out and taking your hand in both of his.

Tears well up in your eyes and you look away from him, shaking your head.

"'S'alright, little one. M'here. Not goin' anywhere anytime soon."

It's true. He has no intention of leaving your side until you allow it. Something he has made explicitly clear to the members of his team.

You look up at him with big teary eyes and his icy heart cracks in his chest.

"Don't make me go. Not back to city, please," you beg quietly.

His gaze softens and he shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut for a brief moment before tugging his mask up over his lips and leaning down to kiss your knuckles.

"You're not going back there. Not if I have any say in it."

Your breaths start coming in faster, more shallow, until you're hyperventalating, one hand grasping at the gown on your chest.

Everything is too much. Too constricting, too enclosed.

You can't breathe.

"Hey, hey! Eyes on me."

You obey, your eyes finding his once more, and he nods encouragingly.

He brings your hand to his chest, flattens it against the thin shirt, and you can feel his heart beating against your palm.

"I want you to breathe with me, Mouse. In... and out."

You slowly copy him, slowing your breathing to match his and keeping your hand against his warm chest the entire time.

Eventually, the feeling of his skin only one layer away is too distracting. You slide your fingers up to the small area of skin between his shirt and his balaclava, stroking it gently.

Your breath hitches at the feeling of his flesh against yours, and you lean toward him, desperate to feel more of him.

He leans forward and takes your other hand in his and you stare in awe, pressing your palm against his. His hands are rough, calloused and hardened, but they feel so good, so right against yours.

You slide your fingers up his forearm, tracing the scars, veins and tattoos while your other hand wraps around the back of his neck, slipping under the back of his balaclava and tangling into his hair.

"Simon," you whisper, tugging him closer by the nape of his neck.

He leans in, scarred lips tilting up in a soft smile at the sound of his name on your tongue.

He presses his forehead to yours, his eyes falling closed a moment after yours.

Carefully, he nudges his nose against yours, then tilts his head to slot his lips against yours.

You kiss him back softly, tugging away after a moment and drawing your brows together.

"What?" He asks softly, his free hand coming up to stroke your cheek.

"Where do I stay? Here?"

He shakes his head, pulling back a bit more after pressing one more kiss to your mouth.

"You'll stay with me. Unless you'd prefer your own room."

You're shaking your head before he's finished speaking, and he nods knowingly.

"Then you'll stay with me. We should only be here a few months longer. Then you can come home with me, if you'd like."

He'd be lying if he said he hasn't given much thought to the future. But after this? After nearly losing you before he truly got to have you? He's not willing to let you leave his side.

You only nod, eyes full of awe and adoration.

He gives you one more kiss, then gets up to get a med officer to check on you.

~*~

You spend a few days in the medical wing, and then, once you're given the go-ahead (under the ever-watchful eye of Ghost), you're changing into military-grade pants and a black t-shirt, and sitting patiently while Ghost laces up your boots.

"We match," you say proudly, beaming up at him when he rises to his full height.

He grins down at you through his mask, his eyes crinkling around the corners, and presses his forehead against yours sweetly.

"That we do, Mouse. Now, lets get you on your feet again."

He takes your hands and gently helps you to your feet, steadying you when you try to put weight onto your injured leg.

Your face screws up in pain, but you push through it, taking a few careful steps with his help.

"You sure you're ready?" He asks warily, watching you intently until you glare at him from the corner of your eye.

"Ready. Want to leave."

He nods, wrapping an arm around your waist and all but lifting you off the ground every time you try to step with your injured leg.

He leads you through the base, his glare sharp enough to have the onlookers scurrying out of sight.

Ever since he brought you back, bloody and wounded in his arms, you've been the talk of the base.

Who are you? Why does the Lieutenant like you so much? Can you be trusted?

That last question has plagued even some of his closest friends.

But as he helps you to the barracks, you lean further into him, you trust him at your most vulnerable, and he knows deep in his soul that you are someone he can trust.

Finally, after what feels like forever, he unlocks the door to his quarters and pushes it open.

The trek took far more energy than you'd like to admit, and you eagerly take a seat at the desk against the wall.

"You hungry?" He asks after a moment of silence, watching you as you look around curiously.

You nod, glancing up at him when he takes a step to the door.

"I'll be back in a minute. Try not to get into any trouble while I'm gone." He can't help but grin when you cross your arms over your chest.

Without another word, he exits the room, leaving you alone to explore.

You do exactly that, carefully taking in your surroundings.

There's a bed, a real bed, against the far wall. Across from that is a small wardrobe.

On the opposite side of the room is a door, and you find yourself limping over to it curiously.

You push it open and flick on the light, your eyes widening when you see the bathroom.

A proper bathroom, with running water that probably gets warm.

You turn the faucet on, watching in awe as it takes only a few moments for steam to start billowing. Your eyes follow the steam until they meet your own reflection in the mirror.

An audible gasp leaves your lips, and you lean forward, staring in a combination of disgust and horror.

You've seen your reflection since hiding out, but never quite so clearly.

The stitches at your hairline are crusted with blood, and you have bruises all over your face. Dark splotches that paint your skin in a way that makes your stomach churn.

How could Simon stand to look at you like this?

You splash some of the water on your face, hissing when it's a little bit too hot. Not a problem you thought you'd ever have.

Turning it down, you wait unti lit cools slightly to try and scrub your face clean, to make yourself more presentable for him, to look pretty.

No matter how hard you try, however, you can't clean the evidence of the torture from your face.

Hot tears streak down your cheeks and you turn your back on your reflection, angry that you ever dared to look at yourself.

At least before, you didn't know what you looked like. You didn't know what your Ghost had to look at, to touch, kiss.

"Mouse?"

You sniffle and wipe your cheeks quickly at the sound of his voice, opening the bathroom door a crack.

He takes one look at your face, at your red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, and he's pushing his way into the bathroom and inspecting you for injuries.

"What happened?"

You shake your head and tug on his balaclava gently.

"I want one."

His brows furrow and you can almost see the gears in his head trying to process what's going on.

"What?"

"Please. Want one... like Ghost."

He cups your cheek gently, big warm hand soothing your aching skin.

"Why? I like seeing your pretty face. Dont want you to cover it up if you don't need to."

This makes you tear up once more and you tug out of his grip, turning your back to him and hiding your face in your hands.

"Need to," you whisper thickly, "not pretty. Not now."

He's appalled by your words, stepping in front of you and gently pulling your hands away from your face.

"Where'd you get an idea like that?"

You sniffle and shake your head, avoiding his eyes.

"Broken... ugly..." Your eyes catch your reflection in the mirror and you glare at what you see, your bottom lip quivering as you try to hold back your tears.

A surprising rush of emotions floods him and he takes a few moments to breathe and steady himself.

He's not used to this whole softness thing. Not great at it, either.

"You think I'm ugly? I've got more bumps and bruises than you can count, little one. Scars, too. Does that make me ugly? Should I forever keep my face hidden from you?"

You frown up at him and shake your head quickly.

He could never be ugly, not to you.

"Then why are you any different? I see these," he strokes the mark on your cheek gently, "and it makes me want to protect you. It reminds me that you're fragile. Delicate. It makes me angry that someone would put their fucking hands on you, but thats it."

He pulls you into his arms and lays a few kisses on the top of your head.

"You're precious, Mouse. So very special, and so beautiful. M'more than happy to prove it to you if you don' believe me."

His voice drops a bit lower, as do his kisses, and you can't stop the smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth.

"There she is, there's my pretty girl," he whispers, kissing your lips briefly then pulling back once more.

"Now, you need to eat something and I need to debrief with Price. Rest while I'm gone, because you're not gonna be doing much sleeping when I get back."

[thepenguinweeb]

`` Just close your pretty little eyes and you won't feel a thing. ``

[ ☆ Yandere!Fyodor x ADA!reader ]

[ ☆ In the wild chase the search for Fyodor Dostoevsky proved to be, you get separated from your partners and end up face to face with the man himself. Even though his face is new for you, unbeknownst to you, he'd made himself quite familiar with yours. ]

You ran trough the halls, ready to fight at any given moment. You thought you managed to sneak into the supposed base very well - Fyodor could sense that as he watched you trough his screens.

He'd been doing that for some time. He had cameras watching everywhere you went, so he could spend every waking moment with you. He knew everything about you at this point, and he planned to use all that knowledge.

And now he watched as you, Atsushi and Akutagawa got separated. It was all part of his plan, of course. He decided he wanted to see you in person as soon as possible, and while he originally didn't want to come to this place himself, he did it for you.

Trough small, almost unnoticable signs he guided you ever-so-closely to the room he currently occupied.

Then, he heard the door open.

Cautiously, you took a few steps inside. It didn't take long before you felt an arm circle around your neck.

"Atsu-!!" You tried to call out to your friend before you were silenced by a hand covering your mouth.

"Shh..." Fyodor whispered into your ear. "It won't hurt. Just close your pretty little eyes, and you won't feel a thing."

When you gained conciousness again, you found yourself in an unknown room. It was decorated quite fancily, and the lighting made it seem cozy enough - or, it would've, if you didn't feel something tie you down to a chair.

"Ah.. you're awake, моя любовь."

You turned your head to see a man who you presumed to be Fyodor, based on his russian accent and words. He was cutting up apple slices with an eerily calm grin, considering he had someone tied up in his room.

"Let me go," you demanded, skipping the questions and getting straight to the point. You guessed he probably wouldn't want to answer.

He looked at you with an almost surprised expression - though, his eyes were a labyrinth of emptiness, giving away none of his feelings.

"Let you go?" He repeated. "Nobody is stopping you from leaving. Though.." his voice lowered, which sent you shivers down your spine. "You should be aware of the consequences."

Your eyes widened as you tried to understand. What could these consequences be? But, as if sensing your confusion, Fyodor went on.

"That Atsushi boy," he said. "He means quite a lot to you, yes? That bracelet on your right hand is from him, hm?"

You were shocked at how spot on he was. But how could he know so much, when you've only just met him? It didn't make sense!

"Well, whatever the case," he continued on as you didn't reply and glanced at you while holding the knife close to him. "I imagine you would be quite angry if something were to happen to him."

"What did you do to him?"

Fyodor let out a chuckle at how protective you sounded. "Nothing. Not yet."

You were about to retort when things clicked in your mind. He was using Atsushi to get you to stay with him.. what a sicko.

He put down the knife and walked towards you, an apple in one hand. He stopped in front of you and leaned down to cup your cheek in his free hand.

"So," he continued with a grin. "I would suggest you stay with me, if you worry about that boy's safety."

Not knowing what else to do, you nodded in compliance. He held out the apple for you, but given your hands were tied, you took a bite without them.

"Oh, look at you," he whispered. Soon, your vision had started to get blurrier and blurrier, until your head slumped down and you fell unconcious once more.

"Rest now, little detective," he said, planting a kiss on your head. "It seems I was able to catch you first."

A/N: Fyodor woohoo!! Sorry for all the bsd content yall but it's literally my fav anime. I love this man, he's so cool, and he'd be such a creepy and terrifying yandere.

Dividers by @/rookthornesartistry, ty!!