#unless claw grip???? but even then you only have a finger on it

[foxstens]

yea i dont get how ppl play rain world with controller

[beloveds-embrace]

When Konig returns, How do you think he will react when he realizes that reader is limping and has a prosthetic??

Would he blame himself? would blame and fight with others??

-🍒anon

It’d be a mix of both, but he largely (and understandably) blames them the most. There is disliking your spouse, and then there is the cruelty that has been inflicted on you.

König didn’t even notice it at first- not until you stood at last.

The faint click against the marble floors froze him. His eyes dropped, breath hitching at the gleam of metal where your foot should have been. Cold and foreign, it should have never been on you. He’s only seen it on soldiers.

Your grip on the cane now in your hand- how did he not notice it?- tightened. “Don’t.”

It wasn’t a plea. It was a warning.

But König couldn’t stop staring. His eyes traced the straps digging into your thigh, the unevenness of your gait. He imagined the pain you must have endured, the surgeries, the adjustments, the raw skin and bruising. He imagined you lying in some cold room, scared and alone, with no one there to hold your hand.

“Who did this to you?” His voice was low and guttural, barely human.

“They all did,” you said quietly. “You. Them. All of you.”

The words hit harder than any blade could.

König staggered back a step, the breath knocked from him. Shame clawed up his throat, but it couldn’t overpower the guilt. You’re right, he wanted to say. You’re right, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness.

Instead, he knelt again.

Slowly, deliberately, he sank to one knee before you, lowering himself as if in supplication. “Mylady,” he rasped, voice raw. “I have failed you.”

You flinched, your fingers tightening on the cane again, but you didn’t pull away.

“I failed you when I left,” he continued, head bowed. “And I failed you by leaving you in their care. I will never forgive myself for it.”

“You think kneeling will fix this?”

“No,” he admitted. “But I won’t leave you again. Not unless you send me away.”

You faltered. For not the first time, König saw something- grief, fire, exhaustion—flicker in your eyes. But then you turned.

And when you stumbled, he was there.

He steadied you without a word, and though you flinched, you didn’t pull away.

The days after König’s return were heavy with tension.

He didn’t leave your side- not when you struggled with the prosthetic, not when your cane trembled, not when your breaths came shallow and pained.

And you let him.

You let him carry the books you’d occasionally read, adjust the chairs, and brace you when the steps proved too much. It wasn’t spoken. There were no apologies. Just König- silent, patient, and steady.

And the others saw it.

“She lets you help her.” Kyle said once, disbelieving. But König ignored him and continued on his path to your room, carrying a tray of tea he made himself.

I do not force it, König thought, focused on adjusting the padding of your prosthetic. The straps had rubbed you raw again. He fixed them without asking.

Price bristled at him another day, and König focused especially hard to ignore him. “You weren’t here. You left her.”

I did not let her rot, if anyone were to listen to König’s thoughts, they would immediately sense his utter disdain and disgust. You did.

Johnny tried to step in once while König waited for the tea to boil. “We tried—”

“When it was too late.” König spoke at last, lip curling under his mask. “You watched her shatter and did nothing. And now you ask why she won’t let you put her back together?”

Johnny had no answer.

None of them had an answer.

And König didn’t wait for one.

He returned to you, and looped a tiny little flower he picked on the way into your hair. “Better, mylady?”

You nodded, hesitant. “… better.”

It was not as if you forgave him- you didn’t.

But König didn’t ask. He didn’t demand or beg, or force himself into your space. He didn’t push you for it, didn’t demand it like a starving man clawing for scraps.

He stayed.

He noticed every wince, every tremor, and fixed what he could- polished the cane, adjusted the straps, moved the chairs- without asking for permission or praise.

And when you wept in the conservatory late at night, when the pain in your leg and the ache in your heart became too much, he didn’t try to hush you. He didn’t tell you to be strong or remind you of how far you’d come.

He simply sat there, guarding the door, letting you cry until the exhaustion dragged you under.

And then, when you woke the next morning, the cane would already be waiting by your bedside, polished and steady.

Just like him.

[shenachigans]

LITTLE ONES | Ningguang

PAIRING: Transfem!Ningguang x Fem/Afab!Reader

CW: smut, angst, fluff, unintentional baby-making (or breeding) at first, unprotected sex, readers is ill but illness is unspecified only that pregnancy is a risk, a lot of pet names ig

SUMMARY: Ningguang has been wanting children of her own, but she must hold her desires back during a night of pleasure, or does she?

A/N: I cringed and almost got sappy writing the fluff part but whatever, I barely do fluff for a reason. Also, this is my first post of the year :> I wrote and posted this past my bedtime, excuse my mistakes…

WORDS: 1,928

(FANFIC IS UNDER THE CUT!)

There are rumors that Lady Ningguang had a soft spot for children. You can confirm that. The children of Liyue Harbor adore her just as she adores them. She had a motherly side, giving the kids irresistible sweets to see them smile. Of course, Ningguang gains something in return, but being around the little ones relieves her from her duties and the harsh business world. 

Ningguang isn’t the Tianquan of Liyue nor a ruthless businesswoman. She was merely a friendly elder sister who mingled with the common folk, and the children were the only ones who could give her that satisfaction without calculating moves — unless creating schemes to get the most sweets from her counted.

You can see joy in your lover’s eyes when she sees the children light up whenever they see her and receive delicacies. You remember the kids almost fighting each other for Ningguang’s head pats and praises for doing well in their missions (informing her about the latest news in the Harbor). 

There was a time when one of the children accidentally called her ‘mom’ instead of ‘big sister.’ Ningguang wasn’t fazed and instead responded as if she were their mother. It was such a wholesome sight that it brought you to your countless dreams of having her own flesh and blood where you lived as a happy family. 

The conversation of having children has yet to be brought up, but Ningguang’s eyes say more than her lips can. Even if she mastered the art of putting on a perfect facade, you can see through her. There is a visible glimmer of longing whenever she’s with the kids; it makes your chest ache.

Ningguang wants to have children with you. She does. She wants little versions of yourselves running around the floating palace and experiencing what it’s like to become a mother. But she holds back. She stops herself from painting your womb white, risking getting you pregnant. She doesn’t want you to carry her child, even if a baby bump on your tummy would make her heart swell from joy. 

You always blame yourself for preventing your lover from getting what she desires, for your weak disposition makes it a risk of surviving childbirth. You were already struggling with your illness. It was a gamble she didn’t want to take. But she doesn’t know you would gladly give your life to your little one because you have been wanting children with her as well.

It was a night of pleasure. Ningguang’s hips thrust into yours, her girthy cock stimulating your slick walls. Manicured nails created light crescents on your thighs as she gripped them for leverage, slowly losing herself in the song of your moans and whimpers harmonizing with the squelching created where you two are connected. 

You were ravishing in her hooded eyes, clawing onto the sheets below you, and tears rolling down your cheeks as pleasure coursed through your veins. Only Ningguang can see you like this. But her eyes subconsciously dart to your belly, imagining something she mustn’t. She longs to touch your empty womb — feel your skin on the pads of her fingers — but it will only indicate her want, and she doesn’t wish to make you solemn in the midst of pleasure. Unfortunately for her, you knew everything a long, long time ago.

“I want to embrace you,” you say, albeit interrupted by grunts from the ecstasy between your legs and your lover’s pleasured disposition. Ningguang slowed her ruts, complying with your request and letting go of your plush thighs, opting to grip the soiled bed sheets as you wrapped your arms around her neck, her free hand holding your waist. 

Your lover was a sight to see. Tinted cheeks and hooded eyes — a woman lost in pleasure — which juxtaposed her usual professional disposition. Ragged breaths and relentless pounding made her seem desperate to bring you to your peak as if she were a servant pleasuring her master — and she was because everything she did was for you, all for you, even if it meant denying herself something she wanted all her life.

Ningguang could feel herself at the edge of the newfound angle as she resumed her previous pace, ensuring you were comfortable. Her body tensed and shivered at how you moaned in her ear, bringing her senses into overdrive. But she must contain herself. There have been many times when her reasonings almost slipped between her fingers, but she always triumphed in gaining control.

Your bodies hugged every part of each other’s skin, her chest against yours, erect nipples rubbing against each other. She held you close, kissing your forehead, down along your jaw, until they settled on leaving bruises on the crook of your neck as a form of gratitude for taking her so well. 

Nails clawed against Ningguang’s back as you bucked your hips to meet her thrusts, back arching, and your throat now sore from your sinful noises. You were beginning to writhe under her, subconsciously wrapping your legs around her waist, your walls fluttering against her cock.

“I’m close,” you moan, your body trembling as if preparing for your upcoming orgasm. Fingers clutched into Ningguang’s hair, pulling her into a passionate kiss where your tongues languidly danced against each other. Her lips swallowed your sinful noises until a string of saliva stretched between you two as your lips reluctantly parted to heave for fresh air.

“Me too, my love,” she huffs, hips stuttering, her tip on the verge of spilling her load. Her open-mouthed kisses littered your neck and shoulders once more. A sultry, airy chuckle left her lips as she maintained her pace, guiding you to your climax. She dared not change her pace and edge you, not tonight. 

The deep, moderate thrusts of her girth drove you insane as the veins of her cock pulsated against your walls. You felt so full. Ningguang's praises and constant rutting brought you to your peak with a high-pitched moan of her name. Her back would be displayed like a canvas the next morning from her dress, showing your love hold with scratches and brushed crescents.

Her free hand slithered from the soiled sheets to your sore clit, rubbing it with her thumb to elongate your orgasm. A flash of white clouded your vision as a white ring coated the base of her cock as you came, further lubricating your walls. You became a huffing mess as you recovered from your high, but Ningguang has yet to cum, and you’re overstimulated. 

Ningguang became rather impatient now, she could feel her release edge on the tip of her cock. But she has to cum on your stomach. She tapped your thigh once — an indication for you to let go so she could pull out — but you refused. Another gentle tap soon turned into a slightly painful grip as she tried to unwrap your legs forcefully.

“Release your legs, now, dear…” she whines, grunting and fingers twitching from being denied of her high as she slows her thrusts. “I can’t cum like this,” she says, but her heart says otherwise. The tone of her voice shows how much she’s holding back. 

“Yes, you can.” You counter with a smile, arms unwrapping around her neck to cup her face, and soothingly rub her cheeks with your thumbs, feeling her porcelain skin under the pads of your fingers. A hearty, tired chuckle left your lips when she leaned into your touch. “Why don’t you indulge yourself just once, hm? Doing it once doesn’t guarantee anything, Ningguang. Please?”

Ningguang’s thrusts slowly halted as she felt a change in the lustful atmosphere. She presses your foreheads together and closes her eyes. “I can’t take that risk, we both know that…” she sighed and suddenly you see a pair of scarlet eyes pleading at you. 

“But you want to — to take that risk — and there’s nothing wrong with that, my love.” You smiled but it didn’t reach your eyes as Ningguang avoided your gaze, eyes now looking elsewhere. “Hey, look at me,” you urge and gently tilt her face toward you. “It pains me to see you like this, dearest. I…I shouldn’t have brought it up, especially right now. I’m sorry.” 

Guilt washed her features as you spoke. Was her longing so obvious? It didn’t mean you needed to give her a child. But your face expressed genuine want, no fear or hesitation in your eyes. However, you were frail, and she didn’t want to risk losing you and the baby. Ningguang can live without children of her own but she can’t live without you. 

If only she had an option to have both.

“No, don’t I apologize, my love. If anything, I should apologize for making you feel like you needed to give me children to make me happy,” Ningguang starts, giving you a sad smile, eyes downcast as she still ignores yours. “You make me the happiest person in the world, and having a family is only a bonus. I can’t force you to make any sacrifices. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You weren’t forcing me to do anything, love, and I appreciate that. I want to start a family with you, dearest. I’ve always had. You would make the best mother in the world,” you hum, pecking her lips before resting your forehead against hers. “Whatever happens, happens in the future and we will tackle them together, alright?” 

“How did I deserve you?” Ningguang says with a smile, her heart leaping from your words, still, her stomach churned from the unknown future. It was a bittersweet feeling. Scarlet eyes observed your tired face. You see hesitance in them, but they expressed want. 

“You deserve everything in the world, my love.”

Her smile widens and gently kisses you before holding your hips for leverage as she starts to pump her hips in and out slowly. “Push me away if you change your mind,” Ningguang starts, pushing the damp, stray hair from your face. “I don't wish to force you.”

“I won’t. I want all of you.” 

“Mama! Mommy is being mean to me!” a child whined, pouting as tears of frustration were apparent in their scarlet eyes as they ran toward the bedroom. “She doesn’t wanna share Mama with me!”

Ningguang follows them, hiding an amused smirk with her hand. It was fun to tease them, even more now that they’re in the ‘possessive of mama’ stage.

“Now, now, little one, your Mama might be asleep,” Ningguang said, but it was too late. The door slid open with so much force that you woke up. She grimaced, giving you an apologetic glance.

“Teasing them again?” You say groggily but flash a small smile as you lie on the bed’s headrest. The little one immediately clinging to your side with a smirk. “This teasing is all too frequent…” You pretend to ponder before your eyes light up. “Are you perhaps envious, dear?”

“I am not envious,” Ningguang said almost too quickly, but she narrowed her eyes at the cheeky child before her, clearly showing off by scrunching their nose and sticking their tongue out. 

The audacity for them to mock her.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” you chuckle before patting the spot beside you on the bed and cradling your belly. “Why don’t you two come here? I could use some cuddles.”

The child beams at your words. Nothing can be greater than cuddles. “Mommy, can I be in the middle?” They say, looking at Ningguang for permission.

Ningguang’s heart swells and she smiles. 

“Of course, my little dove.”

© shenachigans — do not plagiarise, translate, repost, or copy.

[byechristopher]

it's always you.

–MATT STURNIOLO DRABBLE.

Author's note: just a lil' something; Matt realising you're the one he wants. Give me requests. Now.

Warnings: none.

⠀

The claw machine hummed softly as I focused, squinting at the stuffed bear dangling inside, just out of reach. My fingers gripped the joystick, but I couldn’t quite get the angle right.

“I think you need to move it a bit left,” a voice said, low and warm, right behind me. Matt's voice.

Before I could react, he leaned in, his hand brushing mine, guiding it. My breath caught — the closeness of him sent a rush of warmth up my neck. I could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against my back, his arm slightly grazing mine. It was impossible to focus on the claw now, but I didn’t move away.

"Like this?" I whispered, trying to sound casual, my voice betraying me.

“Yeah, right there,” he murmured, his hand still over mine. We were both staring at the machine, but it felt like everything was moving in slow motion.

The claw descended, but I barely noticed. My heart was thudding louder than any arcade noise. It caught something — a flash of fur, and before I could blink, the bear was dropping into the prize chute.

“We did it,” I said, but my voice was barely above a whisper.

"Yeah..." he stepped back and handed me the prize, but his fingers brushed mine again and his smile made me lose my breath.

Matt was undeniably attractive but we'd been friends for so long, I couldn't even imagine me and him together. Not that I haven't thought about it. There was something between us, something way above us, unspoken words that would forever stay hidden unless we actually did something about it.

We were now in his room – he was sat on the couch, and I was laying next to him, my legs on his lap. There was a comfortable silence between us that only the playlist he'd put on was allowed to interrupt. His room was dark, small fairy lights just above us, I could barely see his face and the little bear that we'd won on top of my tummy.

"Dancing through the night, a vodka and a sprite.."

I opened my eyes to look at him, "I love this song".

"I love this song too." he said and drew invisible circles on my leg with his index finger.

"A glimpse of the silhouettes, a night that they never forget.."

Matt threw his head back, his boney fingers massaging my calves, "I've been wanting to kiss you all day." he blurted out, still looking at the ceiling, his fingers successfully distracting me.

"What.. what?" I said, I have never been so quiet in my life, but he turned to look at me and leaned in to place the softest kiss on one of my knees.

"I've been wanting to kiss you. All day." he said, loud and clear, his dark blue eyes that were now sparkling never leaving mine.

"And he had said, daring your looks can kill.. so now you're dead.."

Matt slowly sat up, gently taking hold of one of my legs. With careful movements, he guided it behind him as he shifted his position, gradually sliding in between my legs. He grabbed the bear that was on my tummy and placed it carefully on the floor – he never broke eye contact. Everything seemed as if it was in slow-motion.

"Touch me, yeah.."

As the song went on, I felt the tension and temperature rising. He was in between my legs, pressing his body against mine as I wrapped myself around him, his lips so close to mine.

"I want you to touch me there.."

Matt leans in slowly, his breath warm against my lips, every movement deliberate and charged with anticipation. Time seems to stretch between us, the air thick with a tension that tightens my chest. His lips brush mine, feather-light at first, then deepening as his hand gently wraps itself around my neck. The kiss is slow, languid, like he's savoring every second, every touch.

My pulse races, but everything else feels unhurried, his mouth exploring mine with a quiet intensity, each second filled with a passion that simmers beneath the surface, leaving me breathless – same as the hand that was on my neck, his rings digging into my skin in the most delicate way.

"I need you." I muttered against his lips and I saw his eyes sparkle before he dove back into the kiss.

⠀

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin-r]

Woking Ethics

He watched you shuffle out the door as you ignored the 3rd guy who tried to pick you up. He almost went back to people watching when he noticed you leaving and some guy he hadn’t see started to follow you, you were drunk but capable. 

You are capable. 

But it wouldn’t hurt to make sure you got home safe. 

That’s what friends do. 

 He abruptly stood up the drinks on the table sloshing slightly. 

“Where are you off to, pretty boy?” Derek appeared with another drink in his hand. He could finish the bar's entire stock if Hotch allowed him to. 

“I’m done, see you guys tomorrow.” Spencer quickly shuffled out before Derek could lay his claws into him. He almost lost sight of you. 

“Come on sweet girl,” He did a complete turn to the alley down the side. “I promise tah treatcha right.”

“Not interested,” he slipped into a corner, he didn’t want to be all hero unless you needed him to. You were an incredible officer. You could whip up your badge and have him down in prison for half his life if you wanted to, maybe you wanted to let him off easy because he was drunk. 

“Let go of me you creep.” You sounded alarmed. “Hey, Hey drop the knife-” He didn’t even stop. He came over, pummelling the guy into the alley wall, a switchblade cluttering onto the floor. Cuffing him tightly with a part of the guy's own shirt, before he dropped him on his ass onto the floor. Unconscious.

“Spencer…” he turns and he meets your worried gaze. Your eyes roving over him. “He didn’t cut you did he?” 

He looks incredulously at you. “Shouldn’t the roles be reversed?” You were the one about to- so why were you- he-

The confusion must have shown on his face, you smiled. “Yeah but you could have also gotten hurt.” 

“So could you. Put yourself first.” you looked away. You both know you’re not very good at that. He fully turns to you and you notice how his entire demeanour changes. He seems smaller now. He comes closer and checks you for any cuts. The warmth of the situation goes straight to your brain.

“Thank you,” 

“It’s…” what could he say. Common decency. He paused, “As long as you’re fine.” scratching the back of his head. You moved closer to him before you raised your hand. He froze. He literally stopped breathing. You chuckled slightly. You weren’t the only one going crazy.

“Breathe Spencer, I don’t want my saviour asphyxiating.”

“Sorry.” He muttered breathlessly. You wordlessly reach forward and move your fingers through his hair, careful as though not to startle him. A few knots here and there, you tried to ignore how he leaned unto your touch, how his breath came out ragged, how close you were and how his hands were levitating over your waist. You couldn't help overthink everything that brought you here. His gaze was intense, his eyes never leaving yours, as if he was trying to read your mind. You felt yourself getting lost in his eyes, unable to look away, he just might he’s a damn good profiler. 

“I’m drunk.” you said leaning into him, inhaling everything Spencer, You could feel his heartbeat, his breath, he only had one drink,

“You’re drunk.” he repeated, his hands settling on your hips, gripping tightly. 

“I should leave you alone.” despite your words you feel the complete opposite,

“You should.” he mirrors you.

“Should I?” You don’t know what you’re asking him, but he seems to know. He fips his head into your neck, breathing you in.

“Do but don’t…” you could see his inner turmoil as he grappled with himself.

“But?” He raises his head and cups your face. He kisses your forehead before looking you in your eyes,

“Working ethics, I don’t know if I can leave after.” Your lips were so close, his breath ghosted your lips. 

“Maybe I don’t want you to leave?” You moved closer against him, chest against chest, he hissed at the contact.

“Angel, don’t say that, don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you tilted your head. “This?” your lips grazed his. “Or this?” pushing yourself against him even more. 

He looked at you with a look so despicable. 

“Tell me no, tell me to stop.” He kissed you, matching with how he wanted you. Hard and rough. His lips slotted with yours, stealing all your air, his fingers gripped you so tightly it made you dizzy, all you could smell, hear, see, feel was Spencer.

“I’m not leaving you tonight and you’re not leaving me.” 

___________________________________________________________________________ 

“Reid, where did you run off to yesterday?” JJ asked from around the corner. Spencer's cheeks tinted slightly as he ran off an excuse.

“Tired, it was a long night.” He nodded as he went back to his files. 

“Really? That’s exactly what she said-” Spencer’s head shot up a little too quickly. Derek’s eyes sparkled. 

“Tsk, you almost got away with it kid.” Derek patted his back. “So your place or hers?”

“What- who’s I don’t know what you both are talking about.” Spencer went on the defensive, he tried to control his movements but unfortunately he was in a room full of profilers.

“Sorry Spence but we got evidence, Derek saw you two on his morning walk.” 

Spencer’s mind floated back to earlier when he was leaving you. 

“I really wish I could drive you instead of dropping you somewhere else.” Spencer whined as he hugged you. 

“It’s okay, I even need to change. I can't exactly go in the same clothes as yesterday, or in your clothes.” 

“I mean, you do look good in my clothes…” his words elicited a blush from you as you remembered last night's events. You couldn’t wear your clothes due to some tears in your clothes which you blame him for. 

“Spencer!!!” he laughs and it’s so soft and hearty you can’t help but laugh with him. 

“C’mere.” he mutters and brings your head closer to his, kissing you so softly you melt in him arms. He pulls away slight;y and smiles at you. “I’m ready to take this however you like, fast or slow, it’s all in your hands.”

“Spencer…” it’s your turn to gush. “How about boyfriend and girlfriend then we move up from there?” 

“I’d like that.” You smile.

“Me too.”

“I like you.”

“I like you too.”

“Seems pretty boy is reminiscing. So you and her huh? And you didn’t tell us.” Spencer ignores him as he turns to his desk. A door opens somewhere and he instinctively raises his head to catch you entering, removing your hair from your ponytail, you just came back from the shooting range. 

He was mesmerised. 

[stayinlimbo]

love at your fingertips

pairing: lee minho x reader genre: established relationship, fluff disclaimers: tooth-rotting fluff, will (hopefully) make you smile, slight suggestiveness, lowercase intended, slightly unedited word count: 681 note: i had this idea and just had to do it. i love love ♡

minho has never been good with words.

it’s a fact he’s had to accept throughout his entire life. sentences spew past his lips before he has time to process what he's saying and his mouth won’t form the intended words clawing at the back of his throat. his attempts at conveying emotions fall flat due to his dry tone of voice, the only noticeable tells articulated by his ever-changing demeanor. 

it must be ironic that he considers himself an extrovert. 

or maybe it isn’t, because although minho may not be able to express himself verbally in his native korean, he is fluent in the universal language of love through touch (as if his obsession of slapping his friends’ butts wasn’t proof enough). and now that you’re in his life, it has become one of his primary means of communication. 

“i love you” is one of the phrases minho will never have trouble saying. not when the simple brush of the back of his hand with yours hints at his affection for you before starting dating. not when he clasps your hand with his to carefully guide you through a crowded area, occasionally looking back to ensure you’re okay and always to be met with a smile that melts his heart.

he expresses it in the way he ruffles your hair when he stands behind your seated form on the couch, laughing as he defends himself against your playful swats. minho remains tied to you, playing with your fingers under the restaurant table when on a group date with your mutual friends.  

careful love as his hand presses against the small of your back, letting you walk slightly in front of him on the sidewalk at night, making sure you’re always in his line of sight. 

passionate love as he pushes you against the bedroom door, the grip on your hips tightening when your mouth detaches from his and trails down to his neck. he radiates it through the act of intertwining his fingers with yours by your head as he pants into your ear, pressing a sloppy kiss to your temple, a silent thank you for vulnerability you’ve never hesitated to unveil for him. 

unconditional love when he pulls you in for a firm embrace after one of the worst arguments the two of you have ever had in your relationship. his thumbs wipe your tears away, an unspoken apology for making you cry. 

it’s the love minho knows will be there when he wakes up in the morning as he stretches his hand out towards the middle of the bed, close to where your half-asleep figure peacefully lays. 

it’s the love he knows is reciprocated, for you speak the language of love too. 

minho hears it, sees it, in the way you took his shy hand in yours, intertwining them together with a beam on your face at the way his face flushed from your confident action, and it’s the way your fingertips dig into his shoulders, kneading away the tense muscles after a stressful day. 

you make his annoyance at the world disappear when your fingers card through his wet hair, creating spiky towers pointing in every direction that he can’t help but laugh at himself at how ridiculous he looks (yet never smooths them back down unless you do it for him). 

it’s your careful love too, existing in the lip tint you applied on him transferring onto your lips as you tilt his head and pull him in for a sweet kiss. it’s worth the smudged kiss stains adorning his face when he sees you admiring your work, squishing his cheeks together because he’s just “so cute.”

you love every extension of him, including his cats that yowl and parade around your feet until you give them all equivalent attention with gentle pets. 

love is imbued in your touch, even when you’re half-asleep, yet still reach out to meet his open palm to loosely interlace your fingers.

no, “i love you” is one of the phrases minho will never have trouble saying. not if it’s with you.

────────────────────────────────────────────

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz

[kokonoisgf]

jealousy - chuuya nakahara

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

☆  character: Chuuya Nakahara

☆  tw: MINORS DNI 18+ sexual explicit content (fem reader) : jealousy sex, "princess", "doll", praises, idk yo I just love that man

☆ note: been ages lolz, anyways i'm trying to get back into writing so sorry if this is rusty UGHHH enjoy my loves *: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*

☆ word count: 3.8k

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Intimate hues of the lights adorned the halls were oh so perfectly framing your face as you talked - or rather extracted information - from  a member of the X party. Abundance and richness dripped from every corner of the rooms: candles flickering lazily, buffets on silver platters filled with caviars, smoked meats and fruits, champagne, and lots - oh yes lots of diamonds. It looked as if everything was too good to be true, a glittering illusion masking darker secrets beneath. And that’s exactly why you were there with Chuuya by your side on a mission to gain crucial information about X- said information specifically requested by Mori. There had been news going around town that they had been stealing shipments late at night, and that meant stealing from the Port Mafia’s ground. Crossing lines that they should've never crossed, unless they wanted to end up six feets under. 

You walked through the crowd, the slit of your dress went  up your soft thighs, as it almost reached your waist, letting people swarm over you like moths enamoured by the brightest flame.  It was as if all the lights in the room were on you, your gaze looming over the executive, needing just that last piece of information to finally call it a night.

The mission went even more smoothly than you thought, your hand slowly touching the man’s arm, a sweet laughter dripping from your parted lips at his joke. Every gaze was filled with a desire to touch, to know, to possess.

His attention was easy to catch. He leaned in closer, clearly infatuated, eager to please. But you kept your smile soft, your tone disarming, and yet beneath it all, your gaze was sharp, ready to extract the information you needed. You were so close, one more well-placed word, one more laugh, and you’d have the final piece of the puzzle.

Chuuya, who was sitting at the bar a few seats from you, narrowed his eyes, sharp canine poking from between his kissable lips. Downing a drink in silence,  his eyes held a barely restrained fury ‘Fuck’ He cursed under his breath, low enough that only the nearest patrons might hear, eyebrows cocking as the man seemed to be about to devour you whole. Leg shaking under the table, he impatiently taped the side of his glass with his gloved fingers. Said gloved fingers slick from the condensation of the drink. A droplet slid down the side of the glass, slow and deliberate, before landing with a quiet plop on the polished oakwood of the bar. He could hear everything: the ticking of the clock, the chatters all around him, but more so how your sweet voice responded to the man. 

He was losing control, and he knew it. This wasn’t just about the mission anymore. It was about you, and the way this man had dared to even look at you, there was no way he could ever get away with it. Chuuya had to remind himself over and over—it’s part of the plan, it’s part of the plan—but the jealousy clawing at him was winning. The thought that maybe you didn’t see him the way he saw you ate at him, and he was two seconds away from tearing the whole operation apart.

And then it happened. The man, charmed  by your smile, your attention, let his hand slide lower, reaching out to grip your thigh. You could feel the roughness of his fingers skimming across your skin, and your body tensed instinctively. Before you could even react, a sharp sound cracked through the tension—a gloved hand smacking the man’s away, so forcefully the slap echoed across the room.

‘Sir!?’ Confusion filled  the executive’s  voice, as his eyebrows raised, clearly not ready to back out so easily. You could  only sigh internally, it had always been like that. Every time you worked to get close, Chuuya lost his cool just before the crucial moment.  It would have been a blatant lie to say that it annoyed you, in fact you found his jealousy strangely endearing.

‘Back off asshole, she’s with me’’ Growled Chuuya, Cerulean eyes boring into his. His arm was  firmly wrapped around your waist, bringing you even closer, gloved fingers digging into your soft exposed  skin as if to reiterate his point. He looked absolutely breathtaking like this -  when his possessive side showed like that, you thought in a haze. His cologne mixed with his natural scent only made your head spin even more. 

‘I believe we were having a discussion - ‘ The executive stammered, trying to assert himself until he was cut by Chuuya’s rough voice. 

‘Shut the fuck up’

The Mafia executive spat, cutting him off mid-sentence. He clearly was not having it, and before the man could even say another word, He whisked you away upstairs in a closed room where he slammed the door shut. He clicked his tongue in irritation, unbuttoning the upper half of his shirt, unveiling a sliver of his ivory-white skin with each pop. He felt  like he was  losing his damn mind, needing to cool down for a second, everything becoming way too much way too quick downstairs. 

Your gaze never left  his, cradling your face in your arms as you laid atop the plush mattress of one of the many many rooms in this mansion. You could see the storm raging inside him, the jealousy, the protectiveness, the raw need. And you couldn’t help but tease him, just a little 

‘Chuuya, focus on the mission, would you?’

Your teasing tone did  not go unnoticed as a faint blush dusted his cheeks, his jealousy so clearly put on display. Freezing for a moment, he was suddenly hyper aware of every breath he took.Turning  around to face  you, he frowned.

‘I can’t stand seeing any of those pieces of shit touch you’ He was more than bold, cornering you against the bed. ‘Would you understand that?’ He raised an eyebrow, playing with your words. You couldn’t help but enjoy this. This desperate jealous side of him that you always saw on missions like these. Flickering your eyes to his lips, you smiled innocently. 

‘It's part of the mission Chuuya, how else do you want us to get that information Mori asked for’

He only gruffed, leaning against the wall beside you.

‘There’s just no way I can see that and stay calm, y’know me’

He raised an eyebrow, as if this was the most evident thing in the entire universe.

‘Besides, I’d rather use my fucking fist then let one of the these dirtbags breath the same air as you’ 

Gosh - It made your heart flutter. You leaned forward, almost tauntingly letting the silky satin drip down your chest, exposing your cleavage. ‘Yea? You would? Tell me more’

Chuuya narrowed his eyes at you, a faint blush back on his cheeks, as his gaze desperately tried to avoid the valley of your breasts so prettily put on display for him. 

‘Cut that crap already’ He paused scowling, regrouping his composure slightly before letting himself sit next to you on the bed. You taunting him was enough to send him to heaven and back. Not to mention the way your dress hugged your curves so perfectly, the material dipping exposing your curves - Stop. He had to control himself. 

‘I mean it…’ You were now the one who was bold. Your hand coming to rest gingerly on his thigh. He tensed, his whole body feeling as if an electric current ran through him. ‘I want to know what’s on your mind right now…’ You cooed, your eyes drinking in the sight of his flustered face. You’d had wanted him since forever, and now it was enough, you could not hold back anymore. Seeing his possessive side shine through in missions always aroused you more than you’d ever admit, but today was your breaking point — The faint glow of the candle light illuminating the side of his face, taunt jaw, pursed lips, and furrowed brow. He was beyond handsome, but that was no news to you.

The tension in the room felt thick, like a cord pulled taut, ready to snap at any moment.You shifted slightly, the soft silk of your dress brushing against your skin, reminding you just how far you were pushing him. The material clung to you in all the right places, the slit revealing enough to make anyone pause in their tracks, but it was the way Chuuya looked at you that set you alight. His gaze burned with such want, that he felt himself getting dizzy with need. 

On the other hand,  you couldn’t help it. You loved testing him, pushing his limits just to watch him unravel. The way his jaw clenched, the subtle twitch in his fingers like he was fighting the urge to grab you, it made you delirious with want.

His sharp gaze, usually so bold and confident, held a tinge of timidness in the depth of it. Clearing his throat, his eyes zeroed on the way your thumb gently caressed his thigh, the sensation alone enough to send a surge of heat to his groin. It was as if he was at a loss for words,  a rare sight indeed. Years and years of longing for you coming to crash down on him like waves perpetually hitting the shore. 

‘You know…’ you purred, voice dripping with that teasing edge he loved and hated all at once, ‘if you can’t handle this, maybe I should’ve gone with someone else. Someone who could keep their cool on a mission like this.’ You just wanted to rile him up enough so that he could confess his feelings, and gosh — seeing the look in his eyes as his face snapped to meet yours. It was all too good.

His gaze  flashed, anger and desire swirling together in a dangerous mix. He shifted, grabbing your hand that once rested on his thigh  in one swift motion, holding it just tight enough to make you feel the strength behind his restraint.

‘You’d better not even joke about that’ he murmured, voice low and  eyes dark with barely restrained jealousy. ‘Am’ the only one who can touch you. Got that?’ His hand gently grabbed ahold of your chin, tilting it up to meet the seriousness of his gaze - and at that moment, you  wondered  if you pushed it too far. 

‘Touch me right now then..’ Your voice sent a deep shiver through every pore of his being. Chuuya's keen eyes flashed, pupils dilating with sheer lust as he took a moment to register your words. 

‘Yea? Sure’ you can handle it?’ His grip on your chin faltered until he pushed you down gently on the bed. You almost melted into a heap on the mattress, his nervosity seeming to vanish in one-go and you knew you were in for a ride. Chuuya did exhibit such a calm demeanour before you, yet his insides were twisting with a mix of want and apprehensiveness. Truthfully, he would have been lying if he said he hadn’t been dreaming about this moment for so long, and now that words had been spoken, holding himself back was not an option anymore. 

You felt your insides burn and turn as he lowered himself on top of you, cornering you between his body and the plush mattress. Your plump lips parting to voice your thoughts, but you remained silent as if in awe of the man above you: long ginger strands cascading atop his shoulder, cerulean eyes swirling with a twinkle of lust and his white button up slightly — oh so deliciously unbuttoned exposing the fair skin of his collarbones. 

He hummed, eyes taking in the sight of you sprawled below him, completely at his mercy. 

‘Hmm why you so silent now? Seems like just now you had so much to say’ He purred teasingly, leaning down to whisper against the shell of your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

“So what is it? Cat’ got your tongue princess?’ You just looked so damn edible underneath him, that the Executive couldn’t help but trail his gloved hand down your face, until his thumb rubbed soothing patterns on your cheek, tilting your face slightly to make your gaze meet his. The way you gazed at him, looking utterly vulnerable beneath him, lit something inside him as he gulped down, eyes racking over your whole body, until it met yours again.

Even though his teasing tone, his eyes held such pure and raw affection for you, that you felt time stop for a mere moment. Swirling in his sapphire gaze was years of love, jealousy and pure lust.

‘Can I kiss you?’ He blurted out, biting on his lips as if using all his crumbling self restraint to wait on your answer. Chuuya would never do anything to displease you — you were his muse, his reason to go on, his soulmate: all he did in life was for you, to one day be able to call you rightfully his. He was a romantic at heart, but just for you.

 Leaning his forehead on yours, he held your face affectionately pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead 

‘You don't know for how long I’ve wanted this- how long I've wanted you.’ He exhaled, eyes closing as he felt you nod, allowing him to finally seal his lips with yours, and gosh at that moment he swore the heavens made you just for him. 

Fishing a hand through his strands, a desperate whimper of his name caresses your lips as his tongue delves into your mouth wasting no time. He smiles into the kiss pressing himself against you, his hand moving to grasp both your wrists, pinning you against the mattress. He doesn’t want you to move nor do anything, he just wants the whole mansion to hear who you belong to. 

‘Fuck-’ He cursed under his breath, letting off a breathy exhales, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to his. At that moment you can truly say that Chuuya has never looked so gorgeous.

‘Need to taste you on my tongue doll- right now. ’ Oh- now he’s even bolder. Kissing was more than enough to send electricity racking through his being, but Chuuya was a greedy man when it came to you. After spending countless nights fisting his cock to the idea of his tongue buried deep into your soaked pussy he really can’t seem to be able to hold himself back anymore. 

Cutting straight to the point, all he cared about was tasting you, your own pleasure building his brick by brick. Besides, he swore he could most likely get off to pleasuring you—your pleasure his own.

You’re quick to hitch your leg up his shoulder, Chuuya’s breath hitching in his throat, fingers letting go of your wrists to instead dig into the subtle skin of your thighs. 

‘God- I could cum just from looking at you’ He cursed, and you see it in his eyes that he’s being truthful and it stirs the deepest blush onto your cheeks. Another moan of his name slips past your lips as he presses a series of kisses on your inner thighs, his eyes looking like he’s teetering on the verge of insanity, high on you and your scent. Lashes fluttering closed, he skillfully hooked a finger under your pantie moving it aside giving him prime view of your soaked cunt. 

‘Fuck- this wet just from kissing me, huh?’ He felt himself spinning, mind unravelling at the sight before him. You, on your back with your dress hitched up to your waist, a leg comfortably resting on his shoulder with your pretty pussy just waiting to get tongue fucked by him. 

‘How long you been wanting this, tell me princess’ He cooed such tease dripping from his tone as his eyes drank in the sight of your flushed face. 

‘Years..’ you confessed, as he chuckled the air that exited his lips caressing your drooling folds.

‘That’s it… that’s my pretty girl’ he purred, completely and utterly drunk on you, feeling you throb against his index finger collecting your slit, bringing it to his lips. He felt your fingers grasp his locks, gasps resonating throughout the luxurious room, before he slowly manoeuvred his finger up and down your slit, index delving into your cunt. His mouth gaped, as if entranced by the view of his finger disappearing into your pussy, your juices drenching him. It’s not long before he adds in his middle finger, almost salivating at the sight. 

‘Taking my fingers so well baby’ Chuuya praised, his tongue locked onto your pearl, pretty lashes of his fluttering shut, his hips grinding into thin air. Flicking his tongue against your poor fucked-out nub, Chuuya’s fingers were skilfully moving inside you, wasting no time to repeatedly abuse your sweet spot. 

’Mine — all fucking mine’ He possessively whispered, lips hungrily latching onto your clit, fingers relentlessly pumping in and out of you. You were bucking into his hand, à thin ring of cum coating his fingers. Eyes zeroed on your cunt so greedily swallowing his fingers, he babbled drunk on your pussy

’Made for me’ all of you, - Fuck’

Your body arched under him, every muscle tightening as the pleasure built and built, coiling inside you like a spring about to snap. Chuuya's fingers moved with such skill, as if he'd memorised your body long before tonight, knowing exactly how to bring you to the brink of release. His mouth on your clit, hot and demanding, had you squirming against him, but his strong hands kept you firmly in place.

‘Chuuya—’ you gasped, voice cracking with desperation. You were so close, oh so close to an  overwhelming climax. His name left your lips like a prayer, which only seemed to fuel him more, his grip on your thighs tightening as he fucked you with his fingers and  greedily ate you out like a starved man. 

Then suddenly, the  tension in your body snapped like a cord pulled too tight, and your orgasm washed over you in waves, pulling you under with such force that you could hardly breathe. You tried warning him, but you could babble moans of his name as your body trembled against him, and Chuuya never let up, his fingers still thrusting into you, dragging out every last ounce of pleasure until you were a shaking, gasping mess beneath him.

He groaned, feeling the way your walls clenched around his fingers, his hips grinding down against the bed in search of some kind of relief. He looked utterly drunk on lust—his face flushed, his lips wet with your juices, his eyes blown wide with lust and satisfaction.

‘You’re so fucking beautiful like this’ he rasped, pulling his fingers from you slowly, and bringing them to his lips to taste you again. He licked them clean, savouring the flavour of you as if it rivalled the finest wine.

You were still panting, your chest rising and falling with each laboured breath as you tried to come down from the high of your orgasm. Chuuya hovered above you, his body shaking with need, but he didn’t push you didn’t demand anything from you. He simply looked at you, as if the sight of you in this state of bliss was enough to satisfy him somehow.

Although,you wanted more- you needed him. After catching your breaths, you pushed him down, climbing on top of him. His eyes widened at your actions, a blush dusting his cheeks up to his ears as if he wasn’t just eating your pussy two minutes ago.

‘Need you inside me’  your hands made quick work of his dress pants as he sucked in a breath, eyes darkening further at your words. You could feel the hardness of him through the fabric of his underwear, the bulge leaving little to nothing to the imagination. 

‘A-Ah Fuck- wait-’ He cursed again, a whimper threatening to escape his lips as his gaze flickered between your beautiful angel-like face and your hand positioning him into your greedy cunt. A few strand of his long ginger hair stick to his face, cock already throbbing with anticipation to cum.

‘Won't last long I- got me so riled up earlier eating you-’ He bashfully mumbled, feeling beyond embarrassed only wishing that earth could open up and swallow him whole, looking off to the side. Cheeks now almost matching his hair. Truth was, he almost came from eating you out earlier, your soft moans of his name way more than enough to send him over the edge 1000 times over. 

His cock was so beautiful: flushed and leaking his precum dribbling down its shaft. Rubbing his tip against your soaked folds, Chuuya threw his head back against the pillow, eyes rolling into the back of his skull. His hands gripped onto your hips as if holding untold ear life, leaving crescent moon indents into your plush skin. He was desperately trying to suppress his moans and whimper, biting down on his lip almost drawing blood, until you slowly sank his length into you, seating on him.

A choked out gasp escaped his lips, curses filling the room, his hips gyrating upwards to meet your movements on top. 

‘S-So good to me’ He babbled out, drunk on your pussy, milking him, as if it was made to take him in. Cockhead kissing your cervix, he’s merciless, feets digging into the mattress to push his hips upward meeting your every thrust. Chuuya could revel in the feeling forever, whether it was the grip of your velvety wall around his pulsating cock, the way your lips parted shamelessly moaning his name like a mantra, or the way your tits bounced with every movement on his length. The pleasure was unbearable for the both of you already feeling your second orgasm creep out, impaling yourself on his cock at a faster and harsher pace. Your hands pressed against his chest leaning forward to bounce on him, and Chuuya swore he had been sent to the afterlife. 

‘C’mon baby- let me feel you cum on my cock-’ He choked out,and the words nearly sent you over the edge. His eyes met yours, and it was the way he gazed at you with such love  that finally gave you the slight push you needed to come undone on top of him. 

Tears streamed down your cheeks as the pleasure overwhelmed you, every thrust of Chuuya’s hips upward  sent shockwaves through your body, and you finally came on top of him. Fucking you through your orgasm, the redhead finally halted balls deep, knuckles turning white as he gripped your hips with sheer force enough to leave bruises indicating he reached his limit too. 

‘’C-Cummin-’’ He gritted through his clenched teeths, body twitched releasing thick long ropes of cum inside your pussy, his release flooding you with warmth. Collapsing on top of his chest, his hand tangled into your locks, slowly trying to catch his breath. He felt like his heart was right about to burst straight out of his chest. 

For a moment, everything was still. The world outside didn’t exist—there was only you and Chuuya, wrapped up in each other, your bodies still buzzing from the intensity of what had just happened.

And then, slowly, he cleared his throat, his eyes soft as they met yours. He wanted to say so much, yet his lips parted and his mind blanked looking into your eyes—your flushed face, parted glossy lips and doe eyes piercing right into his soul.You were so breathtaking, it completely made him lose his mind. Your fingers grazed the skin of his collarbone before you smiled softly speaking in a hushed voice

‘You wanna know something?’

‘Yea?’ 

‘If this is what happens when random creeps flirt with me on missions, I just might have to let it happen more often.’ 

Chuuya only chuckled, rolling his eyes, as his hand came to caress your hair lovingly. Pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead, he nuzzled your locks swearing that one day he’d make you his, and that this was only the beginning.

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[gladiatorcunt]

Literally begging you to please write more Patrick Zweig x Reader fics 🥵🥵

cw: 18+ MDNI, afab reader, hints of patrick x art / patrick x reader x art, consensual and accidental somno, gross patrick, hint of breeding kink, college era ish, mention of ass play, unedited

Tired Loser Bf!Patrick who hikes one of your thighs over his, pressing up against you and sinking back into your already wet pussy. It’s so early in the morning, but sometimes he gets in a mood where he just needs to go lose himself in your cunt even if you’re not contributing. You hum and snuggle further into the silk pillowcase, relishing in the too tight grip of your plush love handles and the sloppy sounds his balls make against your ass. You hardly spend any time together due to his career rhat’s been on a bit of a decline, so you’re more than happy to be his toy if that’s what makes him feel like he’s worth anything. Like he can only find meaning in the warm walls of your pussy, and ass, on occasion.

It’s either this or quick fucks on the counter or kitchen table, both of you nearly clawing at each other in desperation to all but consume the other. Sometimes it’s softer, slow thrusts angled to perfectly hit the right spot every time as he trails open mouthed kisses along your collarbone. Patrick offers to take a shower after coming home sweaty and disgusting but you always say that you prefer him like that anyway. He whines pathetically for a kiss for you and for him from a best friend you’ve never met into your neck and pounds you harder. Your eyes flutter half open at the impact, the grunts behind you and the thick weight moving in and out of you being the only things you can comprehend.

“Glided right in, didn’t even have to finger you or anything.” He moans too loudly for sleepy sex at 5 in the monring. “Always so ready for me, just how i like you.”

“Uh! Uh huh-“

You sigh and nod into the pillow, lazily throwing your ass back on his cock as he fucks you. His pace is so fast that you’re worried he might throw his back out, it’s so frantic and desperate, like he’s trying to stab your guts and leave a permanent mark on you from the inside. You zone in on his heavy breathing, he grinds his length deeper inside and lifts one of your ass cheeks just to watch it fall and jiggle back into place. It’s almost like he’s on the court, eyes watching the ball like a hawk and giving you the most toe curling punched out sounds when he hits it. His precision and raw enthusiasm has you gasping.

The sun’s not far off from rising, so you give up on getting anymore meaningful rest and drown in the intense smell around you. Sweat, slick, old almost acidic cum from when he bred you in his sleep, take out containers from last night that haven’t been thrown away, sharp and piercing autumn air, Patrick’s horrific axe body spray, your much more pleasant cherry blossom body wash. His thrusts send you rocking up the bed, tits swaying back and forth in the mess of tangled thin sheets. Your still half concious but he fucks you like he’s been awake for hours, eyes wide and crazed and brow furrowed like he needs so much more of you than he thought. He moans two names after quick sucks to both of your nipples, one for each. Yours and that same best friend’s.

The red cap Patrick has stashed away in the nighstand collects dust like a skeleton in a closet. There are sessions where he won’t, or maybe can’t, cum unless you cry and whine for that best friend too. You don’t even know who you’re begging for another cock to steal your voice and ravage your throat, but you do it and take note of the euphoric shout that rattles all the way out of Patrick’s chest, the all too pleased sigh into the valley of your breasts. You don’t ask in the shower or in bed, the buried sadness he carries like a chain gives the impression that the abscence is not his choice. Might be a nice birthday present, a reunion.

You wake up more as he goes insane with his fucking, his arm restrains your thigh and pulls it up so high you can feel the muscle stretching. He doesn’t communicate beyond feral grunts and something primal between a growl and a whimper, making sure you can really feel his thick cock bullying your poor pussy beyond repair. You never mind, in fact some days it’s you who wakes Patrick up by bouncing on him like a cock starved slut. You like when you can’t forget what he’s done to you, when you can raise your head to admire the new necklace of bruises. It’s not like he’s never gentle with you, but you don’t feel ashamed for loving him how he is. The jagged edges and aching need to belong somewhere, to someone.

Sometimes all a relationship needs to work is for the people involved to be the same, deep down or surface level. You take whiffs of his pubes that are too deep to be normal apprection for your partner’s body and he eats his own tangy cum out of your puffy pussy like it’s God’s gift to humanity, spitting the left over jizz and additional saliva into your ass hole and slurping that up too. But in the here and now, he’s fucking you without a goal or an end in sight, heavy balls wetly kissing your lower body with no assurance of being emptied. It could be hours before Patrick lets either of you cum, like it’s one of his games that more closely resembles a heated battle to something that looks and acts like death. Evenly matched, no one being stronger than the other.

So you give him the point and drift off, messily tongue kissing him back and lulling yourself to the chaotic rhythm of his thrusts. Outside, it starts to softly rain, the ambience of the moment softening both of your hearts. You put effort in a real kiss, only for a second, whisper an ‘I love you’ and wait for a resounding ‘I love you too’ before shutting off your brain for the time being.

[bullet-prooflove]

These bruises make for better conversation

Tagging: @kmc1989 @trublu2u @yousigned-upforthis @queenslandlover-93 @xmjthewitchx

Companion piece to:

Kitty - Ryan knows something's not right when he seees you with another man.

Such A Good Girl - Ryan makes a realisation about your undercover op.

Three Shots - Three shots and your life changes forever.

Ice Pack - You find Ryan waiting for you when you get home.

The bruises are all anyone talks about at work, how dark they are, how vivid. You keep your head tilted up, wearing them like  badge of honour because they expect you to be shaken after facing down a serial killer, to be cowed by it but you’re not. You’ve known for  long time what Myers was capable of, the problem has always been proving it.

It’s why you took your gun with you that night, why you put three bullets in his chest because even with a laptop full of evidence you don’t trust the people you work with. You know it would have gone missing as soon as it was taken into custody because Myers, he works for Becks and you know he’s not the only one that participated in those attacks, he’s just the one dumb enough to film himself.

“He sure made a mess of you.” Malcolm Beck tuts when he runs into you at the station that night, you’re on the front desk until they finish up the investigation and he’s on his way to see his pal Sheriff Donnie Haskell.

“I made a mess of him too.” You say with a mirthless smile. “He’s lucky I didn’t blow his balls off and let him bleed to death.”

You see the ghost of something cross Beck’s features and in that moment it’s one predator looking into the eyes of another.

“Those attacks, they die with him.” You say pointedly as you rearrange the paperwork in front of you. “Unless there’s another.”

“Sweetheart.” He says as he leans in close, the edges of his mouth tipping up into a feral smile. “You have no idea how easy it would be to clip those claws of yours.”

“I can still rip your throat out with my teeth.” You remind him, your hand reaching up between the two of you and gripping the bolo that hangs from his throat. You tug it hard, jerking it so he’s bent over the desk, down on your level. “We both know I’d do it too.”

You release him then and he straightens his spine, his palm smoothing over the front of his shirt, fingers realigning the bolo.

“We’ll see.” He says, those vivid blue eyes of his stabbing daggers into you as you tilt your head and say.

“I suppose we will.”

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[princessbrunette]

kinktober : oct 16th

leon kennedy x vibrator

a smallish, rubbery, baby pink vibrator. with a suction feature, and 10+ speed and pulse settings. it fits in your purse, it fits inside of you, it fits in the palm of your boyfriends hand. you loved it, you really did — but really, it was leon’s pride and joy.

from spending so much time with you, leon had started to pick up on when you needed certain things. you often got restless and agitated by small things when you were hungry, you’d bite at the side of your finger when there was something on your mind that you weren’t telling him, you’d smile with a certain twinkle in your eye when you wanted something from him — but his favourite and most challenging moments, was being able to tell when you needed to just let go.

sometimes, you’d have a particularly hard day at work. you’d be more teary and quiet than usual upon arriving home, and when you’re ready he’d let you rant and cry it out into his chest. it was like clockwork, and once he’d supported you emotionally, he knew you needed something to make your brain totally black out and forget the day you had, and that’s where the vibrator came in handy.

to the surprise of many, leon wasn’t actually that big on punishments unless you really deserved them — so whilst it might be assumed overstimulating you with a toy would be used for the purpose of reforming a bad attitude or breaking a rule, leon preferred to use it as a reward. a reward for being so brave at work as he’d tell you — enough so, that now he would allow you to forget everything you know until all the negative feelings had vanished.

so that’s how he’d have you, and your only grip on reality would be focusing on sound. your back was to his chest, head resting against his shoulder, his own legs caging your spread thighs with a thick forearm across your stomach holding you to him as he presses the toy against you. you can hear his deep and low breathing in your ear, you can hear the obscene wet clicking noises made by your cunt each time he shifts the vibrator through your folds, you can hear the relentless and incessant buzzing from the toy itself, a lone thought swimming around the back of your brain questioning the durability of its battery life, and loudly — you can hear the uncontrollable noises coming from yourself.

your moans were broken, whiny and bordering on pathetic. your brain was mush by this point, so coherent sentences were something of a distant memory as he pressed the buzzing toy against your abused clit. you poor thing, begging for something and you weren’t even sure what for anymore. it’s a good thing leon was there to look after you. “does that feel good baby?” he has the audacity to coo, pressing a kiss to your cheekbone— god he’s sick.

you try to respond, but it proves impossible, only managing something akin to ‘mhm’ which is good enough for him. “i’d say i’m pretty good at this, isn’t that right? knowing what my girl needs. knowing when that pretty pussy needs to cum.” he soothes and you claw at his thick, strong wrist weakly, feeling yourself near yet another orgasm as your clit pulses painfully.

“another one? alright sweetheart, let’s hear it.” he purs, continuing the repetitive movements around your clit with the toy until you’re squealing, tensing up and completely blacking out as you feel yourself gushing.

“take what you need, i’m right here.” he calms you as you ride it out. leon was right, as always. he did infact always know what you needed.

added extras: there’s times where you get needy, and just wanna play with your exhausted boyfriend after he returns from work— you being all hyper and giddy as he lounges back on the couch. he lets you play with his cock, dragging your vibrator over his wet, pink mushroom tip, staring up at him with glassy eyes eager to please as he tips his head back, casually spreading his thighs with a groan. “fuck, you’re good at that baby. didn’t know it would feel so good, damn.” he strains out, and you can’t help but place a kiss to his tip as you run the vibrator down his shaft. “j’st wanna look after you, like you do for me.” you hum, and he runs a hand over your head appreciatively.

“my girls too sweet.”

[melodic-haze]

alright think about this jealous sex with arlecchino. Maybe she’s been hanging out with columbina too much.

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Arlecchino x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Thr briefest mention of petplay, rough sex ig, that's basically it 🤷‍♀️

Ohhhhmygod the way Arlecchino talks of her so very fondly too like it's VERY easy to be jealous I think. Like I'm not really a jealous or a possessive person but even then I'd give like a slight side eye

The Knave was just spending a BIT too much time with Columbina for your tastes. You ask if you could hang out w her, she tells you she has a prior engagement with the other Harbinger. You go to talk to her, she's already talking with Damselette. Frankly, she's acc taking the piss❗️❗️❗️

It just. Drives you up the FUCKING WALL but yk. "Do unto others what you want done to you" or smth like that idk the saying

"I-- I'm going to--"

"You are not doing anything unless I tell you to."

You feel her hands grip onto your hair as you practically abused her cunt with your fingers. If you weren't pinning her to the wall and holding her up, you were sure that as formidable as she was, her legs would've buckled down from the overwhelming stimulation and the lack of release whenever she reached her very peak.

(With the strength of her grip, youu also thanked archons above that despite everything, she was careful enough to not claw at your scalp. That wasn't the most important thing right now, though.)

"You know," you idly mused—taunted, even—as you curled your digits within her, "we could've been doing something better. We could've been having tea, tending to your children, having so much more fun than this. And yet what do you do?"

You pulled your fingers away, slick glistening and forming a faintly connecting line before snapping, and you hear a desperate whimper that you pointedly ignore, "You pass all that up for your fellow Harbinger."

"But she can't make you feel good like I do, can she?" You slapped her thigh harshly, to which you ignore her surprised gasp too—you knew she could handle much more anyway, "Nobody else can have you all pliant and breathless like this. Not her, not anyone."

Arlecchino actually makes a move to nod instead of standing there all dumb, "Only.. Only for you.. my love, I--"

"Only for me?"

"Yes..!"

Answering like an over-eager dog. Actually hilarious.

You stand up and press your fingers harshly inside of her, and just when she feels utter delight in tbe thought of you finally granting mercy on a sinner such as her?

"Move."

"..What?"

"You heard me, my love," the affectionate pet name overshadowed by your mocking tone, "if you want to get off, then move. Surely you can manage such a simple task, right?"

It's unsaid that you want her to move on her own to show her dedication to you...

But either she caught on or she was desperate for the feeling of you inside her, for she leaned her head and started to grind her pussy onto your offered hand.

Only you were allowed to command her like this.

Need to constantly alternate between edging her and overstimming her, both to such UNBEARABLE levels bc SURELY she can handle it 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Absolutely use her in ANY way you could think of; by this point she's a hole for you to use and vent your jealousy to, all while repeating some kinda mantra about how Columbina could never do the things you do to her

Remind her that only YOU could make her feel the things she does, remind her that only YOU could have her bend to your will, both literally and metaphorically. Doesn't matter to you how powerful she is!! Could be an eldrich horror and you don't gaf

At the end of the day, you have utterly corrupted her—trained her—in the ways that she (or anyone) had never imagined. You've absolutely ruined her for everyone else

You just. Need to remind her with a LOT of torture 🥰 break this supposed monster all over again, make her remember just who, exactly, tamed her 🥰🥰🥰

Whether it's by stuffing her with so many toys all in the lowest settings or absolutely filling her up over and over and over and OVER until all traces of the angel-like Harbinger is completely fucked out of her mind 🫶🫶🫶🫶

[thesassypadawan]

Distracted (Master Anakin x PadawanFemReader)

Summary: During a sparring match with your master, you get just a little distracted.

Warnings: 18+, because all the lovely smut. Size difference, age gap (about 20 years), and Ani’s magic fingers. Padawan reader is of age.

Anakin ignited his lightsaber. “All right, padawan of mine, why don’t you show me what you got,” he said with a sly smirk.

“With pleasure, master,” you practically purred, igniting your own.

It was hours ago that Ani and you had started your friendly sparring match. You were both panting and sweating, you more so than him. And, despite the feeling of exhaustion setting in, you continued to dodge his attacks. Striking at every possible opportunity, even though your arms were growing heavy.

Pausing for a moment, you stared intensely into each other’s eyes. Sensing his own fatigue, you boldly go in for a feint attack. Thinking you would be able to finally finish him off and end this. “It’s over, old man!”

But Anakin being Anakin… With a powerful pull from the force, your saber was torn from your hand and sent sailing across the empty training room. Effectively catching you off guard and allowing him to easily pin you to the mat.

“Care to say that again?” He playfully scolded, a look of satisfaction on his handsome face. One of his big hands wrapped around your wrists, the other with a firm grip on your hip.

“Get off me,” you whined, wriggling beneath him. “You’re too heavy, you’re squishing me.”

Leaning down, he teasingly brushed his lips against yours. “Only when you address me properly, little one.”

You wanted to kiss him back so badly, but the chance to give him a taste of his own medicine was too great. And Ani always said that you should use every opening to your full advantage. “Fine,” you pouted. “Get off me…daddy.”

That certain spark flashed in his eyes. “See, that wasn’t so hard,” he chuckled, beginning to shift his weight off you. “Now, let’s go-”

With the combination of a swift movement of your limbs and a quick summoning of the force, you turned the tide. “Losing your touch?” You asked coyly, enjoying the sight of his large form sprawled out under you.

“You think so?” Anakin muttered, running his hands up and down your thighs. “Guess, I’ll just have to show you how wrong you are.” He emphasized his point by cupping and squeezing your breast tenderly.

A soft whimper escaped you as you felt the warmth build between your legs. Craving more, you began to slowly grind yourself against his very hard and very prominent bulge. “Daddy…”

“Naughty girl,” he groaned, rolling his hips upwards. “I should punish you for such behavior, but I think I’ll reward you instead.”

In an instant, you found yourself pinned once more. His organic hand resting on your needy pussy. Rubbing it gently, making you squirm and mewl desperately. “Please.”

“Don’t worry, baby.” He skillfully slipped his hand under your skirt and past your lacey underwear, fingers brushing against your clit. “I’m going to take real good care of you.”

Shivering at his touch, you let out a loud moan. That was quickly silenced with a searing kiss. “Sshhh, got to be quiet…don’t want the whole temple to hear you scream like that.”

Part of you really could care less. In fact, the very thought of someone discovering the two of you like this excited you even more. But you were daddy’s little girl, and you didn’t dare to disappoint. “Yes, daddy.”

“That’s my sweet baby,” Ani cooed, sliding a finger into your sopping cunt. “Unless…” He slowly began to pump in and out. “You do want everyone to know that you belong to me…”

Another thick digit and you were practically a writhing, hot mess. Gripping tightly to his broad shoulders, clawing at him frantically as you bit down on your lip.

“And only me,” he growled, the sound deep and husky. All the while curling his fingers teasingly against that wonderful spot deep inside of you. Trying to make you cry out as his pace quickened.

It was all so blissfully overwhelming and yet you still hungered for… “More,” you whispered, gazing up into his blue eyes pleadingly. “I need more.”

“More, huh?” He added a third finger, his thumb pressing down and rubbing small circles on your neglected nub. “All right, whatever my little girl wants…she gets.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes as you were so deliciously stretched. The burning ache made you clench around his digits, your release so painfully close. “Da-Daddy, m-may I…”

“Cum?” Anakin sped up more; his gloved hand covering your mouth, anticipating what would happen next. “Yes, you may…cum.”

Pounding hard into you one last time, he drove his fingers even deeper. Your back arched off the ground and your vison filled with stars. Your cries muffled as wave after wave of raw pleasure crashed over you.

Once your breathing returned to normal, he removed his hand from your mouth and his fingers from your warm pussy. Groaning as he licked them clean of your slick. “Come on, angel baby,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s go finish this match in our quarters.”

“But, Skydaddy,” you huffed. “I want you right here…right now.”

Scooping you up off the ground, he effortlessly tucked you under one arm. While using the force to bring both sabers to his free hand. “Hey, now,” he swatted your butt with them. “None of that sassiness or else you’ll get a good spanking.”

Sometimes you forget how strong he really was. “Promise?” You giggled, smiling up at him.

A wide grin crossed Ani’s face and he gave you another swat. “Yeah…I promise.”

[moonselune]

Mizora x Reader | Flirt.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The Elfson Tavern is buzzing with life tonight, and you find yourself at the center of it all, a drink in hand, surrounded by a crowd of new friends and curious faces. The evening had unfolded with easy laughter and a touch of reckless abandon; it was one of those nights where your worries felt like faraway troubles, and the warmth of the tavern seemed to melt away any need for caution or restraint.

And yet, it seems Mizora has other plans.

She had, you thought, been nothing more than a passing pleasure—someone you’d enjoyed in the way you’d enjoy a rare wine, something heady and intense but ultimately fleeting. She’d seemed satisfied enough by that arrangement too, always aloof, quick with a coy smile or a snide remark before vanishing into thin air. But tonight, there’s an energy about her that surprises you.

She’s watching from the shadows at first, lingering by the door with a glare sharper than any blade, and when she finally approaches, it’s with a determined stride and eyes fixed only on you. Her heels click sharply on the wooden floor, the sound slicing through the laughter and chatter. You assume she's put on her human guise for everyone else to see, her devilish form reserved only for you.

“Having fun, are we?” Her voice is a low, sardonic murmur as she stands before you, gaze icy and arms crossed.

"Always," you reply, flashing her a casual smile as you lean back in your seat, undeterred by her obvious irritation. “Didn’t realize you were keeping tabs.”

Her eyes narrow, and there’s a glint of something—resentment, maybe jealousy?—beneath her icy exterior. She scoffs, though it doesn’t quite mask the tension in her posture.

“There is a city to save, or did you forget?” she says, voice laced with disdain.

You shrug, smirking slightly. “Right now, there’s only one thing I’m interested in saving.” You raise your glass with a faint toast, letting your eyes sweep the now-quiet tavern. "Unless, you are jealous, Mizora?”

She clenches her jaw, her grip tightening around her arms. And then, with a snap of her fingers, the tavern shifts. Every patron, every distant laugh, every clinking glass, vanishes in an instant, leaving only the two of you surrounded by silence and the ghostly remnants of revelry.

“Much better,” she remarks, though her voice trembles slightly with suppressed anger. “Now, go back upstairs and rest, quick-quick. We can’t have our hero too worn out, can we? Wyll's only a pup, after all, we cannot solely rely on him and my benevolent generosity.”

But you merely raise an eyebrow, leaning in with a sly smile. You can see her wings twitching to wrap around you.

“Who’s giving the orders here, Mizora?” you say, voice soft, challenging. “I thought you came for a good time, not to ruin one.”

She stiffens, clearly unaccustomed to being defied. Her eyes flash, that burning ember of control she clings to so tightly flickering, just for a moment, as she tries to gather herself. But you’ve already closed the distance between you, your voice a low, provocative murmur as you run a finger across her sharp jawline, to then brush your hand against her cheek.

Then, with a surge of boldness, you pull her into a deep kiss. It’s a searing, fervent touch, catching her completely off-guard. For a heartbeat, she goes utterly still, hands clinging to your shoulders as if she’s torn between pulling away and giving in. But when you pull back, her face is flushed, her eyes wide and her confidence faltering.

“M-Mind yourself,” she stammers, attempting to recover. “I didn’t come here for this.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head, a soft chuckle escaping as you gaze at her, meeting her flushed cheeks with a faint smile. “Then why did you come, Mizora?”

A flicker of doubt crosses her face, and she averts her gaze, struggling to maintain her usual composure. There’s something vulnerable, almost unguarded, in the way she grips your arms, her claws sinking into your sleeves as if grounding herself.

“You’re so easy, mortal” she mutters, though her voice betrays her. “Just because I humor you once or twice, you think—”

“Don’t lie to yourself, Mizora.” You reach up, tucking a stray lock of her crimson hair behind her ear. “You’re here because you want this.”

Mizora’s eyes glint with a dangerous flicker, her attempt to remain aloof slipping as you brush your fingers along her jaw, pulling her back into your hold. Her composure begins to fracture, and as your lips meet hers again, she melts, her control unraveling beneath the kiss. Her sharp nails press into your arms, her attempts at resistance weakening as she gives way to the passion simmering between you.

As your mouth trails from her lips to her throat, you can feel her breath catch, her frame tense against you before she lets out a quiet, unbidden moan. And just when you feel her giving in entirely, you pull away, stepping back with a smirk as you take in her disheveled appearance: flushed cheeks, parted lips, a look of intense frustration and want in her gaze. Her composed, icy exterior is now thoroughly cracked, her frustration evident in the way she clenches her hands into fists, biting back a snarl.

"Why did you stop?" she snaps, her voice edged with annoyance as she glares at you, her lips still tinged with that reluctant, almost guilty pleasure. “Getting cold feet, mortal?”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you give her an unimpressed once-over.

“If you want more, come here,” you reply calmly, challenging her with an unwavering stare, arms folded as you lean against the bar. Mizora’s jaw tightens at your demand, her wings flaring slightly as she wrestles with the audacity of being ordered around. Her pride wars with her desire, and the anger in her gaze falters, replaced by something darker, almost needy.

For a moment, she seems on the verge of refusing, her lips pressed into a defiant line. But that inner struggle lasts only a moment before she lets out a begrudging, irate huff, taking a step toward you, heels clicking as she closes the distance with a sharp glare.

“You’re insufferable,” she mutters, but there’s no venom in her tone, only the reluctant vulnerability she’s trying so hard to hide.

“Good,” you murmur, pulling her close with a firm grip, letting your fingers slide along the curve of her waist. You press her back against the bar, savoring the way her breath hitches, her usual elegance now a flickering ember in the intensity of the moment. The confidence she usually holds so firmly has slipped, replaced by a begrudging surrender, her sharp nails finding purchase against your back as she lets out a low, breathless sigh.

Your hands explore her with the same deliberate pace, fingertips trailing over the delicate points of her wings, tracing the sharp curve of her horns as she arches into your touch. Her protests melt into the air as your lips find her throat again, tasting the warmth of her skin, drawing out the kind of sigh that she’d likely deny to anyone else. She shifts under you, caught between irritation and desire, muttering insults in a breathy, strained voice as her control continues to slip, each word softened by the needy edge to her tone.

“You think you’re so clever,” she gasps, her voice a defiant whisper, fingers tangling in your hair as she pulls you closer, her wings twitching in a last attempt at resistance. "An audacious, insolent—”

But her words dissolve into a moan as your hands move lower, each touch calculated to keep her at the edge, to tease her into letting go of the last shred of her dignity. Her usual snide remarks falter, her scathing tone softening as you press her against the bar, bringing her to the edge of her restraint, making her feel every moment of her own desire. And when you finally close the distance between you, Mizora is forced to admit to herself that, for all her pride, she wants this more than she’d ever admit aloud.

For all her power, her deadly confidence, Mizora shudders beneath you, gasping as you press her into the bar, showing her exactly who’s in control. The air between you is charged, and she has no choice but to submit, even if only for a moment. With each touch, each kiss, you leave her less composed, less certain, and when she finally gasps your name, it’s almost a plea, her voice heavy with need.

You smile against her lips, your own satisfaction mingling with the thrill of seeing her pride reduced to this—reduced to the very pleasure she’s been so determined to deny. And as you pull back to meet her eyes, the flicker of surrender in her gaze is unmistakable. For tonight, at least, she is no longer the proud haughty cambion, but a quivering mess beneath you. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

She's here ladies, gaydies and theydies; just a little snippet to keep y'all fed. And I had a Mizora brainworm that was just taking over my life. Hope you guys enjoyed it and I may do more of these spontaneously but I will not be taking any Mizora requests until the inbox is open - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[botnasty]

Miguel O'Hara X reader

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara X Reader

Summary: You've finally moved on from the man, but did he?

Words: 1,3k

Warning: Angst, mention of miscarriage, big intimidating man, it's just sad people.

Note: Thank you so much character Ai for giving me the idea. Go check out @ fairybaby on c.AI. Also please do tell if I am missing some warnings^^

MAIN MASTERLIST

Please DNI if you are under 18! This is an 18+ blog!

Also, please don’t steal my work, on any other platform, unless you have my authorisation

It happened so fast. One moment you were kissing your new boyfriend goody-bye and the other you had a big scary spider in your living room. Well, a “wanna-be-scary" spider, because that man was your ex-boyfriend.

You sighed removing the high heels you wore to that date. “What are you doing here, Miguel?” When he said nothing, you scoffed. “Can you even have the decency to remove your mark? It’s not like I don’t know your secret.”

“You left your window unlocked.” He said in that deep voice of his that used to make you melt on the spot. He removed his mask, His eyes were glaring at you. He looked the same as the last time you had seen him, which kinda made you sad. You thought that the break up would affect him as much as it did you, but you should’ve guessed. Nothing fazed Miguel O’Hara except for his Spider business. “How many times have I told you to lock it?” You rolled your eyes, but said nothing. instead you stepped closer to him and looked straight in his eyes, something not a lot of people were able to do from how muscular, tall and intimidating the man was.

“You already found another boyfriend?” Miguel asks, there’s almost a sneer on his face. “You can’t even handle being single for a month.”

He doesn’t even mean what he’s saying, but he hates seeing you move on. Miguel’s self-aware enough to know he’s in the wrong. He wasn’t a good boyfriend. That doesn’t mean you’re allowed to move on, though. Isn’t it obvious he still wants you? Why do you need some other guy? Just come crawling back to him like you always do.

You took a step back, fighting the glare of the man with our own. “You are not my boyfriend anymore. You can’t dictate what I do in life.”

When he hears that, Miguel has to bite back a snarl. He's livid that she's not giving an inch - he's not used to that. He's always been able to be the dominant one in the relationship.

"Sure, sure. Fine," his tone is cold and bitter. "Do whatever you want."

“Yes, I will. Good bye, Miguel. Please close the door once you’ve left.” You turned around and started to walk to go get a drink. You were in deep need of one after seeing him.

“Come home.”

‘No.”

He hates this so much. He doesn't want to be the one to lose control, but it's happening anyway. And it's all his own fault. Miguel can feel himself start to boil with rage. His fingers flex as his fists clench.

As you turn to walk away, Miguel grabs your wrist, spinning you around. With a sneer on his face, he glares down at you. "I told you to come home. I am not a man who begs, so just do what I say. And come back home with me."

You tugged your arm off his hold. “And I told you that I don’t belong to you anymore. You can’t control me Miguel. I’m not like all those other Spider people you can just control around to do whatever you like. I am my own person and that is why we aren’t together anymore; because you only see me as this doll for you to manipulate.”

His head snaps back a little bit as you yank your arm away, but he doesn't let go and instead he steps forward, his eyes blazing. Miguel's never been in this situation before - losing control to someone other than himself. His hands wrap around your wrists with a painful grip as he glares down at you.

"You think you're better than them?" He growls. "You're nothing but a pathetic human, and you belong with me."

“You’re hurting me.” Your eyes started to get glazed with tears. Your wrist hurting from his powerful hold and by his claw digging into your skins.

Miguel's eyes widen when he realizes he's hurting her. He lets go and steps back, taking a second to regain himself and calm his temper. "I'm sorry." He says, but he doesn't know if he really means it, or if he's just trying to be a good person.

You rubbed your now slightly bruised wrist, trying to soothe the hurt. Fury and pain were clashing inside of you. You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or slap the man for having the audacity. “I know you aren’t, Miguel. Please leave me alone. This is the exact reason I broke up with you.”

"You broke up with me because I get angry easily?" Miguel repeats, with a scoff. "That's ridiculous." He steps back to cross his arms across his chest, glaring down at you. "You just don't like people standing up to you - and I was the only one who did."

“You call that standing up to me? I call this abuse and over-protectiveness. You weren’t in love with me Miguel. You just liked knowing you had someone you could control.” Your eyes were frantically looking in between his brown one you used to love staring at in the morning.

Your words sting. Miguel winces, taking a few seconds to let out a frustrated growl. His head snaps back for a second before he takes a deep breath. His tone is calm, but cold, "I did love you."

"You just never let me prove it."

“I gave you plenty of chances, Miguel. And every time… you just proved me the opposite. Where were you when I had my miscarriage? Where were you when I needed you the most? You were just out there being Spider-Man, Miguel.” Tears were now flowing down your eyes.

He knows you are right, but part of him doesn't want to admit it. Miguel felt his temper start to boil again, his eyes narrowed in anger.

"That's what I had to do," he growled, defensively. "I have responsibilities. I couldn't be there for you."

Miguel knew he was wrong. He was terrible to you. But that didn't mean it was easy to admit that she deserved more.

“You are right. That is what you need to do… Spider-man has taken a big part of your life, Miguel. I don’t see where I fit in anymore.”

You sighed. “I'm done with this conversation. Good bye, Miguel.” You pointed at your door.

He's left with two options at this point: he can either let you leave, and face the reality that he's lost control over you... Or he can try to stop you, and maybe, somehow, get you back. And that's the option he chooses. The more he thinks about it, the more it seems like he can't stand the thought of walking out of that door.

"Wait!" he calls out, stepping towards you. "Can I- We can talk about this-"

‘No, Miguel. There is nothing to talk about this. Please.” You placed a hand on his biceps with a sad smile. “If you love me like you say you do… let me go. Let me be happy.”

He wants to argue, but he knows she's right: he can't keep her against her will. You have good reason to leave him - and you really want to.

Miguel lets out a pained sigh and steps back, crossing his arms across his chest. "Fine." He says, in a bitter tone. "Do whatever you want. Just... take care of yourself." He's obviously holding a lot back - he wanted to tell you everything - but he's not going to force you to listen.

“Thank you… this is goodbye, Miguel. And don’t worry, your secret is safe. Take good care of yourself.” You smiled at him one last time then opened the door and left.

Miguel watched her go for a moment, his arms crossed over his chest, before sighing and burying his head in his hands, a mix of emotions running rampant through him as he contemplates what's just happened.

After a while, he sighed, and looked to the open door, looking out into the city that he's spent so little time in these days. He knew that, if he didn't want to lose her... He had to make some changes.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Bleach

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel wakes up in the middle of the night... not that he actually feel asleep to begin with.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: gender neutral!reader, allusions/depictions of joel's sleep problems (insomnia, apnea, nightmares), hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: ??? i was writing off tangent again???? so much so that i couldnt finish the fic and had to restart ???? help me T_T Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx

Joel always restarted his count at a hundred.

58, 59, 60...

He probably counted to a hundred a hundred times by now. He rubs his cheek against your chest. His bad ear beholds the thump behind your ribs.

If it wasn't official hours ago, it was official now. He couldn't fucking sleep.

Normally, he would fall asleep to your humming and hair combing. It worked like a charm, normally. But then again, normal and he were long strangers. He was best friends with fucked-up and hard though.

Joel sighed, pulling his head up to look at your face. Your face. His person's face. His person. The hand you tucked in his hair spilled to the side, brushing haphazardly on his cheek.

He presses his palm atop of your fingers as he shifted. He cups your hand cause it was holy. He brings his nose to the crook of your neck and sprawls over you, sealing you beneath him, arm coming around your form.

He rubs his cheek against your skin but then he stops himself when he remembers your complaints about beard burn.

He sighs, mentally noting he had to shave; he had to shave, he had to shave, he had to shave for you.

He purses his lips at the memory, the sound of you laughing, telling him you didn't actually want him to loose the facial hair; you like him like that, how ever he let you have him. You told him you only tell him to shave cause you know he'd never remember to actually do it, i.e., to grind his gears.

Joel doesn't have a bad memory. He knows he doesn't have memory problems. It's just that he doesn't care enough to remember something like that, to shave. And maybe that was a problem.

He freezes when you stir beneath him. He holds himself up as you push deeper beneath him, limbs wrapping around his body. He grunts then holds his breath as you maneuver the way you did every night like clockwork, clawing at him like he was a teddy bear, a big ol' teddy, cradled close to heart, close to your pulse, between your arms and your legs.

He relaxes after you still. Slowly, he allows himself to shift his body weight all the way down on you. He moves slowly, hands gripping your thighs as he made himself comfortable, flush on your form.

"Joel."

He is instantly stone.

He doesn't speak.

He waits.

He waits for you to continue, to say something.

He slowly lifts his head up and looks at you.

Your lashes are pressed together, your lips, so very slightly parted, your nose pointed to his, still, just like the rest of your body. You were very much asleep; you had just called out to him in your dreams again.

He gently shimmies down and sinks his face in the crook of your neck. He takes in your scent and lulls himself with you. He peppers kisses on your skin, mostly for himself.

Himself. He smells himself on you. He smells the bleach you used to get the blood stains off his shirt. Joel told you not to bother. It was a shirt, just another shirt. There were many more shirts. He didn't care at all for this one. But now-

He reaches out to your cheek and kisses your jaw.

-now it was special. Now, it was sacred. Now, he couldn't wear it unless he knew he wouldn't get it filthy. Now, he wore it like as his Sunday's best, though it was a beaten up grey tee from an obscene college that he knew nothing of. It hadn't even fit him well when he found it--it was too tight-- but after over-wearing it, it fit him like a glove, then it didn't fit him properly at all.

He wonders if he'll wear you out like his t-shirt, if one day he catches you frayed and tired, all cause of him. All cause of him.

You deserved better. You deserved so much better than him. You had light behind your eyes. You had hope. You still cared.

And he?

He was himself. He was Joel. He was tired. He was angry. He was cynical. He was him. Before and after the world had gone to shit.

You deserved better.

"Joel?"

He sighs at the soft sound that escaped your lips. He closes his eyes and brushes his nose against you.

He wonders what you dream about when you call his name. He wonders if he makes you laugh, makes you feel good, or if he just screams and bosses you around. He didn't mean to be so jagged. He doesn't mean to be so rough. He enjoys it about as much as you do; you don't. He can't help himself though. It's better this way. It keeps you both alive. It keeps him-

"Joel, how long have you been awake?"

Joel freezes.

You shift beneath him. He feels you look at him.

"Joel," you croon, rubbing his cheek with your thumb.

He keeps his eyes closed. He stays still. He can stay still. He can fake it.

"I know you're awake," you mutter, moving your hand, placing it on his, "you're rubbing my side."

Joel's hand stops moving.

You sigh, leaning in to kiss his head, "you should have woken me up."

Joel is tempted to retort. He doesn't.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

Nothing. He says nothing.

You tighten your arms and legs around him. You dig your fingers into the roots of his hair. Usually, this made him burn, this made his insides rage, he saw it as a challenge, a challenge he so greedily was receptive to in his desire to break you against him. It was his trigger, his go signal. And yet tonight he just wants to keep you close, to keep you in place, to record the beats of your heart in his head.

"If you want me to believe you're asleep, you should have started snoring."

Joel sighs. "I don't snore."

He can hear your smile. He can see it exactly in his mind.

"How would you know that?"

"I know I don't cause you keep moving me in bed."

Joel's body vibrates with your chuckle. He feels the smallest of smiles creep unto his lips.

"You snore really bad," you add.

"Maybe for a few seconds," he mumbles.

He feels himself begin to go drowsy. Your giggles cease.

"You want me to sing for y-"

"I'm fine," he mutters tersely, "don't worry about me."

He feels you shift to get a better look at him. He denies you this and holds you back. He is selfish, he wants to keep you close. He is scared, he doesn't want you to see how desperate for sleep he must look.

He don't fight him. He is glad for it. He feels you relax beneath him. You rub his back. You sigh, "I'm always worried about you."

Joel breathes deeply, "you shouldn't be."

"I want to be."

He finally opens his eyes, "you want to be?"

"Mmm."

"Who in hell wants to be worried?"

You draw stars on his back. You want to tell him he's your north star. You don't. He'll fall into his self-loathing. You wish he'd stop doing that. So, instead you say, "because I love you, you dummy."

You don't receive a response.

But Joel heard it. He hears it. He knows it. He doesn't acknowledge it. He never does. He never will. Not right now, very much not right now.

You don't mind. You know his heart. You love his heart, though he tries so hard to hide it from you.

A long moment of silence passes. It lasts so long that he thinks you're asleep, but you're not; you're drawing on his back, soothing him with it like you always do.

Joel begins to count again.

1, 2, 3...

"You know I dreamt we were abducted by aliens. Like the ones with Sigourney Weaver."

"Aliens?"

"Mmm."

"..."

"..."

"What'd I do?"

You snort, "what do you think? You killed them all."

"..."

"Then we banged."

"Heh."

You rub your face against his, "you wanna know a secret?"

Joel closes his eyes, "tell me."

"I wish you gave yourself more credit."

He slowly draws his eyes open.

"You're temperamental, scary, and mean, and you're well-abled, strong, and capable, but it's okay if sometimes you're patient, pleasant, and kind, and if you're hurt, weak, and struggling," you link your hands together over his back, "doesn't make you any less, doesn't make Joel any less Joel."

He lets his eyelids fall.

You close your eyes and listen to his breathing.

He counts your pulses.

He was really sleepy now.

"Worrying makes us human," you mutter, "let me worry about you the way you worry about me."

Joel wants to disagree. He wants to tell you not to worry or else you'll go gray like him. He doesn't though. He knows it pointless. And he knows he'll never win. Not against you.

Okay, he says in his head, you win.

... at least tonight.

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin-r]

Working Ethics

He watched you shuffle out the door as you ignored the 3rd guy who tried to pick you up. He almost went back to people watching when he noticed you leaving and some guy he hadn’t seen before start to follow you, you were drunk but capable. 

You are capable. 

But it wouldn’t hurt to make sure you got home safe. 

That’s what friends do. 

He abruptly stood up the drinks on the table sloshing slightly. 

“Where are you off to, pretty boy?” Derek appeared with another drink in his hand. He could finish the bars entire stock if Hotch allowed him to. 

“I’m done, see you guys tomorrow.” Spencer quickly shuffled out before Derek could sink his claws into him. He almost lost sight of you. 

“Come on sweet girl,” He did a complete turn to the alley down the side. “I promise tah treatcha right.”

“Not interested,” he slipped into a corner, he didn’t want to be all hero unless you needed him to. You were an incredible officer. You could whip up your badge and have him down in prison for half his life if you wanted to, maybe you wanted to let him off easy because he was drunk. 

"Hey now, don't be like that I can show you a good time.

“Let go of me you creep.” You sounded alarmed. “Hey, Hey drop the knife-” He didn’t even stop. He came over, pummelling the guy into the alley wall, a switchblade cluttering onto the floor. He dropped the guy and rushed over to where you were. The guy scuttled out the alley, cursing.

“Spencer…” he turns and he meets your worried gaze. Your eyes roving over him. “He didn’t cut you did he?” 

He looks incredulously at you. “Shouldn’t the roles be reversed?”

You were the one about to- so why were you- he-

The confusion must have shown on his face, you smiled. “Yeah but you could have also gotten hurt.” 

“Same as you. Put yourself first.” you looked away. You both know you’re not very good at that. He fully turns to you and you notice how his entire demeanour changes. He seems smaller now. He comes closer and checks you for any cuts. The warmth of the situation goes straight to your brain.

“Thank you,” 

“It’s…” what could he say. Common decency? He paused, “As long as you’re fine.” scratching the back of his head. You moved closer to him before you raised your hand. He froze. He literally stopped breathing. You chuckled slightly. You weren’t the only one going crazy.

“Breathe Spencer, I don’t want my saviour asphyxiating."

“Sorry.” He muttered breathlessly. You wordlessly reach forward and moved your fingers through his hair, careful as though not to startle him. A few knots here and there, you tried to ignore how he leaned unto your touch, how his breath came out ragged, how close you were and how his hands were levitating over your waist barely grazing.

"Thank you for saving me."

You couldn't help overthink everything that brought you here. His gaze was intense, his eyes never leaving yours, as if he was trying to read your mind and he just might he’s a damn good profiler after all. You felt yourself getting lost in his eyes, unable to look away, . 

“I’m drunk.” you said leaning into him.

“You’re drunk.” his hands settle on your hips, gripping tightly.  His brain wanted him to push you away but he found himself pulling you in.

“I should leave you alone.” you said wrapping your arms around his neck, despite your words you lean in.

“You should.”

“Should I?” You don’t know what you’re asking him, but he seems to know.

“Don’t but…” you could see his inner turmoil as he grappled with himself.

“But?”

“Working ethics, I don’t know if I can leave you after.” Your lips were so close, his breath ghosted your lips. 

“Maybe I don’t want you to leave?” You moved closer against him, chest against chest, he hissed at the contact.

“Angel, don’t say that, don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you tilted your head. “This?” your lips grazed his. “Or this?” pushing yourself against him even more. 

He looked at you with a look so despicable. He kissed you, matching with how he wanted you. Hard and rough. His lips slotted with yours, stealing all your air, his fingers gripped you so tightly it made you dizzy, all you could smell, hear, see, feel was Spencer.

You could feel his heartbeat, his breath, he only had one drink,

“You’re drunk.” he repeated, extricating his hands from you, taking a step back. "I'd be taking advantage of you. I should be leaving you alone.” He kept kissing you though, kissing you silly. “Tell me no, tell me to stop.”

“I’m not leaving you tonight and you’re not leaving me.” dragging him out of the alley.

______________________________________________________________

“Reid, where did you run off to yesterday?” JJ asked from around the corner. Spencer's cheeks tinted slightly as he ran off an excuse.

“Tired, it was a long night.” He nodded as he went back to his files. 

“Really? That’s exactly what she said-” Spencer’s head shot up a little too quickly. Derek’s eyes sparkled. 

“Tsk, you almost got away with it kid.” Derek patted his back. “So your place or hers?”

“What- who’s I don’t know what you both are talking about.” Spencer went on the defensive, he tried to control his movements but unfortunately he was in a room full of profilers.

“Sorry Spence but we got evidence, Derek saw you two on his morning walk.” 

Spencer’s mind floated back to earlier when he was leaving you. 

“I really wish I could drive you instead of dropping you somewhere else.” Spencer whined as he hugged you. 

“It’s okay, I even need to change. I can't exactly go in the same clothes as yesterday, or in your clothes.” 

“I mean, you do look good in my clothes…” his words elicited a blush from you as you remembered last night's events. You couldn’t wear your clothes due to some tears in your clothes which you blame him for. 

“Spencer!!!” he laughs and it’s so soft and hearty you can’t help but laugh with him. 

“C’mere.” he mutters and brings your head closer to his, kissing you so softly you melt in him arms. He pulls away slight;y and smiles at you. “I’m ready to take this however you like, fast or slow, it’s all in your hands.”

“Spencer…” it’s your turn to gush. “How about boyfriend and girlfriend then we move up from there?” 

“I’d like that.” You smile.

“Me too.”

“I like you.”

“I like you too.”

“Seems pretty boy is reminiscing. So you and her huh? And you didn’t tell us.” Spencer ignores him as he turns to his desk. A door opens somewhere and he instinctively raises his head to catch you entering, removing your hair from your ponytail, you just came back from the shooting range. 

He was mesmerised.

______________________________________________________________

no. 4 of Spencer Reid's firsts