#this really does sound so angry; I promise I’m not; it’s just that this is the only outlet for my thoughts on this show and this is the only

[captaincleverusernamehere]

Okay so I’ve purposely not read anything about the new companion/her actor, but like, with the way RTD has started off his return, with Tennant’s costume and calling him the 14th doctor and overshadowing Gatwa’s entrance and naming Donna’s daughter Rose, it all really feels like he’s trying to milk nostalgia to bring him/the show back into the good graces of its worst critics from the past few years.

Like, with Ruby Sunday (what a name…) being a young blonde girl immediately after the Doctor’s return to Tennant’s body, I feel like RTD’s just going to use her to be the vessel for the Doc’s Very Own Morality Nostalgia Trip/Getting Over Rose Time like he did with Martha, which I think was a pretty universally disliked decision.

Maybe I’m wrong, but Doctor Who has been built over the past half century to be a show about moving forward, and all of these gestures look more like bringing things “back to normal” to me, which i think is the wrong move.

[snoopyearss]

When jjk characters call you ‘clingy’

Feat. crybaby-ish!reader

Gojo, geto, toji

Cw: hurt, guilt, angst (if you squint)

This is inspiration from a mini series i read a few days ago by user @fumekara. It was so good, I love me some angst to hurt/comfort.

But i also wrote this from personal experience too, my bad yall i treat this like my own personal diary

Anyway, enjoy!

Satoru Gojo

He was pissed. He doesn’t typically show it much, but when he does, he gets kind of scary. He’s more quiet, his voice gets deeper, and his whole body language just shifts. So when the higher-ups piss him off after a very long meeting, the last thing he needs is someone to pounce on him. He usually loves it when you greet him at the door when you’re home for work. But today, he just wanted to strip off his clothes and hop into bed.

Gojo huffs as he leaves the elevator of your shared apartment and grabs his keys from his pocket to unlock the door. As he opens the door, he sees you in the kitchen grabbing ingredients for dinner. “Hi baby,” You softly greeted him. “Hey.” was all he said back. It confused you for a second because he’s never greeted you like that before.

“Is everything okay?” You walk up to him to try to kiss him on his cheek. “God- Y/n, please.” He grumbled, walking right past you and placing his briefcase on the table. “I’m just trying to help,” you defended, walking up to take his coat off for him. “At least let me take your coat-” That’s when he snapped. Something he’s never done to you before. “Y/n, I fuckin’ got it! Geez, you’re so fucking clingy!” He aggressively shrugged your hands off his shoulder. It scared you a bit, to see him so angry at you. You were confused, all you wanted to do was make him feel better. Were you really that clingy?

“I-I’m sorry.” your voice came out shaky and defeated. Hearing how small your voice sounded in response to him lashing out made Satoru’s heart shatter into thousands of pieces. He wanted to turn around and apologize, but the words weren’t coming out. By the time he turned to face you, Your back was already facing him, preparing dinner for the both of you as tears rolled down your face.

Suguru Geto

It was 2 weeks after Suguru deflected. 2 weeks since he committed mass murder in that village. 2 weeks since he left Satoru, Shoko, and the others. It was weighing on him and you could tell. Nothing but him, his two adopted girls, a few people who believed in his cause, and you.

You promised him you would go wherever he would go, and he was so grateful for it. He loves you deeply and would do anything for you. But some days just threw everything on him at one time, today was one of those days. Monkeys non-sorcerers begging him to exercise curses left and right, Nanako and Mimiko begging him to take them shopping, missing payments from those begging for his service. It was all too much. And the guilt was eating away at him.

He genuinely wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying and it annoyed him how much talking you were doing in his ear at that moment. You were both sitting outside watching the two girls play in the yard. “Y/n,” He interrupted you. “Don’t you have something better to do than to just bother me?” He sighed sounding so condescending. “What do you mean?”

“Must you always cling to me? Isn’t there something else you can do besides following me everywhere I go, at all times of the day?!” His voice raised a bit as if he was talking to a non-sorcerer. “I didn’t realize I was. I was only trying to tell you about what me and the girls did today,” You defended. “You’re always so busy, I rarely get to see you anymore.”

“Yeah, because you’re always underneath me. Sometimes-” He stopped mid-sentence because of the saddened look on your face. His eyes softened a bit. “Sometimes I just need my space.” He sighed. You only nodded and started to walk back inside. “Ok, I understand.” Your voice cracked. Leaving Suguru alone to think about what he had just said to you. As if he didn’t feel guilt then, he definitely feels guilt now.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji was a bit frustrated today. He was cheated out of his money after doing a side job, the bet he placed on the race he kept constantly telling you about fell through, leaving him with zero, and to top it all off, the child support payment was coming up. You being an empath and knowing your boyfriend so well, you wanted to help him any way you could.

He was sitting in the chair by the island in the kitchen with his fingers combing through his hair. He was on the phone with multiple people at once, trying to solve his money issues. “Shiu, you guaranteed me way more money than this! How am I supposed to cover this months child support with this amount?!” You walked up to where he was, wondering what all the commotion was about. “Baby?” You softly called out. You could hear Shiu on the other line trying to calm him down and explain the situation.

“That sounds like a bunch of bull and you know it Shiu, you better have my money by next week thursday or else I’m taking it myself.” He grumbled and hung up the phone. “Baby,” You gently placed a hand on his broad shoulder.

“What, Y/n.” He sternly said. You merely blinked a few times. “I was just checking to see if you were okay. What’s with the attitude?”

“I’m fuckin’ frustrated okay? Please leave. You aren’t helping right now.” He waved you off.

“I barely did anything, I just wanted to know if you needed help with anything-”

“Jesus, I said enough! I don’t need your help. Fuck, you’re so clingy.” His voice booming caused you to remove your hand from his shoulder in fear. Seeing your reaction caused him to think about what he said and how he said it. The last think he wanted to do was scare you. He wanted you to feel safe around him. But with the way you jumped at how he raised his voice, it saddened him a bit.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” He was cut off by the sound of his child wailing in the background. “I’ll take care of it.” You said in the smallest voice, not even leaving him time to protest against it and apologize.

“Fuck.”

Part 2

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: Your apartment floods. Inspired by and for @liliumbosniacum

"I need to take leave."

Simon's phone is pressed against his face, one hand holding the device, the other with a canvas bag in his hand, it's contents overflowing: blankets, baby clothes, your pillow.

"Everything alright?" Price sounds suspicious, but more curious than anything, and Simon sighs.

"Neighbor's flat flooded. She's got nowhere else to go so I'm letting 'em stay with me for a while." Price, thank fucking god, doesn't push it any further, disconnecting with a rumble about checking in with him next week, wishing him a happy holiday, and a parting good luck.

When he hangs up, you're standing hesitantly in his doorway, pile of clothes in your arms.

"That the last of it?" He asks, and you nod.

"Are y-you sure this is okay?" You're still upset, shaken, and he doesn't blame you. You were terrified when you woke up to bone chilling, ankle deep water, frantically shouting about a burst pipe into the phone over Emmaline's shrieks.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I've got plenty of room." He does. His flat is larger than yours, and though they're both two bedroom floor plans, his bedrooms are bigger, and he has two bathrooms, compared to your one. "I got the crib reassembled in the guest room." He motions to the door that's half opened, a few bags of Emmaline's stuff collected on the floor.

"Thank you." you murmur, and then step forward, burying your face in his chest. He holds you there, rubbing your back, working his thumb into the knot that sits at the base of your neck. “At least we saved the tree,” you laugh, wet and sad, and he hums, bowing to press his lips to your forehead.

“I’m sorry love.”

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “Nothing I could control.” You’ve got a point there, and he appreciates the approach, marvels at your ability to not be angry or frustrated with your neighbor, even though it wasn’t really their fault as well. He’s irritated for both of you, anxious over visualizing what would have happened if the chunk of the ceiling that fell was misplaced and landed on you, or Emma.

You pull away, face twisted up into something that looks painful, tears on your lash line, and he frowns. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, sweetheart, c’mon. It’s alright.”

“I know.” You cry, clamping your hand over the bridge of your nose and trying to turn away. “It’s just all her gifts we-were in my room and now they’re ruined, and-“

“Okay, so we’ll get more. We still have plenty of time.” He reassures, rubbing his palms up and down your arms until you come back to him, letting him fold you back into his embrace. “We’ll fix it. Don’t worry.”

“We will?” You sniffle, and he nods.

“I’m on leave, until after the holiday, so I’ll be around, we can go shopping and replace everything. It’s going to be alright. I promise.” That word slips out of him again, promise. I promise, just like he told you this morning when you were frantic and he said it was okay that you stayed with him, I promise, just like he assured last night when you apologized for Emmaline crying for most the evening. “Okay?” His chin rests on the top of your head, and he turns to kiss you, the touch as soft as he can manage. You hum, and then sigh into him.

“Okay Simon.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No.” His refusal is immediate, and you look at him in near exasperation.

“Simon I can’t kick you out of your bed! You’re too big for the couch, anyway, and I don’t mind, I’ve slept on a couch plenty. Plus I’ll be able to hear better, when Emmaline wakes-“

“Sweetheart.” You’re in the living room, bouncing Emmaline in your arms, walking back and forth in front of the fireplace. She’s wearing a red and white striped onesie, like a candy cane, and Simon chuckles when she makes grabby hands at him as he approaches. You sigh, and he tucks his hands under her, lifting her away and into his arms, pleased at how you instantly relax and stretch your back and shoulders in response. “Think you’re getting too big for mama, baby girl.” You roll your eyes, playfully knocking your elbow into his side, and he grunts. “You’re not kicking me out of my own bed.”

“No?” You turn with a hand on your hip, other one holding a half full bottle.

“No, well. I mean-“ he falters, suddenly losing his confidence. “I’m happy to let you have it, or…” He can’t get the words right, can’t communicate what it is he wants to tell you, too worried about scaring you off or being too forward, pushing you too far.

“Or?” You look so pretty, standing in his flat, your belongings, Emma’s, strewn about, just your presence alone making this place feel more like a home than it ever has before. He feels dizzy, overflowing with emotion when Emma lays her head down on his chest, and you smile at her, looking back up at him, delicate, sweet smile on your lips. He bends, tilting your face upwards to meet his, lips ghosting against one another as Emma coos from his arms.

“Or… we can share it.”

[theemporium]

number 13 💚 for landoscar!! thank you 🫶🏻

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

13. “Oh, so they are just a friend, right? That’s what you’re telling me?”

.

You and Lando were doing your best to keep your thoughts to yourself, but it was hard to do when both of you wore your hearts on your sleeves.

And your emotions very clearly across your face. 

Being a little bit younger meant that Oscar was amongst a different group of drivers and colleagues in his younger years, in Formula Two and Formula Three. He had previous teammates he still kept in contact with, old friends from Australia that he made an effort to always catch up with. Oscar had a whole life outside of you both, and you knew that. 

It was different compared to you and Lando, whose lives are so intertwined and connected that there were rarely strangers in each other’s lives.

But that is exactly what it was like with Oscar. 

And it was never a problem, not really. You and Lando loved meeting people that played such big parts in Oscar’s life, people that were important to him, people that he wanted to share with you two. It was a pivotal part of the relationship between the three of you and it was hard not to find it endearing. 

Except, you were pretty fucking sure this old friend of Oscar’s was in love with him and it felt like  a bitter slap in the face to watch him shamelessly flirt away with your boyfriend in front of you both. 

“He’s not even trying to hide it,” Lando grumbled as the two of you stuck to his side of the garage, watching Oscar and his old friend chat away on the other side. “He’s acting like Osc is fucking single and free reign from him.”

“Maybe we are overthinking it,” you supplied, but it sounded weak even to your own ears.

Lando shot you a look. “If Oscar gave him the green light, they’d be shagging in front of everyone.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Now that is a bit dramatic.” 

“Still,” Lando huffed, his lips turning downwards. “I don’t like him.”

“Neither do I,” you murmured, leaning against your boyfriend’s arm and squishing your cheek against his shoulder. “At least he is only here for the weekend.” 

Lando’s nose scrunched up. “Still too long.” 

“Too long for what?” Oscar asked, suddenly appearing beside you both with a soft smile on his face. 

Your cheeks burned but you didn’t glance at Lando as you replied. “Nothing, just some game he’s excited to play with Max.” 

Oscar’s brows raised in interest. “Yeah? What game?”

“One you’ve never heard of,” Lando quickly scrambled out before changing the subject. “So, where’s Harry?” 

“Uh,” Oscar gave you both a weird look but replied nonetheless. “He went to the bathroom. What do you two think of him?”

“He’s nice,” you replied vaguely. 

Oscar frowned a little. “You don’t like him?” 

“No, no,” you quickly reassured the boy. “He does seem really nice.” 

“Would be much nicer if he wasn’t trying to shag you though,” Lando grumbled under his breath, but Oscar heard him well enough.

Oscar snorted, looking a little confused. “Harry? With me? Not a chance, he’s my friend.”

“Oh, so they are just a friend, right? That’s what you’re telling me?” Lando bit out, the jealousy loud and clear to your boyfriend now. “So the blatant staring and giggling and constantly touching you means nothing?” 

And if it were anyone else, they would have gotten defensive. Or angry. Or just as snappy back. But this was Oscar and that wasn’t how he was. And that was not how he dealt with Lando either. 

Instead, the boy stepped forward and took Lando’s face in his hands, watching as the boy sunk into the touch. “He’s just a friend,” Oscar murmured. “And even if Harry did feel that way about me, I wouldn’t care. Because I have you two and that’s more than enough for me.” 

Lando sniffled a little. “Promise?”

“Promise, baby,” Oscar grinend, leaning in to kiss him and doing the same with you before he pulled away. “I’m your boyfriend, not his.” 

Lando puffed his chest out a little. “Damn right you are, Osc.”

.

[gildedkrone]

KINKTOBER 2023 🔞

Price, who is an excellent soft dom in the bedroom. Driven by pride and ego, he always sought to fulfil your pleasure before his own during your trysts. He’s always checking on you and making sure your emotional and physical needs are met through praises and mouthy lips on yours.

Price, who returns home from his job with a weary heart and tired body. The mission went south and kept him from his beloved sweetheart for an additional five days. He agrees in an instant and a few minutes later, his shirt is unbuttoned and his trousers are pulled down to his thighs.

“Luv, please … have mercy …” Price groans when his tip is pressed against your ass for the third time. It’s long, stiff, and stands proudly, and he would’ve gripped your hips if it weren’t for the cuffs on his wrists keeping his grubby hands off your body.

“Patience, captain.” You smirk when he lets loose another curse before his temper cascades into a deep growl when he’s finally had enough of your teasing. It’s been weeks and he had looked forward to burying himself balls deep in his lover for days to satiate his urges and needs. Only to be tied down to the bed with your clumsy rear taunting him.

It’s the furthest his dick has gone into you and you purr, “C’mon, you can beg for more.”

The yelp from your lips accompanies a ripping sound and hands clasp around your neck to flip your over with the captain settling on your pelvis. He’s fuming, oh he is, and by all means he is unimpressed as you backpedal with an uneasy laugh, “Hey, cap, no need to be so angry yeah? I’m just teasing you.”

The broken pieces of velcro tape laid by your forearms and your hips are jerking and twitching when his dick fills your greedy hole so quickly and you are instantly regretting your decisions. Price would absolutely breed you until you are a shivering mess, all loose and strengthless with his seed spilling out around your white rim and onto the bed. Your torso, painted white from your own release and sticky and if Price is feeling really bold, licks a line between from your navel to your chest through the mess.

Make no mistake; Price may not be the youngest man you’ve been with but he’s got that stamina to just keep going and by the third round, he is only partially satiated while you are out of the count. He doesn’t stop of course, and you are bred over and over again until your ass hurts and your dick shoots blanks.

He makes good on his threat, and when he’s done, he rests his wet cock on your chest and runs the bath to get you cleaned up before he is snuggling you under the covers.

König is also a soft dom but, occasionally, he does have a mean streak which manifests itself in dirty talk and aggressiveness. The man works very hard in his career, how else would he be a colonel at 34, and needs an outlet for his stress occasionally and what better candidate than his boyfriend—you?

König knows he is much larger than your previous partners and is always cautious of being rough in bed with you. He doesn’t want to hurt you, even if you are built Ford tough. But you know to bring out the colonel in him, all you need is to tease him relentlessly and act like a spoilt brat before he is putting a stop to it.

“Schatz, bitte! B-bitte!” He pulls on the restrains as you slide off his dick again. König’s so damn hard from just the initial few touches and his muffled groans are much louder when his dick lodges itself between your cheeks. He’s desperate for you to just move.

“Kö, c’mon, where’s that self-restraint? Aren’t you a soldier or something?” Long auburn hair is messily splayed on the pillow and he wiggles his hips to get some friction on his neglected length even when you tut gently to keep his hips in place.

He pants, “N-no more … Let me feel you, bärchen. I’ll make you feel good, I promise ah!”

“Kö, what kind of colonel begs so easily? Should I tell your coworkers?” His eyes flash with indignation and the straps on the bedframe is pulled taut and then, snaps as König grabs your hair and pulls you off his hips. You barely register the pillow against your face before he pulls your hips up and his fat dick pushes past a tight rim into heat with a sigh from the colonel and it stings when he slaps your ass and gives you a good stroke.

“You are really asking for it, schatz. Do you need to be punished?” And by god, you are absolutely going to be screaming into the pillows as he uses your body like his cock sleeve. He will joke about his handprints on your hips later and you whine as the punishing pace begins and his cruel laughter fuels the drool falling from your lips.

Do not edit, reupload or translate my works without prior consent || masterlist || kinktober masterlist || requested by @hcnteur 💞

[headkiss]

I LOVE YOUR HOTCH FICS!!! <3 You write him so well, and I just adore how soft he is 🥺! I've read a fic where the author basically describes him as a Jane Austen hero, and I can't help but agree (what are you thoughts?)! Sooooo, is it possible to get a fic where Hotch reads to sick!reader to help her sleep? TYSM!

omg ur so right he is very much jane austen coded!!! tysm for requesting i hope u like it!!! | 0.7k of fluff, sick reader and gentle hotch <3

Aaron’s job isn’t one that allows him to take much time off of work, even when he wants to. You know it, and would never be angry at him for it, so when you wake up feeling a little too warm, you reassure him that you’ll be fine by yourself.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” He asks, already dressed in his suit and sitting on the edge of the bed by your waist. “I can if you want me to.”

Of course the only time he’d be eager to ask for a day off is when it’s in your favor. He doesn’t even call out when he’s the one who’s sick.

“No, you can’t, Aaron. They need you over there,” you say, hoping your smile is convincing enough. “I’m just gonna sleep this off. I’ll be fine.”

He sighs, reluctant to leave even though he sort of has to, even though he knows you can take care of yourself. He just hates not being the one to do so, anyways.

Hotch leans over to press a kiss to your heated cheek, “I’ll call you when I can to check in, okay?”

“You really don’t have to-”

“Let me do that, at least, sweetheart.”

“Okay.”

He kisses your cheek again and then stands to leave, pausing at the bedroom doorway to turn back and look at you one more time. You snake your hand out from under the sheets and give him a thumbs up.

Aaron calls you exactly five times throughout the day, most of them quick, couple-minute phone calls where he asks how you’re doing, if you’ve eaten. One of them during his lunch—which he rarely takes—and lasting nearly half an hour, him doing most of the talking.

The sun is close to setting by the time he gets home, where Aaron finds you curled up on the couch in the comforter from your bed, your skin clammy, your baby hairs sticking to your forehead.

His heart aches a little bit at the sight, because he knows you’ve been downplaying how sick you feel all day to keep him from worrying, as if anything could.

Hotch walks over to the couch, crouching in front of where your head is propped up on a pillow. “Sweetheart.”

“Hi, Aaron.”

He presses the back of his hand to your forehead, frowning at how warm you feel. “Why didn’t you tell me you have a fever? You should be in bed.”

“Got too warm in there, then too cold out here, so I took the comforter. Hope that’s okay.”

The medicine you took hours ago hasn’t done much other than make you a little groggy, and it’s clear in the way you speak with your cheek still squished to the pillow, your eyelids heavy.

Aaron’s hand is still on your forehead, like he can will your fever away with his touch. “Have you slept? Are you hungry?”

You shake your head, “don’t really feel like eating.”

“You should,” he says. “How about I run you a bath and make you some soup? Then bed.”

“Okay, doctor Hotchner.”

He shakes his head, though the small smile on your face as you tease him makes him smile, too. Even feeling poorly, you manage to brighten his day. A ray of sunshine.

He does exactly as promised, and after a bath and a generous bowl of soup that Hotch made sure you finished, you’ve got your head in his lap, his hand gently pushing your hair back.

Looking down, Aaron finds you still awake, blinking up at him lazily. “Aren’t you tired?”

“It’s been hard to sleep,” you say, fingers fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. “Will you read to me?”

“Sure, sweetheart. Pick a book.”

You choose, and whine when he gets up to go get it even though he’s back in a matter of seconds. With your cheek comfortably pressed against his thigh once again, he starts reading to you.

You’ve always loved Aaron’s voice, the way it sounds when he speaks to you, the low and calm tone that seems to wash over you. He’s using a gentle voice now, a quiet one that you love even more because it’s one he saves for you. Intimate and lovely.

It’s only with his hand in your hair and his voice in your ears that you’re finally able to fall asleep.

[girlgenius1111]

flipped 2

ingrid x mapi x reader fluff + angst. r and mapi try to get to the bottom of what's going on with ingrid. wasn't positive i was going to write this but anything for @sunnyaelia

------

When Ingrid woke, she didn’t open her eyes right away. She was much too comfortable, a soft blanket draped over her body, her face pressed comfortably into Mapi’s sweatshirt. She could feel your hands on her back, slipped up under the shirt you’d pulled on her. Your hands were smoother than Mapi’s, mindlessly stroking up and down. She could hear you both talking quietly, too, and the sounds of your voices were like some kind of soothing drug. You were mostly just talking about nothing, but a question Mapi posed caught her attention. 

“How does your head feel?” She asked softly, brushing some hair back away from your forehead. 

Honestly, it didn’t feel good. It was pulsing with a headache that you knew was from exerting yourself too much, from the rush of endorphins and chemicals in your brain. The pressure inside your skull was intense, and though it wasn’t very pleasant, you didn’t mind much. Not if the cause had made your girlfriend this relaxed in Mapi’s arms. 

“Okay.” You lied, not wanting to draw attention away from Ingrid for even a moment. 

“How does your head feel?” Mapi asked again, frowning this time as she could tell you weren’t telling the truth. 

“It’s been better.” You allowed, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of Mapi gently running a finger over your forehead. 

“Amor,”

“How is your knee?” You countered. Mapi rolled her eyes. 

“Do not change the subject. You should have told me it was bothering you.” 

“I was fine. Ingrid needed this. It’s worth it, if she feels better.” You argued back. Mapi had a hard time coming up with a dissenting response, because honestly, she’d do almost anything to make Ingrid feel better, too. Instead, she turned her attention to the woman draped over her, her lips pulling into an involuntary smile at the sight. 

“She looks relaxed.” Mapi murmured, taking in the perfection of Ingrid’s face, a perfection she never got tired of looking at. 

“I’m worried she’s going to go back to how she was before when she wakes up. Acting like she’s fine, running herself into the ground. It’s a miracle she hasn’t picked up an injury yet, María, we can’t let her go on like this.” 

Mapi hummed her agreement, and Ingrid felt her heart clench. It wasn’t her intention to make you guys worry, really the opposite. She wanted to take care of everything possible so that neither of you had to worry. She wanted to play so well, it instilled confidence in the team that the back line was secure. She wanted to be a leader. She wanted to be dependable. She wanted to be perfect, perfect for both of you. 

The realization that she hadn’t been able to do this for you stung, and she felt tears welling in her eyes before she could do anything to stop it. Both you and Mapi noticed her stiffen slightly, and the way her eyes scrunched together told you all you needed to know. Before either of you could speak, Ingrid was forcing her eyes open, a devastated green looking up at you. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been worrying you,” she whispered, her forehead creasing with sadness. 

“You don’t need to say sorry for that, amor.” Mapi promised. 

Ingrid shook her head, biting her lip as it trembled, so hard she almost seemed angry with herself for crying. “No, you both have more important things to worry about than me, I’m okay.” 

“We have nothing more important to worry about than you, Ingrid. Nothing. Don’t say stuff like that because it isn’t true.” You said, unable to hide how upset her statement made you, and wondering how you and Mapi had messed up so badly that Ingrid was so convinced that she wasn’t important. “You are the most important thing to us.” 

The pure disbelief on Ingrid’s face felt like a bullet through the heart. The Norwegian always came across as so confident, so sure of herself. This façade tricked the whole world into thinking she believed it, and it had tricked the two of you too. This realization stunned you into silence, briefly, a silence that Ingrid frantically tried to fill. 

“No, no, you’re both hurt. I need to take care of you, I need to make sure you both are okay. Let me up, please, María, I need to get her some ice for her head.” Ingrid sniffled, fighting the tight embrace Mapi’s arms had her in. The Spaniard shook her head firmly, but looked at you with concern. 

“Love, I’m okay, I promise you.” You implored. 

“You need me.” Ingrid repeated brokenly. 

Slowly, you nodded, eyes searching her pained expression. “I do need you. I always need you. You need us too, though. Can you let us take care of you?” 

“I don’t need to be taken care of,” she began, only growing more teary eyed when Mapi cut her off. 

“Stop, amor, stop lying. You said earlier you feel the most stressed you have ever felt in your life. Forgot about my knee for a minute, forget about her head. We are okay, but we need you to be okay too. It’s okay for you to need us.”  

Ingrid shook her head rapidly. “No. I can’t need you.”

“Why not, princesa?” Mapi asked, in a soft tone of voice she reserved for you and Ingrid. Her gaze was beyond gentle as she regarded the Norwegian women, one tattooed hand cradling a freckled cheek.

 “I can’t need you because you both deserve so much better than me, I don’t deserve to be loved by you.” she said quietly, rushing the words out as if they’d been swirling around in her head for some time. She missed the anger that flashed across Mapi’s face, but you didn’t. You felt the same way, honestly. You wanted to seek out whatever had made her feel like this, but you had a feeling that the trail would just lead you back to her. Perfect, beautiful, kind Ingrid. You couldn’t shout the insecure part of her away, it wouldn’t work. So, you rested a hand on Mapi’s shoulder to calm her, but it seemed that she had reached the same conclusion that you had.

“Mi princesa,” she whispered roughly. “I could spend 100 lifetimes loving you and it wouldn’t be enough. I do not care what you think I deserve. I love you. I want you. You do not need to earn my love, mi princesa. You have it. Always. For the rest of your life, for the rest of time. You just have it.” 

Ingrid pushed her face into Mapi’s sweatshirt, her tears quietly soaking into the soft fabric. She looked so unlike herself, all broken and small. She clearly craved the reassurance, but was terrified to accept it. 

You swallowed thickly, running your hand through her thick hair in an effort to get her to look at you. She didn't look up, but you spoke anyway. “Ingrid, where is this coming from? Did we do something to make you feel like this?” 

Her voice was muffled but still audibly distraught when she replied. “No, I know you love me. I know you want me. I just… I don't always understand why. All I can see are my flaws, all the things I do wrong, and I hate myself for them. If I let you take care of me… you’ll see them too.” 

It was so absurd, you wanted to laugh. You didn’t, though. You just took a deep breath, thinking that the agonized expression on Mapi’s face probably matched yours right now.

 “Ingrid… I don’t know what flaws you see in yourself. You are as close to perfection as I have ever seen a person get.” You rolled your eyes at Mapi’s slight pout at your statement. “Anything you consider to be a flaw… it's miniscule in the scale of how much we love you. We want you to need us. You don’t need to be completely put together all the time. You don’t need to suffer by yourself just because you deem your stressors insignificant in comparison to ours.”

“Amor, you can always lean on us. Even if my knee is fucked. I don’t need two working legs to take care of you. There is no flaw, nothing in the world that you could do that would make us not want you. That would make us see you any differently than we do now. You are ours. That will never change, mi amor, never.” 

You were startled to see tears welling in Mapi’s eyes, but you understood. It was painful to see someone you loved so much feel so awful, and keep it from you. It was painful to realize you’d missed something because you were too wrapped up in yourself to pay enough attention and realize what was going on sooner. 

“We have to do better, sí? It is not enough to tell you that we love you. We have to remind you of why, and we will, mi princesa, I promise you We will.” Mapi whispered, her voice thick with emotion, and holding a quiet promise, one that was clear to Ingrid. And really, if anyone could fix this horrible way of thinking she knew she shouldn’t engage in, it would be the two of you. 

“Tomorrow is Ingrid day.” You declared. “We’ll do whatever you want. We’ll spend the whole day telling you what we love about you, if that’s what it takes.” 

Ingrid let out a choked laugh, allowing Mapi to gently wipe her tears off her face. “I just want to stay here. And lay with you both. Can we do that?” She asked shyly. 

“Of course we can.” María smiled. “Whatever you want, princesa, I mean it.” 

Ingrid turned her attention to you, allowing some worry to creep back into her gaze. “I want you to rest tomorrow, too.” 

“I will, if that makes you happy.” You promised, smiling softly at her, a smile she returned. 

“You both are perfect.” She said, looking between the two of you like she couldn’t quite believe her luck. 

“Then you are perfect, too. Beautiful.” Mapi leaned up to press a kiss to Ingrid’s lips, murmuring each word in between kisses. “Kind. Hardworking. Perfect, amor. So perfect.” 

You were glad to see the blush on Ingrid’s cheeks, knowing that it meant you’d both gotten through to her, at least a little bit. The Norwegian settled her face into Mapi’s neck, her hand reaching out to twist into your shirt and pull you closer. You fit in next to them so easily. You always would, and so would they. Because maybe you weren’t all actually perfect. You were, however, perfect for each other. 

------

this was physically painful to write for no reason and it's short but the words were not flowing. it's done now though and i hope you all like :)

[kaleldobrev]

Please Don't Leave

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dean's lucky to have you in his life and honestly doesn't know what he would ever do without you

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Cursing (3x), Fluff, Vulnerable/Angry Dean

Authors Note: The gif makes me sad | This might seem a little non canon but at the same time I honestly feel like Dean would react this way (fight me if you want, but I said what I said) | I just love this man so fucking much | Dream/Flashbacks are in italics | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Dean didn’t have a lot of consistencies in his life, but you were one of them. Out of everyone he had known in his life, you were one of the only people that had remained with him through all the heartbreak, all of the death, all of the blood, sweat, and tears that this life had. You had been through it all with him: Sam going to Stanford and leaving him behind, his fathers death, him selling his soul, the year that Sam went to Hell, the year the two of you were in Purgatory, the few months he was a demon, his bloodlust fueled by the Mark, him being possessed by Michael. He had an endless list of things that the two of you had been through together, things that would cause any normal or rational person to throw in the towel; but not you. “You can’t get rid of me Dean Winchester, not even if you kill me yourself.” You had joked. And that was something that he had almost done – and on several occasions too. And yet, you never left him. “I guess I’m just stupid.” You said. “Or maybe the sex me and you have is just that good.”

The sex he had with you, now that was something. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced; and he has had quite a lot of sex during his lifetime (not that he bragged about it of course). When the two of you initially met, it was only supposed to be a working relationship, a friends with benefits sort of deal. But eventually it turned into more. He wasn’t sure where him or you had gotten your wires crossed but they did; and it turned into you and him always finding each other at the end of the night regardless of the different men and women that had hit on both of you at the bar you two were at.

The sex used to be quick, usually done in either a drunken haze or after a tough hunt. But it eventually turned into something that either one of you would initiate through soft touches: a kiss on the forehead, a simple hand hold, or cuddling into each other. Once, in the middle of sex, he wasn’t sure why he had said it but he did. He kind of just blurted it out. “I love you.” Now that was something he never thought he’d ever say during sex before. But here you were beneath him, staring up at him with those doe eyes of yours that you frequently had during sex and said, “I love you too.” It was something he didn’t expect.

Dean didn’t know what he could or would possibly do if you weren’t in his life; and that was something he didn’t want to think about. But it was something that has been an unavoidable thought as of late. Waking up to you was one of the worst but best things after a nightmare of losing you. He would wake up in a panic, his heart racing, sweating; afraid that you were gone for good this time. But without fail, every single time you would be right there next to him. Either sound asleep or awake enough to tell him, “It’s okay, I’m right here.” He would always reply the same way. “Just…please don’t leave.” It was a simple yet complicated sentence. “I’m not going to. I’d never leave you.” Those words that you always uttered back should have been comforting to him, but it was just an empty promise – even though he knows that’s how you never intended it to sound. In your heart you loved him deeply, and he knew that. He knew that you’d never leave him; the two of you have been through everything together. But when it came to this life, it was hard to make and keep promises like that.

“Dean, I just can’t do this anymore I’m sorry.” Your words had cut into him like a knife. Like he’d been shot hundreds of times. The torture he received from Hell combined with the loss of his mother was child’s play compared to what he was currently feeling. He just started blankly at the two duffel bags at your feet as you stood in the doorway of the room the two of you shared. Well, formally shared that is. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” You asked, your question snapping him out of whatever trance he was in.

“There’s nothing to say.” Of course there were hundreds, no thousands of things that he had wanted to say to you, but he knew that he couldn’t say any of it. As much as he wanted to beg for you to stay, he wasn’t going to make you stay. Once you made up your mind that was it; there was no convincing you.

You looked at him with a confused expression. “You don’t even want to know why I’m leaving?” You asked, and Dean simply shook his head. “Why not?”

“It doesn’t really matter.” He tried to keep his voice even, to make you believe that he was okay. But he could tell that you knew he wasn’t (you knew him long enough to know when he was or wasn’t okay).

“Dean.” You said, your voice sounding more heartbroken than his.

“It’s alright. You don’t…you don’t have to explain yourself.” He said, taking a seat on the bed you two once shared.

“I feel like you deserve an explanation. We were together for almost twenty years Dean.” You sat down next to him on the bed. He had just wanted to push you away or wrap you in his arms. Two completely differently reactions, but that’s the way he felt. “Dean.” You touched his shoulder and he flinched, you quickly removed your hand. “I love you, and I know you know that but –”

“Please just…stop talking. I really don’t want to hear what you have to say.” His voice was more hurt now, and he could feel himself trying not to say or do anything that he was going to regret. He wanted to cry, but he didn’t want you to have to see that, despite seeing him do it so many times before. “Just, leave if you’re going to leave.” You didn’t move, simply just staring at him. “Go!” He snapped, and that’s when you got up.

You walked over to your bags, slinging one over your shoulder and holding the other one in your hands. “Goodbye Dean.” You said, before walking out of the room. For a while he heard the sound of your boots down the hall, but they suddenly became faint, almost inaudible. The Bunker door opened and closed again. You were gone. Gone for good this time.

“You said you’d never fucking leave.” He whispered to himself. “Said you’d never fucking leave me.” He pounded the bed with his fist. “You fucking lied!” He got up from the bed and he felt himself start to lose control; no longer in control of the emotions that had been building up when he had started watching you pack up your bags.

Dean woke up abruptly, sitting up. He was panicked, his heart racing. His breaths were heavy, his chest moving up and down. He rubbed his face, trying to fully wake himself up. There was no way he would be getting back to sleep for a while; not after that nightmare. “Y/N -” he began to say as he looked over to his right side; your side of the bed. You were gone. “Sweetheart?” He asked, his hand reached out and touched the emptiness next to him: it was cold.

He looked up at the door to the bedroom which was slightly ajar. The only light in the room came seeping in from the hallway. He didn’t remember having the door open, the door was always shut whenever the two of you slept. Despite how safe the Bunker was, sleeping with the door closed added an extra layer of safety, not just for him, but for you as well.

A shadow appeared, blocking some of the light. He reached over and opened the drawer of his nightstand, slightly gripping his gun that he always kept there. Before he could fully wrap his hand around the weapon you squeaked inside the room and shut the door again quietly. A huge amount of relief washed over him in that moment as he let go of the gun and closed the drawer. “Dean?” You questioned, upon hearing the drawer close. “Baby are you okay?” You asked, walking to sit on his side of the bed. He looked at you as you placed a hand on his cheek. Your eyes full of worry.

“You were…” his eyes flickered to your side of the bed that had been empty when he woke up before looking back at you again. “You were gone. When I woke up you…”

“It’s okay. I’m here.” You reassured him, your voice calm.

“Where did you go?” He asked tiredly.

“The bathroom. I really, really needed to pee.” You said, Dean chuckled a little at your comment. “You know I wouldn’t willingly leave you right?” You reassured him again. You felt him nod in your hand.

“I know.” His voice sounding just a hint sad. “I uh, I feel stupid for freaking out.” The sentence was a whisper.

“There’s nothing to feel stupid about Dean.” Another reassurance. Dean had every right to react the way he did; he had lost so much, even before you had met him. You had been with him through everything. Witnessed so much loss and endured just as much. “Was it a nightmare?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It was the…the one where you break up with me.” You hated that one just as much as he did.

“I’m never going to break up with you. I love you too damn much.” You said, giving him a smile. You crawled into bed next to him getting underneath the covers. “Come here.” You held out your arms for him, and without hesitation he went into them. He wrapped his arms around your torso and rested his head on your chest; your arms wrapping around the back of his neck. Your fingers started playing with his hair, gently massaging his head.

The two of you sat there in silence, both of you with your eyes closed. You weren’t sleeping, but you were unsure if he was. Even if he wasn’t, his breathing was starting to get more even, he was starting to calm down. Hearing the sound of your heartbeat always calmed him down. “Y/N?” Dean asked.

“Yes my love?” You asked, opening your eyes.

He looked up at you briefly, tiredly. “I know I don’t tell you enough but…I’m really lucky to have you in my life. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.” He kissed your neck, as that was one of the only spots he could currently reach.

“I’m lucky to have you in my life too.” You responded, giving him a kiss on the top of his head.

“And Sweetheart?” He asked again.

“Yeah?” You asked.

“Thank you…thank you for not leaving me.” His voice sounding a little pained. The sound of this sentence had broken your heart a bit. Leaving Dean was never an option for you, no matter what had happened between the two of you. Being with him wasn’t easy, but you couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. He was your person, the love of your life, your soulmate. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You kissed him on the top of the head again, and you could feel his smile.

That night, Dean didn’t have another nightmare, but he did dream. He had one of his favorite dreams; one that always gave him a sense of calmness and normalcy. The two of you would be just lying in bed together watching some random horror movie on tv. It was something that the two of you have done hundreds, no, thousands of times, so there would be no reason why it would be his so called favorite dream. What made it his favorite though was purely based on one small detail, a detail that made it known to him that it was in fact a dream: wedding rings would be on both of your fingers.

Someday maybe, he thought.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @jackles010378 If you'd like to be on a tag list, just message me!

[floylia]

ELYSIAN ♫

18. Am I wrong? ✎

“So my manager leaked my information.” It’s not a question anymore.

Scara nods apologetically as if he was at fault, eyes gleaming with genuine sincerity. This is the third time, he’s been vulnerable with you. He guides you up the cobblestone path, leading you closer to the Estate’s courtyard. The sun has already grazed its goodbye, only the moon rests above, gleaming at you and Scara. The darkness along the trees, shrubs, and boulders around the garden is eerie but something about his presence soothes your worries—something about his rare smile, hushed voice, and messy hair.

Perhaps it’s everything about him.

You pause in your tracks, watching over the waves on the beach—hands on the wooden fences standing around the courtyard, “Do you think they’ll believe me?”

“They’ll believe you once you tell your side.”

Doubt lingers, “What if they don’t?”

“Then they’re all fuck heads with no hobbies,” He swerves his head, now facing you with narrow eyes, and brows pulled together, “It’s stupid, how some of them graduated with degrees but have no basic sense of empathy or respect. They’re all entitled, gullible, and hypocritical assholes who use every opportunity to deflect their insecurities on others. It’s a crazy world we live in.”

The scowl on his face is almost laughable—how angry at the world he is on your behalf. You take note of Scara's wrath, experiencing it is not for the weak. Although, you don’t need to worry. His patience for you seems limitless.

“I can’t believe Jean lets you handle your social media accounts. You have no filter.”

He scoffs, “She doesn’t, but I find my way. They have to change the password every other week or else I might be permanently banned on every platform.”

You chuckle at his smug expression, “I want your confidence.”

“You already have it, you just need to use it.”

You avoid his gaze, “You sure do have a lot of faith in me.”

“Because I believe in you.”

For how long? You heard those same words before and they never kept their promises. Your agency, your manager. It was blind trust. Funny how life works.

“You blindly trusted me.”

You didn’t mean to say that. But it can’t be helped. What if one day you disappoint him? Will he leave too, like your manager? Or your fans?

“I knew you wouldn’t do that.”

No he didn’t. What did he know?

“There’s always a possibility—“

“But you didn’t and that’s what matters,” He sighs before running a hand through his hair, “Am I wrong for trusting you?”

You shake your head in guilt, realizing you let your doubts slip. Overthinking kills the mood, “It’s just that—“

“Am I wrong for wanting to be with you?” His voice softened.

You squint your eyes, unsure of what he means. You open your mouth to say something, anything to fill the silence, but nothing comes out.

So he inches forward, his left hand rests on your cheek, the other latches down to your waist, gentle and warm—you lean in to his touch, “Is it wrong to be this close?”

“No but—“

“For once please,” He sounds desperate, “Fuck what they think, focus on me and you. They can all go to hell.”

“So tell me: Is it wrong to need you at every moment?”

Once again you shake your head, this time with no interruptions.

“Is it wrong to be with you? To wake up every morning knowing I’m yours—knowing I can flirt shamelessly without doubting your feelings? Knowing I can write songs about you without hiding my love. Knowing I can feed you my favorite dishes without asking: am I doing too much? Or buy you things that remind me of you because not a single day goes by without your presence in my fucked up head.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. Everything is blurry but your gaze remains on Scara. Only him, because it has always been him.

“Am I wrong for feeling this way?” He whispers softly—so gentle that you want to apologize for trying to push him away.

You wrap your arms around his neck, “Kiss me.”

“Can I really?”

“Please.”

He does.

He does like his life depends on it.

Notes:

im on vacation but nothing will stop me from writing 😃

sorry for grammatical errors or spelling mistakes

Synopsis: After 7 years of enduring the media’s relentless pursuit of painting you as a villain, you’re forced to go through an indefinite hiatus with a tainted reputation on your head. However, just when you thought your career was over, a certain 5WIRL member wants you to feature on his solo career. Surely, this won’t affect your reputation once more, would it?

Scaramouche x fem!reader

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[sooniebby]

Bae I’m back! This time with a Drabble request because asking for full length fics makes me feel guilty. Anywayssssss

Iida…. Hear me out. I’m a SIMP for nerds who are secretly freaks and I feel after the stain incident it’s clear this man is one of those. He def has a size kink I mean he’s built like a god but he also has a brat taming kink. Just imagine him with a lil delinquent reader who simply doesn’t respect his “authority” and he finally gets fed up and puts him in his place. Idk this man just does things for me

Consensually ofc

xx

ఌ 𝐈𝐈𝐃𝐀 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐘𝐀

꧁ 𝙏𝙚𝙣𝙮𝙖 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

Smut 𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙗𝙗𝙡𝙚! ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

You didn’t exactly know how you got yourself into this situation. Face pushed down onto the bed with your ass up in the air. A slap jolted you forward as you cried out in pain. Your ass was aching from the continuous spanking.

Iida was someone you liked pissing off. It was funny to see him yell at you about the rules or what not but you never really imagined he’d do this to you. You and Iida were studying together, not sure how that happened, and you mentioned something to piss him off.

You didn’t even remember what you said. What you really remembered was how easily Iida picked you up and put you in this position. The sound of the harsh slaps against your skin was the only noise in the room, with your muffled whimpers to accompany it.

Iida wasn’t saying anything and somehow that made it hotter in way. As if he was so angry that the only way he thought you could learn was if he discipline you like the brat you wanted to act like.

“Iida…” you whined. “I’ll be good, promise…”

He stopped for a moment, as if he was thinking before you felt him slip in a finger inside of you. It went in easily, due to your previous masturbation before you went to see him.

A chuckle was heard as you bit down on the sheets to muffle your gasps. “Did you want this to happen? That’ll explain why I don’t need lube.”

You didn’t answer, twitching at the way Iida had easily found your prostate. He grazed it each time, making you whine at the teasing. Your cock twitched from beneath you—precum leaking onto the bedsheets.

A sudden pull at your shirt’s collar forced you to lean back against Iida’s chest. You couldn’t really see him but it was scarily horny at how easily he could move you around with no extra strength.

“Answer me. I asked a question.”

“No…”

Iida hummed as he slipped in another finger, pumping them in and out. He didn’t even try to touch your prostate, leaving you to whine at the lost.

“I know you don’t really have manners for others but with me, I thought you would’ve known I don’t tolerate disrespect,” he whispered into your ear. It felt like Iida was a whole different person.

But you certainly liked that.

Iida pushed you down into the bed and pulled out his fingers from your ass. You could hear the faint noise of his zippers being unbuttoned. A small feeling of glee was felt as you wiggled your hips.

“Huh, you think this is for you?” Iida moved his hand to grip at the back of your neck. His hand almost covered the entirety of it. Even with just one hand, he effectively had you pinned down.

“This is for me and only me, (Name).” It was the first time he had ever said your first name. Iida’s cock, that you wished you could’ve seen, was harshly shoved inside.

He was true to his words. His thrusting was mainly focused on chasing his own release. But you didn’t care. If he was using you, you’d gratefully allow it.

You moaned pitifully, hoping he’d at least try to touch your prostate but it seemed he was purposefully missing it. His hand around your throat moved up to your hair and pulled it, gaining a cry from you.

He held onto your hair tightly as he used you like a fleshlight. The sound of skin slapping together paired with your moans and bed creeks filled the room. Whoever this new Iida was, you wanted him to last.

“Iida… I wanna cum!” You whined.

“No.”

A pathetic whimper left your throat. It was hot to see him not care for you and be so set on teaching you a lesson but you at least hoped he would try later. Your cock was just leaking for its’ release.

Suddenly, Iida turned you around to lay on your back, giving you a full view of him. His glasses were off and his hair was beginning to stick to his forehead. He didn’t look particularly happy or horny, more calculating.

As if he was thinking about what particular moves to do. And you soon learned why when he moved your legs up to your ears, something you didn’t know you could do, and began to thrust downwards inside of you.

This angle was hitting your prostate constantly. A scream left your lips as you tried to get used to the sensation. You arched your back as you reached over to grip at his shirt, pulling him down for a kiss. But he didn’t kiss you—he pressed a finger against your lips instead.

“Only good boys get kisses.”

You whined in embarrassment. Iida really had you now didn’t he. You came right after that. Iida was someone you dreamed of having sex with—but this right now was hotter than any dream.

Much to your surprise, Iida pulled out before his orgasm and pushed you down on the bed. He moved to aim his cock at your stomach and rubbed himself until he came, coating his cum all over your stomach.

“And only good boys get to be rewarded with cum inside.” He said, patting your sore butt as he got up to get some wet wipes.

You frowned at the cum on your stomach. Maybe you should rethink your little delinquent attitude.

But maybe a balance. Where’s the fun in being entirely good?

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

You said brat taming and I ran with it… trying some new kinks, whatcha think?

Also don’t feel guilty about requesting! It’s what my blog is for

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @chill-guy-but-cooler @mello-life69 @kiiyoooo

(Ask to be added to the tag list/you’ll be tagged in every fic I post)

[b1mbodoll]

how can u say bull hoon like i’m in a crisis now. just thinking about beefy hoon being brought into a new farm and immediately becoming obsessed with the sweet little farmhand who’s in charge of collecting his seed. everyone’s always talking about how impeccable the quality of his seed is and how they’re gonna have to have him breed with the cow girls. but why would hoon go near those girls when he can just dump his load into his pretty little farmer and make her carry his calf :( just thinking about her all round and swollen with his baby has him pumping load after load into her

pairings: park sunghoon x f! reader

warnings: hybrids + courting + oral + scent kink + strength kink + begging + jealousy + pregnancy

💌: help u sent me !!!! into a crisis im going to think about this for literally forevwr like i cant rn omfgkfsoskkfjfkskdnf i need him ps it doesnt matter what u look like i promise bull! hoon is large and in fucking charge!!!!!!!!!

bull! hoon is no stranger to sex. sometimes farmers would slap a wad of cash on his handler’s desk n he’d be sent to the field where a scared little cow hybrid was waiting for him to take what he wants, but he never did. instead he’d stay away from the heifer n do his own thing until her owner would get angry n snatch their payment, cursing sunghoon as the pair leave because how dare the bull not seduce his hybrid!!!!!!

his handler gets fed up with the constant failed breeding attempts n sends him your way, tired of dealing with such a stubborn bull. when sunghoon lays his eyes on you it’s like his personality does a complete 180. he’s no longer cold and distant n is so careful with you because ur such a tiny little thing in comparison to the buff bull.

when you try introducing him to ur sweet cow hybrids sunghoon is so distraught because he’s been courting you for weeks n this is the final nail in the coffin, he can’t keep pretending like he doesn’t wanna pound you til you’re crying. completely unaware of the bull boy’s feelings you leave the pair alone, tending to your other hybrids in the meantime.

sunghoon’s snorting and stomping his feet because he’s so angry!!! he doesn’t want to fuck a cowgirl he wants you!!!! wants to stuff you full of cum n make you a slut for his dick til all you can think about is getting bred :( sends the cowgirl back to her pen n waits for you in the pasture

when you return to check on them you’re surprised to find the bull alone, slipping into the fenced in area with him before asking, “hi hoonie, what’s wrong? did something happen?” he nearly caves at the sound of your sweet voice laced with worry, but he maintains his composure. “what’s wrong?” he snorts angrily, “what’s wrong is i’ve been tryin’ to show you i’m worthy of being your mate but you won’t give me the time of day!” the shock is evident in your face and hoon cant believe you really didnt know his intentions. “wha? hoonie i can’t be your mate! you don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, y’just haven’t met the right cow!” you continue making excuses for him and he’s had enough, biceps flexing as he shoves you facefirst into the dirt.

the display of strength has your cunt dripping and you can only pray he doesn’t notice. but he’s a top hybrid, the best of the best and his sharp nose instantly picks up on your arousal. “stay down” he grunts, making sure you’re properly presenting for him before making his way behind you and tearing your shorts off with his large hands, leaving you clad only in your tiny tank top and cotton panties drenched in your juices.

your bull stuffs his face between your thighs n shoves his nose right up against your cunt, inhaling deeply and becoming obsessed with how good your pussy smells. “if y’can’t be my mate then why are you so wet, human?” you’re so embarrassed n your hole clenches around nothing at his words. “‘s normal sunghoon! what else do you expect after treating me like this?” he ignores you completely n rips your panties off, throwing them to the side before digging in, mouth slurping at your pussy like he’s fucking starving.

his tongue is so fucking long and he’s so skilled, it’s not long before you’re creaming. “you’re ready.” is all he says before lining his dick up with your sloppy cunt, filling you in one quick thrust. he moans so loud you’re sure the entire farm can hear him, feeling sorry for your hybrids because you can’t bring yourself to make him pull out. “you wanna cum again, sweetheart?” you nod your head like crazy, wanting nothing more than to milk his dick for all it’s worth. “then fucking beg.” sunghoon is a dirty pervert and you’re just as bad, begging instantly with no hesitation. “please hoonie! wanna be your breeding bitch, need your thick cum inside now! wanna cum with you n feel you impregnate me, please!” he’s in fucking heaven, cums so hard n so much it’s no wonder he’s a prized bull, fills you up so well it makes you black out.

after he makes you cum again sunghoon carries you inside, tucking you into your bed before taking his spot next to you. when you wake up the following morning your body is so sore and you still feel so full because sunghoon is insatiable and couldn’t resist fucking you til he passed out from exhaustion. as you make your way around the farm to check on your hybrids you can’t help but notice how they’re staring at you, jake, your sweet dog hybrid is even outright glaring at you because how could sunghoon get to you first? it’s only fair if he gets a turn because he was here before that damn bull!

[raysrays]

Jealous! Kyojuro Rengoku X Fem! Reader NSFW

CW: NSFW content, possessiveness/jealousy, Oral sex.

Minors Do Not Interact! 18+

Y/N perspective

I settled down under the tree, overlooking the training grounds while chugging water. It’s the hottest day of the year, and all the Hashira are taking advantage of it by training.

Just finished my hand-to-hand combat training with Tomioka. The man’s quiet, but he sure is fast. That last move had me completely pinned to the ground. I’m definitely going to be sore tomorrow.

Honestly, it was pretty embarrassing; it felt like everyone was watching. Tengen hyping up Tomioka from the sidelines definitely didn’t help the situation. I didn’t even get to see Kyojuro's reaction to my loss. I didn’t have the heart to look. As his Tsuguko, I’m a representative of him, and I feel like I probably embarrassed him too.

Just then, I feel someone sitting next to me. It’s Tomioka… I didn’t think he’d be the type to come over and brag about winning. This sucks.

“You didn’t do bad, you know,” he said in that monotone voice. He’s as stoic as ever.

Well, I definitely wasn’t expecting him to come over and comfort me.

“Uh, thanks. I just need to train a little more. I’ll get you next time!” I try to smile. If he’s not going to rub it in my face, I shouldn’t dwell on it.

I feel him looking at me, so I turn to face him. Is he smiling? Well, kinda? He’s not exactly frowning as usual.

“Yeah, until next time,” he puts his hand on my shoulder reassuringly and then stands up to leave.

“Oh, and one more thing-“ he began.

“Rengoku isn’t mad at you. You should probably go watch him go against Tengen.”

“I’ll watch from here where it’s shaded,” I reply.

He just nods and walks back to where the others are standing.

I watch as the two begin their sparring. Why does it seem more vicious than usual? Kyojuro looks like he’s really going all out this time. He looks very attractive right now.

Their sparring match goes on for another few intense minutes. Kyojuro is smiling; he must be fine, not mad at me at all.

I must have managed to catch his attention as I noticed him glance over at me, his smile dropping.

Oh, maybe not.

Damn it, I really didn’t want to listen to him lecture me about training more.

I finally make my way back down to the group, and we all talk amongst ourselves. I see a tall shadow hovering over me.

I turn around, locking eyes with Kyojuro.

He’s smiling, but I can tell this is just an “I’m not going to scold you now but I will later” type of smile.

I let out a sigh and make my way back to my quarters. I know he’s following me, but surely he will wait to talk after I’ve cleaned up. We both probably smell terrible.

As I’m about to shut the door to my room, a hand suddenly blocks it from closing. I look up, being met with a very stern-faced Kyojuro.

What’s his problem? Was me losing to Tomioka really that big of a deal?

He then pushes my door back open, walking in. “We need to talk, little flame,” his voice doesn’t sound like himself. This definitely isn’t the Kyo I was used to.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out.

“I know I shouldn’t have lost to Tomioka, and I promise I’ll train harder so I don’t make you look bad next time.” I’m praying my apology is enough.

It was only a second later I feel his lips on mine. He’s kissing me? But this time it’s different. It feels rough, urgent. What’s going on?

I feel him push his tongue into my mouth, deepening the kiss.

I pull away, breathing heavily. Why is he doing this?

He leans in and whispers in my ear.

“Did you enjoy it? Being pinned down by him?” He sounds so angry.

“What? What are you talking about?” I feel my face turning bright red.

I then feel a small pinch on my ear. Was he biting me?

“Tomioka. Did you like him holding you down like that? Enough for him to find you after and touch you some more?”

Is he being serious? This is so out of character for him.

“Kyo, are you jealous?” I ask with a hint of tease in my voice.

He then pulls me back in to kiss me again. I feel him walking me backwards, pushing my back against the wall.

He’s running his hands all over me, squeezing my breast, kissing me more passionately.

After a few seconds, I feel his hands moving down. He’s touching me there? Now? It feels like this is happening so fast, but it just feels so good.

I start to moan against his lips, and I put my hand over his.

“Kyojuro, wait… I need to wash up first.”

He then gets on his knees, looking up at me more sweetly than earlier.

“I don’t care about that right now, sunflower. Right now, I just want to please you. In a way he cannot,” he says, undoing my belt.

I feel my legs start to shake; this is so much. All of this just because Tomioka had to reassure me I didn’t fight terribly?

He knows what he’s doing, kissing me down there so softly.

I throw my head back, feeling him run his tongue all over me. Kyojuro was definitely a skilled swordsman, but he was also a professional in making me feel good.

I can’t help but cover my mouth with my hand. It’s not like these walls are super thick. I use my free hand to grab a fistful of his beautiful flame-colored hair.

I arch my back against the wall. I’m really starting to feel it now.

I can’t stand his teasing. He’s doing this to punish me.

“Kyo, please…” I manage to breathe out.

He pulls back a little. “Please what, sunflower? What is it you want?” He says softly, his voice full of arousal.

“Please, just let me finish,” I whisper.

He grins up at me. “After what you did?”

He leans back into me, going even slower than before.

I hit my head against the back of the wall. This is absolute torture. I’ve never wanted to cum so bad.

I tighten my grip on his hair that I still had in my hand.

I feel like my heart is about to beat out of my chest and like my legs are about to give out.

Finally, I feel him start to pick up the pace, and I don’t think I can stand it any longer.

I grip both of his shoulders as tightly as I can.

And finally, I feel it. The release is better than I could have imagined. It felt like it went on forever, and it was what I needed.

I feel my back slide down the wall, causing me to be eye level with Kyojuro on the floor.

We are both out of breath, staring at each other.

Kyojuro then pulls me into his lap, kissing my head.

“So, little flame, did I make you feel good?” He sounds so innocent, as if he didn’t just completely overpower me a second ago.

I shake my head. “You really got that jealous over Tomioka? It was just some hand-to-hand training.” I laugh.

His face turns bright red. “Well, yes, I know… but I just don’t know how to explain it. Seeing you being held down by him really just struck a nerve with me, and then him coming up to you after the match. I just couldn’t control it.” He sounds so embarrassed.

I cup his face in my hands and kiss his cheek. “Kyojuro, I love you. I would never crave the attention of anyone but you.”

I brush his hair out of his face, leaning into his ear.

“Nobody can make me feel good like you do,” I whisper.

He smiles brightly and laughs, pulling me into a tight hug. “That’s wonderful news, my little flame! I love you!”

There he is. There’s my sweet Kyo.

“Maybe I should make you jealous more often,” I tease.

“I’d advise against it,” he replies, kissing me one more time.

“Shall we get cleaned up now?” He suggests.

I nod, and we both finally make our way off the floor.

Well, that’s not exactly how I thought my “lecture” would go, but I guess I’m not complaining.

[bunnyrafe]

he’ll never forget the first time he gave it to you good and really roughed you up and you just looked up at him like you were about to say a prayer, with your swollen bottom lip between your teeth and spacey but teary eyes. you were made to be manhandled by him

the way this single sentence made me combust like i wanna know all the deets now,, what led up to that moment? what made him so angry? does he try to comfort her after (bc she just looks so sad ‘n pouty sitting there frozen with all those tears in her eyes)? this whole scenario just has me feeling so many things rn

+i feel like he probably manhandles you without even realizing too like when he’s not even angry, he just naturally does stuff like that both from like a size kink angle + a casual dominance angle ykim?

he’s just such a manhandler i need him to toss me around a little bit<333

100% just naturally a manhandler. he doesn’t have to be angry mhm-mhm but it definitely helps when he’s a bit stressed / annoyed ‘n his hands are just itching to grab you up and do unspeakably things. the idea of him genuinely using his full strength on you is so scary but hot at the same time…

full scene -> you were most likely whining about something all day, probably started cursing and saying words sweet girls like you shouldn’t say. calling him fucking terrible and controlling when you haven’t even seen the worst of it, saying that he never let you go out and have fun on your own.

he tried being the bigger person— he really did. turned to you as you stomped around in his office and said, “why would i let you do anything when you act like this?”

and well— you didn’t like that one bit.

“fuck you, rafe cameron.” you spit out through bubblegum scented and pink glossed lips, only for a harsh slap to come down on your supple cheek and ring throughout the room.

the sound meets your ears before you even feel the initial impact and the stinging that spreads over the side of your face. the force nearly knocks you to the ground to your knees, but rafe doesn’t allow that to happen as he’s already grabbing your throat to keep you upright and make sure you pay attention for once.

“don’t you ever fuckin’ say that again,” he shakes you around, leading you over to the sofa with nothing but his pure strength and his grip on you, snarling a word out with every step until he drops your body onto the cushions like it’s nothing, “unless— unless you have a fuckin’ death wish and want to find out what i’m really capable of— understand?”

your eyes well with tears as you stare up at him— your pupils are glossed over in a mixture of fear and embarrassment. the crushing reality that you’re just as sick and twisted as him at the end of the day, seemingly loving when he puts you in your place and knocks some sense into you. you hiccup out a small “i understand, daddy” the best you can, making rafe coo and run his knuckles over your heated skin. where he slapped you.

“don’t like hurting you,” that’s a lie— his hand travels down you body, tucking itself between your thighs so he can reach under your skirt and cup your cunt, “if you promise me you’ll quit your fuckin’ bitching ‘n whining, i’ll make you feel better— daddy’ll make you cum on his fingers. deal?”

you quickly seal your fate, feeling hazier ‘n hazier by the second as you breathe out— “deal.”

[cauliflowercounty]

Special Request (Feyd Rautha x Reader)

My larger Feyd fic is almost done and will be out soon I promise, but I had an idea for a drabble that I really wanted to write because I can’t get this thought out of my head. It’s sorta stupid but I thought it was cute.

Summary: you’re the only person on Giedi Prime with hair, so Feyd gets you shampoo :)

Reader’s gender not specified

Feyd is sweet if I want him to be

no warnings

—

“My love?” Feyd says as you walk back to your shared quarters after a long day of diplomatic meetings. “May I ask why you’ve been covering your head as of late when we are outside of our chambers?”

“Oh…” you trail off, trying to come up with an excuse. “I’ve… been liking the headscarfs more as of late. Plus, they keep me warm. You know I find the halls cold.”

Feyd shakes his head. “I know when you aren’t being truthful with me.”

You sigh. Of course he saw right through you, him being your husband, after all. “It’s going to sound ridiculous, Feyd.”

“I promise I will not think any less of you. I could never,” he assures you by enclosing your hand in his and giving it a firm squeeze.

“I… don’t like the way my hair looks,” you admit, which makes him frown. He’s always disliked when you talk down about yourself.

“I love your hair,” he immediately says. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

“I know you do, Feyd, and I’m really very flattered, but it’s looked awful recently,” you say. “I haven’t been able to wash my hair properly since I got here. The body soap that you have here is lovely, but it’s really not meant for my hair.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he questions. You’ve been married for years.

“I didn’t want to be a bother, especially since I’m the only one that would ever need it on this planet,” you counter as he immediately drops your hand and turns on his heel to head back the way you came.

“Feyd!” You call out to him, worried he’s angry at you, but all he does is call back to you telling you not to worry and that he’ll meet you in your quarters later, leaving you in the hallway in a state of bewilderment.

—

A few days later, Feyd pulls you aside as you gaze out at the industrial skyline of Geidi Prime and starts walking you through the halls.

“I have something to show you,” he says as he takes you to the door of your shared quarters. He unlocks the door and immediately takes you into the bathroom.

“Feyd, what is this?” You gasp when you enter, seeing the room lit by candles and the bathtub full of hot, soapy water. On a tray next to the tub, you see more different kinds of of haircare items than you’ve ever seen in your life.

“What do you think?” he asks. “I had it all brought in specially for you.”

“I love it,” you reply. “I can’t believe you did this just for me.”

“You know I would do anything for you,” he smiles, giving you a soft kiss on the lips. You squeal as you grab a bottle and shed your headscarf and clothes before climbing into the tub and dunking your hair in the water. Feyd smiles at your giddiness, taking the bottle from you and positioning himself on his knees behind the tub. He opens the bottle and puts some of the shampoo on his palm and spreads it onto your hair. Gently massaging your scalp, he works the suds through your hair with his fingers as you close your eyes and sink into the tub, relaxing at his touch.

“You’re marvelous, you know that, my love?” He asks as you hum in response.

“Thank you for this, Feyd,” you grin, feeling all of the stress from the day melt away at his touch.

“Anything for you,” he replies, his heart swelling seeing you so happy.

[beneathstarryskies]

I get off on you getting off on me

Header by @actuallysaiyan

Word Count: 2.9K

Warnings: cucking (Satoru is the cuck), creampie, jerking off, oral sex, fem!reader, degradation, hints of NanaGo

Inspired by this Kento x Reader x Hiromi by @actuallysaiyan

Everyone knows you’re the apple of Satoru’s six eyes. He adores everything about you, and if neither of you is on a mission then chances are he’s clinging to you or following you around like a lost puppy…Or he’s got you locked away in his apartment, trapped underneath him while he grunts, “Just one more time, I promise.”

 He’s so clingy and possessive, that you would never imagine a scenario where he’d allow anyone else close to you intimately. Not that Satoru is jealous. No, he doesn’t get angry when he sees you chatting with Kusakabe or even when you go out for coffee with Ijichi. He won’t ever stop you from enjoying those things, but he makes sure he finds a way to remind everyone once more that you’re his. Whether it be sending you a large bouquet or showing off a little PDA. 

So when he asked one morning, “Would you fuck Nanami?” you nearly spit your morning coffee out all over the table. He’d asked as casually as if he was asking about the weather. 

“Satoru!” You gasped after barely managing to keep from choking. Your face heats up so much you’re pretty sure you could fry an egg on your cheeks. 

“It’s just a question,” he shrugs. “Would you fuck Nanami?” 

“I’m not even going to answer that,” you stand up from the kitchen table. You kiss the top of his head as you walk around to the sink to rinse out your cup and breakfast plate. 

“Why not?” Satoru stands up to follow you. He wraps his arms around your waist and lays his head on your shoulder. His crystal blue eyes are wide, his eyelashes framing his gaze in a way that’s all too beautiful to ignore or resist. 

“Because it’s a dumb question,” you chuckle. Nanami is a complete professional. Even if you do catch yourself admiring the way he fills out his suits from time to time and wondering what he looks like underneath all those layers. 

Once on a mission with him, you’d been injured. Nanami had draped his jacket around your shoulders and carried you to safety. He’d been so kind and gentle with you, whispering comforting words as he’d tended your wounds. The way he’d calmly whispered, “I know, I know. It hurts,” when you’d winced while he banaged you up had lived in your mind for weeks after, making it so you flushed everytime you saw him for weeks after. 

Would you fuck Nanami? Hell yes. Anyone in their right mind would. Are you going to admit that to your mischevious boyfriend who holds your whole heart even if he is an absolute menace? No. No good can come from entertaining Satoru’s whimsies. 

“I would,” Satoru admits. “But what I’d really like…Is to watch him fuck you.” 

“Satoru Gojo, have you lost your mind?”

“You’re so cute when you’re like this,” he chuckles. 

“Shut up,” you pout. You push his hands away in an attempt to escape. 

Satoru follows you through the apartment, stretching himself across the bed as you pretend to be very focused on getting ready for the day. 

“You don’t have to answer just yet. Just think about it.” 

“I’m not going to!” 

But you did. 

Once the idea had been planted on your mind, it took root with ease. Trying to fill out reports and attend faculty meetings had turned into a battle with your own dignity. Sitting across the table from Nanami while he talked about something mundane related to training with Itadori, meanwhile, you can’t stop thinking about being bent over while he pounds into you and then looking up to see Gojo watching with hungry eyes. You try to imagine the sounds he would make. Does he moan? Does he growl? Or maybe…he whines? You think about his big hands on your hips, pulling you in—

“—are you listening?” The annoyance is clear in Nanami’s voice as he pulls you from your thoughts. His lips are pulled into a tight frown. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Sorry, Nanami, my mind is just wandering.” 

“Hm, I see,” he sips his coffee. 

“Oh! Hi! If it isn’t my two favorite sorcerers in the same room,” an all too cheerful voice echoes through the teacher’s lounge. You groan as Satoru plops down on the sofa next to you, draping his arm over your shoulder. 

“Don’t you have students to tend to?” Nanami asks him, a strange tone clipping his words and you can barely tell he’s looking at the way Satoru is touching you. 

“Of course, but I just wanted to take a break,” Satoru lounges next to you. “You know what we haven’t done in a while?” 

“What?” You ask, praying to break the tension. 

“We haven’t all gone out for dinner in so long,” Satoru smirks. “What do you think, Nanami?” 

“Dinner would be nice,” he agrees. You feel like you could combust just from the idea of continuing to share the same air as both of these men, outside of the confines of work. 

“We should go out! Maybe…Tonight?” 

“Tonight’s no good!” You blurt out. 

“Oh? Do we have plans?” Satoru asks. You sink deeper into your seat as you search for a suitable lie. 

Nanami leans forward, his brows deeply furrowed and his lips in a tight frown. His eyes move from you to Satoru inquisitively. “You’ve already talked to her, didn’t you?” 

“I might have dropped hints,” Satoru shrugs. 

You feel like your mind is momentarily stunted, and then you remember the conversation you and Satoru had shared in the morning. It’s difficult to imagine Nanami being in on such a mischievous thing, but the way he’s looking at you…

“I thought we’d agreed to have a conversation about it later, at dinner,” Nanami scowls. 

They had planned this, without you. Your mind bounces between anger and curiosity. Who had mentioned it first? How did it get brought up? But then one startlingly delicious thought blocks out all others: Nanami wants to fuck you. 

“I want to try,” you say, hiding your shy face behind your sweaty palms. You feel warm, calloused hands on your wrists, lowering your hands from your face. It’s Kento who has moved them, now so close you could kiss him. 

“You need to be sure,” he says softly. 

“I’m sure,” you insist. “But maybe…Promise not to plan things behind my back again?” 

“I promise,” Kento says without hesitation. 

You look at Satoru, who is whistling while looking away from you. You nudge him in the side and he acts as though he hadn’t heard you. 

“Satoru,” you narrow your eyes.

“Alright! Alright! I promise!”

** 

It’s difficult to contain your excitement throughout dinner. Satoru had advised you to follow his lead if you feel too nervous. That’s what you were prepared to do: let Satoru guide things along. After dinner, you were trying to keep your cool while cleaning up. You’re standing at the sink washing the dishes when you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist. 

“I can’t wait any longer,” Kento says against your ear before placing a kiss on your temple. His eager hands grip at your dress, bunching it up at the waist. He pulls you against him, and you can feel his length pushing against your ass through his neatly pressed pants. 

“I-I just need to clean up.” 

“The dishes will still be here in the morning. I’ll help you then.” He turns you around and kiss you heatedly. It’s like in that moment all of his pent up desire begins to seep out of him into this kiss. You’re both flushed when he pulls away. 

You gasp, “Satoru—”

“—is waiting in the bedroom.” 

Kento lifts you bridal style and carries you from the kitchen to the bedroom. Satoru has changed into a pair of grey sweatpants and is seated on the bed against the headboard. Already he’s palming at himself, making the outline of his cock prominent. 

“Don’t get yourself too worked up, Satoru,” Kento chuckles. “We haven’t gotten started yet.” 

Kento sits you down on the edge of the bed before kneeling in front of you. His hands are gentle as he takes off your shoes and sets them aside. He caresses your stocking-covered legs before reaching your thighs, almost grabbing the clasps to your garter, but he pauses. 

“If you want me to stop at any point, just tell me. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing, I’ll stop.” 

You nod your agreement, then he pops the clasps off your stocks and rolls each one down your leg with pristine care. You bite your lip when he leans in to press his mouth to your thigh. It’s a mix between a bite and a sloppy kiss on your skin. 

Satoru leans up to watch what’s happening, his eyes focused intently. His mouth hangs slightly open as his fingers twitch with the need to rub his cock again.

“You’re beautiful,” Nanami whispers. He finally stands up and begins unbuttoning his shirt. 

Your hands are trembling when you reach out to touch him, helping him untuck his shirt from his slacks. He gasps when you start for his belt. He runs his hand through your hair, brown eyes fixed on your face while you open his pants. You push them down to his knees and he does the rest of the work to kick them off before his boxers join the pile of clothes forming on the floor. 

“Shit,” you whisper while taking in the sight of his hard cock, already leaking precum from the red tip. You grip his length gently and begin stroking his cock. 

“Fuck, are you gonna suck his cock, baby?” Satoru asks eagerly. Before you can answer Kento is shooting a stern look. 

“Not a word from you, Satoru.” 

You smirk at his words. It’s not often someone speaks to Satoru in such a way. You can almost imagine him pouting against the headboard, but you choose to keep your attention on Kento for now. You drag your tongue along the underside of his cock, drawing out a deep moan from his lips. 

He caresses your cheek lovingly, “Good girl.” 

His praise spurs you on to take his cock in your mouth, just the tip at first. You kiss and lick the weeping head before pushing your head lower, managing to make it halfway before he proves too much. 

“Don’t push yourself too much,” he says as he guides you off his cock. He leans down to kiss you while reaching behind you for the zipper of your dress. You have to stand up for him to pull it off your head, then he guides you to lay down beside Satoru. 

“You’re a lucky man, Satoru,” Kento grunts as he looks at your body laid out before him. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties, “Is this okay?” 

“Yes.” 

He pulls your panties down carefully, revealing your wet cunt to his hungry gaze. Instead of tossing them aside, he puts them on Satoru’s lap. Then, he lays on his stomach between your legs and hoists your thighs over his broad shoulders. The second his breath hits your pussy, you shiver. Instinctively you reach for Satoru’s hand as though using him to keep yourself grounded. 

“I’m here, baby,” Satoru whispers soothingly. He remembers how nervous you had been when he went down on you the first time. He knows it must be a bit nerve-wracking to share such a vulnerable experience with someone new. Although, he has to admit the whines leaving your lips when Kento drags his tongue over your pussy for the first time making his cock twitch. You squeeze Satoru’s hand to stave off the urge to push yourself closer to Kento’s mouth. 

“Mm, so sweet,” Kento growls between licking and suckling on your cunt. 

“It feels so fucking good,” you whine. 

Kento moans in response. His ministrations are already making your toes curl in anticipation. Satoru watches your chest heave as you start to arch your back. He can tell you’re close already. 

With a few more swipes of Kento’s tongue, you’re coming undone. He pushes his tongue into your clenching hole to taste your arousal flowing out. When you come down from your high, he sits up on his knees. His chin glistens with your juices, and he sloppily wipes it away on the back of his hand. Then, he grabs your waist to pull you down the bed a bit. 

“I need it,” he growls as he guides his throbbing cock to your entrance. 

You release Satoru’s hand to wrap your arms around Kento as he pushes into you. He kisses you sloppily, making sure it’s an open-mouthed kiss so Satoru can see your tongues sliding against one another. Your tightness around his cock already has his balls drawing up. Another thrust has him bottoming out, and he drops his head to your chest as his mind momentarily grows dizzy from the way you’re squeezing him. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

“Y-yes,” you pant. “Please, baby, fuck me.” 

Kento doesn’t need more invitation to start rocking his hips slowly. 

As Kento fucks you, he nuzzles against your neck. You look over at Satoru. 

Satoru watches on with flushed cheeks. His large hand continues moving over his bulge. Sticky precum forms a dark stain on his sweatpants. He lets a soft moan escape his lips as he watches Kento take you. 

“Mm, I can’t believe how you’re getting off on this,” you say suddenly. Kento looks up at the sound of your voice, then realizes you’re teasing Satoru. He’s shocked to hear you being such a tease when you’re usually so sweet and doting to your lover. 

“Look at the mess he’s making of himself,” Kento urges you on. 

“Fuck, don’t be mean,” Satoru whines. 

“No?” Kento chuckles then pulls out of you suddenly. 

He rolls you over and helps you move between Satoru’s legs so you’re draped over him. Your head is on Satoru’s chest when Kento enters you from behind with a single snap of his hips. You cry out and arch your back. Satoru can feel the warmth of your heavy breaths sinking through the thin fabric of his T-shirt. Your tits just graze against his straining cock as Kento pounds into you. 

“Is this mean?” Kento asks, smirking at Satoru. 

“It’s fucking hot,” Satoru whimpers. “I love watching you fuck her.” 

“You hear that, sweetheart? Satoru loves it.” 

“Hnn, me too,” you moan and look up at Satoru. “He feels so good inside me, ‘toru.” 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Satoru pleads. “I’ll cum in my pants if you keep lookin’ at me like that.” 

“Poor little Satoru,” Kento starts pumping his hips harder and faster. One hand is firmly on your ass while the other reaches around to tease your clit. “She’s so fucking wet for me. Just dripping all over me.” 

Satoru’s cock pushes uncomfortably against his sweats, at this point so sensitive that even the soft fabric is too much sensation. He lowers his pants just enough to take it out, letting it throb against his stomach. 

“I’m close,” you moan. 

“Yeah? Gonna cum on my cock, baby?” Kento rubs your clit. “Go on, sweetheart. Let me feel you.” 

The coil snaps, releasing your pleasure. Your head falls against Satoru’s chest and you white-knuckle the sheets as you ride out your orgasm. You’re just coming down when Kento’s hips stutter, and he grits his teeth as he cums inside you. He continues thrusting a bit longer, pushing his seed deeper inside before pulling out. He grabs your hair and pulls your head back so he can kiss you roughly. 

“So pretty,” he murmurs against your lips. 

You follow him as he moves to Satoru’s side. Your lips keep meeting in sloppy kisses, and you can feel Satoru’s hands on your hips. 

“Please,” Satoru whines. “Baby, I’m so hard. Please.” 

Kento wraps his arms around you, pulling you to straddle his lap as he sits against the headboard. 

“Should we be nice to Satoru?” you ask Kento, looking at the pathetic state Satoru has found himself in. He tugs weakly at his cock, trying so hard not to do anything without your permission. 

“That’s up to you,” Kento assures you. You lean in to whisper in Kento’s ear, only to make the anticipation more intense for Satoru. “She says you can jerk off.” 

Satoru doesn’t even complain about his lot. He fists his cock and begins jerking himself off. His intense gaze stays fixed on you and Kento, feeling both jealous and aroused by the way you keep kissing and touching each other. It’s so clear you’re gearing up for round two. 

“Baby, look at me while I cum,” he pleads. He moans when you turn your attention to him, for a moment you pull away from Kento. Your hands are soft on Satoru’s cheeks as you cup them, then you kiss him. Just one soft kiss is all it takes for him to release. Strings of sticky, white cum spurt onto his stomach and chest. 

“Fuck, fuck, I love you,” he whines. 

“I love you too,” you kiss him again. Then you take Kento’s hand and pull him closer. You kiss him sweetly and cuddle against him. Satoru leans in to kiss Kento on the cheek. 

“You love me too, don’t you Nanami?” He asks, with that mischief in his eyes again. 

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Kento scoffs. 

[cameronspecial]

Some People Can Change

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  Swearing, Mentions of Drugs and Angst

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.3K

Summary: Rafe really does want to change, but what happens if nobody else believes he can?

A/N: Rafe isn't a murderer and doesn't hide dead bodies in this one-shot, but everything else he does in Canon happens.

Masterlist

Y/N Y/L/N was only supposed to be a one-night stand. Rafe wasn’t planning on interacting with her after she left his bedroom. He was a Kook and she was a Pogue, who worked as a bartender at the club. However, when he woke up the next morning to the smell of frying bacon and the sound of “Dance The Night” accompanied by her dance moves, he knew she wasn’t really going to be leaving his life after today. Plus, her advice was life-saving. “I think I’m going to do something really bad,” he confessed to her, sitting at the kitchen island with coffee in hand. She looked at him in understanding, “Well, you said going to, which implies it has happened yet. And if it hasn’t happened, then you always have a chance to fix it. It’s up to you to own the fact that you recognize it isn’t good and to stop it.” This led to Rafe stopping the murder of his father that he put into action. 

———

Ever since that day, Rafe is not often seen without his arm around Y/N, looking at her like she is his world. Because she is. He knows she wouldn’t put up with the shit that he pulls on a normal basis, so he made an effort to stop his vices. He is just grateful she is relatively new to town and hasn’t had the chance yet to hear the gossip about him. This means he has a chance to turn his life around before she finds out. But no one in his life actually believes he can change. 

“I told you, Barry. I’m not dealing or using anymore. Not cocaine, not weed. I gotta go cold turkey,” Rafe reiterates, sliding the drugs and gun towards the pogue. “And I certainly don’t need this gun anymore.” Barry shakes his head and pushes the item back toward Rafe, “You really think you are going to last man? You aren’t going to be able to stay away from these just because of her. You can’t change man.” “You’re wrong. Every time I do drugs, I’m making the conscious decision to turn towards them. Y/N is helping me realize that I have other ways of coping with my issues,” he gestures his hand toward his chest to prove himself. “Come on, Country Club. Just take them back.” Rafe grows frustrated with this conversation. Instead of fighting back and yelling at the dealer, he tries to take deep breaths to calm himself. It sort of works, but nobody is perfect. So he storms out of the trailer with the loud clang of the front door closing behind him. 

He gets home from Barry’s storming into the living room with his anger clear on his face. “Love, what’s wrong?” Y/N poses, lowering the volume of the TV. Rafe gives her a harsh look, “WHAT THE F-!” He can’t finish his yelling because Y/N is already gently placing her hand on his sternum to guide his breathing. “I know you are angry about something, right now, but that gives you no right to displace that anger towards me. So if you feel the need to release this negative energy, then I would like for you to channel this feeling through working out, please. I’ll come to see you to talk after half an hour.” Rafe knows that she is correct and she probably got these ideas from a psychology book she bought. God, she’s so smart. 

Rafe heads up to the punching bag in his room and starts throwing punches at it. As promised, she comes to check on him after some time. “Now that we’ve calmed down, do you want to talk about it?” Y/N inquires, bringing his hands into her smaller ones and giving his bruised knuckles a kiss. He nods at her, “Yeah, I just went to give something back to a… uh… a friend and he insisted that I still needed it. It was frustrating.” His subconscious knew the problem was deeper than that and this caused tears to threaten to spill. Rafe is quick to hide his face behind his palms. 

“Somehow I don’t believe that this is the true root of your crying. Do you think you can talk about it?”

“Uhh, no. I don’t think I truly know what I’m feeling. Can we just cuddle and think instead?”

Y/N is happy to oblige, lying down on the bed and opening her arms so he can rest his head on her chest. 

———

“No, Rafe. I have to tell Y/N. She deserves to know,” Sarah argues, making her way back into the house from the back patio. Rafe is quick to follow her. At the same time, Y/N is heading towards the same door from the bathroom. “Tell me what?” Sarah turns towards the girl, ready to tell her about Rafe’s faults. 

“Rafe is a liar and thief and violent and a drug addict. He isn’t a good person, sweetie!” 

“I may not have been a good person and I admit to being everything you’ve said but I’m trying to change. Y/N helped me realize that I need to change.”

“Ooh, like you can change. Honestly, no offense Y/N, but we both know this road to redemption act is all going to go away once you get bored of her.” 

Rafe wants to yell that it isn’t true what Sarah is saying, but he remembers the breathing exercises Y/N taught to help calm down and puts those into practice. He knows adding more anger to this argument is just going to lead toward a slippery slope of words he will regret. 

“You may believe that, but I don’t. So I’m sorry I stole the cross and melted it down. I know that it can’t bring back the artifact for Pope. But I’ve already given the money I got from it to Pope and made a donation with my own money to the church.”

“Well good for you, doing one good thing to not feel guilty and to tell Y/N you are a good person.”

“I know about all of this already. Thank you for wanting to tell me, Sarah, but I already know everything and I would like to get the rest of the information straight from Rafe, now,” Y/N interrupts the argument before it becomes never-ending. Rafe’s palms are pressed into his eyes and she knows he is trying to hide his tears. She does not allow the conversation to continue; instead, brings him upstairs and moves his hands from his face. She wipes the tears away and presses a kiss to his forehead, “You don’t have to hide your tears away from me.”

“Why can’t anyone believe I can change? What if everyone is right?”

“Don’t say that. I believe that maybe not everyone can change, but some people can change. And you are definitely a part of some people.”

“How can you say that about me with everything you’ve known about all this time?”

“Because the Rafe that I was told about would’ve ended that argument with violence. He was violent, rude, a liar, stole and relied on drugs like it was water. The one before me approached that argument with recognition of his wrongdoing. He is working on his anger, is polite, tells me the truth, always pays for me and attends NA. He is one month sober. That is how I know you have changed.”

“Nobody else believes I can.”

“I know, love. I know it hurts. But right now let’s just focus on who does believe. You and Me. Then we can use this belief to prove everyone else wrong.”

“Okay, I can do that. I love you, Y/N/N.”

“ I love you too, love.”