#which envelops materials

[tgw8171]

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Plot No 79, Sector 29 Part II, Huda, Panipat, Haryana 132103

[scatteredcloud]

Going on yet another rant about “merch”

If you did not screen print that shirt yourself, you did not make it.

You made the design on it, which I’m sure would be a nice poster or sticker perhaps? Which of course you didn't print yourself, that sounds hard! An embroidered design? Maintaining a 12 needle embroidery machine capable of producing a design with that many colors for the number of orders being received is a lot of work, that's pretty impressive! Not to mention maintaining proper tension on the frame working with a hundred stretchy t shirts, which idk came from somewhere who knows! Your repeating pattern looks very nice on a skirt that you did not make and was mass produced by some Vietnamese person getting paid pennies so that ~50 gay people on the internet could pay for international shipping for a design you “made”. Wow that mug is awesome didn’t know you got into sublimation printing! And have a cylindrical heat press to be able to do not just mugs, but tumblers too! Woah your sublimation set up can do bed sheets (any size)? And shower curtains? And three different shapes of throw pillow stuffed with poly fill, which will never decompose and isn't comfortable to begin with?

Your poorly digitized vector art looks lovely as an enamel pin now that someone else (Who? More like who cares!) cleaned it up for you and then created moulds for and maybe even hand injected the enamel into only for you to sell maybe seven or eight of them. Aw damn your design got ripped off? Who could have guessed that with the distribution power of an entire manufacturing plafffnt that has hundreds, if not thousands of moulds sitting around that they might have used your mould to make themselves a profit for a change! Those money grubbing Chinese bastards! After all, you were there every step of the way, casting the negative of the mould, running the injection of liquid metal into that mould, mixing each color of enamel, and precisely filling each segment of the design, which you refused to simplify! You just can't compromise with art.

Ohhh I see they’re made to order so its more sustainable. So this factory (Guatemala? India? The Philippines? Pakistan? Could you point to it on a map? They just don't teach you this stuff in school!) Anyways this factory in some poor country has to keep your design on file, oh and for your enamel pins they have to keep the mould too! Ahh right but it’s sustainable, because it's a limited run. You’re the 100th person this week to place an order, and they're only printing 50 of your design, you should complain to the manufacturer about how slow your orders are being filled.

I love supporting small businesses - it’s just you after all! With all the hard work you’ve put into fiddling around in procreate who has time to figure out material acquisition, and production runs, and printer calibration, and inventory management, and machine maintenance, and payment processing, and international shipping, and packaging, and

[amaranthinespirit]

hi hi hi hello i just had a thought that i think you would like. a thunderstorm making simon on edge bc of the noise so reader tells him to use their thighs as ear muffs, turns into a slow and comforting pussy eating session. this is all, thank you, here’s a flower —>🌷

during a particularly bad thunderstorm which causes boyfriend!simon riley to be on edge, what better way to calm him than between your thighs?

(I infact love this request anon <3)

his chest tense and taut against your back, even the slightest noise causing him to pull you slightly closer each time. when you'd ask him if he was okay, he'd only give a rough grunt in response, the sound rumbling in his chest and vibrating against your back.

you decided you had finally had enough of him brushing off the fact that he was very clearly feeling on edge, crossing your arms against your chest as you looked back up at him with a firm expression.

his brows raised in surprise, feeling his muscles relax the slightest amount as he listened to your soft voice, though firm in tone as you escaped his tight grasp, relaxing against the couch cushions with your legs spread, an invitation to lay between your thighs.

the couch was tiny, and he took up quite a bit of that space, so when you leaned back, your legs draped over his lap. a rough, warm hand wrapped loosely around your ankle, his thumb gently smoothing over the skin as he watched you closely, the way you were waiting.

i mean, who would he be if deny the chance to lay between your thighs? crazy, he thought, absolutely insane to deny your sweet offer.

carefully, he sat up onto his knees, the couch creaking under his shifting weight, maneuvering your legs on either side of his thighs, hands still on your ankles.

he seemed hesitant, but eventually, he slowly lowered himself into the space between your thighs, his calloused hands let go of your ankles and gently came up to your outer leg to envelop him.

he couldn't hear the small noise that escaped through your lips as his crooked nose pressed against your clothed cunt, feeling the warm exhale of his breath through the fabric as you tried to relax.

he was so close, it was nearly unbearable, and it didn't help that he was just one layer of cloth away from your already soaked pussy. surely he could feel the material dampen under his face, that only pressed more firmly against your drooling heat.

it didn't take him long to recognize what he was doing to you, the way your plush thighs kept involuntarily squeezing tighter around his head, or the material of your panties quickly becoming more soaked the further he pinned against you.

he smirked, a slight chuckle slipping from his lips before he pressed his tongue flat against your clothed pussy. his eyes fluttered shut for a second, reveling in the faint taste of you through the cloth.

he retracted his tongue, chuckling once again as he mumbled into your pussy, "s'needy," his tone slightly condescending and words muffled as two thick fingers pulled aside your panties.

you whined slightly at the bitter contact of cool air before it was quickly replaced by the warmth of his lips, tongue swirling through your puffy folds as he took his time in devouring you.

his hands coming to the junction of your hips and thighs, forcing you further onto his face, crooked nose pressed against your little clit. one hand holding your hip slid down across your stomach, his forearm holding you still as he pinched and teased your clit, rolling the pearl gently between his calloused fingers.

his tongue slowly lapped at your leaking slit, grunting and groaning at the taste of you, wet, lewd sounds of him slurping up your slick, you desperately try to pull him closer, which he does allow, but your attempts to get him to speed up?

nice try lovie, let him take his time. he's still got the rest of the storm to lay between your thighs, let him savor it, you'll be here a while

[springismss]

ᱬ⛧ you needy? s. gojo

sum: being the wife of the world's strongest sorcerer meant being away from him for days or weeks at a time - of course, he came back as needy as ever.

pairing: satoru gojo x wife! reader

content: established relationship (marriage), pet names (baby, sweetheart, etc), wall fucking, cock warming, needy gojo, suggested multiple rounds, fingering, oral (f! receiving), suggested cum stuffing, unprotected fun

a/n: based on this post. ageless blogs/minors - dni. lowercase intended. ik this sucks but posting anyways. cross-posted on ao3. as always likes, comments and re-blogs are deeply appreciated!

all was calm and somewhat quiet in the dimly lit household until the sound of the front door being slammed shut shattered every piece of that quietness. a small thud sounded a second after the person responsible for the initial noise let their head fall back against the wood, hand coming up to rub their tense temple as an exasperated sigh passed their lips. all they needed was a moment, a moment to finally breathe after what felt like the longest mission of their life to date. not only had the main curse been a pain in the literal arse, but the smaller curses that were around made it a little more difficult to exorcise it in good time, which even they had to admit made the situation more frustrating.

dropping their hand, they let their head return back to normal as they remained on the door, taking a moment to try and figure out what day it was, let alone what time. of course, they knew it was nighttime at least, given how dark it was before they stepped through the door. everything seemed to have blended into one long day, mind-numbing as they let out a frustrated growl before taking their time to indulge in the now quietness that enveloped them. a welcome relief from the nose they'd had to endure while away.

despite the material covering their eyes, they took a moment to scan the hallway settling on the area the light flickering from the front room came from, signalling the other person inside was awake, so it wasn't too late much to their relief. that's when they saw the head of said person sticking their head out of the door, a warm and welcoming smile tugging at their lips. "satoru, you're home!". at the sound of the name reaching their ears, the figure pushed off the door and rushed forward, wrapping their arms around the smaller figure as they giggled.

satoru gojo was the strongest sorcerer in the world, the only surviving member of the gojo clan and a literal force to be reckoned with. Yet here he was after an exhausting few weeks with his arms wrapped tightly around his wife. you'd been an anchor to him many times before, keeping him grounded after long days of either teaching or exorcising. how he'd missed this, the feeling of you in his arms, your frame fitting perfectly against his as you welcomed him home. after a few seconds, he pulled back to look down at you, your head tilting before you let out a playful squeal at your body being easily picked up, back pressed against the wall at your side as large hands rested on either side of your head.

you knew exactly where this was going and you couldn't deny a part of you loved it. even though you hated him being away on missions, the desire you both felt after he returned made you shiver each time.

everything that happened in the minutes after that passed in a blur of emotions - desire and need being the main ones driving the actions of your now needy husband. plump lips pressed against you before you felt sharp teeth dig into the sensitive flesh, tugging your lower lip into the hungry mouth of the man now responsible for the fire in both your gut and between your legs. letting out a whine you raised your hands and gripped onto broad shoulders, pulling him closer. god know you missed him so much these past few weeks, especially when your fingers couldn't hit the places his longer ones could, drawing out those sweet highs from deep within.

managing to tug your lip free, you looked up at him and sucked in a quick breath at the bites now being placed directly below your jaw. this man would be the death of you and he hadn't even gotten to the part you both enjoyed yet. "toru, p-please". the pressure on your neck disappeared after a second, lips returning to yours as kisses grew sloppier and needier. the small grunts sounded before silence greeted you once more and the cool air lapped at your once heated lips. furrowing your brows in confusion, you watched as satoru dropped to his knees, lips now decorating your thigh with the same warm, sloppy kisses that you felt only a few moments beforehand.

letting your head fall back slightly, you blinked mindlessly into the darkness above you as you felt those kisses trail up higher, closer to the one place you needed him the most right now. those same kisses halted once again as you felt the waistband of your shorts and underwear being tugged, ripped away in tatters before you had time to look down. letting out a whine, you pressed a hand to your head and gnawed on your bottom lip before speaking, making sure he heard how annoyed you were. "for fucks sake, i've only just bought those toru, i swear if i didn't love you, i'd have booted you by now". that was when the sound of his deep chuckle reached your ears, making you weak in the knees as his kisses resumed on your inner thigh, hand supporting the back of your flesh in his grip, words escaping between each creeping peck. "i know you~" kiss "would but~" kiss "let's face it~" kiss "i'll just buy you new ones".

with the last of his words out, satoru brought his other hand and using little to no force, pushed your supple thighs apart taking a moment to admire the way your already wet pussy looked in the soft glow of the light. letting his tongue glide across his lips, he tilted his head up to you before smirking hands reaching up to pull your hips forward as he began to devour you like you were the essence of his very existence. skilled tongue lapped at your clit while his slender fingers easily slipped into your eager pussy, your warm gummy walls welcoming after being starved for so long. all it took was one movement, one simple stretch of his fingers to have your head falling back, moans and whimpers escaping as you let your hands drop onto his head. the pads of your fingers rubbed small circles on his scalp before you gripped onto the snow-white strands of his hair, back pushing all the wall in an arch as you blinked back the tears pricking at your eyes, hips starting to move as you helped rub yourself against him. you didn't realise how long it had been since you felt his tongue, but you were sure you weren't going to last that long the more his long fingers stretched you out, another being added to the two already buried knuckle deep, making you feel full yet not full enough at the same time.

although satoru enjoyed the sounds falling from your lips he couldn't wait any longer, growing bored of his face being buried between your legs. with almost no warning, he slipped his fingers out of your pussy as his tongue detached from your clit, a whine passed your lips in both shock and desperation, you were building to your climax so beautifully but he had to rip that away from you. blinking your eyes to regain your composure, you dropped your head back down just in time to see him rising to his feet, reminding you of how much taller than you he was. "toru~".

the breathy pass of his name made satoru hum before he ripped off his uniform with little to no effort, tossing the now remnants somewhere to the side as he pressed a hand to your thigh again, gripping the flesh under his fingertips, savouring the feel before guiding your leg to wrap around his waist. with a quick nod of your head knowing what he wanted, you let your hands travel up his torso savouring the flex of his muscles before they drape over his shoulders, fingers locked together as you felt your body being hoisted until you were at eye level with his parted lip, the tip of his cock now rubbing between your puffy pussy lips. "i can't wait any longer, sweet stuff, ffuck, i need to feel you around me".

blinking at his words, you gave a quick smile before leaning forward, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, slowly dragging your kisses up his cheek until you stopped at his ear, hot breath causing him to shiver slightly. you let the echo of a moan slip from your throat before smirking, pressing a small peck to the shell of his ear, not before you whispered words he'd been dying to hear for what felt like a lifetime. "well, what are you waiting for honey, use me, fuck me".

it was like a switch had been flipped, the rubbing you had felt stopped suddenly, soon replaced with the obvious sensation of your ring of resistance being pushed past. sucking in a breath between your teeth, you squeezed your eyes closed before letting soft pants fall from your mouth as you felt your husband bottom out into you, walls stretched to what felt like their limits and more as it took you a moment to remember just how big he was, his thickness being the best part of his cock aside from the tufts of white hair settle at his base. it felt like it had been years since you were as close as this, yet it had only been a week or two at max.

after a few more slow seconds, you felt satoru's hips pull back as the fullness disappeared for a second before returning forcefully, knocking the air from your lungs with a harsh jolt. eyes screwed shut as you let your head fall, lips parted as whines and moans of pleasure began to fall from your mouth, hands gripping onto his shoulders and you tried your best to keep that last of your sanity in check but you were fighting a losing battle. between the pressure building up in your gut and the cock inside you splitting you open with each hard snap of his hips, you knew it wouldn't be long before you were completely lost in the throes of pleasure. "fuck, that's it, baby girl, you take all of me so good".

oh, how his words had you clenching your walls around him, sucking him into the deepest part of your very being as you dug your nails into his shoulders before dragging them down his milky back. you knew those pretty crescent moons and red marks would be there for a few days at least, and they looked so pretty on satoru's skin. while yours left marks on his back, his fingers gripped onto your hips as he held you closer to his body, a grip that would no doubt leave small bruises, not that you would complain. him marking your body in different ways was par for the course on most days.

to say you were pinned between a rock and a hard place was an understatement but right now, you couldn't have cared less. not when your legs are wrapped around hips that gave relentless thrusts into your pussy, dragging the most sinful noises from deep within. not when your arms were dragging pretty marks down his back for the world to potentially see, a reminder that the strongest in the world belonged to someone and that someone was you. not when the rest of your body bounced painfully against the wall as thrusts continued to get rougher making you want that release to hold off so you could continue to enjoy this moment for a little longer. "toru~ h'ah, feel so, fuck, full". letting your head roll back, you opened your mouth to let chants of satoru's name fall from your lips as you moved a hand, cupping his face to help keep yourself grounded. you were close to your climax and you knew he could feel it as well, the way your gummy walls began to pulsate a little faster, gripping his cock a little too tightly.

moving one hand from your hip, satoru brought it up to his face and tugged down his blindfold effectively trapping your hand in its place as his eyes now looked you over. the way you let your head fall back to now look at him, the reddening of your cheeks and droll slipping from the corner of your mouth had him smirking. despite being able to see and perceive everything around him thanks to his eyes, he never felt more powerful than right now. he was the only one who got to see you like this, bare in front of him making the most sinful noises for only him to hear. his blue eyes always drove you crazy, they were the first thing you remember seeing when you first met him all those years back and they were the only eyes that would ever get to see you in such a state. "t-toru, p-please, i'm gonna~".

squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a shaky moan and you felt the pressure in your gut build, walls pulsating signalling you were close to your climax. without any further words, satoru placed his hands on the wall behind you, steadying himself as he began to position his hips into you, the mushroom tip of his cock slamming against that spongy spot deep inside. the new sensation caused your gummy walls to pulsate faster around him, helping to milk him closer to his end, daring him to fill you with his seed. and that is exactly what he did after a few more frantic thrusts into your pussy, of course, he wouldn't have been a gentleman if he didn't let your climax wash over you first. your vision flashed white as you gripped his cheek, nails pressing in slightly as a loud cry of his name slipped from your lips, your walls pulsating harshly, sucking his cock into you deeper than you both thought was possible right now. with a few more harsh thrusts, satoru's hips stuttered to a stop as he shot thick ropes of white into your now eagerly awaiting pussy, no doubt taking up a new home deep inside your womb. the deep rumble in his chest of the moans you drew from him made you shiver more as heated lips caught yours once again.

after a few minutes of finally regaining yourself thanks to the kisses you were getting, you found yourself lying on cool silk sheets as you blinked in confusion, your gaze falling on your husband who only smiled brightly at your confusion. tilting your head, you looked around the room before smiling softly, turning your attention back to satoru, mouthing a quick thank you as you felt the material of his blindfold being removed from your hand, being placed on the table at the side. "toru, you didn't have to do this you know". shaking his head, satoru looked at you and hummed a little. he knew better than anyone this was where you were most comfortable when you were both intimate, he just couldn't help himself after the mission he'd just had. he missed you and your touch for so long that he just had to have you right there and then even if it was again at the wall that wasn't exactly the most comfortable of places.

"it's the least i could do, i should have waited a few more minutes to make sure you were comfortable".

you shook your head and looked him over, taking in every single piece of him you could as he smiled wider at you, hand cupping your cheek as he peppered kisses all over your face, whispering how much he's missed you and that's not leaving you for more than a second next time. you both knew the missions he undertook were dangerous and potentially fatal, one mistake and he might not come back to you. and that scared the life out of you. the both of you.

he had two choices every time a mission was presented to him - one, the most obvious one was to undertake the mission, exorcise the curse or curses and let everything return to as normal as it could be before the next mission that he was needed for, or two, decline and spend his time locked away from the world, being only in your arms as he tried to make every second count. he was no stranger to losing someone he loved, he'd been through what felt like hell and back before he met you at such a young age. you were the one to help him battle his inner demons, the one who made him feel better after all the long days and nights he spent away, but most of all, you were the one who loved him with everything you had to offer, helping to heal his soul one day at a time and he'd be damned if he would ever give you up.

it still didn't feel real that this was your life, that the strongest sorcerer in the world was now your husband, if someone had told you this when you were younger, you would have laughed in their faces and told them to get a life, someone like him would never end up with the likes of you. yet here you were, still connected in the most intimate way you could be, taking on the world together. lifting your other hand you cupped his face and brought your lips to the tip of his nose, giving it a quick kiss before moving down to his lips, placing a sweet yet hungry kiss against them before pulling away, scanning your eyes over his face once more as you smirked.

quickly moving your leg, you draped it over his hip, hand resting on his shoulder before you rolled him onto his back, placing your legs on either side of his as you straddled his waist, keeping his cock snuggly inside your cunt. letting your hands fall onto his chest, you placed them crossed over where his heart was, feeling the thumping quickening the more he looked over you, anticipating what your next move was. the smirk on your lips widened as you uncrossed them, letting your body fall forward slightly cupping his cheek again, hot breath fanning over his ear as you let a small giggle sound. "satoru, you know since we're somewhere more comfortable, i was thinking you should fill me up~".

straightening your back, you let your head fall back as you rolled your hips, making the mushroom tip of his cock rub against that spongy spot again, another sinful moan dragging from your throat. "~stuff me so full of your come that it ends up slipping out my puffy pussy~". letting your head return to normal, you bit your lip and grabbed ahold of his hand, fingers lacing together as you pulled his torso off the sheets into a sitting position, shifting yourself so you were pressed firmly in his lap, hips moving with every other word. "~so you have to fuck it back into me until i can't take any more. until it runs messily down my thighs and legs like the tears from my eyes at the pleasure".

satoru swears he forgot how to breathe when he looked up at you eyes lidded slightly as you continued to roll your hips into his, his cock beginning to harden once again, begging him to move his hips in tandem with yours. "well, if that's what my sweetheart wants~". it all happened within seconds as your back hit the sheets, a gasp sounding out as your husband began to roll his hips into yours rougher than you were a few moments ago, eyes fluttering shut. moving one of his large hands, he placed it just below your navel, pushing down as he continued to roll into you, loving the feeling of your body squirming below him trying to get off on the friction against your clit alone. after a moment, that same hand moved to grip ahold of your tit, beginning to knead the flesh, nipple hardening underneath his grasp. "~that's what my sweetheart gets, to be stuffed full of my come until she can’t take any more".

letting go of your chest, satoru placed his hand beside your head, while his other hand ran down your side, grabbing ahold of your thigh he moved it up and pressed further into you. his body pinned you in place as you felt yourself shift slightly until you could feel the burn of your thigh muscle, your gummy walls contouring to the shape of his cock again as he snapped his hips forward once more, dragging more of the sounds he loved from your throat. being sure to fulfil the desire to be filled full of his come, in one way or another.

when it all came down to it, satoru gojo was hopelessly in love with you. you’d come along when he needed someone the most, at a dark time in not only his life but his story as the strongest. due to that, he just wanted to spend as much time as possible with you, however, that might be because he knew one day he'd leave you behind in this cruel world, with nothing but the memories he'd made with you. be that spending time with you, showering you with endless gifts which you were adamant you didn't need, but secretly loved regardless, fucking you for hours on end, loving the feel of the way you writhe for him as you would show him you wanted it as much as him. watching you lose yourself in the pleasure that only he could provide to you.

at the end of the day, all satoru gojo was to you was your husband, the man who you loved more than anything in the world. not a weapon to be used. not the strongest sorcerer with the weight of the world on his shoulders. no, he was just the man who you loved more than life itself, and you were forever grateful he chose to spend the rest of his with you.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Aegon bathing and asking his wife to join him

It's been so long since I posted anything about HotD. Have you seen the trailers? I'm so excited for the new season!! This one has been in my wips for a long time, but I kicked myself to finish it today to celebrate the upcoming season

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You entered the ensuite of your and Aegon’s shared bedchamber, hair unpinned and cascading down your back. Outside your quarters, they were always pinned into a braided hairstyle, concealing their true length to the court’s eyes. It’s good to have a distinction between the way a lady presents herself to the people and what is only for her husband’s eyes. Your day dress was replaced by an emerald green silk robe with dainty broderies along the lapels, a gift from the queen, given to you on your and Aegon’s wedding day. It was beautiful. 

‘’There you are,’’ you said, seeing Aegon in the tub, steam rising from the scalding hot water. 

His eyes shifted to you, the corner of his mouth curling when they fell on your attire. He poured more wine into his cup, splashing some water over the side of the tub due to the movements. ‘’My wife is a sight for sore eyes.’’ 

His speech wasn’t slurred, but it would soon be if he continued drinking.

You offered him a soft smile in response to his compliment. ‘’And my husband is about to be drunk.’’ 

Aegon grinned. ‘’I’m perfectly sober.’’

You shook your head as you approached, then sat on the stool by the tub as he bathed. ‘’If you’re sober, why is this pitcher almost empty?’’ 

Aegon laughed. He was caught. 

‘’Will you be joining me in the bath?’’

He wished he could spend every night of his life just like this — just you and him, alone with one another. No more worrying about his duties as first son of the king and heir of the throne. No more worried about needing to produce heirs. Neither of you were ready to raise children, but his mother kept making subtle hints that a babe was needed soon. 

‘’It depends.’’ 

Aegon leaned back in the tub and took another sip of wine, enjoying the warmth enveloping his body. ‘’I wouldn't mind some company,’’ he said with a playful glint in his eyes. 

You chuckled, standing up and untying the sash of your robe. Under, you had on a nightgown made of the same material, but in a lighter shade. It had delicate thin straps and almost touched the floor. You until the ties of the straps and stepped out of the nightgown, which made Aegon’s mouth curl into a smirk. 

Carefully, you stepped into the tub and lowered yourself to sit opposite him. 

Aegon's gaze lingered on you, grateful that you were his. To his eyes, there was no woman more beautiful than you. Without a word, he reached out and gently took hold of your ankles, pulling your feet closer to him until they rested against his thighs.

Before getting wed, you had heard the whispers at court about how Aegon wouldn’t make a great husband. How he could never be faithful to his wife as he was always frequenting brothels and sleeping around. How cold he was emotionally. 

He wasn’t like that with you. Everything that had been said turned out to be wrong. 

‘’How long can we stay here?’’ he asked, his fingers tracing patterns along your calves. 

You smiled at his touch, allowing yourself to relax. Despite the rumors and whispers that had surrounded him, you knew the truth — Aegon was kind, caring, and fiercely devoted to you. No one could compete with your beauty. He also had a dirty mind and a slight drinking problem, but you knew how to deal with him.

‘’As long as we want,’’ you replied, running your fingers through the water. ‘’We are not expected anywhere until the morrow.’’

Aegon sighed. He hated duty. ‘’Sometimes, I dream of a life where we can be together like this, without the weight of our titles pressing down on us. A life where we can choose our own path, without the expectations of others. I…I don’t want to be king. Unfortunately, my whole future has been planned before I knew how to speak.’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron   @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes  @thirsty4nonlivingmen  @naty-1001  @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl  @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester

[cornstarchbags]

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[rafedaddy01]

Rafe has been obsessed with his assistant y/n ass

And she knows it

He always looks at it and even "accidentally "brushed his hand across her butt

Of course he is happily married so nothing has happened between them

Until now

Y/n walks into his office late in the evening

Slowly taking of all of her clothes telling him:

" Please f my ass sir"

-

You’ve seen the way your bosses eyes occasionally drop down to your ass and the way he ‘accidentally’ brushes his hands against your behind whenever he can. You also know that he’s happily married and would never lay a finger on you himself, which is why you’re standing in his office late at night when everybody has already gone home.

“Y/n, it’s late. Why haven’t you gone home” Rafes eyes are glued onto his computer screen but immediately look up when you shut his door and lock it. “”Y/n?” He clears his throat as he eyes your body up and down, watching as you reach over and pull the blinds closed.

“Just needed one more thing for the night, sir” you step closer to his desk and slowly start pulling your dress down until your standing in only the black lingerie you put on this morning. “Will you fuck my ass, sir?” You flutter your little lashes as you watch Rafes cheeks blush up red.

He pushes his chair back from his desk, standing and walking closer to you, “since you asked so nicely”

“Thank you, sir” you smile as you turn around and wiggle your ass at him, looking behind your shoulder and enticing him further.

“My god” he says under his breath as his eyes fall from your face to the material wrapped tightly around your flesh.

He wasted no time reaching out and palming your ass, his fingers leaving indents as he squishes the skin before pulling his hand back and swatting you, watching it jiggle and loving the little yelp that escapes you. He holds your ass with one hand as the other reaches for his belt, undoing it and pulling it from the loops of his dress pants. You watch his every move as he grabs your wrists, pins them behind your back and ties his belt around them. He brings you to his desk and pushes you down onto it, your face presses against the cool metal and your breathing picks up as you hear the zipper of his pants being pulled down.

He pulls the little panties off your body and groans as he takes in your naked skin. “Please, sir” you wiggle your ass, inpatient and ready to take what he’s about to give to you.

He doesn’t say a word but you feel his fingers touch you. You hear him spit against your tight ring and feel it dribble down as he pushes a finger into you and you wince then moan as he continues stimulating you.

He continues warming you up, shoving a second finger alongside the first as he feels you relax under him. You’re already a moaning mess, your pussy pulsating around nothing as you grow wetter by the second at the thought of what’s to come.

He pulls his fingers out, pushing your legs wider with his knees as his hands play with your ass. Palming the flesh and slapping it just to hear you gasp and watch the flesh jiggle before his eyes.

He grips the base of his freed cock with one hand and taps his tip against your hole. You moan at the small sensation.

“Rafe” you breath out a moan “please, sir. I need it” you groan as you feel him start to slowly push his tip in.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you fucking want” he grits as he feels your tightness start to envelope him, sucking him in.

He pushes all the way in, groaning at how tight you are. You moan his name and curses as he bottoms out and stays still for a minute to take it all in. “Good, you feel so fucking good” he chuckles breathlessly.

“Such a little slut. Coming into my office, Late at night and asking me to fuck your ass” he pulls back slowly only to slam forward with aggression.

You gasp at the new sensation. Arms reaching out for anything to grasp onto, only to be pulled back by his belt tightly wrapped around your wrists.

“Don’t try to run now” he snaps his hips again, more roughly this time.

“You wanted this” he pulls on the belt, tightening it further so your hands have no where to move.

“You asked for this” another harsh thrust as he picks up the pace.

You’re a babbling mess of thank yous and sirs and pleases. Your eyes permanently stuck in the back of your head as your mouth hangs out and drool spills out all over your bosses paperwork. “You feel so good” you moan out his name, tears spilling out your eyes as you thrash. The pleasure all too much.

His palm comes down against you ass, the sound of flesh on flesh echoes in the office as he lands another smack on the other side.

“Yeah? You like it” his voice is shakey and breathless as he continues putting in work, hips moving back and forth.

“Yes, oh god yes. I love it” you squeal. The mixture of pain and pleasure bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“You want me to cum inside this tight little ass?” He lands another harsher smack against your ass.

The skin turning a dark red color from all the abuse it’s taken. You know it’ll be hard to sit down tomorrow, but you don’t care.

You felt the way his cock swelled up, the way it throbbed and alerted you he was already close to cumming.

You felt your own insides flutter and tighten, especially when Rafes fingers moved to toy with your clit.

“Holy shit, you’re so wet” he groaned as he felt the sticky juices that gathered against your thighs and dripped down onto his desk.

“Maybe I should fuck this sweet pussy next” his fingers pushed down onto your clit, circling it and loving the way your body and mouth reacted.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cum-“ your voice moaned and squeaked as your legs started to shake.

“There we go, baby. Cum for me” he soothed you as he continued to fuck you through it and his fingers flicked your pearl faster with each thrust he delivered.

You clenched harder around him and he choked and groaned as he couldn’t contain himself much longer, releasing every last drop into that sweet, juicy ass he stared and dreamed about every damn day.

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @rafemotherfuckingcameron @dilvcv @starkeysheart @wearemadeofstardust0 @theoraekenslover @mema10 @writingroom21

[incognit0slut]

hii, i love you’re writing and i have a song request idea. the song too sweet by hozier would be so cute it could be angst to smut and it could happen late morning or late at night since the lyrics. idk if it makes sense i just thought it’d be cute 😭. again i love your work sm okay, ty, bye 🫶🏾💖🫶🏾💖🫶🏾

Spencer thinks you’re too sweet for a damaged man like him.

Warnings: (18+) Professor Reid x Student Fem Reader. Age gap (he’s in his 40s or post-prison era, Reader is in her 20s). Angst and smut. 2.8k words A/n: anon I took your request but I changed it a little to how I interpret this song… which means a lot of ANGST💔 I hope you don’t mind

He knew you were here. He always knew. The usual chaotic sprawl of books scattered throughout his apartment seemed to be in order, and there was a comforting scent lingering in the air that unmistakably belonged to you.

Although Spencer could never really put his finger on your scent. Sometimes you exuded a sweet fragrance, like the delicate petals of a flower, while at other times, a crisp, fresh aroma lingered around you, reminiscent of a morning breeze, or perhaps the soft scent of rain. 

But it didn't matter whether you smelled like a garden in full bloom or the crisp air after a rainstorm, the mere proximity to you brought him the peace he was all too familiar with, and that calmness enveloped him as he made his way toward his bedroom.

You looked like an angel. Sweet, calm, serene. His eyes drifted towards your sleeping form, and he couldn't help but wonder how you could sleep so well after the conversation you both shared this morning. The weight of your mutual decision to end things for good hung heavy in the air, yet here you lay, seemingly unaffected.

He watched the gentle rise and fall of your chest, each rhythmic pattern of your breathing seemed to draw him closer. One step, then another, until he found himself standing at the edge of the bed, looking down at you, vulnerable in your sleep. And then, as if pulled by an unseen force, he sank into the space beside you.

The bed dipped beneath his weight, and so did his heart. Spencer knew this wasn't the wisest thing to do. He was supposed to be the responsible one, after all, he was older than you. With age came experience, or so he believed, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he should be the voice of reason.

But as he lay beside you, he couldn't help but question his judgment. Was it truly wisdom that guided him, or was it simply the fear of facing the unknown? Age and maturity seemed like a flimsy construct now, overshadowed by the raw intensity of his emotions. With a heavy sigh, he placed a hand on your waist.

One touch, he told himself, one touch was all he would allow himself.

You felt the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin, grounding you in the present moment. Spencer watched intently, well aware he should have pulled back, yet, despite his better judgment, he found himself unable to let go, his grip on you tightening almost instinctively.

His gaze traced your face in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window. Despite the early hour, your features seemed to radiate with a warmth that defied the darkness of the dawn. The lines of worry on your brow softened, your lips curved into a gentle smile, and for a fleeting moment, you appeared to embody the very essence of sunshine itself.

It was a peculiar sight, Spencer thought, considering how the world beyond the window remained shrouded in darkness.

"You're home," you muttered as if the word home was a concept you both shared. Perhaps it had once been true, or perhaps it was a dream that had never quite materialized. He felt a pang in his chest, a bittersweet reminder of what once was, or what could have been.

"You're not supposed to be here," he mumbled softly.

"I was going to give you back your keys, but you weren't here," you confessed. "And I wanted to wait for you."

A small smile tugged at his lips. "So you decided to wait on my bed?"

"It seemed like the most comfortable spot."

"You've always liked my bed."

You shook your head. "It's not the bed, per se. It's the feeling of being close to you..." Your gaze softened as you met his eyes. "Even when you're not here."

Time seemed to stand still as he met your gaze, a rush of emotions swirling beneath the surface. "I'm not here most of the time," he said after a pause.

"I know."

"That's not fair to you."

A heavy silence fell into place.

"I know," you replied quietly.

"And the next time we do see each other," he continued, his tone tinged with resignation, "Is when I'm standing in front of class with you sitting between the seats."

"Spencer, I know," you pressed, your voice barely concealing the ache in your heart. "We went through this conversation this morning."

"Then why are you still here?"

You held his gaze, your eyes reflecting countless emotions—sadness, longing, and perhaps a hint of defiance. "Because," you began softly, "I still can't bring myself to leave."

His heart clenched at your words, the weight of them settling heavily upon him. He had expected defiance, anger, perhaps even resentment, but your quiet admission caught him off guard.

"Why?" he asked.

You looked away. "You know why."

He knew the reasons, of course, he knew them all too well. But hearing them spoken aloud, seeing the pain reflected in your eyes, brought the harsh reality of the situation. He reached out, gently grasping your chin and guiding your gaze back to meet his.

"This is for the best," he replied quietly, though his voice wavered with uncertainty. He knew the words sounded hollow, even to his own ears, but he couldn't bring himself to admit the truth—that perhaps, deep down, he was trying to protect himself as much as he was trying to protect you.

"For me or for you?"

He hesitated, the lump in his throat growing heavier with each passing moment.

"For both of us," he admitted softly.

It was the truth, undeniable and painful. He couldn't deny the impact of your relationship if it continued down its current path. Not only was he much older than you, but he was also supposed to be your mentor, your teacher, your professor.

His role was meant to guide you. He was supposed to impart knowledge, not to engage in illicit affairs behind closed doors. He had allowed himself to become too invested in you, to give you more attention than was appropriate, more than was fair to his other students.

But it wasn't just about him anymore—it was about you. He couldn't bear the thought of tainting your pure, sweet soul with the darkness that came with him. He had done things he wasn't proud of, and made choices that he wished he could undo, and now, as he looked at you, he couldn't help but feel a sense of shame.

You deserved better than to be with someone who carried the weight of his past like a heavy burden.

"So this it?" You asked.

All he could do was nod. A lump formed in your throat as you struggled to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. "Fine. Just..." You paused, taking a shaky breath to steady yourself. "I'll leave as soon as you tell me the truth."

He felt a knot tighten in his chest as he waited for you to continue.

"Tell me you don't love me and I'll leave."

Your words hit him like a punch to the gut, the pain evident in his eyes as he struggled to find the right response. He knew that he had to be honest with you, no matter how difficult it might be.

But as he opened his mouth to speak, the words caught in his throat. How could he deny the truth when every fiber of his being longed for you? How could he let you go when you were the one thing he couldn't bear to lose?

"I..." he began, his voice faltering as he searched for the courage to speak the words you so desperately needed to hear. But no matter how hard he tried, the words refused to come.

"Say it," you urged. "Say you don't love me and I'll leave you for good."

Taking a deep breath, he met your gaze and braced himself for the pain his words would inflict on you.

"I don't love you," he whispered, the words feeling like a betrayal even as they left his lips. It was a lie, and he knew it. And yet, he couldn't find the courage to admit his feelings for you.

The air around you seemed to thicken with tension. He had braced himself for the pain his lie would bring, but nothing could prepare him for the look of hurt and disbelief that crossed your face at his words. You were the one who asked for this, yet hearing him admit to it so easily shattered your heart into pieces.

"You're... you're lying."

Spencer felt a pang of guilt shoot through him at the sight of your pain. He knew that he would regret what he was about to do, but he couldn't stand the thought of you walking away without knowing the truth, without knowing how much he truly cared for you.

So he closed the distance between you, his hand gently cradling the back of your neck. And then, without hesitation, he leaned in and captured your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. For a moment, you were lost in the sensation, the warmth of his touch, the tenderness of his kiss.

But as quickly as it had begun, it came to an end, leaving you breathless and uncertain. You pulled back and searched his eyes for answers. "You're lying," you repeated.

He sighed heavily, his forehead resting against yours. "I-I don't love you."

Your chest tightened again. How could he say that when his touch was so tender, when his gaze held so much depth? Frustration and hurt boiled over as your nails dug into his skin, gripping his wrist firmly as you held his face close to yours.

"Stop lying to me," you pleaded almost desperately. "Stop fucking lying to yourself."

He closed his eyes. He knew that he couldn't keep lying to you, and yet, the words refused to leave his lips, trapped by the fear of what might happen if he dared to speak them aloud.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart as he pulled you closer, not knowing what else to do to ease the pain away.

So he kissed you again.

He kissed you as if he was apologizing, each gentle press of his lips against yours a silent plea for forgiveness. He kissed you as if he needed to convey his feelings that he couldn't express with words, his touch speaking volumes where his voice fell short.

He kissed you as if you were everything to him, as if the taste of you was sweeter than any other, as if he couldn't bear the thought of a life without you in it. He kissed you desperately and unapologetically, it was sweet yet painful, tender yet desperate, as if every moment shared between you was both a blessing and a curse.

You could taste the bitterness of goodbye on his lips, yet you couldn't bring yourself to let go, not when his touch still felt like home. So you pushed your tongue into his mouth, savoring the taste of him even as you knew it would only make saying goodbye that much harder.

Your breathing became heavy as you felt his hand glide down from your cheek to your neck. He then pulled away, his lips still tingling from the taste of you as he licked them unconsciously. His gaze followed the movement of his hand as it settled on your breast.

You could feel the tension between you crackling in the air, the desire that pulsed between you almost tangible, as he brushed your nipple over your shirt. A gasp escaped your lips as he continued to tease you, each touch sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body.

You knew that this wasn't the wisest thing to do. You were both playing with fire and giving in to the temptation could only lead to more heartache. But you couldn't help yourself, not when your body was coming alive with the familiarity of his touch, not when you knew that this might be the last time you could feel him as close.

So when his hand slipped further down, tracing a path over your stomach, past your legs, you let him. The anticipation built within you as his touch hiked up your skirt, your breath catching in your throat. And when the rough pad of his fingers ghosted over the material of your panties, you found yourself instinctively spreading your legs apart, inviting him closer.

As the first electric surge rushes through you, the smallest of breaths escapes your lips, signaling the release of the tension you had been holding in your lungs. Your hands found purchase against his shoulders, nails digging into his t-shirt tightly as you felt him pressing onto your folds.

You both stared at each other, a silent exchange of emotions passing between you. There were so many emotions in his—sadness, frustration, and a burning desire that mirrored your own. And yet, despite the turmoil that raged within him, you found yourself unable to look away, drawn in by the intensity of his gaze.

As his hand worked its magic between your thighs, you felt yourself growing wetter by the minute, desire pooling low in your belly. And then, with a sense of purpose, he pulled his hand away, his fingers deftly finding the band of your panties as he coaxed the thin material down your legs. 

How did he manage to bring himself into this situation again? It was a familiar pattern, one that he had promised himself he would break, and yet, here he was, like a moth to a flame, irresistibly drawn to you.

Or perhaps it was more like you were a precious flower, delicate and beautiful, and he was drawn to you like a bee to nectar, unable to resist the sweet temptation that you offered.

Whatever the reason, he knew that he couldn't stay away from you. With trembling hands, he buried his fingers between your thighs once more, finally touching your bare, slick skin. The slickness of your arousal coated his fingers as he explored every inch of your delicate folds, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

And then, unable to resist any longer, he pressed a single finger inside your entrance, the sensation causing you to gasp in pleasure. He moved slowly at first, savoring the feeling of your tightness enveloping him, before picking up the pace, his movements becoming more urgent and desperate with each passing moment.

"Please," you muttered, gulping and concentrating on the feeling of him slowly pumping his single digit in and out of your tightening, dripping walls. 

But what were you begging for? For him not to stop? Or for him not to let you go? Maybe both, and for now, the only thing he could do was give you the pleasure you so desperately craved.

He could feel the tension building within you, the way your body arched and trembled. And as he continued to pleasure you, he made a silent vow to himself—to give you everything he could at this moment, to make you feel alive and wanted, even if it was just for a fleeting moment.

So he continued to move his finger inside you, and as he felt you drawing closer to the edge, he knew that he couldn't stop now. His thumb found your clit, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips as he applied gentle pressure. Then with a sense of urgency, he plunged another finger deep inside you, stretching you in the most delicious way possible.

Your grip on his shirt tightened, your nails digging into the fabric as you clung to him desperately. "Pl-Please," you begged, heavy eyes searching for his own. "Please don't leave me."

His heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in your voice, the depth of emotion written plainly across your face. He couldn't bear to look at you any further, so he buried his face in the crook of your neck, pressing tender kisses against your skin as his fingers continued their fast-paced rhythm.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice filled with anguish. "I'm so sorry."

His words were barely audible over the sound of your ragged breaths, but you heard him clearly, and a loud moan ripped out of you. This was the cruelest form of rejection; to find pleasure in his touch only to be denied the warmth of his affection. You wanted to push him away, to scream at him for playing with your emotions, for making you believe there was something more. But as his fingers continued their relentless assault on your senses, driving you ever closer to the edge of ecstasy, you found yourself unable to resist.

So you surrendered to him completely, because all that mattered was here and now—the ache between your legs, his lips worshiping your body, and the undeniable connection that bound you together, even as the world threatened to tear you apart.

[ddarker-dreams]

A Fool's Errand.

Yan Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, imbalanced power dynamics, alcohol mention/consumption, not SFW implications. Word count: 2.1k.

“Now that’s a scary look.” 

Ice cubes clink together as you stir your drink, feigning an air of indifference. The warm pinks swirl in a hypnotizing display. Golden flecks catch the room’s sparse lighting, shimmering within the miniature whirlpool. 

You return your focus to the reflection in your pocket mirror. 

The countenance that greets you is both familiar and foreign. Color is infused into your lips, brushed along your cheeks, and blended atop your eyelids. It’d been a while since you had applied makeup, but the muscle memory kicked in eventually. After some touch-ups, you found the results satisfactory. From this vantage point, you can admire your décolleté, complemented by a dainty choker with a butterfly charm. 

You can also see a pair of eyes staring back at you. 

You clasp the mirror shut, wishing the shadowy apparition would disappear.

Instead, it creeps closer, footsteps echoing throughout the empty room. 

You sip your concoction. It’s tart, with a splash of sweetness that soon fades into a bitter aftertaste. A hazy warmth swaddles your mind in a tight embrace. 

Blade materializes beside you like a phantom coming to life. His presence is heavy and impossible to ignore, but you try your best. He’s frowning, almost glaring at you, the skin beneath his eyes wrinkled in displeasure. Your continued apathy does little to soothe the brewing tension. 

This time, it’s him who breaks the silence. 

“How much have you had to drink?”

“This is my third glass,” you admit. His eyebrows scrunch together. “I thought you’d come faster.” 

“If you anticipated your failure, why bother?” 

“I dunno. Curiosity? Boredom?” Your finger traces the drink’s rim. Suppressing a wicked smile, you add, “Maybe I wanted to find a date.” 

For a fleeting instant, it’s like the room’s oxygen rushed out at once, leaving you to asphyxiate. Your eyes tell a different story — nothing’s changed, at least, not physically — aside from his pupils shrinking to a pinprick’s size. Faintly, what remains of your cognition advises against poking the beast. You’ve already done enough. In the coming days, you’re likely to regret this entire escapade. 

However, your present self finds immense satisfaction in spewing petty jabs. 

“Be mindful of your tongue, girl.” 

Blade’s timbre is dark and gravelly. Shivers envelop your body, which you chase off with another hearty drink. His eyes follow your throat as you gulp the liquid down. They remain fixated there for an unnerving few seconds. Shifting around in your seat, it’s growing harder to deny the magnitude of who you’re dealing with. His suffocating favor doesn’t grant you absolute immunity. 

You try reaching for another sip, only for him to stop you. 

“That’s enough,” he says. His grip around your wrist tightens when you try wrenching it free. “We’re heading back.” 

Heading back. To the life of a fugitive, forever on the run, wreaking chaos wherever he and his band of clairvoyant criminals set foot. It isn’t an alluring prospect. This brief stint has been the longest you’ve gone without constant surveillance. Even if it’s a fleeting illusion, destined to slip through your fingers, you want to hold on just a bit longer. 

The alcohol flowing through your system further emboldens you. “You wanna end our date so fast?” 

This little provocation seemingly accomplishes the impossible — it throws Blade off guard. 

“‘Our?’” He repeats, the upward inflection uncharacteristic of his monotonous voice. 

“I was lookin’ for a date and you happened to come along, so yeah, why not?” You say it as if it’s the most obvious thing. He blinks. “What? Am I not pretty enough?” 

Blade’s lips part and close in rapid succession. He knows what you’re doing, you know that he knows what you’re doing, yet your flirtations still have a visible effect. His body’s gone stiff and his jaw’s set, like he’s concentrating greatly. You hear his leather glove creak as he clenches and unclenches his fists. 

Leaning onto the counter, you look up at him through your eyelashes. “You must not like me after all.” 

“That—” he exhales sharply, his subsequent words coming out in a low, measured drawl, “... You have until you finish your drink.” 

While your mind slowly processes this information, he pulls out a barstool and sits beside you. You can tell he’s still disgruntled, yet you’ve established a temporary truce. For all the brutality he’s capable of, he's willingly domesticated the instant you offer a piece of yourself. A guard dog who requires no leash, for leaving your side is unthinkable. 

This is what’s doomed you and posed as your salvation. 

You break eye contact. 

Outside, you hear the whirr of traffic through the bar’s thin walls. You’d already forgotten the name of the planet you’re visiting. It’s indistinguishable from most IPC-infected civilizations — intrusive advertisements carved in the night sky and menial work for the masses, who will never climb as high as they wish. The Stellaron Hunter’s prolonged presence is an ill omen for the oblivious populace. 

If you asked, Blade would tell you what they’re doing here and what will become of the inhabitants.

These days, you find it’s best not to know. 

“Why didn’t you try dating me, anyway?” You ask. An ice cube begins melting into the drink, losing itself. “I’ve always wondered about that. Who knows? I may have fallen head over heels for you.” 

His answer comes surprisingly fast, slicing through the air like his weapon of choice. “I am not the sort of man you should be with.” 

You whip your head in his direction, utterly dumbfounded. “Huh?” 

“What you deserve… I can never give,” Blade’s eyes betray nothing of his inner thoughts. “It’s best that you never believed otherwise.” 

The universe’s momentum slows to a crawl. You sit up straight, ignoring the wave of dizziness the abrupt motion inflicts, scrutinizing his visage. Dull emotions attempt to burst the pleasant buzz you've cocooned in. Their sharp edges push and push, testing the material’s durability. The lights flicker, unwilling to cast him in permanent light. 

“If you care enough to consider all that, then why—” 

Why rob me of normalcy? 

Why take what made me into the person I am? 

Why deprive me of my life to make what’s left of yours better?

He lets you down what remains of your drink. It burns as it travels down your tightening throat, washing away any playfulness that lingered on your tongue. Your stomach turns in on itself. Still, you lap up every drop, chasing after a numbness that can’t outweigh the grief. The act of pulling the glass away proves overwhelming for your frazzled brain. You sway, temporarily stupefied. 

The cold leather of one hand and textured gauze from another steady your shoulders, keeping your body in place. 

“Careful. You’ll only hurt yourself.”

You glare at him halfheartedly. “What’s it matter? Seeing me in pain obviously means nothin’ to you.” 

He pauses, considering a response you’ll never be privy to, as he keeps his lips shut. Instead, he asks, “Can you walk?” 

This questioning of your motor functions has you scoffing. Wordlessly, you hop to the ground, where you stay still, intent on keeping yourself steady. Despite your best efforts, your surroundings spin ever so slightly. The minimalist furniture of this automaton-run establishment blurs together. Heat flushes throughout your body, warming your cheeks like an internal furnace. 

You overestimated your tolerance. It’s been a while since you’ve indulged — you should’ve considered that. 

Your weak performance confirms Blade’s suspicions. He approaches you, raising his hands, likely to keep you secure like he had before. You dodge his unwanted advances out of reflex. This proves to be a mistake, as you lack the coordination to make any sharp movements. Your ankle gives out and your eyes fly wide open, arms flailing about for purchase. 

Blade moves faster than you can process. You’re made to feel weightless as he lifts you up, holding you firm against his chest. 

“Hey, put me down! I don’t— I can walk just fine!” You exclaim, writhing around like a fish out of water. Exerting a mere fraction of his strength is enough to render your struggle useless. Realizing that all you’re doing is tiring yourself out, you go limp, your breathing coming out erratic from the exertion. Humiliation prickles throughout like hot needles waiting to erupt from your flesh.

“Are you finished?” 

You’re close enough to feel the low vibration of his voice. It rattles your bones, burrowing deep within the marrow. You express your resignation by averting your gaze. With that, he walks out, holding you in a bridal carry. Cool air nips at your exposed skin as he kicks the door open. It lets out into a back alley, where he must’ve skulked in from. 

He stops here and gingerly places you down, muttering, “Lean against the wall.” 

You do as instructed, though given your impaired state, you would’ve fumbled around for support without his prompting. He sheds his outer black jacket and drapes it along your bare shoulders. The fabric engulfs you, smelling faintly metallic. After ensuring you’re properly covered, he scoops you back up, maneuvering your body around like it’s weightless. 

He follows the labyrinth-like expanse of alleyways, leaving the sounds and sights of the densely populated area behind. Not a word is uttered or a glance shared. You wet your lips, your mind racing for ways to break the tense silence. Blade’s always been a man of a few words, but this bout is different than what you’re used to. Heavier, somehow. Your actions have gone beyond petty defiance. Typically, you can gauge what nonsense you can and can’t get away with. 

With this latest excursion, however—

—You’ve stumbled into uncharted territory. 

“What now?” You ask, your voice unusually meek. 

“You’ll be leaving this star system before long. We’re headed towards the pickup site.” 

Your ears perk up at his word choice. “You aren’t coming?” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“I’ve yet to fulfill my portion of the script on this planet.” 

“... Oh.” 

You can feel the look he sends your way. 

“Does this displease you?” 

“Ah, well,” you take a deep breath, finding the act of verbalizing your thoughts in this state difficult, “I didn’t think you… liked being apart.” 

“My preferences are irrelevant. Kafka will ensure you’re cared for until I’m suited to be around you again.” 

You furrow your eyebrows together, parsing through this information bit by bit. It’s like your mental faculties have been slathered with tar, slowing the gears in the mire. You’re only ever stuck with Kafka when Blade’s regenerating from significant injuries or dangerously mara-struck. You reflect on the evening’s events. The ease at which you snuck out, how it felt like the universe itself aligned along the way… 

Ah. 

You’re the ideal variable to tamper with when increasing (or decreasing) his mara. 

It’s a gross feeling — this sensation of being used like a pawn to affect the performance of the board’s stronger pieces. Perhaps the inevitably of it all is why he isn’t upset with you, or he might be trying to delay the onslaught of mara. Whatever the case, you’ve inadvertently done your part for this script. Stirring the sediments of his shortcomings and shoving your dislike of him to the forefront. 

Is this all you are? A side character in the epic Destiny’s Slave has penned? 

You grit your teeth. 

Using what little strength���s left in your muscles, you sit up, slinking your arms around his neck for support. Blade pauses, clearly more interested in your machinations than dropping you off like a package. He turns to face you. Though you’re nearly nose to nose, the night obscures his features, save for his eyes. The two blood-red moons have an otherworldly glow to them. Their gravitational pull is dangerous, yet you approach them as a willing sacrifice regardless. 

A gentle graze of your lips against his is enough for him to stop breathing. You can do what his mountains of deceased enemies gave their lives trying to accomplish. He must know you’re up to something; his grip is nearly bruising from the restraint he’s exercising. You test his fraying resolve by allowing your lips to connect. It’s purposefully brief, ending before it truly began. Upon pulling away, he chases after you, but you deny him.

Blade sounds pained when murmuring your name. 

Whether it’s a plea or a warning, you can’t tell. 

“What?” You ask. “You’re the one trying to get rid of me.” 

“...” 

Blade leers down at you. You meet his stare, unyielding, drunk on the idea of inconveniencing the Stellaron Hunters to any extent.

"... Stay still," he eventually orders, backing you against the alley's wall. "Time is short."

You wait until he's nipping at your neck to smile.

[sleepyangelkami]

PLAYTHING s.winchester

𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 1.2K

SAM WINCHESTER X FEM!READER

𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - though on the road with dean, sam always comes home to you whatever chance he gets. this time, he feels he's been gone to long and when he finds you sleeping in only his shirt... he aches for you.

𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - smut, dom!sam, sub!reader, p!v, sleepy sex, praise kink, reader mentioned to be smaller than sam, practically porn with no plot, gentle sex, unprotected sex, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

exhaustion coated sam as he fished around in the back pocket of his jeans, looking for the spare key to your house. it was late and by now, the stars covered the sky. he knew you'd be asleep, that's why he didn't bother knocking.

the door opened silently and sam silently cursed you for leaving your hallway light on. he was always telling you to turn it off before bed but without him there... you felt safer with it on.

he kicked his boots off, not wanting to make a mess of your carpet and found himself walking up the stairs, switching the light off as he went. he tossed his bag somewhere by the top of the stairs, knowing he'd come back to it in the morning.

all that mattered now was well, you.

he opened the door of your bedroom. it was dark but he could still make out the silhouette of your body. your leg was propped up, practically cuddling the duvet. he could see a shirt enveloping your body, too big to be yours.

as he slid his shirt off, he found himself longing to feel you, to touch you. it'd only been a week since he was in this room last and yet it had felt like an eternity that he'd been deprived of your touch.

whenever sam came home after his trips, he'd slide his clothes off and get right into bed. which is exactly what he did now. he wasted no time in enveloping his large arms around your body, pulling you in close.

the smell of your shampoo made his eyes flutter closed and the scent of his own cologne against the sleep shirt you'd stolen from him made his lips quirk.

"sammy?" your voice was a quiet, soft mumble. he loved the way you sounded when you'd just woken, so vulnerable. perhaps he loved it so much because he knew you wouldn't be so vulnerable with anyone else. just him.

"'m here, sweetheart." he felt you move in his embrace. he loved holding you like this, he wished he could get impossibly closer, as if it were possible.

you moved so that you were facing his chest, slightly lower down in the bed than he was. "how was your hunt?" even in the dark, your hands trailed up his arms. he was wearing nothing but his boxers. but feeling his body, there was something about it that just assured you he was really there. "missed you."

"yeah? how much?" the man ignored your first question, his hands sliding around your own body.

you couldn't describe the soft feeling of when he'd come home, feeling him, knowing he was there while he did the same to you. it was rather... lovely.

you felt his fingers inch higher, trailing past the flimsy material of his own shirt on your body. suddenly, you felt the base of his fingers against your panties.

"sammy." you practically whimpered out, low and sleepy. "'m tired."

"i know, honey." you felt him move your hair with his free hands, pressing gentle, damp kisses against your neck. not the kind of kisses he usually left, sucking and leaving marks, roughly and making sure everyone knew you were his. no, this was different. he wasn't kissing you to leave any marks or to induce pleasure, even. he was kissing you so softly, to let you know you were safe with him. "you don' have to do anything, okay? jus' lay there 'n let me do the work, yeah?"

a soft, "okay." left your lips, though your mind was still half torn between sleep and wake.

"good girl." pressing the same, simple kiss to your cheek as his fingers hooked against your cotton panties. you could feel him drag them down against your legs but truthfully, your eyes had fallen shut, tiredness seeping into you.

he pushed his own boxers out of the way too, discarding the clothing against the ground before grabbing his dick in his hand.

if he were being honest, he'd felt himself harden the minute he'd seen your body, pretty cotton panties on show, hardly covered by his own shirt.

perhaps he was being territorial now, but there was something so aching about seeing you in his shirt. he knew you were his, that was a known fact, but seeing you like this, it lit a part of him ablaze.

he moved his hand up and down his shaft, making sure it was hard enough before maneuvering it up against your wet hole.

he didn't push in yet, gently testing the waters as he pushed the tip around your cunt, softly against your clit and finally back down to your sopping hole again.

"jus' relax, baby." littering kisses against your skin. "gonna do all the work."

the hum that left your lips was slick with tiredness but when he pushed himself in, he was met with a stuttered gasp that left your lips. a grunt left his own, usually a string of curses would accompany it.

but not tonight.

often, he'd spend the first few minutes teasing you as much as he could.

but not tonight.

"good girl." he mumbled against your forehead which he had kissed tenderly. "doin' s'good."

he didn't speak much tonight, which he usually did. usually, he couldn't get himself to stop talking. dirty words and the sounds of loud moans would bounce from wall to wall. now, the room was filled with only heavy breaths and lazy whimpers that could be heard from you, buried in the crook of his neck.

but he didn't need you to say anything either. the mere feeling was enough.

it was different than usual. the feeling was indescribable, how comfortable you were with him. the realisation of that on his part was something so riveting.

even now, between the twisted blankets of your bed. you were half asleep, hardly able to keep your eyes open and yet you trusted him with the most vulnerable thing that you could. he realised how protected you felt with him, his large body enclosing around yours, hands gentle against your waist while your head stayed hidden between his neck and shoulder.

your gentle breaths, tiniest of whimpers in his ears was enough for him.

and it didn't take him long to get close.

perhaps he really had been deprived of you.

your breath grew slightly more shallow. "sam." is all you could whimper out, he knew exactly what it'd meant.

"i know, baby." he all but whispered back. "'s okay, let go f'me."

and when you came undone around his cock, he felt himself do the same.

even when everything was done, when the feelings floated away into the air and everything was replaced by this heavy weight of tiredness, he stayed inside you for a few minutes. he stayed inside of you until finally, he realised he was going to fall asleep if he didn't move.

and when he did move out of you, he still kept you close. his large hands trailed up your body, holding it as close as humanly possible.

"really did miss you, sammy." you whispered in the utter darkness.

it was enough for him to think. to really think. perhaps the life he lived wasn't worth it. if he had to give everything up just for a few moments like his with you, then he would.

"missed you so much more, angel."

and with the soft movements of one another's breaths, you fell asleep rather quickly, unable to fight of the tiredness that washed over you both.

sam made sure you didn't leave his embrace until the sun began to rise over the horizon.

main masterlist/sam's masterlist

[alastorss]

hii!, hope you have a nice day<3, could I request alastor with a VERY VERY ticklish reader? with like alastor giving a hug to reader and him figuring out they’re ticklish (and using it to his advantage, fluff too!♡︎)

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Alastor has tried everything he could think of, but your mood still hasn't improved.

He's resorted to the most humiliating scenario imaginable: knocking on Charlie's door and asking for her help while grinding his teeth. For you, he's swallowing his pride.

There's no discernible reason for you to be upset, nor has the Radio Demon been successful in finding a way to make your terrible crying stop.

You might as well plunge your hand into his chest and squeeze his heart until it stills. At least then he wouldn't have to feel this horrible ache just looking at your tears.

"Did you offer them their favourite food?"

"Of course I did."

Charlie thinks for a moment, hand on her chin. The Princess of Hell has a whole whiteboard of ideas going on how to make you feel better.

"How about hot chocolate? Hot chocolate always makes me feel better!"

"I don't think that's quite—"

"Oh! I know! What about singing a song? That always makes us feel better!"

Alastor's head tilts. While that was true, he's not sure the sentiment would exactly carry over.

"I... don't think so, my dear."

Finally, after filling the board with countless ideas and subsequently crossing them off, Charlie sighs and flops onto the couch next to him. "I give up. If only they could be cured with your hugs or something."

"... Hugs?"

Deathly silence fills the air as the Princess stares at him blankly.

"You... did try that, right?"

Alastor's ears twitch in lieu of an answer.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You've decided to hole up in your room again.

For whatever reason, it annoys Alastor. He hasn't been able to see your face all day, and as ridiculous as it sounds, he's become quite attached to you.

He doesn't bother knocking, instead opting to slip through the crack of your door in shadows and materializing beside your bed with a dimming smile.

You don't seem to stir at his sudden appearance, apparently used to his shenanigans.

"What do you want?" You murmur miserably from under your blankets, which are coiled up around you while you wallow.

"Come now, darling. It's a beautiful day in Hell! Why don't you join me for a stroll?"

He perches himself on the edge of your bed as you groan and pull the sheets tighter to your body.

"Go away, Al."

"Why, you've been absolutely pitiful, my dear. What's gotten you so down?" Reaching over, he peels the blankets away from your face so he can finally look at you.

There's a familiar throbbing ache of his heart when he sees your tears. When you don't answer, he sighs.

"Would a hug help?" He asks, trying not to cringe. He holds his arms open with a shaky smile. You blink at him with wide eyes.

"... Really?"

He hesitates, but then your eyes sparkle with the tiniest bit of wonder and happiness, so he surrenders. "Hurry and come here before I change my mind."

You shuffle across the bed, abandoning all your blankets and pillows in the process. After you've shed the layers, you slot into his arms.

At first he's stiff as a board, awkwardly patting your back. But then you relax in his arms, melting against him. Smile softening, he pulls you closer into his chest and squeezes.

Giggle.

Alastor's eyes fly open. Jerking back, he looks at you in bewilderment.

"Is something wrong?"

"N-No!" You exclaim, slithering away from him.

"Are you... ticklish?" He asks, amused by your flustered expression.

"I'm not!" You lie through your teeth, squirming to put some distance between your bodies.

"Really, now~?"

He suddenly lunges at you, enveloping you again in his hold and purposefully poking at you with his fingers. You burst out into a fit of giggles, writhing to get away from him.

"Al!" You shriek with laughter. Shoving him away, you finally have a moment to catch your breath while you wipe away the tears gathering in your eyes.

Alastor reaches out, gentle this time, thumbs pulling at your smile. He admires it softly. As much as he hates to admit it, just seeing your face lit up fills him with relief.

"That's more like it, darling. Show me your lovely smile."

~

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc @th3-st4r-gur1 @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it @dilemmaiscool @concentratedconcrete @squiword7 @clarakainda (send an ask to be added!)

[moonstruckme]

Hey I don’t know if you’re taking requests but if not just ignore this :) but if so could you write a poly!emt marauders fic where readers sick or something’s wrong but she doesn’t tell them or anyone until she gets semi seriously hurt

FYI your fics are literally my favorites they are so good I’ve been binging all your marauders fics <33

Thank you gorgeous!

cw: fainting, nausea, mention of skipping a meal

(also note: I used celsius because they’re british, but for my american homies 39.5 is just over 103 degrees fahrenheit)

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Your day has been hazy. You knew you were off before you even left the house, the lazy sluggishness of sleep not wearing off the way it normally does, but you couldn’t afford to pay it any mind. Your work had gotten done slower than usual, frustrating for all the effort you put into it. The thought of lunch made your stomach churn, so you had mint tea during your break instead. The joints in your fingers ached from typing. Even now, sitting on the barstool at your kitchen counter while you try and finish up an assignment that really should have been done hours ago, your back seems stiffer than usual. Your bones hurt. 

“That’s far too much onion,” Sirius comments from the stool beside you, leaning across the counter to scrutinize James and Remus’ work in the kitchen. 

Remus pauses in dumping a cutting board full of chopped onion into the pan on the stove. You see him look at James in your periphery, and even without paying proper attention you know something passes between them. James takes the cutting board from Remus, scraping the remainder of the onion in with a knife. 

“Overruled,” he decrees. 

Sirius scoffs, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Have fun kissing me tonight.” 

“I’d think if we’re all eating it, we’ll be on fairly equal footing in that regard,” Remus points out. 

“Yes, equally foul-smelling. So romantic.” 

“Angel,” James says as he starts slicing up bell peppers, “do you plan on working on that all night?” 

“Almost done,” you murmur, trying to ignore how nauseous the smell of all the food makes you. You squint into the brightness of your laptop, typing as quick as you can think. Which is to say, not impressively fast. 

It’s your boyfriends’ day off, and they’ve decided to celebrate the rare occurrence of none of them being scheduled to work by going to the cinema. James and Remus are making dinner first, but the film’s in just under two hours. You know you’re sacrificing some time with them now, but it’s only so you can enjoy the main event later. Plus, if you stop working, you’re not sure you’ll be able to pick up the momentum to start again. You have a creeping sense that at the first opportunity for rest, you’ll lie down and never get up. 

James says something encouraging, and then the conversation goes on without you. You lock into your laptop screen, fingers pressing down upon the keyboard like an extension of your brain, and gradually the sensation of being outside of yourself, your body moving on autopilot while your mind simply fuzzes over, envelops you. Slowly, the world just…slips. 

An odd sound leaves Sirius as he lunges for you, like an alarm that went off without him telling it to. He catches you but not quite, one hand wrapping around your arm and the other fisting in the material of your shirt, stopping you from tipping over only temporarily. James runs from behind the counter to help. Accompanied by a steady stream of curses from both of his boyfriends, he eases you out of your stool and onto the floor. You’re already coming to. 

“Is she okay?” Remus asks from the kitchen, and Sirius hears the sound of the stove flicking off. 

“She’s hot,” James says, one hand cushioning your head from the floor while the other feels about your face and neck. 

The quip comes to Sirius naturally—as usual—but he’s in no mood to deliver it. Though he trusts James’ assessment, he touches the backs of his fingers to your forehead anyway, hissing at the heat that meets them. It’s a wonder he didn’t feel it emanating from you in the barstool next to him. 

“Angel,” James’ voice is a coo, gentleness coming naturally to him whereas Sirius’ panic feels hot and dangerous beneath his skin, “do you feel alright?” 

You hum, though it sounds more like a grunt. “Mhm.” 

Sirius almost laughs. “Come on,” he says, “be straight with us.” He works two fingers into your wrist to get your pulse, rubbing his free hand up your arm cajolingly. “You did just pass out, so we know you’re not fine.” 

Remus sets a hand on Sirius’ back as he lowers himself to the ground by your legs. A support for them both. 

“I…” You blink for a couple of seconds, and they wait, knowing you’re probably still out of it. “I guess I feel a little sick.” 

James cracks a smile, though it’s tinged with worry. “A little?” he asks, smoothing down the baby hairs at your temple. “You’ve got a horrid fever.” 

You sigh. “I figured.” 

“You figured?” Sirius is aghast. He suddenly has a very clear picture of how your day has gone, and it unnerves him. “How long have you been feeling like this?” 

You look wary, and Remus’ hand runs the length of Sirius’ back quickly as he stands. “Alright, let’s move you somewhere more comfortable, yeah dovey?” 

You relax a bit at the affection in his tone, and Sirius feels bad about ever making you miss it. This is something he’s never been able to quell about himself. His love almost always manifests roughly. For the most part, you all know how to interpret it, but when you’re vulnerable like this and he can feel you feeling the gnashing teeth of his worry, Sirius wishes he were gentler. 

James won’t let you walk yourself the short distance to the couch, lifting you in a bridal carry and setting you down with such carefulness it makes Sirius’ chest ache. Remus goes to get the thermometer. Sirius steals the spot beside your head selfishly. Thankfully, there’s no lingering timidity in your gaze as he combs his fingers through your hair, pushing it away from your ear and trailing his touch down your neck. 

“You’ve been feeling unwell for a while,” he says, softer this time, “haven’t you.” 

You look more guilty than anything, eyes going big and doe-like. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say?” James asks, lifting your legs so he can scooch underneath. He rubs the skin above your knees fondly, a small furrow between his brows. 

“I just,” you sigh as though disappointed, “wasn’t ready.” 

“Wasn’t ready for what?” 

“To be sick.” 

The scratchy, delightful sound of Remus’ laugh comes into the room with him. “Well that’s silly,” he says, reaching over Sirius to settle the thermometer in your ear. “It doesn’t seem to be waiting on you, does it?” 

“Guess not,” you mutter. Sirius strokes your jaw with his thumb. 

When the thermometer goes off, both he and James lean in to see, but Remus forsakes them, bringing it up near his face where he can read it. He hums. 

“What is it?” James asks. 

“Thirty nine point five.” 

They all frown. Sirius touches your forehead again, just to be sure. Unfortunately, it seems accurate. 

“What are your symptoms, sweetheart?” Remus asks you, settling on the floor beside Sirius with his knees bent in front of him. “Does anything hurt?” 

“I feel sick—like nauseous, and sort of achey.” A little notch appears between your brows, and Sirius has the impression that you’re finally letting yourself acknowledge your own misery. His gut twists with sympathy. “My stomach is starting to hurt, but I’m not sure if that’s just because I skipped lunch.” 

None of your boyfriends even have to say anything. You look abashed enough by their expressions. 

“I wasn’t feeling well,” you say in a small voice. 

James breaks easily, taking your hand and bringing it to his mouth for a firm kiss. “Can’t believe you went all day feeling this poorly and didn’t say anything,” he chides lovingly. “What did you think was going to happen, hm?” 

“I know, I’m sorry.” Your gaze flitters about the room, landing on Sirius’ eyes for a fraction of a second before it’s dropping shyly to the couch cushion. “It was dumb.” 

“So long as you know,” Remus agrees with a brief eye-roll. “It sounds like the stomach flu, so at least it should be better in a couple of days, but there’s not much to do other than rest.” 

Your face pinches unhappily. “I’m sorry for messing up your big night too,” you say, and you look like you’d curl up in misery if James weren’t currently using your legs as a blanket. Sirius’ heart gives a little throb. 

“Don’t be,” James says. “We’re still with you, aren’t we? And if we get sick, too, that’s just more days off!”

It’s clearly a joke, but you look extra guilty anyways. Your features tighten in a slight wince. Sirius works a hand between your face and the couch cushion, leaning forward to kiss the space between your brows. 

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” he says. “Better when we can be with you than when we’re busy helping some other poor sap, yeah?”

[floylia]

ELYSIAN ♫

23. A therapist? ✎

Scaramouche fears no man.

But he does fear four women.

1. Ei — his mother

2. Yae Miko — his mother’s “friend”

3. Nahida — his aunt

4. You — the highlight of his life

There’s no particular order. It depends on the day. Although tonight, that might be the case.

The bamboo pendant lamp hangs beautifully in the intricate walls if Uyuu Restaurant. An order of Tricolor Dango, Shimi Chazuke, Fukuuchi Udon, and Halvamazd scatter along the floor table. Scara settles across his mother. Yae Miko finds the spot next to her and beside him, Nahida chats away with the restaurant owner who introduces himself and the specialties he’d prepared in advance.

Four dishes for four people.

“What a funny guy! What’s his name again?” Yae Miko asks after the owner left.

“I believe it’s Okazaki Rikuto,” Nahida answers as she scans the roster of food available. Scara notices the eagerness in her eyes. Sometimes, his aunt resembles that of a child – if only she wasn’t so perceptive.

“Care to share your thoughts?” Nahida asks.

There it is – as always.

Scara clears his throat, “No. Let’s eat.”

It will have to wait.

Minutes of uncomfortable silence fills the room. A wave of anxiety begins to envelop Scara’s thoughts. Considering his intrepid personality, he’s sure that even outsiders can tell the absurdity of his actions – from fumbling his chopsticks to checking his phone every passing second. It’s a telltale sight. He curses himself.

“Whatever you wanted to discuss with us, you should do it now,” Ei states calmly. Although It’s not a suggestion, rather a demand.

Scara clears his throat a second time. There’s hesitation in his words. But stalling will get him nowhere, “I’ve been seeing someone.”

Yae Miko looks up grinning, “A therapist?”

The urge to say “fuck you” and hold up a middle finger begins to increase.

“Miko,” his mother warns. Scara can’t tell the expression Ei is wearing – he can never tell with her. He hates that. She is uncertainty, someone he’ll never fully understand.

Nahida interjects, “Is it [name]? I’ve seen articles and comments.”

Scara nods.

Always so perceptive.

Yae Miko Gasps, a hand over her mouth, “Oh the poor girl. I can’t believe she chose you.”

“Miko!” Ei screams.

A simple “fuck you” might not be enough. One more comment from the pink haired lady and they’ll have to call the ambulance – and it’s not for the right reasons.

Yae Miko looks at him with false pity, “You do know, it’s bad to lie–”

Ei cuts her off, “When can we meet her?”

Scara is caught off guard in the best way possible.

A genuine smile is written on his mother’s face – satisfaction.

“You should’ve invited her tonight,” Nahida added, “I’m a big fan of her work.”

He’s dreaming. He has to be.

“I had no faith in you,” Yae Miko says matter-of-factly.

Nevermind. He’s not dreaming.

“Look, you were a socially awkward child – a problem child, even now.”

He’s never been in a cat fight, but today might be it. Should he pull the top of her hair first or the bottom? Which one would be more efficient, he wonders. Venti would know.

“I mean Ei, do you remember the time–”

Or perhaps he should ask Heizou for blackmail materials. Then perhaps his mother would finally cut her off. Taking down the Yae Publishing House… What an exciting thought.

Scara tunes out the voice of his primary hater.

“Next time, you and [name] should visit Tenshukaku. I’d love to meet her,” his mother says in-between giggles.

“You’re not upset?” He asks, just to make sure.

Ei looks offended, “Why would I be?”

“Well–” He halts, not sure of what to say, “Because of the scandals…”

He doesn’t care about those trivial issues, but they might.

Nahida giggles, “For someone who doesn’t seem to care about people’s opinions, you sure are obedient today.“

“I just wanted to make sure.”

Ei shakes his head, “I know I never told you this, but I’ve always wanted the best for you,” She hesitates, “I apologize for making it hard for you to tell me simple things like this. I’m not a perfect mother, but I’m glad you’re sharing a part of your life with me – with us.”

He doesn’t know how to respond, merely nods.

If you were here, you would’ve loved them and they would’ve loved you.

He’s sure of that now. He’s wrong for doubting them.

“But anyway, is there something [name] would like? I can send her newly-made desserts from the shop.”

Yae Miko interjects, “Does she read light novels? I can give her a discount.”

“Or maybe she likes plants? Have you given her Padisarahs? Rainbow Roses? It’s supposed to mean passion and romantic encounters,” Nahida suggests.

Ei lights up, “Oh I know! A copy of your childhood photo album – you were an adorable kid.”

“Mom!”

“Hey, I’m sure she’d want it.”

She’s right.

Notes:

in a world where everyone is happy 😃

kept this in the basement for too long

next chapter is the last chapter then the extras

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

Scaramouche x fem!reader

masterlist | previous | next

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[aurynsia]

Unrequited, Terrifying Chapter 2

James Potter x Reader

Summary: After receiving a mysterious letter left under your door, you begin to search for the culprit…

Warnings: Extremely fluffy, nervous!james x shy!reader, some subtle wolfstar action in the background, reader plays hard to get without intending to, idiots in love, potentially a slow burn, oc!friends, lovesick!james x salty!reader, no use of Y/N, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, NOT EDITED!

Word count: 1.7K

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

“Has anyone got any better ideas?” James asked, slumping against the wall of his dorm room with desperation plastered across his face. An hour into the school year and the Marauders were already failing in their attempts to woo James’ crush.

“I don’t know, Prongs. We’ve established that you can’t just approach the poor thing and ask her to marry you, THAT would be a horrible attempt at a relationship. You also can’t stalk her the entire year, that’s illegal.” Peter pondered, looking concentrated in thought. “James,” Remus broke his silence, “You’re a smart boy under that flirty exterior. You get good grades and you know how to write. Why don’t you just write down how you feel and pass it along?”

“Remus…you genius.” James replied with complete sincerity, dashing to hug the boy who might have just saved his chances with you. “That’s perfect! She won’t feel expected to respond, I can say all I need to say without tensing up around her, and I don’t even have to expose myself if she doesn’t like me back! It can be anonymous, yes!” James rambled as he searched his desk for a spare sheet of paper and a quill, ignoring the silent glances his friends gave to one another, teasing him mentally.

A sweet baby blue envelope was retrieved from his stack of correspondence material, lined on his desk as he began to write. “Looks like we don’t need to tell you what to say then, Prongsie?” Sirius commented to the quiet room as all four of them attended to their own business. James hummed in reply, tongue sticking out from his lips in concentration as his eyebrows dipped together. “Just have…to get this…right…” he murmured, pouring his heart out onto the paper.

Not too subtle, but refined, like a gentleman. Not too pushy, but still explicit in his feelings. Anonymous, but hinting at who your new secret admirer could possibly be. A flourish of shifting paper filled the quiet air as James tucked his note into the envelope, finally scribbling your name on the surface.

Stood in front of your dorm room, James shifted his weight from his left foot to his right as he weighed his options. Your uncharacteristic chatter could be heard from behind the wood, though all he could make out were his friends’ names and an unmistakably annoyed tone hung on your words.

“James” you continued, and his heart began to swim laps around his chest. You sounded confused and frustrated as you rambled on, allowing James to take a beat as he collected himself.

Your voice softened, and he took this as his call to action. He slipped the note beneath the door and pursued the safety of his own dorm before he could get caught.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

“EHEM! ‘To the only creature I could ever admire,’” Charlie began her dramatic reading of the mysterious note left under your dorm room door. “I have the greatest honour in being met with your stunning eyes, soft skin and quiet personality everyday when I pass you in the hall. The classes I share with you are moments in which my heart flutters at the sound of your gentle voice. The intelligence you hold and your refined sensibility could never be matched by a boy like me-’ ooh it’s a boy!! Ehem, sorry…‘but this is my best effort at showing that I am worthy of your love. I’ve seen the beauty you hold behind those guarded walls and I would sell my soul to bathe in its light. Make me yours, and I’ll give you the moon, the sun, and the stars in the sky.’ Oh! And it’s signed, ‘Forever yours…’”

You were stunned into an impression of a statue, barely showing the rise and fall of your chest. Hope smirked at the deep blush hovering over your cheeks while Charlie caught her breath from her award-winning performance. The room was still, a curiosity lingering in the air as all three of you began to silently ponder, who could this mysterious suitor be?

“Well, it says here that he thinks you’re out of his league- oh, damn! That doesn’t narrow it down…” Charlie joked to ease the tension and a fit of giggles erupted from the surface of your bed. “If it were up to me, dear, I’d start crossing names off of a list!” Hope laughed, though her smile fell as you and Charlie looked at her with faces of realisation.

“That’s what we’ll do.” You spoke for the first time since the note arrived, “We’ll write down every boy who could fit this description and narrow down the options!” You said with a glint of determination in your eye.

“So you’re interested in this secret admirer?” Charlie smirked, though her face emitted a sense of hope. “If he can speak so honestly about all of this,” you gestured to the note, “then I believe his maturity might just be worth it.”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Four pairs of eyes locked on you as you entered the Great Hall for breakfast. James was visibly more flustered than the others, but the rest of them were equally as invested in your reaction to the note.

You and your friends sat down with quiet whispers and glances down the table. As your eyes passed over the group of trouble makers they immediately paid special interest to their plates of food. Sirius began to pick at his eggs, Peter at his fruit and Remus stole quick sips from his juice. James gulped around nothing as he stared at his reflection in his plate, willing the bright flare of red occupying his face to fade away.

Once the three of you had moved your focus to a small huddle around your breakfast, the selection of Gryffindor boys immediately returned to ogling. “Can any of you see what they’re doing? Is that a quill in her hand?” Peter questioned. You shared quick giggles with your friends that disrupted the secrecy of your activity. The Marauders couldn’t quite place what you were doing, but they knew it would have something to do with the letter.

“An eye for mischief that one has, Prongs, what a cheeky couple you’d make- Ouch!” Sirius was interrupted by a sharp kick from his best friend under the table, though James’ eyes never left your frame.

Suddenly, your group took on faces of empathy, severity and concern, glancing at each other from your hunched positions. You trained your gaze on the boys who were discussing you, once again causing them to occupy themselves with the activities of breakfast.

After a lingering stare, you shifted back to the safety of your team and resumed your actions with a resolved expression.

“What do you think that was all about- Ow Prongs, what the bloody hell did I do?”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

You gently opened the doors to the Great Hall, quill and notebook tucked behind your back. Charlie and Hope accompanied you to seats by the Gryffindor table, glancing over the potential perpetrators of last night’s events.

With a final look over your eligible bachelors, you sat down and began to work, sheltered by your friends. “I think this is pretty much the entire male cohort of Gryffindor…” you giggled breathlessly, pondering the dense list of names placed in front of you. Charlie and Hope joined in on your humour, scanning the list to double check your memory, then glancing around once more.

“Oh…um, w-well,” Charlie started, “there is one group we haven’t quite considered yet…” You and Hope turned towards the girl, who glared at you with an uncharacteristically subtle, mental comment. All three of you turned to face the Marauders, who were busy devouring their plates full of breakfast.

Your gaze lingered on each one. Sirius was no match for your intelligence and humility. You were certainly out of Peter’s league. Remus could convey that quiet poeticism that made you blush when the note was read out. James was always unpredictable. He did succeed in classes and he could potentially feel intimidated by your presence, or he could just be a dickhead. Either way, all four boys were, unfortunately, eligible suspects.

You returned to your coven of secrecy, hunched forms plotting over your notebook. You listed the boys below the pre-existing list of Gryffindor inhabitants that you shared classes with. ‘Sirius, Peter, Remus, James.’

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Potions class finally arrived as the sun threatened to set in the faded sky. James rushed to his seat, close enough to you to feel sickeningly sweet without making it too weird. He wasn’t being too weird about all of this, right? No, the note was the right approach.

You drifted airily to your seat a few minutes later, resting on the chair as you retrieved your equipment. James felt his heart fight against his chest, pushing to be released from his lovesick body. A goofy smile captured his expression as he gazed at the back of your head in a daze, eventually interrupted by the beginning of class.

Potions came and went, with James struggling to keep his good grades with you just grazing the edges of his eye line. As the class began to fizzle away, and books found themselves tucked in bags or hugged towards chests, James decided this was his chance. Making his way to the front of the class, he smirked with confidence as he attempted to ask for his grade on the most recent assignment.

As he approached the teacher’s desk, he quickly dropped a folded note on your desk as you leaned into your bag on the opposite side. He promptly began his banter as you returned upright, watching as you curiously discovered the note in his peripheral vision.

“…Potter, you’ll get the grade at the same time as the rest of your class. Have some consideration for my free-time the next time you think to ask.” The professor’s words draw his attention back to their discussion, excusing himself with “Apologies, Professor! Have a good evening!” unusually happy for someone who just discovered they wouldn’t know their grade for at least another week.

As he swiftly moved towards his own belongings, a little bit too cocky for his own good and high on the success of his plan, he met a classmate’s back with a thump.

“Oh Merlin, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…” He realised who he had run into, your sweet fingers pinching the note you had yet to open as you swivelled around to face him, curiously. “Um, I- I’m sorry!” He rambled as he inched past you, scooping up his belongings and dashing out of the classroom.

Bollocks.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

A/N: TYSM for all the support on the first part! This chapter should hopefully move the story along so we can get to the real fluff >:3 As always, likes and reblogs are immensely appreciated! Comment for part 3 <3

[writingsofwesteros]

Pleaseee darling! Write sometime about gywane hightowerr being seduced by rhaenerys daughter!!! Like this man will worship the ground that she walks on

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

Slight NSFW

From the moment her striking violet eyes met his, he was a man bewitched. Gwayne had fought against this growing feeling for seemingly so many moons now. It did not help that the Princess had seemingly figured out his desires, if her not so subtle teasing was anything to go by, the young Knight thought to himself. The Princess moved through the room with an effortless grace that had Gwayne quite fixated. Suddenly, he found much more interest in the harpist playing; a pathetic attempt of masking his interest that even a blind dog could see. Thankfully, the Lords around him were worse than a blind dog; all they saw was their own ambitions which worked perfectly for him.

She knew the power she wielded over him; a mere touch, a lingering glance, was enough to send shivers down the knight's spine. It excited her, more than anything else in this boring capitol, she thought to herself. “Ser Gwayne,” The Princess sweetly called out as she gracefully moved to his side; the skirt of her rich, Targaryen red dress following. “Princess..” He whispered with a polite bow of his head as Gwayne tried to calm his mind, which never seemed to quieten down when she was so close. “Are you enjoying the festivities?” The knight continued to speak. The Princess smirked; stepping closer, much too close than what was socially accepted; they both knew that.

“I am enjoying the day more now.” She whispered; her tone dripping with sweetness the both of them saw through. “Are you?” Her hand gracefully reached over his arm that was leaning on the large, wooden table full of delicious, rich foods and wines the royal family enjoyed. The Dornish red being one of the Princess’ favourite. Gwayne enjoyed how it seemingly tainted her pretty pink lips; he fought against those doe eyes of his staring but the smirk on her lips made him think such efforts were in vain. “Yes, Princess..” Gwayne whispered his reply. Her fingers brushed over his arm; the silk emerald material hardly a barrier between them now.

The great hall was alive with the sounds of laughter and clinking goblets, but to Gwayne, all faded into a dull murmur as his entire being focused on the princess beside him. Her touch was light, almost teasing, yet it sent a shiver through him, a silent promise of something more. It seemed each caress was a deliberate stroke against the steel of his resolve. “I always find such things so crowded.” Her hand brushed over his arm once more whilst stepping closer. Gwayne could not stop his eyes from looking around them whilst her giggles echoed in his ear. “As do I.” He replied; his response not holding a hidden meaning like herself, which the Princess knew but still, she pounded on the opportunity. “I know a quiet place,” The Princess whispered. “I think you will enjoy it there.”

~

“Pri—Princess,” Gwayne whispered; his head moving away but she only chased him. The soft, sweet tasting lips of hers finding his own once again as the scent of jasmine and wine enveloped him. A sweet moan escaped her. Gods, she had not expected his lips to be so soft. Gwayne swallowed hard, his heart pounding against his ribs. He murmured against her lips, the name slipping out before he could stop himself. Gwayne felt her smile, a brief, triumphant curve of her lips that sent a thrill through him. Her fingers tangled in the fabric of his tunic, pulling him closer as if she could fuse their very beings together. The thrill of the act raced through both of their bodies. 

His resolve crumbled with each passing second, every touch of her lips, every brush of her fingers against his skin. The Princess brushed their noses together as her hand moved down his stomach; a smirk like a dragon itself came over her. “I see how you look at me.” She purred and watched in delight at the soft pink hue coming over his cheeks. “Princess, we shouldn’t—” Gwayne began, but she silenced him with another kiss, more insistent this time. Her desperation mingled with his, a shared hunger that refused to be denied. Her soft hand moved under his breeches now. Oh, he was much bigger than she thought with all the taunting her step father did of the knight.

Gwayne seemed to fall in her grasp now as she not so gently pushed him against the wall. A grunt escaped him as she began to softly stroke. Her thumb brushing over his already leaking, fat head. Her mouth watering with desire at the feel but the sight of the knight falling apart brought her more pleasure than she would have thought. “I am in need of a sworn shield…” The Princess whispered as his eyes only rolled and she wondered if he heard the words she spoke. She sensually removed her hand, causing his eyes to flash open and those lips of his parted. All such things were lost to him as she licked her palm before returning to her stroking with eagerness. “Oh..gods,” Those locks of his that she always found cute fell into his face. Her nails slowly moved over his thick length to tease him some more. “Would you be my sworn shield, my knight?” The Princess whispered as she pressed soft, open mouthed kisses down his neck. Goosebumps easily moved over his soft skin as a shiver raced down his spine. “Yes…yes,” Gwayne groaned as his stomach began to tighten in anticipation. “I will be your shield.” His words were a whisper as the Princess passionately captured his lips; tongue licking at his bottom lip as her movements only quickened. Their kiss deepened as her sweet touches sent him over the edge; his cum now covering her lovely, slender fingers.

[nachrosas]

JUNO | s.reid x reader

summary: in which spencer uses the song "juno" to confess his feelings. pairing: spencer reid x reader content warnings: none, just pure fluff word count: 736 a/n: first time posting here, so please bear with me! english is not my mother tongue, so i appreciated if you guys let me know if there are any mistakes!

The late afternoon light streamed softly through the living room window, tinging the room with orange hues. You were absent-mindedly folding a blanket on the bed, and without realizing it, you started humming a familiar tune. It was something you had heard repeatedly over the last few weeks, but you weren't aware of how much your voice filled the silence of the room.

“You make me wanna make you fall in love. Oh late at night i'm thinking 'bout you (ah ah ah)” 

Leaning against the door frame, Spencer watched you with his arms crossed. His eyes were fixed on you and nothing else. He tilted his head slightly, catching the soft sound escaping from your lips. A soft, almost imperceptible expression crossed his face — something between fascination and shyness.

You stopped for a moment, realizing that you were being watched. “What's wrong?” you asked, with a relaxed smile, while still adjusting your blanket.

Spencer shook his head quickly as if he were a child caught doing something wrong. He adjusted his glasses and tried to look casual. “Nothing, it's just... you sing well. I didn't know you liked that song.”

The comment had been simple, but there was something about the way he said it — as if it were a secret kept to himself. He looked away, searching for the book he wanted — after all, that was the reason he had come to your room. You shrugged, laughing softly, not realizing the impact that moment would leave.

Meanwhile, in Spencer's mind, an idea was already beginning to take shape. He knew exactly what to do to turn that song into something even more special.

The next day, you were in the office, fiddling with some notes when Spencer entered a little hesitantly. He was carrying something in his hands, partially hidden by his jacket and bag. You noticed that he looked even more disconcerted than usual, his fingertips drumming nervously against the material.

“Spence, hi! Is everything all right?” you asked, with a curious smile.

He stopped a few steps from your desk and, with a quick gesture, held out a small envelope and a USB stick. Apparently, he thought that if he handed it over quickly enough, he could avoid the embarrassment.

“I… um… heard you sing yesterday and… not that I was spying on you or anything! But… it was kind of inspiring.” he began, stumbling over his own words. ”So, I thought I'd do it! It's no big deal, just… a playlist.

You arched an eyebrow, gently picking up the envelope and the USB stick. The paper had been folded carefully, and his handwriting was unmistakable. He looked like he was about to run off, but you opened the note before he could act.

“Juno is about something brilliant and unique, just like you. I thought it would be the perfect soundtrack for both of us.”

Your heart leaped, and a delicious warmth spread through your chest. You looked at him, who was now blushing violently, averting his gaze as if paperclips were the most interesting thing in the world.

“Spence… this is…” you began, not knowing what to say.

“If you don't like it, that's fine!” he rushed to say, slurring his words. ”I just thought you deserved something… special, or something.”

“I love it, really.” you smiled, touched by the sweetness of the gesture. “I can't wait to hear it.”

Finally, Spencer raised his eyes to meet yours. The relief and small smile that appeared on his face made the gesture seem even more significant.

That night, the soft sound of Spencer's cell phone interrupted the silence while he was immersed in his rereading of “War and Peace” — in the original language, of course. He reached out his hand, without much haste, but when he saw his name in the notification, he felt his heart accelerate rapidly. With a mixture of curiosity and anticipation, he clicked, and the screen revealed a playlist entitled “Juno”. His eyes scrolled over the song titles — a carefully chosen selection, mixing classics he loved, some well-known soundtracks, and even songs he didn't know, but which seemed intriguing. He smiled, that shy, rare smile, and pressed play, letting the first track fill the room as the idea of the gesture warmed his heart. His cell phone beeped once more, and through the lock screen, he saw the message that read: “Have you ever tried this one?”