#and idk if I like see him in a more than friend way
Note
touch starved reader with an oral fixation x kidnapper!Simon who’s all punishment and no physical affection? Please Simon just a little kiss? with tongues? :( (i just wanna make out with this man while my heart aches for him)
by Allah, you people are dogs. i will write the filth as usual.
DEAD DOVE, 18+ | dubcon. kidnapping. mean!Simon. dom!Simon. masking corporal punishment as affection. kissing. size kink, size difference. some thigh riding. degradation + humiliation (verbal). non-con pet play. marking (heavyyyyyy mentions of Simon biting you like a chew toy). choking. daddy kink (but in the awful, demeaning way). manipulation. forced affection. coersion. forced/manufactured dependency. brief mention of Simon stepping on your back to hold you down so he can whip you w a cat o nine tails. yanno. the usual Friday night.
idk. there's something so hot about you, completely naked, riding Simon's clothed thigh as he holds you up by your neck. tongue out, desperate for a kiss while he just mocks you the whole time.
It's survival.
At first.
A means of masking the innate horror of being stripped of your agency, your autonomy, by a man you barely even know. One you met once before (fate sealed), and now—outside of your apartment complex where he was idling by the foothold, smoking a cigarette as he leaned against the brick wall, head turned. Gaze narrowed as you approached.
Waiting for someone, you assumed, thinking nothing else about the matter.
Nothing else, except—
He looked familiar. You think you saw him before. He was staring at you. Hadn't stopped. Hasn't said a word, either. The silence was oppressive. Heavy. Your hands fumbled with the keys. Shaking. Trembling.
He's pretty, you thought, suddenly. In the way car wrecks can sometimes be. Jarring and awful and hideous, but—
Mesmerising.
Macabre. And that's what he is. Everything from the mask on his face (skulls, go figure), to the absurdity in his size, his width. The way space itself seemed to move around him, bending and distorting just to let him pass. His own gravitational pull. Magnetic. You feel it tugging on you as he pulls another lungful of smoke. Another. Another.
(like an hourglass, a timebomb, almost. you wonder what will happen when it runs out—)
He gives you the creeps. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. A visceral sense of unease curdling in the pit of your belly as he keeps staring, staring. Eyes—crystalline under the broken headlamp, washout into crushed topaz—drilling into your back, sharp enough to flay skin. Everything inside of you says to run, but your key won't fit inside the lock. Won't—
Ever.
And hindsight has always been a bitter thing, hasn't it? Cruel in her mockery. Had you known, then, that he wasn't a workman loitering by the complex, waiting for a friend; or a low-level drug dealer casting webs into the plum hewn aether, it might have saved you. Might have.
Maybe. Because he was there, waiting for you, all along.
Life has a funny way of paying back good deeds. All it took for your life to crumble down around you, rubble falling off of a shaking mountain, was kindness. Was seeing a large man in the pouring rain, already drenched. Black clothing sticking to the granite contours of his body, and offering sanctum in the shape of a rusting umbrella you found at a thrift store for three dollars.
(“here,” you said, chipper. All smiles. “i live just down the street, and you look like you need it more than i do. do you want it?”
and he—
he simply stared. stared. his eyes liquid, molten, as they carelessly dropped, roaming down the length of your body at his own leisure. leering. assessing. it was odd. weird, but—
he huffed, then. seemingly satisfied by whatever you measured up to in his head. his neck lulled back, and he gazed at you from down the crooked length of his nose, tucked neatly away under the thick band of a facial mask. skulls. how could you be so stupid?
slowly, like he was trying not to startle a mare, his gloved hand reached out, curling thick fingers around the hilt of it. he tugged once. in your stupor, you forgot to let go. embarrassment flooded in. he huffed again, quietly amused, as you untangled your numbed fingers from the umbrella.
in your distraction, he moved closer. smelled of ash, of mildew. sweat and stale cigarettes. there was something predatory in the way he slipped through space. a preternatural quiet. an eerie stillness.
you hadn't realised he was there, looming, until he rasped out, “more ‘n you could ever realise, pet.”
and you're sure why you do it. did it. but your hand slips into your shopping bag, eyes widen. heart thundering in your chest.
“are you hungry? i, uh, i just bought some apples, um—”
his eyes are lavascapes. shackles. chains. “i could eat.”)
And now—
Forced to play this strange cat and mouse of his where he treats you like soot on the bottom of his shoe, and you pretend that it's affection. Love. How godless.
Protection, he calls it.
("mine," he whispers, orison soft, into your ear. "ain't go' nowhere else to go, do you, pet? world's big. would eat a small thing like you up. safer here. wit' me. only me.")
You wonder what he'd do if you told him the biggest danger here was the madness nestled inside your head, the one that sometimes made you look at him like he was your salvation instead of the warden holding the end of your leash in a firm hand. Unyielding—like everything he does. Is.
Withholding, too. Everything must be earned. Nothing given. Nothing handed out. And you know that this is a ploy, a tactic. Subterfuge meant to chisel into your sense of self, dehumanise you. Turn you into a simpering, obedient little doll for him to play with as he wishes. You know this, and yet—
It's survival, you promise yourself as he tugs on the hook latched to your collar, testing it for weakness. Survival, when his hands—bare, bare; warmed skin against skin, you could just weep—brush over your throat, nails skimming goosebumped flesh as he wedges one, then two inside, hirsute knuckles tickling your pulse. It tightens the collar to near choking. Intentional, you know. He likes it when you beg—for air, for food, water, him.
Vile man. Awful.
(You want to roll on your belly at his feet.)
This cold, cruel touch lights a fire under your skin. It's been months since he's last done so. Always wearing gloves when he has to. Using paddles, belts, when you misbehave. Never his bare hand. Not anymore.
(“m’hand is for good girls,” he slurred, words merging, meshing together, painted with exertion. He wedged his boot against the small of your back, holding you down, and cracked the end of a cat over your bare ass, thighs. Unbothered by your howls, your screams, as the whip bit into your skin. You've never so much as been hit as a child for misbehaving, and now, as an adult, you have a madman standing over you, introducing you to something called a cat o’nine tails—a favourite in the army, lovie. “bad girls,” his boot pressed down harder, heel digging into your spine. “Bad girls get the whip—”)
Bad. Bad. Because you tried to run, to leave him. He dressed you up, called you Mrs Riley, and you—
Ducked out the back door when he turned away for a second.
Stupid. It was poor timing. A test. He set you up, measuring your loyalty to him, your commitment, and you failed. Failed.
(“this is what ‘appens when spoiled little cunts get their way too much. they act out, don't they? bitin’ the ‘and that feeds. you'll learn soon enough, though—”)
Ghost—sir, sir (master, maker, god; you'll call him anything he wants if he touches you again)—pulls his fingers away, depriving you of his touch once more. And it's all so stupid. So fundamentally wrong, deplorable, but you follow. Needy. Whining for it in the back of your throat.
It's been months. Months without touch. Without sensation outside of leather lashing across your thighs, your ass; harsh, gloved fingers digging into your jaw, braced against the back of your head, as you swallow down his cock in an effort to prove to him you've been good. So good. Can be good. His good girl.
You need to touch him. Need his touch. Ache for it, for something outside of this nook he placed you inside of, denied the privilege of living upstairs with him after you tried to escape.
You want to. Badly. Your fingers twitch. Ghost sees it. Hums.
“Need somethin', pet?”
Your mouth is dry. You swallow. It burns. It hurts. “Yes—”
“Yes, what?”
“Sir—”
Behind the mask he's yet to take off for you fully, only ever hitching it under his chin to devour your cunt whenever you've been good, his jaw tightens, the fabric bunching up.
You reel back from the look of sheer displeasure etching harsh lines into the hollow gaps of his eyes. Heart thundering. Stomach churning.
“Mas—” he cuts you off with a soft sigh. Marked with his irritation. “D—dad—”
Dad. A new one. Daddy. He didn't seem like the sort to be into this type of play, not with his sardonic, deadpan eyes. His mockery. His dessicated humour, awful and biting. You'd have sooner expected him to laugh at you—in that slow, deep hum he gives; a little chuff, full of condescension and jeer—than to get off on it. On you, kneeling between his legs with your chin braced against his palm, mouth open, tongue out, as he fucks into the tight clench of his fist, groaning as you beg daddy to give you a taste.
It's gross. Disgusting.
It's not done for anything else other than to humiliate you. To crush you under the heel of his boot—little bug—so that you will always know where your place is in this scenario. His little wife. Mother, mum—
He pulls on the leash, jerking you forward. Purrs, “good girl,” and then steps back, moving away from you. Cruel. Dismissive. You hate him, hate him—
(Need him so deeply. With every fibre of your being—)
You watch him as he goes, mourning the loss of his presence already, as he paces around your space, your cage. Broad shoulders barely fitting inside. Head ducking to avoid hitting his crown on the popcorn ceiling. It's strange seeing him here like this. Prowling. He usually comes when he wants you, when he needs to enact more merciless punishment on you for whatever perceived evils you committed (not greeting him with a kiss when he walked in, not letting him suffocate himself in your cunt when he had you sit on his face, not making him cum all over your face quick enough when you knew he had other engagements to get to—), or when he ruts, heavily, between your thighs, cold and detached. Seeking pleasure from your icy flesh, and giving nothing in return but white hot agony.
Him here, idling in your presence, is revolutionary.
“S–sir—?”
He hums, quiet. Sits in the chair as you gather the fragments of yourself littered on the ground. His mood is malleable, it seems.
You push, fingertips sinking into the putty of his agreeable temperament. “Can I—”
You waver when his sharp eyes raze over your bare body—clothes are for good girls, after all—pupils sloshing over the edges, bleeding into midnight blue.
Your body is a battlefield. Every inch of skin branded with his mark—pretty, thrawn rings of teeth tattooed in silver, haloed in black and red, desecrate your flesh: neck, collarbones, breasts, belly, thighs (a particular favourite of his), ass, mons; all bitten through, chewed up. It weeps when you move, has blood trickling down your skin. The cracking scabs make him coo, poor thing, all bloody fer me? and he licks at them, sucks, until only a pinkish wound in the mimesis of canines remains.
Uprooted, turned into something new—
His chest expands when he settles his gaze on the sliver of space between your spread thighs. Concealed in tenebrous, hidden from his leering, lecherous view. He cocks his head, considers something unknown to you. His thoughts, his mind, worlds away. Untouchable.
(only to bad girls, he’d snarled out when you asked why—)
“Testin’ my patience still?” He doesn't rip his gaze away from your cunt, speaks to it sometimes more than he speaks to you. “Thought this alone time might’a cleared your ‘ead.”
You flush. Embarrassment roiling through you. His displeasure is a palpable thing. Heavy. You hate the weight of it.
“I need—I need you.”
Another toneless hum. “‘Course you do. Ain't got anyone else.”
He's awful. Hideous. You want to rip his tongue out of his mouth. “I—I want you. Please.”
Ghost doesn't answer. You stopped expecting him to a long time ago, his moods odd measures of ebbs and flows; passive and mild, cracking terrible, awful jokes as he strokes your back, hands riveted to your skin, and then biting and caustic the next. Pushing and pushing until you lash out, snap, so he has a reason to push you down, punished and smothered under his bulk, as he ruts into you like a beast, a man starved. Tells you it's for your own good. That you need him. Would be lost without him.
Bludgeoning a hole into you wide enough for him to crawl inside of. Poisoning you from the inside out with the same nocuous rot that flows in his veins.
Maybe that's been his agenda all along. Maybe. To make you want him as badly as he wanted you. Desperate, obsessive. Going so far as to follow you home, lost little mutt waiting in the shadows outside of your door until you threw him another bone. And when that didn't work, when the food stopped being enough—
He took you. Held you captive in his house deep in the wilderness. A place so endlessly green that you sometimes stare out at it—unfathomable sea of phalthos and jasper—and feel dizzy. You'll get lost out there—
just like he says.
As he turns your obsecration over in his head, you wait, supplicant to this man as you rest on your knees. Pretty pet with a golden collar adorned in gems.
Fitting, you find. With his head cradled against his thick knuckles, you can't help but shiver at the way he looks shrouded in the gloaming embers of a fading twilight. Leonine. A king perfectly at ease in this thick, caliginous atmosphere.
His eyes burn, magmatic, in the low light. Vats of endless ink. Black holes that will swallow you whole if you get too close. But he's poised. Contemplative. Assessing.
And then grips the end of the leash tight in his other hand. Tugs.
You obey the wordless command, crawling on your hands and knees to where he's spread out on the recliner. Laxed, dripping with a careless indifference as you wander to him, resting your chin on the spread of his knee.
Looking up, up, at him, waiting. Wanting.
There's so much of him—a fact that has been the catalyst to your downfall the moment you saw him standing under the awning; this massive creature. Thighs wider than the width of your body. Burly forearms. Broad shoulders. He's big. Indomitable. Thick, endlessly so. But there's a give to his body. Valleys of softness hiding corded muscle. Firm, but—
Your fingers sink into the soft give of his belly when you reach out, bracing against stomach. Pulling yourself further into the bracket of his spread thighs, inching closer to him.
He meets your reverent stare, eyes liquid along his lower lash line.
“Thought you were gonna keep me waitin’ all night,” he muses, giving another pull on the leash. It destabilises you. Your nose bumps into his sternum, and you moan at the sting.
There's a dissonance in the back of your head. A hairline fracture in the line that keeps a degree of separation between pleasure and pain. They meet against the crack in the divide, merging into a abysmal polyphony conducted by his hand.
He watches, amused, as you whimper, sniffing harshly against the burn. It's not bleeding, and not broken—small mercies, you suppose—and you let it simmer into a dull ache as you slowly clamber into his lap.
Ghost leans back as you settle, greedily taking in the sight of your thighs stretched wide over his leg, cunt pressed, tight, against the rough scrape of his jeans. The touch burns. He hasn't touched your pussy in weeks—
“C’mon,” he urges, hand spanning the width of your lower back. Coaxing. “Show me ‘ow good you can be.”
It's all the permission you need. Slowly, slowly, your hips start to gyrate, dragging your slit over the coarse material. The friction is agony. You need more—
He draws his other hand up, curls it around your neck, forcing your head back, back. You gasp, staring at him, dizzy, from down the slope of your nose. The clasp of the collar digs into your skin. It hurts. It's too much.
you don't want him to stop.
His hand is huge. It spans the entire length of your neck, thumb to your pulse, pinky grazing the hollow of your throat. It forces you to lift your chin higher just to let him fit.
He likes it, too, you know. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of his bare hand, scarred and thick; dusted with a cropping of fine hairs along his scabbed knuckles, sitting against the whole of your throat. Swallowing you up. Can feel how much he enjoys the sheer depth between your sizes when his cock twitches, stiffening more
The look on his face is appraising, anatomising. There's a cold measure of distance in his gaze. A barren polynya. You want to cross it. Chart these untamed lands until they're deeply ingrained within your being. Cimmerian effigy burning to keep you warm.
It's survival, you think, and arch into the palm of his hand.
He holds you like a doll. One hand on your lower back, pressing your cunt to thigh. The other tightening around your throat. Bare skin against bare skin, and oh, you could just cry—
But this is not what you need. What you want. And he knows. He always does. Knows the inside of you like it's written down—inked on paper. Thumbs through the makeup of you, chapter by chapter, until no mystery remains.
“Tell me what you need, pet. Beg for it.”
“Let me—” his hands tighten, choking the air from your throat. Crushing your collar against your neck. “Lemme—kiss you, please, please—”
Tighter. Tighter. The world around you swims under a thin ocean. Phosphenes swim, untethered, in your periphery, ghosting along the curve of his shoulders. He might kill you yet. Keeping going, going, until those brittle, bird-like bones in your neck snap—
You'd let him, you think, muscles falling lax. Submissive. Just the way he says he likes even though you know he fucks you harder, touches you more, more, when you act out. Misbehave.
“Kiss me?” He taunts, words abrasive. Strident. Scrubbing hard against your skin. “Ain't that jus’ the sweetest thing I ever ‘eard.”
You burn, blister. “Please—”
“Reckon I ought to. Kissed your pretty cunt ‘fore I even kissed your lips, huh, pet?”
Your chest folds over itself. Stomach knotting. Balling tight. Unease is a razor blade scraping your nerves.
“Simon—”
“Ah, ah—” his hand tightens. Vicious. Chiding. “You ‘aven’t earned the privilege of sayin’ my name, ‘ave you? Cheeky thing. Might ‘ave to take a cane to you next.”
“No, no, no—! I'm—”
“Sorry?” He mocks, cocking his head. Condescension drips from the corners of his eyes.
“Please, sir—”
“Dad is gettin’ tired of this attitude of yours, pet—” his fingers dig into your skin, hard. Biting. A warning, you know. The blunt press of a blade to your jugular. But it thrums along the suture line to your desire, a wellspool of murk coiling low in your guts. You throb, cunt clenching down around nothing. Achingly empty. “Thought we got rid of it this time ‘round. Learned our lesson.”
The words are frank, prosaic. Had you any sense of self still malingering in the back of your head, you might have struck him for the blatant disrespect. But as you struggle to reach for it, pawing around in the vacuous abyss for any fragment of who you were before this, before him, you know—without any doubt—that none exists. Nothing. He’s too ingrained in your marrow, hewn into your skin. Copper sutures holding his filament within you. Cradled between your thighs, nestled in the rotting vacancy of your heart.
He knows you. Every part—
“We did—we did, da—daddy, please—”
It’s shallow. Muffled, like he’s trying to swallow it down, but you feel it rumble through his broad chest. A guttural sound. A groan. Drenched in pleasure, in want. So thick, you could almost taste it.
He hides his need under a layer of derision.
“Such a needy thing, ain't you? Desperate little slag like you wouldn't last out there, would you?”
His hand digs into your hip, pushing you off of his thigh. Eyes skewering into the wet stain on his trousers. A huff spills out—the sound a near perfect mimicry of crushing charcoal in your hand.
“No. You'd be eaten alive. Torn to pieces. World's too big for somethin' like you.”
Mindless, dazed, you nod. Arching into him. The leather leash snaps against your chest. “Yes, yes—”
His cock presses into your thigh, hard, fat. Your mouth waters. Drool dribbles down your chin.
He smells of tinder when he leans in close, blood drenched words biting into your skin. “messy today, aren't you? Be lost without me. Tha’s why you wear a collar, isn't it?”
Pitifully, you nod. Eyes full of tears. Each word is a bludgeon into your resolve. Into your sense of self.
But it earns you his affection, and his thumb presses into the corner of your mouth, unhinging your jaw until it falls open, lax. He holds you like that, mouth lax with his hand still around your neck. The other lifts away from your lips, goes to the thick band around the bridge of his nose, slips inside.
There's no buildup to it. No lingering sense of anticipation. Practical, detached, he merely tugs it down, and lets it snap under his chin.
Your breath is punched out of your lungs at the sight of him. Barefaced. Scarred. His nose is crooked; a jagged hook with scar tissue delineating the spots where it's been broken too many times. His lips are—
Full.
Mangled.
Scars run in thick slashes over them, denting the flesh in places. Burn marks line his pale flesh. Charcoal rubs into his eyes, highlighting the whites of his lashes against smeared soot.
He's—
Pretty.
Like a car crash. Calamity. The broken remains of a town after a hurricane, a tornado, ripped it apart. Ugly, brutal. His face looks like it's been mauled by a bear, a tiger. Scarred and hideous, and—
You shiver. His eyes drop, landing on your own lips. The soot on his brow flutters down, lands on his eyelashes when he lifts his brow up mockingly. Derision curdling an awful smirk on the corner of his mouth. Crooked. Like him. Like his teeth. His nose. His boxy jaw. His lips—
You kiss him.
Can't help yourself, really. There's a pull. Gravitational. Magnetic. You need, need, to taste him. To quench this ache in your jaw that makes you want to wrap your tongue around something, play with it between your teeth. Soft and sweet—
Ghost's lips are plump beneath yours. The thick scar tissue is almost velveteen when it glides over your bottom lip. You moan into it, into the feeling; victory—however pyrrhic—swims like mercury in your veins. Finally.
And he doesn't kiss you back. Doesn't make any effort to reciprocate at all, but he's not tense beneath you. Not stunned. Or reluctant. He’s pliant. Malleable. Agreeable, willing to let you devour his mouth, his taste, as much as you want. Doting. Letting you spoil yourself on him. With him.
Because you need him, don't you?
Like the air you breathe. The food he gives you—apples, always, on rainy days; salmon and rice in a pretty bowl with your name etched into the porcelain—and the attention, the affection—
(suck my cock, pretty girl. don't make me put a gag on you—deeper, you can take it, can't you? take my fat cock all the way up inside your sweet little cunt—my pretty girl—)
—it’s all so divine.
His hands on your body, your throat, spasm. Once. Just once. Against your leg, his cock twitches. Leaks prespend into the demin. You rut against his thigh, aching for it. Whimpering—
And then he's groaning into the kiss, snarling out your name until it wedges between your lungs, syphoned in from his scorching breath. Another brand in the shape of him.
Ghost kisses the same way he eats—messy, sloppy; all teeth and tongue, and full pretty lips. Clumsy, like no one taught him how to properly hold his silverware and he's trying to mock what he saw on television. Brumish. A broken, contemptuous pastiche of sumptuosity. A starving dog, snarling around its plundered morsel. Protective. Possessive.
It coils around you. Thick, smothering.
He sucks your tongue into his mouth, catching it between his teeth. The sting brings tears to the corner of your eyes, and when you pry them open, you find him already staring at you (always, always, always—), lidded. Heavy pools of desire shaded in the brume of a winter dawn. A bonfire flickering in the distance of a whiteout. Sanctuary from the cold—
He seems to catch himself. Expression flickering. Warbling around the edges. It closes off in a blink. He pulls back. Locks into the ashlar veneer of this indifference he wears like a suit of armour.
But you saw it. It was there. Within reach—
“Need me, don't you?” He drawls, timber a needlepoint between cruelty and desire. Sultry, low. Husky. He knows what it does to you. How he can unravel you at the seams with just his voice alone. “Need me so fuckin’ much, pet. Would be lost without me—”
“Please, Simon,” you whisper, feather-soft. Cunt throbbing, pulsing. Needy. “Please—”
The strident reprimand for using his name doesn't come. His hand tightens around your throat, unconscious. A paroxysm that has pleasure carving itself down your spine, electric.
“Come get it, then,” he rasps, voice wrecked. Raw. Curling at the edges, thickening his accent until the words elide.
Hand to your throat, he drags you close. Closer still. Keeps you sat pretty on his lap as he pulls you in for a bruising, hungry kiss. Tongue shoving between your teeth when you gasp.
His kisses are always hungry, but this is different. Greedy. He devours you whole. Eats you alive. His hand falls to your lower back, holding you tight to his chest.
You moan into it, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. Squeezing until your knuckles blanche, joints twinging in discomfort.
After months of nothing, this alone is bliss. His taste soaking onto your tongue, drenching it in the bitter tang of sage, wheatgrass, and stale cigarettes. Intoxicating. It leaks into you, nocuous. Infects from the inside out.
His plan coming to fruition, you think. What he sought out to do all along, ever since you wandered close to this untameable Tartarean guard, and offered yourself up to the jowls of a starving beast.
He pulls away with a heavy breath, eyes charing around the edges; brittle briquette.
“Gonna be a good girl from now on? Come upstairs, be a good mum for dad? Or am I gonna ‘ave to cane this—” his hand drops, grabbing a fistful of your ass in his hand, fingers digging into the skin between your cheeks. Possessive. It cracks like a whip down your nerves. “—tight lit’le arse?”
You shake your head instantly. Quickly. “I'll be good,” you whisper into his chin, tongue flicking out to lick across his scars. The dried sweat on his skin tastes briny. Reminds you of the ocean on a brumous November evening. The incipient yawn of a ravenous hurricane gathering its lot on the shore.
Sirens blare in the distance. Fear curdles in your guts, sits heavy like a stone. An anchor.
“So sweet f’me,” he mutters, words deepening as his head falls back, letting you pepper kisses across the underside of his jaw. Mouthing along the constellation of scars. His voice is rumble. It shivers across your lips, tongue. Shakes the marrow in your bones. “Better stay this way, pet.”
Into his pulse, you murmur, “I think you like it better when I’m bad.”
You can feel the snarl brimming in the back of his throat. Your ass stings with the phantom burn of when he lashed out with the whip. It drags a whimper out from deep within your chest.
His hand tightens around your neck. A warning. “Got some guests over f’dinner tonight. Would love to finally introduce them to my sweet little wife—” deft fingers slip across the dewy skin of your folds, knuckles grazing over your drenched hole. The touch makes you squirm. “But if you’re gonna be bad, then I’ll leave you locked up down ‘ere.”
“I’ll be good,” you swear, words a hushed breath over his jugular. His finger flattens, drawls soft, slow circles around your clit. “Ah, I’ll—I’ll be so, so good, Simon—”
“Good girls deserve rewards, don’t they?” His palm flexes possessively around your throat when you nip at old scar tissue. “Maybe I’ll let you sleep in our bed tonight instead of in your dog house. We can ‘ouse together. I’ll fuck you proper—” he roughly shoves two fingers into your hole, leering when you gasp, back arching in a bow. “Know this pretty pussy has been achin’ for me, ‘asn’t it? Gonna breed it full—”
There’s static in your head, ringing in your ear. The noise distorted, pulled underwater. You think you say something, plead—no, no, no, anything but that—but his hand tightens around your throat, fingers pushing up, up into you, notching against that spot inside that makes your head swim, your vision flicker. The abyssal chasm inside of you aches, rages; its waters swell, currents frothing, slamming against the ceiling of its iron prison, and—
Simon pulls away. Fingers stilling inside of you. No friction, no relief. Hypoxia renders the world silent. Muted. Held in stasis, stagnating at the edge of a gaping precipice he holds you over, secured by the fragile curve of your neck, fine bone china.
Phosphenes swim by. The chossy wobbles.
This distance is agony. You need to be closer, closer, to crawl inside of him, to live in the brackets of his ribs, safe and protected from the world he warns you about. Stone cold. You mewl, whine—
“Gonna be my good little wife?”
Gasping with broken lungs, you nod. Nod, nod until you’re nauseous. Dizzy. Sick—
His spit cools on your lip. Your hackles raise, body shuddering in revulsion—some primal part rears, hisses it’s infectious. Wrong. Get rid of it—
“Not gonna run?”
Slowly, you lick your lips, catching his sickness on your tongue. Swallowing it down until it sinks like a stone to the bottom of your belly. Heavy, for such a small, damning thing.
How absurd, you think. How absolutely mad.
Then you whisper, paperthin, “kiss me again, please, Simon—”
And he moves. Liquid in the gloam. Made more for shadows, midnight, than for golden apricity, where the light is harsh on his face, unveiling ruins and ravines; monoliths meant to be paid tribute to in the dark. Your hands lift to his jaw when he moves in, catching your lips in a bruising, biting kiss.
His touch is searing. Owning. He isn't laying claim: no, you're already his.
It's possessive and angry. No finesse. All slate teeth and tender tongue. They slide together in a strange game; little fawn stupidly nipping at the tiger's heel. He lets you, groaning into your mouth when you arch back, hips pushing into his fingers, taking him deeper. A pale pantomime of what's to come when he lays you on his soft bed, sweet and divine, and buries himself deep.
It should scare you. Ought to. And maybe it does. Survival, you think, but you still pull him closer. Deeper. Because it’s bliss, you find. The world around you falling dead. Silent. Pulled into a vacuum. Teetering on the edge of a black hole, event horizon. He drags you in.
Simon hums, pulling you closer. Touching you—soft, sweet. Palms a gyve. Shackles, chains. His fingers lift from your neck, trailing down the slope of your throat until he reaches the golden loop of your collar's hook. His gaze glides, magmatic, down to where your leash dangles between your heaving breasts.
It's almost tender when he grabs it into his fist. When he pulls, pulls—
Your back arching. His fingers slipping deeper inside your cunt. Obedient little doll.
When he lifts his eyes, the look you find is hot enough to char bone. You taste blood in the back of your throat—
Into the seam of your mouth, he purrs, “good girl.”
—and you swallow it down with a moan.
(after all, you know better than to run from starving dogs—)
#when your kidnapper is mean and rude as hell but you've been dtf since day one: the manifesto#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#i forget where i put peoples hands sometimes and then have to go back and remind myself where everyone's at lmao#hope you enjoyedddddddddddd#i'm gonna go pour myself a glass of bleach bye#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#cod#ghost#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#ghost x you
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PARK SEONGHWA FIC RECS
Poly!Ateez Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Kim Hongjoong - Jeong Yunho - Kang Yeosang - Choi San - Song Mingi - Jung Wooyoung - Choi Jongho
HWA TIME!! A man who is so earth shatteringly gorgeous of course gets written incredibly by atiny 😩 like this man is just art!! As always, I hope you enjoy and support these authors!!
Dividers by @iluvpooks
DISCLAIMER none of these works are mine and majority are MATURE 18+, please read all warnings before reading!!!
Key:
✨ - My Favs
🔥 - Smut (MINORS DNI)
⛈️ - Angst
💗 - Fluff
🍑 - Humor
SERIES
New Horizons - @fivestar-outlaw 🔥⛈️💗 Idol AU
this is just the cutest series!! like meeting him through animal crossing is the most adorable meet cute i want to cry 😭😭 we all deserve a lil bit of delusion as a treat asfgdssfgdf
The Way to His Heart - @edenesth ⛈️💗Joseon Period ✧ Arranged Marriage AU
im a big BIG fan of historical au's and i just loved reading hwa falling for the mc and then doing everything he can to destroy the people that hurt her 😩😩 that kind of devotion is just soooooooo attractive😍😍 it kinda reminds me of the anime My Happy Marriage (which i did not finish OTL) but if you enjoyed that i think you will love this~~
Wallflower pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 - @tenelkadjowrites 🔥⛈️💗 Office AU
seonghwa is mc's nerdy coworker but boy can he fuck 😩😩😩 the smut in this is 🤌🤌 but honestly this fic is so much more than that and how the mc changes and grows as a person because of hwa's influence is so enjoyable to read i just love them 🥹🥹
Sans - @songmingisthighs ⛈️💗🍑 SMAU ✧ Childhood Friends AU
this author really knows how to break my heart 😭😭😭 definitely be aware of trigger warnings for some chapters!!! but this fic was also so wholesome?? like i just love the mc and how they grow from the events of the story 🥹🥹 SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO SAN AND WOO!!!!
ONE SHOTS/DRABBLES/ETC
sycophant - @ncteez ✨🔥 Business AU
there will always be boss x employee fics BUT this take on it 🤌🤌🤌 hwa is just so attractively straight forward and him teaching the mc on how to dom him is truly just so fucking hot i could scream 😩😩
Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥 Hybrid AU
The Thing About Pretty Boys - @wonusite ✨🔥 Friends to Lovers AU
never say seonghwa can't fuck.... or maybe do bcs this man goes fucking feral 😵💫😵💫 i had like a full body physical reaction to how hwa is written in this fic 😩😩 like this is so filthy in the hottest way possible
Dune - @hongism 🔥 Outlaw AU ✧ Biker AU
Untitled - @orgverse 🔥 Sci-fi AU
Warning Signs EP. 1: The Showman - @mphountitled 🔥Rebellion AU
Everyday at the Bus Stop - @tenelkadjowrites 🔥💗
persistent desire - @bro-atz 🔥 College AU
Untitled - @k-hotchoisan 🔥
Red Dress - @wooyoungiewritings ✨🔥⛈️💗 Enemies to Lovers AU
i love a holiday/winter themed fic ok sue me 🫵🫵 its just COZY and this hwa drives me up the wall 😩😩 he's such a charming lil shit and the banter is soooooo good 🫠🫠 i looooooooove this couple!!!!!!!
Scattered bunny!seonghwa thoughts - @thetypingpup 🔥 Hybrid AU
Morning sex with Seonghwa - @k-hotchoisan 🔥
Untitled - @sxcret-garden 🔥
realistic sex with seonghwa - @byuntrash101 🔥
VIP Access - @hwashotcheeto 🔥 Idol AU
multiple??? - @lomlhwa 🔥 Hybrid AU
I Can See You - @daemour 🔥⛈️💗 Single Father!Hwa
Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥 Hybrid AU
heavy and sticky - @k-hotchoisan 🔥
Untitled - @cheollipop 🔥
Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥
belong to me - @ateezscupid 🔥⛈️ Idol AU
Untiled - @thetypingpup 🔥 Dragon!Teez ✧ Sugar Mommy AU
Untitled - @bombuni 💗
Honest (But Happy) Accident - @ad0rechuu 💗College AU
amazing grace - @yoongiseesawmp3 🔥⛈️💗 Church Boy!Hwa
Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥 Bad Boy!Hwa
paradigm - @yoongiseesawmp3 ✨🔥 Bartender AU
switch!hwa nuff said 🤤🤤🤤 no but how this author does banter is just so good like idk even know how explain it because it feels so natural and charming and the smut is so fucking good like im in love with hwa and the mc ?????
The Heart's Filthy Lesson - @tenelkadjowrites 🔥⛈️ Toxic BFF!Hwa
Untitled - @hee0soo 🔥
Damnation of a Saint - @byuntrash101 🔥 7 Deadly Sins AU
My Little Empress - @holybibly 🔥 Historical AU ✧ Arranged Marriage AU
the lamb and the wolf - @seonghwaddict 🔥💗 Hades!Hwa
Make Me Water - @bangtanintotheroom 🔥 Friends to Lovers AU
Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥 Cyberpunk AU
mirror mirror on the wall, who's the filthiest of them all - @almightyddeonghwa 🔥 Idol AU
boyfriend texts - @beenbaanbuun 🍑
#ateez#ateez fic recs#ateez x reader#ateez angst#ateez smut#ateez fluff#park seonghwa#seonghwa x reader#seonghwa smut#hi me from the future what was your favorite song off of golden hour#my current guess is blind or siren#merengue makes lists
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happy belated mermay! i drew that final pic after i went with my family to the new england aquarium recently, and picked out something they had there for each of the nocturnal detectives - plus kurumi! more description (spoilers) under the cut:
kurumi - piranha! it fits her color scheme, and her little freckles… and well, you know *bites you*
yuma - emperor tetra. actually i lied this one wasn’t at the aquarium i had to look it up
yakou - anemone man. ouughhh so sillyyyy
desuhiko - tried to ID the guy I took a picture of and it looked closest to the crosshatch butterflyfish. could be wrong though.
halara, fubuki - i could not find the labels for either of these fish unfortunately
vivia - electric eel (yeah he’s there, look again)
———-
the mermaids were kinda based off these species, except fubuki changed to a betta fish. bred for glamour, not for function. she is out there living her best life tho!!! nothin gets this mermaid princess down!!!!
obviously squid shinigami (squidigami) is based off ursula. but also i liked her having squid tentacle hair. woomy!
i imagine it would actually be kind of a reverse ursula situation though (reversula?). poor unfortunate amnesiac yuma would go up to sea witch shinigami asking her for his memories back, but she reveals she was the one who took his memories in the first place, and they’ve actually already made a deal. which she’s not going back on, sorrynotsorry lol!!! of course he’s actually not a mermaid at all but a human under a spell to go investigate…. something underwater. idk. maybe the mystery labyrinths are still a thing in this universe?
vivia, i’m sorry to say, would be a hundred times more miserable than we ever see him in canon, because guess what. no books. he’d still have some sort of coping mechanisms like watching other fish, watching stuff above the surface of the water, wanting nothing more to join them and fly someday. (the dragonflies, of course, are a reference to the famous water bugs and dragonflies story.) he’d still find something to get distracted by… although if he had his forte he probably would ghost up to the surface and read whatever the humans are reading up above. i guess this would make him the real ariel of the story.
kurumi of course is still based on a piranha, because it’s cute. of course these fish shouldn’t all live together but whatever. it’s mermaids. she probably is still some kind of informant, and probably hangs out near yakou’s place a bunch.
i could see yakou running some sort of shop. or if he’s still into detective work, he’d probably need kurumi as an assistant since he’s uh. not much of a swimmer. (he claims he can too swim, but it’s really silly looking. google swimming anemone. you’ll thank me.) he considers those little teeny fish to be pests (or at least claims they are. they’re probably helping him hide some sort of secret in there.)
desuhiko is a wandering trader with a keen sense of fashion. he’s great at repurposing sunken sails into mer-clothing, not so great at making sales. also the fact that his hair is gelled is way more obvious when everything is underwater. he’s basically got a helmet.
halara of course puts up an intimidating front, but has a secret soft spot for cute sea creatures. i asked my irl friend what she’d consider ‘the cat of the sea’ and she said pufferfish. i do think they are very cute and make a lot of sense as an allergen. but i don’t think halara’s taste is limited to pufferfish only, no no no. they like anything cute.
fubuki has got to have been kept captive before the story - by humans? or other mermaids? but either way, now she’s free and having a blast exploring the deep blue ocean. she really wants to know what kind of exciting creatures live in the deep!!!
and that’s it. hopefully all this description makes up for being 2 days late to mermay LMAO. i guess now it’s merGAY
#rain code#master detective archives#mdarc#rain code spoilers#yuma kokohead#shinigami chan#kurumi wendy#yakou furio#vivia twilight#desuhiko thunderbolt#halara nightmare#fubuki clockford#mermay
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don't talk about it ᰔᩚ j.sc
warnings. smut, best friend!sungchan, roommate!sungchan, arguing, it's a dumb argument but you are fighting this man, physical fighting, just shoving nothing crazy but a physical altercation starts this all, unprotected sex, hair pulling, some angst? idk if i missed something let me know! i also did not proofread this because i got out 5k words in one night which is crazy for me. anyways, enjoy!
wc. 5k
summary. your best friend embarrasses you in front of your campus crush. so, of course, you decide to fight with him in the living room and learn some interesting things about him in the process.
Sungchan had always been stupidly large, in your opinion.
He was so large that you couldn’t resist the urge to playfully test his strength, curious to see how his fit frame would react to your playful jabs or if he would sway with a gentle nudge. He would playfully push you back, never with full force, but these light-hearted scuffles became a regular part of your friendship. It was a source of joy, a shared silliness, it meant everything.
Except for the times it did.
“You’re so stupid sometimes, oh my god!” You shouted at your so-called “best friend,” shoving hard into his chest. This shove wasn’t like the ones you usually gave him. This one was harsh and mean. There was not a semblance of anything alluding to happiness on your face as you looked up at Sungchan with knitted brows and parted lips, shoving hard into his firm chest once again, this time with a shout of frustration.
If we’re being honest, you two have been drinking. It’s not like you’re shitfaced and neither is he, but the alcohol is just enough to make the world blurry at the edges and your words harsher than you typically allow them to be. His chest, solid as a boulder beneath your pushing palms, doesn't yield like it usually would during your fond roughhousing. He stands firm, his expression teetering between annoyance and worry.
"Stop it," he gruffly says, grabbing your wrists mid-shove. Just like that, the playful laughter that usually echoes between you two gets choked in the tension-filled silence. You try to yank your hands-free, but his grip is firm yet gentle. He was never rough with you, even when the fights turned serious like this. It was a rarity for things to turn nasty, but sometimes Sungchan was so oblivious you couldn’t stop yourself from lashing out at him, especially with a few mixed drinks in your system.
“Let go,” You snapped. Sungchan leans in with a tilt of his head, letting out a “Hm?” as he does so, challenging you.
“Chill out first.” That did the exact opposite of chill you out. You hated it when he took that tone of voice with you, as if you were some child that needed to be put into a timeout.
There were many things you loved about Sungchan: His kindness, his dedication to anything he sets his mind to, his eyes, you loved a lot about Sungchan, but there were many things you couldn’t stand about him. He was oblivious to the simplest of social cues, he got loud when he was drunk, and the way he comforted people was an absolute joke. If you hadn’t known him for more than half your life and shared an apartment with him, you would’ve ditched him when you two graduated high school.
But you didn’t. Now, you’re stuck with a big, dumb roommate who loves telling the men you like that you like them. God, Wonbin was never going to talk to you again after the scene Sungchan caused trying to get him to give you his number. You still can feel the embarrassment hot in your veins, making you lurch forward and finally give his chest a shove that makes him stumble a few steps.
“I won’t chill out! I won’t! What you did was fucking rude!” You yelled, pointing a finger in his face to punctuate your words and get your point across. Sungchan scoffed, turning his head away from you, but you could see his tongue press against the inside of his cheek, making the skin push out slightly. It was a habit of his you had noticed when you two went to parties together in college. It’s what he does when he’s annoyed and holding himself back, beating someone’s ass. It’s a rare occasion for Sungchan to beat someone’s ass, but when it did happen, it was always deserved. Typically, it would be a drunk guy who wanted to buck up to the biggest guy at the party, a one-sided battle of masculinity that Sungchan always won, no matter who came up to him. You’ve only seen Sungchan throw a punch twice in your entire friendship.
Once, when you were in high school, and the last time was at a party during your junior year of college when a man put his hands on you despite you telling him to fuck off. The other times, he had simply told you about when you’d see him in the kitchen with littered bruises on his body. You think about that night more often than you’d like to admit. Sungchan didn’t hesitate to throw a punch for you, knocking the man clean out by the time he was done with him. It lit a fire in you that you’re not proud to admit. There was just something in his eyes that rubbed your brain right. You would never admit it, but were desperate to see that look again. You wanted to see him angry, to watch him lose control no matter how fucked up it sounds.
“Get your hand out of my face,” Sungchan told you firmly, looking you in the eyes to get his point across, but you weren’t deterred. You step closer to him, finger still in his face.
“No. Not until you apologize. Admit it was rude. You were rude.”
“I wasn’t fucking rude,” Sungchan argues, swatting your hand down when you don’t move it from his face. You bring it back up without a care of the consequences, resulting in a game of him swatting your hand down every time you bring it up.
You two look stupid. Thank God this is in the privacy of your living room.
“You had no right-”
“You were never going to talk to him if I didn’t! You’re a chicken-”
“I’m not a fucking chicken––Oh my god, don’t call me a bird.”
“You’re such a fucking chicken, dude. Do you remember how long it took you to even talk to Shotaro? Months. ‘Took you months to even say hi to him, and that’s because-”
“Shut up.”
“That’s because I had to step it! I was the one to get you to talk to him!” Sungchan continued with a shit-eating grin, voice picking up volume as he leaned down to get closer to you as if you couldn’t hear him clear enough, pointing to himself like he had won some kind of award. Your already flushed cheeks begin to heat up when you remember the Shotaro incident of 2022. He always brought up Shotaro, and even if it was just to pick on you playfully, it still struck a nerve. You were more shy than Sungchan ever was, always letting him start the conversations or introduce you to new people. Half of your friends are Sungchan’s friends; half of the people you’ve dated are because Sungchan knew them first. Every connection in your life could be traced back to Sungchan, which drove you insane.
“Now, you want to talk all this shit because you got embarrassed I had to step in again and help you get some dick,” Sungchan pressed, his grin turning into a smirk as he nodded at his words, feeling them in his being because they’re true. You stared at him with contempt, teeth grinding as your fists balled up tightly. “You should be thanking me. You’re so ungrateful for everything-”
You lunged at him. You swear you don’t have control of your body when you do it, you just throw your entire weight into his chest and hope for the best. Sungchan let out an “Oof!” sound when you collided with him, staggering back and hitting the ground with you on top of him. You act as if you two are playfully wrestling, but none of your movements have an ounce of playfulness in them. You straddled his hips firmly as you shoved at his hands harshly to get them away from grabbing you. You knew once he got his hands on you, it was over. He’d flip you two over, and it’d be done. You couldn’t let him win this. You couldn’t do it. You had to prove it to him.
You don’t know what it was, but you had to prove it.
You grab his hair tightly, jerking his head off the carpet to distract him, tugging hard on the brown locks. Sungchan lets out a yelp that sounds pathetic. His eyes squeezed shut as his large hands wrapped around your wrist to try and pull you off of him.
“Not fair-” He started. You shake his head, eliciting another yelp from him.
“Shut up. Shut the fuck up,” You spat at him, shaking him again. His face contorted in pain and confusion, groaning softly as he did what you told him for once. You couldn’t believe he actually listened. Truthfully, you didn’t think you’d get this far. You’re not exactly sure what to do next. So, you shake his head again, making him hiss when you tugged harder on his locks. “Can’t fucking stand you, you know that? You’re such a jerk sometimes. Just big, stupid, and taking up space.” You shake his head around with every word, watching him drop his hands and put them up in front of him in faux surrender, but he doesn’t say anything. He only whined and grunted when you pulled on his hair harder than usual.
You waited for him to spit something back at you, to call you a coward, to say you needed him, but nothing but pants left his plush lips. You furrow your brows in confusion at his silence. Sungchan was never quiet. You shake him again.
“Hello? Say something!” You shake his head again, this time back and forth. You won’t lie. It was fun to have him like this. He acted like some kind of puppet that you were the master of, pulling him around in whichever direction you wanted him to go in, and he just took it. Sungchan sighed in defeat, keeping his eyes shut tightly.
“My dick just twitched.”
Oh.
“Excuse me?” You couldn’t think of anything else to say. Your hands, which had been roughly pulling at Sungchan's hair, suddenly freeze. Your heart pounds in your chest as you gaze down at him, cocking a brow at him. His face is flushed a deep crimson, though whether from embarrassment or something else, you can't tell.
"I said," he starts again, much slower this time, swallowing hard, "My... my dick just twitched."
You blink at his repeated confession, not expecting him to repeat the words. There’s a tension growing between the two of you that you’ve never felt before, making your throat dry as you stare at Sungchan’s embarrassed face, watching his chest rise and fall as he pants beneath you. Flashes of what he’d look like without his shirt flash in your brain, wondering what sounds he’d make as you sink down on him, how his eyes would look, how the muscles would ripple under his––Jesus Christ, get it together, girl. You remind yourself, clearing your throat down at him.
“Like…Seriously?” Sungchan nods at your dry words, opening his eyes slowly to look up at you. A switch in your brain is flipped when you see his big brown eyes. He looks utterly pathetic like this, hair in your hand revealing his forehead, eyes pleading for something silent, and lips in a perfect soft pout. You wanted to take his picture like the actual definition of pitiful.
You chuckle at him, shaking him again and tugging his hair hard to see if it really did anything for him. He whines again, shutting his eyes as his hands lurch towards your hips, holding tightly with a sharp breath through his teeth. You smirk at his reaction, raising your brows in slight shock it was this easy to get him going. Maybe it was the alcohol, you think. You’ve seen Sungchan shove his tongue down girls’ throats just mere minutes after he met them, but this is you. You’re his best friend, his roommate, the girl who beat his ass for talking to her crush for her. You know you’re pretty, and Sungchan is just a man, but you’re still caught off guard by it all.
Your palm still cradled his scalp, thumb lazily tracing small circles at the base of his hairline. Sungchan’s hands on your hips squeeze gently, fingers digging into your flesh just a bit more than necessary and causing a shiver to wind its way up your spine.
Without thinking, you leaned forward and claimed Sungchan's lips in a rough, desperate kiss. His taste was different than any guy you've ever kissed - salty with a hint of beer and lime from the drink he had tonight. You wrapped your hand tightly around the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you as your other hand found its way under his shirt to feel his warm skin. You didn't let up when he moaned into your mouth, feeling your touch while he tentatively kissed you back. Your anger turned into desperation quickly as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, tasting him fully now. His lips were soft and plush against yours as they parted slightly to let you in further. You moaned the moment your tongues slid together, digging your nails into his toned chest as he pressed in further, sucking softly on the slick muscle in your mouth.
Sungchan's hands moved up your body, gripping your waist and still pulling you closer. The fabric of your shirt scratching against his rough palms made you shiver with anticipation for more contact. You grind down on him out of instinct, feeling the bulge in his pants grow as he groans against your mouth, wanting more from both of you. His scent filled your senses - a mix of sweat and cologne and something uniquely Sungchan that made you want more.
The sound of his rhythmic grunts filled the room, a mix of desire and surprise in every breath he took. His fingers dug into your skin through your shirt, and you moaned into his mouth once more. Your breath hitched when he bit down on your lower lip gently, making you gasp and whimper into the kiss before breaking it, desperate for air. You gasp softly when you part, watching with hazy eyes as he pants as well, lips slick with spit and typically wide eyes heavy with lust.
You tug at his shirt, nodding before he has any time to say something that will kill the mood.
“Take it off.”
And he listens like a dog, pushing himself up and pulling his white T-shirt over his head, tossing it aside before wrapping his arms around your torso and pulling you flush against him. There are no thoughts in your head right now, only Sungchan, touching Sungchan, kissing Sungchan, fucking Sungchan––Holy shit, you were totally going to fuck Sungchan. That hits you harder than you thought it would. You’ve thought about it before. How could you not? He’s beautiful, kind, and built like a God. Of course, you thought about fucking Sungchan. It was nothing like this, however. Typically, you thought of him having your face pressed into the mattress, back arched, and fucking you from behind like he was getting paid. You would’ve never guessed you’d be on top, but it’s not like you can’t get into it for Sungchan. You’d do anything for Sungchan.
"Are you sure?" Sungchan whispers against the skin of your neck, his hands finding your hips again to steady you against him, his bare chest warm and firm. You're taken aback for a moment, not expecting the question. But then you realize that he’s always been considerate, even when he’s on the verge of losing control.
"Yeah," you say firmly, the word slipping out without thought and causing heat to flare in Sungchan's eyes.
Without hesitation, you reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head swiftly. The cool air hits your skin, making goosebumps spread across your chest and arms. Sungchan's eyes widen as he takes you in, his gaze making you feel exposed and powerful. You struggle to pull your jeans off, having to crawl off of him to kick them off in haste. You hate how desperate you look but can’t bring yourself to care. Sungchan rolls on his side when you crawl off of him, lingering towards you like a lost puppy. His eyes watch as more of your skin is revealed to him, letting out a groan when he sees the smooth skin of your thighs.
Before you have the chance to climb back on top of him, he leans in, kissing the side of your thigh with a moan. You let out a gasp in shock but watched him with parted lips, threading your hands through his hair again as he dragged his lips all over the expanse of your thigh, leaving a trail of glistening spit as he did. He grabs your ankle, pulling you towards him roughly, making you fall back onto the carpet with another gasp. You don’t argue for once; you are too invested in what Sungchan will do next, even if you care.
His lips pepper kisses across the inside of your thighs, nipping at the sensitive skin with deep breaths as he inched closer and closer to your core.
He licks his lips as he hooks a long finger in your underwear, pulling them to the side. A moan leaves his lips when he sees your pussy for the first time, looking down at it like he’s looking at a coveted piece of art. You watch him closely, ears turning pink as he lifts two fingers to his lips, licking the tips of them before bringing them down between your legs to rub circles into your clit. His gaze stays on your cunt, watching how the pretty pink flesh moves beneath his fingers, biting his bottom lip when he hears you let out a whine, seeing your thighs tremble at just the slightest touch. Finally, his dark gaze lifts to meet yours.
With his eyes trained on yours, he presses a long finger inside you. A sigh leaves your lips as your eyes flutter shut, gripping the carpet with one hand while the other dug into your side, biting your bottom lip as he pressed another finger inside. You moan this time, feeling your walls begin to stretch for him. You hear him groan quietly, making your eyes open. You’re immediately met with his gaze that never left your face. He looks like he’s in a trance, staring at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You can’t tell how it makes you feel, but you feel hot, like you’re boiling from the inside out. It aches, but it’s so intoxicating that you want more of it.
You whimper at how his fingers slickly slide out, then back in, watching him get lost in the sight of your reactions. You’re so wet for him. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you got so quickly. You swallow thickly as your chest rises and falls with each pant. His eyes stay on your face as his thumb presses against your clit, rubbing slow circles that make you shiver with a choked-out moan. His free hand cups your jaw, tilting your head back slightly, forcing your lips apart to look deeply into your eyes as he watches you crumble under him.
Feeling emboldened, Sungchan takes his fingers out of you slowly, letting out a long moan when they leave you empty. He lays a line of sweet pecks against your inner thighs, leaving tiny bites and nips on the soft flesh until he reaches the hem of his boxers. With a breathy "Fuck," he tugs them down enough to reveal his hard cock pressing against the fabric. You gulp as it springs from its confines, averting your eyes momentarily before snapping them back up to challenge his gaze. His thick length twitches with anticipation before he guides it towards you, slick with pre-cum leaking from the tip. Your heart stops for a beat before racing wildly in your chest again.
"Wrap your legs around me," Sungchan orders softly, not breaking eye contact even when you hesitate for a second before obeying. He grunts when he feels your folds pressing against his cock, pushing inside without a moment’s hesitation. He slides in so easily, groaning at how smooth the glide inside you is. He sounds as beautiful as he looks, making you moan as well. The way his cock splits your walls apart for him is delicious, to say the least, as a euphoria fills your veins as your walls spasm around him with another moan, this one airier than the one before.
“Fuck,” Sungchan curses, fingers digging into the carpet next to your head as he looks down at where your bodies were connected before back at your face. You two lock eyes again, making your heart hammer in your chest harder than before. Still, you meet his gaze with a quiet whimper, hands wrapping around his strong biceps as you bat your lashes at him.
“Feels good, Sungie?” You ask in a too-sweet voice. You rarely whip out for him unless you ask for a favor, like getting something off the top shelf or making him finish your short answer response questions because you don’t want to. Sungchan would do anything for you, and you’d do anything for Sungchan. He takes a deep breath at your tone, lips curling into a smirk before he bites his bottom lip, nodding.
Then, his hips roll into yours.
Sungchan's thick cock feels even better than you could have ever imagined, stretching you wide and fulfilling you completely. His hips roll into yours slowly, making you moan and whine beneath him with each gentle thrust. The way he fills you up is mind-numbing, his smirk turning into a grimace as he leans down to capture your lips in a rough kiss.
Your walls clamp down on him at the contact, purposely trying to get more friction between the two of you. Sungchan groans against your lips, slipping his hands under your back and lifting you up onto his lap effortlessly. You gasp into his mouth, feeling his hard chest pressed against yours. Your heart pounds in your chest as he starts to fuck you properly now, eyes closing at the sensation that washes over you. You swear you can feel his heartbeat against your chest, but you convince yourself you’re just dreaming it.
You feel every inch of him inside of you, making your walls tighten around him with every snap of his hips into yours. A tiny sob leaves your lips when he hits that spot inside you that has you seeing stars. You dig your nails into the flesh of his shoulders, jaw-dropping and eyes rolling back at how your body moves like a rag doll and at how sharply his hips snap up into you. He groans into your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin before sucking softly to soothe it with his tongue. You can't help but shudder in his lap; this feels so good that it hurts. His hands hold you in place, one on your waist and the other cradling the back of your head as he takes rough control of the kiss again, teeth scraping against soft skin with every thrust. He pants against your lips, moaning your name softly and how good you make him feel. It's all too much for you; all too real with Sungchan, yet so not real. You’re fucking your roommate on your living room floor––You’re fucking your best friend on your living room floor.
Your hands find their way into his hair again, holding onto him tightly as he continues to fuck into you like your his, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck and over your collarbone. You mewl at the feeling, arching your back into his chest as he hits that sweet spot inside you once more. You could feel the warmth spreading through your veins, making you dizzy with need. The room spins around you as he thrusts harder, faster, deeper into your already aching pussy. His moans mix with yours, their tongues meeting in a messy kiss that speaks volumes about how much you both want this.
Your legs quiver as he takes control of the situation, fingers digging into your skin softly before trailing up to caress your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra. You let out a strangled cry when he pinches at one of your nipples roughly, making you moan into his mouth even more, looking down to watch him work with a breath through your teeth. Your hands' card through the hair on the back of his head, eyes shutting to focus solely on the pleasure coursing through your veins with every drag of Sungchan’s cock against your walls.
"Sun-Sungchan," you whimper. The sound of his name on your lips is like music to his ears. Your body is sweaty and flushed, a beautiful sight for him to feast his eyes upon. He growls lowly when he finally meets your gaze again, heat pooling in your lower belly at the raw desire he displays.
“You’re so fucking good, baby. ‘Should’ve fucked you soon, hm?” Sungchan groans, his voice creased with effort as he continues to pound into you. You can’t help but respond with a needy whimper, skin burning under his touch as you nod your head dumbly. You feel him everywhere, and it's overwhelming - the way he’s stretched you wide open, the way he feels pushing deep inside of you, the way his hands are holding you in place as if afraid that you'll slip away from underneath him.
Your heart beats furiously against your chest, matching rhythm with the throbbing ache between your legs. You're close, too close, but not quite there yet. Sungchan seems to sense your growing desperation, the flash of triumph in his eyes telling you he knows exactly what he's doing to you. He reaches down and begins rubbing slow circles on your clit again, thumb pressing against the sensitive nub just enough to make you cry out in pleasure.
“You gonna cum for me?” He whispers against your throat, teeth dipping into your soft flesh, causing a sharp gasp from your lips. You nod frantically in response, words failing you as white-hot pleasure courses through your veins. He laughs softly - a dark chuckle that sends shivers down your spine.
The way you melt against him is intoxicating. He grunts, unable to think straight as he feels his own orgasm building up. His hips move even faster, his cock sliding in and out of your welcoming heat with each thrust. He groans against your skin, panting heavily as he fucks you like it’s his last dying will, wet sounds filling the room that mixes with your pants and moans. You squeeze your eyes shut at the sounds you’re making, cheeks growing more read because of it. Sex is so embarrassing sometimes.
He pulls away from your neck just a little to look into your eyes, panting heavily as they roll back in pleasure. Sungchan's lips curl into a smirk at seeing how lost you get. Your walls tighten around his cock once again as you cum around him, making Sungchan's eyes roll back into his head and tilt his head back with a melodic groan that has you moaning as well. You feel him tremble beneath you as he finally cums inside of you, making you smirk softly as your hands run up and down his back.
You throw your head back and cry out his name, orgasm hitting you hard and fast like a freight train. He watches as you finally hit your peak, jaw-dropping at how gorgeous you look when you feel good. Your walls clamp down around him, and your muscles spasm in ecstasy; even through the haze of pleasure, you feel every drop of his cum spilling into you, the heat of it searing into your core. Your body convulses and shivers under the onslaught of pleasure, your voice breaking on Sungchan's name.
Sungchan stays still for a moment longer, his cock still buried deep inside of you. His chest heaves against yours, ragged gasps filling the space between your sated bodies. He blinks slowly, his gaze holding yours captive as he pants out your name. You take his face into his hands with a deep breath, leaning in and kissing his lips without a second though. He moans into the kiss, holding your wrists gently as he does so.
You both stay like that for a while. Bodies joined together in the aftermath of your shared orgasm. The only sounds in the room are your gasping breaths and the rapid beat of your heart pounding in sync. Cautiously, Sungchan pulls out of you gently, making your pussy squeeze around nothing instinctively at the loss, a soft whimper leaving your lips.
He rolls off to one side, pulling you with him so that you're tucked against his side. His arm wraps around you and keeps you close to him, fingers dancing along your sweaty skin lightly. Neither of you speak for long moments, too wrapped up in trying to regain control of your breathing and coming down from your highs even to fathom thinking of words right now.
Eventually, though, Sungchan breaks the silence with a soft whisper, "You okay?"
Your lips twitch into a tired smile against his chest, pressing a small kiss there before nodding. "Yeah," you huff out after a moment, "That was…"
"Crazy," he finishes for you, making you shut your eyes with a laugh, nodding in agreement.
“Yeah…That was crazy,” You whisper, moving your head to rest on his chest to soak up more of his warmth. Your cheek squishes against his chest as you lay there, looking down at his spent cock resting against his thigh. It hits you that you’re both naked and just had sex on your living room floor. This calls for a conversation at the least but you can’t drag yourself to start it, completely spent from what just occurred.
So, instead, you close your eyes.
You’ll deal with it in the morning.
#sungchan smut#jung sungchan smut#riize smut#riize scenarios#sungchan hard hours#riize hard hours#sungchan x reader#99woez#riize imagines#riize x reader
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Want Nothing More
Jiyan x Reader
A quiet moment away, a reunion and a revelation long foreseen
//He finally came home it only took my sanity. Very short little decently written fic, maybe OOC also some maybe spoilers for his story quest??? Also maybe I got stuff wrong idk, this isn't beta read so like eh
The greater world is often far wider than the humble confines of a small village, much less one so tucked away. Since facing an injury that rendered you almost entirely incapable of returning to the frontlines, you quietly returned to Taoyuan Vile with hefty compensation and an arm that could not even be lifted.
Life becomes oddly quiet, with barely any danger to hold arms against nor a proper purpose back home, you take to helping in the village’s pharmacy as some way to bring order back into your daily routine. You are given more delicate work, pressing and drying herbs, sorting them for use, dealing with customers and aiding with deliveries. With the opportunity to provide, to give back, it became a sort of pride for how quick you could pick up the routine.
It works for a while, yet with this new direction, you are gradually reminded of a certain someone from all those years ago.
That boy who smelled like medicinal herbs and eyes like stars, whose face scrunched from displease whenever he caught a taste of bittberries in his food, the boy who certainly has found his path beyond medicine. There are times you blink and before you is not the current reality of him, but rather the little boy who somehow managed to find time to spend with you no matter his duties.
Memories of stolen moments, of forcing him to rest after his sending condolences to grieving family, of exercising his natural medical ability. You were younger then, with limbs like sticks and hair that stuck to your face, yet that did not discourage you from doing what you could for your friend.
You wonder how he is doing nowadays, you haven’t seen him since the day you got discharged after all.
One can only imagine your surprise when through falling pink petals and the light breeze of the wind, he appears as he did all those years ago. Still the pillar of calm and decisiveness, he looked a tad out of place compared to the lively and enthusiastic crowd of teams. By his side was a dark haired individual, looking just a little less out of place, and when two other rangers approached them, a small huff escaped you.
A repeat of that last game, who would have known that the general’s second game would have him recreating the circumstances of his first. If only with a few minor differences.
By the time the revelry and chaos dies down, the sun has long since fallen beyond the horizon. Many of the villagers are still out celebrating as the tapestry of stars stretches far past what your eyes can see. Having made the venture to the great tree that stands atop the mountain, you notice a familiar form already standing there. Beneath falling petals and illuminated by the moon’s grace, that young boy of the past has become your stalwart general.
With heavy steps, you approach him, yet stop just a few steps before his side, sitting down on the grass as you overlook the little lights of the village. He clearly notices your presence, sitting curtly, leaving an arm’s distance between your two forms.
“I didn’t think you’d take part again,” You hum, keeping your eyes away from his as you maintain your focus ahead of you.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” He shakes his head, his lips move to open just the slightest, as if wishing to say more yet unable to muster the words to say so, still they close. Jiyan manages to breathe out, “It's been a while.”
You swallow, an action that seems oddly difficult, “It has.”
As you finally muster the courage to turn towards him, you notice how his gaze seems to consider your inept arm. Perhaps a few years ago, you would have despised the way he looks at it, knowing that people only look because of pity. Nonetheless, you instinctively press that arm against you, your other hand raising to hold it.
He furrows his brow just the slightest, and in a tone so soft you must strain to hear, “I wanted to apologise for not doing more for you.”
“You’ve already done so much.” Sighing, a breath escapes you as you meet his eyes. You move closer towards him, shifting so that hand of yours, that arm that could barely lift a basket, could rest atop his arm.
Your voice cracks just the slightest, even after all this time you never manage to thank him for everything he has done for you. The compensation was far too generous for an ordinary ranger such as yourself, the immediate and efficient care you received as rehabilitation, the bundle of Pecok flowers you would see upon every morning’s awakening. You only hoped you could give him something back in return, “An arm is just an arm, if you hadn’t acted as quick as you did, maybe I would’ve lost more than that.”
Jiyan looked no more than the young man he is, in such familiar settings and under such familiar straits. Sword straight brows and the soft quirk of his lips, he never truly changed from that young boy. Your eyes trail further down, to his squared shoulders and staunch chest, how they maintain rigid and perfect poise.
Another sigh escapes you, “You’re not at work, won’t you at least untense your shoulders?”
“I’m sorry, there has been a lot going on and I didn’t think I’d end up staying here so long.”
“Don’t apologise,” You smile, then pat your lap with your hand. Sending him a nonplussed look, you can all but see the gears in his head, you can only laugh, “Humour me then.”
He does not move, his eyes widening just the slightest that to anyone else, they might have missed his brief moment of shock. You have not asked him to rest in such a manner for years, perhaps the last time was over a decade ago, so you do not blame him. Still, perhaps it was the nostalgia, perhaps it was the unveiling of sentiment, but a familiar sense of easiness takes over.
“Come on, don’t tell me great and mighty General Jiyan is too good for a break?” You raise a brow, easy teasing falling from your lips.
He is quick to deny your quip, “I never said that.” And with at first hesitancy in his very form, he finally tentatively lays his head on your lap.
The weight brings about old memories, and old feelings. How old were you when you realised that Jiyan, friend as he is, was worth far more than that to you? How old were you when you started looking forward to his little breaks just to catch a glimpse of him?
You loved him, of course you did. Who does not love their friends?
Yet this love of yours is one that is aged, one that has matured into contentment for what you had. Even as you spend your days in Taoyuan Vile, the little parts of him you see among the crooks and crannies of white walls and verdant greenery, it is enough for you. So even when he lays in your lap and closes his eyes as he did all those years ago, you are happy with what you have.
“You know, when we were younger, I used to have to convince you to rest whenever we managed to get away,” More akin to reminiscing seniors, you brush away his bangs away from his face with a gentle flick.
“Even then you were so hardworking,” You murmur.
He responds, just as quietly as your recollection, “That should be expected, I was working even then.”
“I think it was when I saw how peaceful you looked while sleeping that I realised I liked you,” Humming, you close your eyes as the wind breezes past your cheek.
As though realising what you said, a warm flush pools at the tips of your ears as you accidentally meet his eyes, “Ah…”
“Guess I said too much huh?” You laugh, the sound carried by the gentle wind. “Ignore me, I’m just saying things.”
In a rare moment of vulnerability, Jiyan reaches for you, his hand raised to keep you from looking away. Though he remains, those golden eyes tipped with scarlet bear an emotion you never thought he would hold. With just one look, just one action, he renders you incapable of moving to defend yourself.
He mutters, voice tinged with just the hint of languish, “After all these years, you’re still unwilling to tell me things.”
“Would you have wanted me to tell you?” With a raised brow, you cock your head, leaning into his palm incidentally.
“Yes.”
And that contentment, the placidity that came with the distance and time between the two of you, crumbles. For your love, a sentiment you have nurtured into something that can be tucked away, is still one that yearns for response. For his love, is one just as aged as yours, just as willing to sit in contentment and placidity. Years and years of pining that soon bred a seed of tranquillity, quietly sitting within the soil just waiting for that push to bloom.
With a soft smile, so like that boy’s and so befitting your beloved general’s visage, he avows the second half of a confession brazenly said, “Because it was when I laid in your lap that I realised that I liked you too.”
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i saw you asking for requests and i thought i would give a kinda basic one but like idk i have a feeling it will turn out good (im really bad with requests)
but like jason grace x child of aphrodite reader with false god by taylor swift maybe the lyrics "And you can't talk to me when I'm like this daring you to leave me just so I can try and scare you" but honestly any part of the song you see fit!!
all my love, amanda 🎀
˗ˋ even if it’s a false god, we’d still worship this love ˊ˗
warnings: arguing, kissing, this might be cringe? also takes place at chb because I can’t write the setting at camp jupiter to save my life
pairing: jason grace x daughter of aphrodite
summary: read to find out 😋
A/N: this song 😫
“he’s my friend, that’s it! do you know what a friend is?” you asked angrily
you had been arguing about th”is for a half an hour now.
you had been talking to one of your male friends at the campfire, just catching up, but jason took it the wrong way when he caught you laughing at one of his jokes, hitting his arm playfully
“I know what a friend is, which is why I’m saying that he doesn’t want to be just your friend” jason replied
“oh my gods, you are so-” you cut yourself off, trailing your hands down your face as a way to calm yourself down
“so what? say it” he demanded
“relentless. you won’t let this go, why can’t you trust that we’re just friends” you say with a a calm tone, but your anger takes over, “leave”
a strong look of worry makes its way to his face, “what? what do mean?”
“leave, go away” you shoot him a glare, crossing your arms
“this is my cabin” you sigh at his words
“well I’m done” you mutter
“done with-” realization washes over him, “no- please, we can talk”
“we are talking, and you don’t trust me, it’s too late at night to deal with this” snapped
“I do trust you, I trust you more than anyone, I’m just worried. you’re a daughter of aphrodite, you’re gorgeous, everyone wants to be with you, I can’t help but feel you’ll leave me for someone better” he confessed
you think for a moment. maybe you had been to harsh… you begin to think that maybe this argument wouldn’t have started if you had asked him for further detail.
the more you think about his words, the worse it makes you feel
guilt.
that’s what you feel
extremely guilty that you yelled at him for being scare you would leave him, it wasn’t fair
“jase- listen, I’m sorry, I would never leave you, ever. you’re the one I want, not some other stupid boys, just you, and I’m sorry that I didn’t realize how you felt, I feel awful” you grab his hands and cup them in yours, looking up at him with a begging-look, hoping he understands your words, “but I really hope you trust me when I say I don’t want anyone else in this universe but you”
“but what if-” you cut him off with a finger to his lips
“no, there is no what-ifs, I only want you, idiot” you sigh, pulling him in for a passionate kiss, and he pulls you in closer by your waist
you let your hands travel up to the back of his neck, pushing him closer to you, and he lets out a content sigh as you do so, and you know you’ve got him to understand
“I don’t want anybody to take you away from me” he says in between breathless kisses
“no one’s going to”
#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo series#pjo fandom#percy jackson#pjo#pjo spoilers#percy series#pjo fanfic#pjo x reader#pjo hoo toa#heroes of olympus#jason grace imagines#jason grace x reader#jason grace x y/n#jason grace#jason grace x you#xoxochb
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So, obviously, Brooklynn’s “death” was DEVASTATING for the others, and while they’re all going to be thrilled that she’s alive, I think it’s safe to say that there will be some conflicted feelings about it. So, who is going to be the person who immediately shrugs, says “makes sense”, and moves on, and who’s going to stew on it for an entire season? Well, here’s what I think, in ascending order of rage:
1: Ben. Ben is immediately going to shrug, say “makes sense”, and move on. Not only would he be a bit of a hypocrite if not, but the Dark Jurassic conspiracy theory stuff will make him very receptive to the idea of someone faking their death. The man has been eating out of a boot.
2. Yaz. I think Yaz’s pragmatism will make it so that she is able to see why Brooklynn did it (depending on why she did it I guess) faster than the others. It’s not that she doesn’t care about Brooklynn and wasn’t upset when she died, but I think Brooklynn’s death hasn’t changed her life or her approach towards life in the same way that it has for the other three.
3. Kenji. 3 and 4 are interchangeable I guess, but I kind of want Sammy as second to last. I think Kenji will take a bit longer, but he’ll come around eventually. I do feel like everything that has happened has really shattered his trust in Brooklynn, so getting that back will be harder than forgiveness. Ultimately though, I think Kenji’s relief that she’s still alive and he hasn’t lost another person will overtake everything else.
4. Sammy. I really want Sammy to take a while, although it would probably in the show be more focused on Kenji and Darius. Sammy is someone who cares so, so deeply about her friends. The idea that someone who she loves so much would willingly hurt her as much as Brooklynn has done??? Inexcusable. Sammy is going to be PISSED, because the campers are FAMILY and you don’t DO that to FAMILY. The only person whose worldview and entire existence was affected more than Sammy was…
5. Darius. Of course. Idk, if Darius isn’t pissed at Brooklynn I’M going to be pissed. Darius fell to PIECES after Brooklynn died. This man was calling his dead friend’s phone to tell her about the DINOSAUR HUNT he was embarking on after QUITTING HIS JOB to GET REVENGE on a DINOSAUR. Darius stopped talking to his family, had a huge falling out with Kenji, and isolated himself from everyone in his life except for the ghost of Brooklynn in an attempt to alleviate the guilt and somehow fix her death and she was ALIVE THE WHOLE TIME??? I want Darius to be SO angry. I want it to go on for much, much longer than everyone else in the group. I want to have everyone trying to convince him to go easy on her and he can’t. He won’t. I want ALL the drama. I want Darius and Brooklynn to be FURIOUS with each other and then kiss about it
#to clarify I don’t think brooklynn deserves most of that#maybe some#but she’s been through a lot too#i just feel like it’ll be weird if they’re all okay with her immediately#i think it’s kind of fair to get mad at someone who makes you think your friend is dead#even if that someone is that friend#camp cretaceous#jwcc#chaos theory#chaos theory spoilers#mine#dinostar
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for the kiss prompts, klaine and "kissing your lover to show you forgive them"? <3
omg i loved this prompt!!! it gave me a chance to write something a bit sweeter than i usually write so i hope you love it! idk how long a drabble is typically supposed to be, but im sure i exceeded that here whoops
Pairing: Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson
Word Count: 1152
Rating: G
if anyone would like to send me a prompt, check out the prompt list here!
fic can be read under the cut <3
Blaine still harbored a lot of guilt, Kurt knew. He wasn’t such a fool that he didn’t realize that the sudden proposal was Blaine’s effort to show how devoted he was. And Kurt really did believe him, regardless of how aloof he tried to appear to be at times.
Upon Blaine’s whirlwind proposal, the two of them hadn’t had much time to discuss anything between each other. They were busy having their attention pulled every which way by family and friends alike. And make no mistake — Kurt was grateful for it! He missed his friends dearly ever since moving to New York, and his family even more so. But Kurt was well aware, given their previous struggles with communication, that they would need to talk. It was an inevitability, really.
So that’s what eventually led them to the Hudson-Hummel household alone. “Carole and I are just gonna go see a movie. Maybe also get dinner or something. You boys don’t wait up,” his dad had said, but Kurt knew what he was really saying. The words hidden underneath sounded more like You and Blaine ought to talk about this. And like with most things, his father was right.
It was only seconds after the door closed behind his parents that Blaine started kissing him. And Kurt… he missed this. He really did. Kissing Blaine was something that he could never grow tired of, and after having gone so long without the contact, it felt like home. Sure, he had Adam for a time, and there was also Mr. Schue’s wedding, but those were so different. Kissing Blaine like this; it was with the knowledge that they belong to one another. More so now than ever before.
Which is why they needed to talk about this.
“I can’t believe we’re engaged,” Blaine muttered against Kurt’s mouth, quiet giddiness dripping from his lips and intoxicating Kurt like an aged wine. He couldn’t believe it either, honestly. He had the weight of it around his finger and still couldn’t believe it. He could stay kissing Blaine like this forever, just existing in this rush of gentle joy.
They needed to talk about this.
“It’s everything I ever wanted,” Blaine continued, carefully carding his fingers through Kurt’s hair. He leaned into Kurt, eager to experience closeness that he no doubt had been craving for so long since their break up. “You’re everything I ever wanted,” he whispered then and Kurt could easily see himself slipping into the fantasy that everything is perfect and there’s no loose ends. It was easy with Blaine. He was so charming and genuine, it was nearly second nature for him to cave beneath it.
They needed to talk about this.
“Blaine,” Kurt uttered finally, nudging Blaine away with a light press of his hand on Blaine’s chest. “Why did you do this?”
It’s not the words he meant to say, but they had already spilled out of his throat before he could even think about stopping them. Fine. He guessed his brain wasn’t going to be diplomatic about this.
Though, with the look of confusion that spread across Blaine’s features led him to somewhat regret speaking up. Blaine pulled away from Kurt, but kept his fingers nestled in Kurt’s hair. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, why did you do this?” Kurt questioned, redirecting to the silver ring that wrapped around his finger.
This time, Blaine did let go of Kurt, his anxiety betraying him and fully replacing the happiness from earlier that evening. “Because I love you, Kurt. And it’s important to me that you know that,” Blaine said and it was so obscenely sincere that it tugged at Kurt’s heart. Then, Kurt watched as tension built inside Blaine as he spoke again. “Oh god, you’re not changing your mind, are you?”
“No, no, not at all!” Kurt reassured quickly. He took Blaine’s hand in both of his, holding them close to offer some sort of security and warmth. Blaine, Kurt has really begun to learn, is driven heavily by emotions. He needed to tread lightly. “This just all came very suddenly, that’s all. Blaine, I love you too, but if there’s something else going on, I need to know about it. No more secrets, right?”
It seemed like Kurt had said the right things, because Blaine nodded, and sag in his shoulders indicated that he was a bit more relaxed. He couldn’t really blame Blaine for being emotionally turbulent today; a lot has happened in the past few hours. “You’re right, no secrets,” he agreed and followed up with a soft sigh. Kurt held securely to his hand, silently encouraging Blaine to continue. After a brief moment of reticence, he spoke again. “I’m just so scared, Kurt. I messed this up once already, and I feel terrible everyday for it. I wanted to do this to show you that I’m really serious about us — about you. I never want to make you feel that way ever again. Cheating on you was by far the worst mistake of my life and I’ll regret it forever.”
Kurt listened quietly as Blaine poured his heart out. He had figured that it had something to do with their break up. It was too big of a roadblock to just ignore.
Keeping one hand holding Blaine’s, Kurt reached up with his other hand and played with one of the loose curls that had sprung free from Blaine’s hair gel at some point throughout the day. “I think you should start forgiving yourself.”
The look of confusion returned to Blaine’s face. “But I-”
“I know what you did,” Kurt interrupted before Blaine could self-deprecate further. “And I also know that you apologized no less than eight-hundred times since it happened. I won’t lie, Blaine, it broke my heart when you cheated. But you’ve said you’re sorry, and I do believe you. We wouldn’t be here now if I didn’t.”
The hand that was toying with Blaine’s hair slid down to instead cradle his cheek. Blaine’s eyes were glassy, but under that, there was undeniable love and devotion. Blaine loved him so much; it was impossible to not see it.
With as much intention as he could hope to portray, Kurt pressed a kiss to Blaine’s lips. It was a simple kiss; chaste in comparison to many of the others that they had shared throughout their relationship. But there were words written all over the kiss — words that Kurt didn’t feel were necessary to verbalize, and could only hope that Blaine could feel them like a brand to his skin.
The peaceful sigh that Blaine released against his mouth was all the confirmation that Kurt needed.
Kurt allowed the kiss to linger for a few moments longer before pulling away slowly. His eyes met wet, brown ones that shimmered in pure adoration. “I have long since forgiven you, Blaine. It’s time that you start forgiving yourself.”
#glee#kurt hummel#blaine anderson#klaine#klaine fic#nicoise#my fic#my stuff#omg the boys are communicating????? must be a miracle
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How mad do you think the ancestors would get if they started getting frisky with Desmond and he started bleeding one of the others!
Like if Altaïr just got Desmond's shirt off but now Desmond's eyes are gold and he has Ezio's fucking grin
How do you think they would react to this? Would they be jealous or interested? Anyway hope you're having a good day!
Ur mind is so huge🫣 thats such a good idea ughhh
While their main bae is Desmond They also are into eachother so they would fuck but they just like being w Desmond mainly, and getting to be with the others is like a nice bonus. So they do all date eachother but If Desmond wasnt into and ok w it they wouldnt care about becoming more that close friends idk if that makes sense. So non of them would ever get a bad reaction to a bleed of another but they prob would stop the first time just to make sure Desmond's ok with it as well outside of a bleed. (ı need to make a relationship chart lmao)
Altair
Altaïr would be into it 100% prob would have fun with it tricking Ezio!bleed into it being a dream just to get more reactions or teasing him a lot like "what would people say, Mentoré having a wet dream about the brotherhoods greatest"
Connor!bleed would get him going too because seeing Desmond be more shy ,be impressed when Altaïr throws him around bc he isnt actually built like Connor would be fun. Basically he would enjoy Connor!bleed acting less experianced, blushing like crazy, hiding his face since Altaïr gets to pull old tricks he knows Desmond likes and see different reactions as if its the first time
I think with Altaïr!Bleed would be the only one to make him jelous and feel weird just bc he knows how annoying/smug he can be lol and both would fight a bit on who does what or if they even do anything till probobly Bleed!Altaïr would go "try everything once" lol I can see Bleed!Altaïr even maybe not letting Altaïr touch as he talks like "sucks to be you I get to be in Desmonds Skin feel everything he feels"
Ezio
Altaïr!bleed gets him going also and he likes bickering with a more smug Desmond who is meaner to him and ofc roughhousing. He would def talk about it to Altaïr to annoy him "do you also react that way when I do-"
Connor!Bleed again he is very into a silent, more threathening but shy Desmond that he has to put more work into. Probobly the eye contact 👁️👁️ Connor!bleed does gets to him a lot and effects him more than he lets on. He also enjoys imagining how Connor would look if he did the same lol. He would also Enjoy Connor!bleed forgetting Desmonds actual strenght and tryng to pull his hands to hide his face only for them to not move under Ezio
Ezio!Bleed he is 1000% into it and has the most fun lmaoo not even a question. they just both look at eachother in "oh this is going to be fun~" and the whole hideout has to wear earplugs
Connor
Connor probobly would be the most hesitant and vary of em all, the bleeds would have to make the first move or convince.
Altaïr!bleed scares him in a good way lol, kinda takes the pressure away from him and he enjoys how much more outspoken Des is "do that, dont do this" and he also does enjoy the teasing he gets a bit.
Ezio!bleed would make him blush like crazy and prob he would hide his face 90% of the time bc of the dirtytalk if Ezio let him (he doesnt ofc)
Connor!bleed... I think Connor would be weirded out and would take a few times of it happening for him and the bleed to even be like "lets try if we like it" maybe outside the bleed Desmond has to go "go have fun, If you cant trust yourself who else"
Once both got over their shyness Connor would prob learn a lot about himself lmaoo and maybe is like "maybe I should be more vocal during it hmm" or just enjoy a more silent quiet relaxed fun? But tbh probobly most of the time Connor would just turn it into a cuddling and small touches session.
#tbh connor prob 70% time doesnt take it further just bc he doesnt rlly enjoy his own dynamic in bed lol#two shy bitches dont work well#assassin's creed#desmond miles#ezio auditore#asks#altaïr ibn la'ahad#connor kenway#ratonhnhaké:ton#heavy bleed effect au
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i saw your tags about cameron being more similar to house than wilson and if you have any notes or explanations on that i'd love to hear them! cameron is such an interesting character and i feel like she's really not analyzed enough
she isn't! idk if it's because people simply forget the earlier seasons as they progress with the show, but they forget cameron is an actual character who is written as consistently as any other character in the show save for house himself. not liking her is one thing but to dismiss her as if she isn't one of the most important people in house's life. her love literally got him out of that building! lol
cam and wilson have a lot of similarities: they’re self-sacrificing to a detrimental extent, they value social niceties and acts of kindness, caring and empathetic, multiple marriages, in love with a sewer rat, etc. but they sort of stop there. cameron is a strongly moral character; wilson’s morals are flexible to the point of being barely there. cameron won’t sacrifice her values for the sake of making anyone feel better; all that wilson cares about is making other people feel better, preferably to his own detriment. cameron is much more sensitive and emotionally driven than wilson imo, you can see her actively struggle to put her feelings in the backseat in pretty much every situation, while that seems to come as second nature to wilson (though cameron gets better at that through experience). but she is also much more stable and true to herself than wilson, who struggles with letting his true feelings show with anyone other than house (simply because he knows his friend won’t give a shit). you see house call cameron “pathetically sincere” and that’s something you’d never hear him say about wilson considering his pathology is that he loves Everybody, with no discrimination. i think their specialties also speak to their own personalities: wilson is an oncologist, all of his patients already have cancer and most likely will die from it; his job is to treat them but it’s also to make them feel better about their imminent fate. cameron is an immunologist, taking care of someone’s autoimmune system with the sole focus of getting them stronger. this is also their approach to house himself btw
house and cameron are two sides of the same coin. a lot of people would disagree with me & hugh laurie in saying that house is a strongly moral character, but he is. the difference between himself & cameron is that he doesn't care what people do with their lives. if someone wants to kill themselves after he's done treating them, that's their problem. even when she despised the patient, she couldn't dare to see them live in pain (informed consent) or to play god and kill them herself (the tyrant). they're both extremely sensitive, stubborn and closed off. isolating themselves to the point of making their significant others (stacy and chase) feel lonely in the relationship. they both often look insane to everyone else, but have an innate understanding of each other. cameron opened herself up to house in a way she could never do with chase because she saw him, and she was the only person he truly emotionally connected with other than wilson. she was bothered by his impersonality and he was bothered by her sensitivity, because she wore with pride something he thought made him (and other humans) lesser. they tried to bring characters like masters & adams (even park?) to act as foil to house but it didn't work because they lacked what cameron and house had: a relationship.
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Yunho Head Canons!
genre: smut
warning: cock slapping, voyeurism, hand kink, choking, phone calls while fucking (idk what to call that maybe voyeurism idk), crying, face fucking
a/n: posting multiple times in a day because I’m bored and these are all short and just random drafts lmao 🥱 0.5k
Peppers 🌶️
Yunho who slaps your face with his cock before shoving it in your mouth roughly. He roughly fucks into your mouth, thrusting over and over again. He pulls out shortly, not giving you enough time to breathe before shoving it back in until he comes.
Yunho who wraps his large and veiny around your neck as he fucks into your tight pussy ruthless. Your legs were pushed against your chest when he wrapped his arm around your neck, continuing to fuck into you. Your eyes quickly rolled into the back of your head when Yunho was about to cum. The hand on your waist gripped tighter as did the one around your neck.
Yunho who fucks you harder the moment you get a phone call from one of your close friends; Jongho. You were in doggy with your face in the pillows when your phone rang. “Pick it up,” he said drilling into you. He slowed down for a moment when you first answered. Jongho was ranting on about some computer game that you both like to play, talking about how it wasn’t the same without you and how you guys should play later. Yunho got tired of the constant talking and snapped his hips into yours which caused you to double down into the pillows. You let out a lewd moan, concerning Jongho. “Are you ok, Y/n?” Yunho continued to fuck into you which made it hard. “I-I’m good, J-Jongho. May- oh shit, maybe now isn’t a very good time. Goodbye, Jongho.” You said quickly before hanging up. He left confused on the other end. But Yunho sped up more and you completely fell apart.
Yunho who brings you to the dance studio to watch him practice alone. He notices how you rub your thighs together as he dances. Later, he would be pressing you up against the wall and fucking into you from before.
Yunho who wants to play a game with you to see who can last the longest. He makes you ride him to see who can beak first. He was so close but he held you down by your hips and thrusted upwards quickly. You were a screaming mess. When you told him he cheated, he made it up to you by doing anything you wanted him to do to you.
Yunho who shoved his fingers into your pussy over and over again just to watch the tears pour from your stinging eyes.
Yunho who pushes your face into the pillow and pull your ass up in the air. He would wrap his arms around your waist from under your legs and bend down to your wet and throbbing cunt. Yunho would proceed to flatten his tongue on your pussy, rubbing it back and forth to tease you.
Yunho who presses you up against the window of your apartment that overlooks the city. Your boobs smashing into the glass every thrust. Everyone being able to see you getting your back blown out ignites something in Yunho. Seeing all the people walking and the open curtains of their apartments only makes him fuck into you harder than before.
Yunho who drives his fingers into you in the backseat of the Uber because he can’t wait until you two get home. Being at the club and seeing the way your hips moved back and forth, he couldn’t stop himself from dragging you out 3 drinks in.
#kpop#smut#ateez#yunho#jeong yunho#ateez hard thoughts#ateez hard hours#ateez atiny#yunho x reader#yunho smut#yunho hard thoughts#yunho hard hours
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Living with The Devil You Know (Raphael x Tav): Chapter 8
Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight
Read this fic on AO3 (Link)
Fic Summary: Tav broke their agreement by handing the Crown of Karsus to Mystra instead of Raphael. Not only that, but she also robbed his house and killed his incubus. Raphael is patient and he is determined to get his revenge.
…Tav isn't too bothered. She will figure something out eventually. Until then she just has to find a way to live peacefully with a devil.
Chapter Summary: Tav snaps. Her determination to get out becomes stronger than ever and she decides to change her tactics when it comes to dealing with Raphael.
AN: This turned super horny, idk what to tell ya. Also, I found it really difficult to write Hope because she just acts and speaks in such a specific way that's really hard to capture.
TW: Mentions of Abuse
WARNING: NSFW
Tav sat up in the bed and looked at him. Raphael so blatantly admitting to what he had done had made something snap in her head. It was as she was finally resurfacing back to reality and back to the person she had been before Raphael had gotten his claws in her. For the first time since she got to the House of Hope, she saw him for what he was.
“I thought you said that your plan was to kill my friends and then me,” Tav said with a calmness that surprised even herself.
“And I am a man of my word,” Raphael said, still lying in bed. He was studying her face for a reaction. “I never specified when. I will one day take your soul, which is my property by right, and should your friends decide to pay us a visit I will kill them. Though I have removed any motivation they might have to come knocking on my door, for which you are very welcome, by the way.”
He ran his fingers over the metal cuffs around her wrists.
“So, you are not even trying to lure my friends here. You intend to keep me here…indefinitely...” Tav said.
“Yes,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because I want to,” he answered. “I made it clear from the beginning that you would never leave, did I not? Death would have been all to easy for such a fearless little thing like you. It has been much more fascinating to see you trying deal with all those wonderful conflicting feelings of yours.”
She could see it in his eyes and his widening smile that he was expecting a reaction from her by saying this. He wanted her to get angry, to cry, to be scared. Something in his eyes reminded her of her father. The way he would look at her after he had beat her or said something cruel to her to get a reaction out of her during her childhood. That gleeful anticipation as they waited for her to either explode or break.
She looked at him and was quiet for a moment. She could hear her blood pounding in her ears out of anger, but her expression remained unreadable.
Then a smile spread across her face, and she leaned forward to brush a hand over his hair. She kissed him sweetly on the lips and he froze.
She wished that she could bottle up the look of genuine confusion she saw on his face.
She did not say anything. She just laid back down on the bed beside him. She pulled his arm around herself and got comfortable.
Raphael had made a misstep in his eagerness to piss her off: he had admitted that it was not his plan to kill her anytime soon.
Tav was not going to let herself be a passive player in his little game anymore. She would play and she would win. Not by giving him the resistance that he seemed to be thriving on, but by giving him exactly what he wanted.
He had told her the first day they met that he liked when people put up a fight. She would not. She would shower him with affection, heed his every whim, be his adoring little mouse, and when she finally found that damn hammer, she would watch him burn, just as she had watched her father do all those years ago.
As always, he was gone when she woke up. She got dressed. Instead of searching for the least provocative piece of clothing she could find as she usually would have, she grabbed a rather revealing dress from the wardrobe.
It was a tight-fitting dress with a plunging neckline in a burnt orange color that complimented her red hair. There was a matching gold choker with yellow stones that she also put on.
It looked completely foreign on her who had mostly dressed in thick robes for the majority of her life. It felt more like a costume, she thought as she looked herself in the mirror. Then again, she was definitely playing a part with what she had planned, so perhaps it was fitting.
She left the boudoir. She reached the entrance to the main area where she usually ate her breakfast when she stopped in her tracks and her eyes widened.
With her back turned to Tav, she was looking out over the balcony: it was Hope.
Hope! How could she had forgotten Hope? Tav felt terrible but she had not as much as given a thought to the odd Dwarven woman she had met back when she had broken into Raphael’s home. Tav had even promised to free her, she remembered with a knot in her stomach.
It had been too risky to free her. She even remembered selfishly thinking to herself that it was not her problem before they left. What Raphael did in his privacy was not her business. Neither her nor her companions ever spoke about her after they had left.
How fitting that Tav herself should end up in the very same position as her. She really did deserve it in a way, she thought to herself. She completely understood why Hope had stayed away from her during her time there. She had every right to hate her.
“Hope…?” Tav called out softly.
The projection of Hope turned around and a wide cheery smile spread across her face.
“There you areee! And without my sister or his new one at your heels!” she said in a cheerful tone. “He has barely had time to torture me since you got here, you know? Maybe if he leaves me long enough, I’ll be in one piece for the first time in years!”
The sad and pitying look in Tav’s eyes strongly contrasted Hope’s cheerful demeanor.
“What is it? Are you hurt?” Hope asked, looking her up and down. “Hurt, but you still look like you are in one piece…Hm…Oh! Oh! Did he drown you? Suffocate you? Was it the Omuan dreamcatcher? Oh, he loves that one.”
“I’m fine, Hope…” Tav said quietly as she tried to hold back the ocean of emotions that was building up inside herself by seeing Hope again.
She could not even begin to imagine the things Hope had endured. Her heart had sunk to the floor. Who knows how long Hope had resisted Raphael’s persistence? And Tav had brushed her off back then instead of saving her while she still had a chance…
“Oooh, no one’s fine here for long,” Hope said with the same manic intensity. “He prods and pokes and slices and cuts and then he puts you back together to do it all over again!”
Tav took a deep breath. The guilt she was feeling was crushing her.
“I’m so sorry, Hope,” Tav managed to say. “For not saving you back then…”
Hope went quiet for a moment.
“And I’m sorry that you are here…” Hope said in a sad tone, though it quickly turned hopeful again. “But…your friends will come with the hammer and save you! Maybe they will smash my chains as well. Oh, please don’t leave me here after you kill him…”
Tav sighed. She almost did not have the heart to tell her.
“My friends can’t get to it right now…Raphael took it back,” Tav said in a defeated voice. “But I’m determined to find out where he is hiding it. When I do, I will free both of us.”
Hope's smile returned even bigger than before.
“This is great news!” Hope said. “It means it’s here. It will be, it has to be, it is! It’s hidden, but it’s here.”
Tav’s brow furrowed.
“How are you so sure?” she asked.
“It’s what he does…” Hope said, still smiling but with a sad tone in her voice again. “He dangles things right in front of your nose. Freedom, riches, everything you could ever want! Always so close that you can smell it and always just out of reach.”
The projection of Hope froze after they both heard a noise. A servant was walking down the corridor towards them.
“Oh! I have to go,” Hope whispered.
“No, wait—” Tav said, but Hope had already disappeared.
Tav was looking at the spot where she had just stood. If Hope was right, there was a chance that she could find the Orphic Hammer and escape on her own without the help of her friends, which would be ideal.
Her meeting with Hope reaffirmed her plan. Resisting him was not the way to go. Hope was the living example of that. Perhaps, there was a chance that he would even grow bored with her if she simply gave him what he wanted.
She would keep the peace. She would keep him happy and distracted for as long as it would take her to figure out how to escape and then she would strike.
She had been scouring the parts of the house that she could access without servants or debtors watching her for where Raphael might be hiding the hammer. There were a couple of options for where it could be that she knew of: the archive or the vault.
It was obviously not on display in the archive, but she knew that there were more to the archive than what met the eye. She had heard that more artifacts were hidden in the bowels of the house underneath the archive. How she would access it or even find the entrance, she was not sure, but perhaps Hope knew if she could find her again.
Then there was the vault. Her and Gale had tried to break into it back when they had broken into his house, but without any luck. The lock was heavily protected with magic, but if she could get to it without any debtors or servants watching, she might be able to crack it with enough time on her hands.
She had given up for the day, but at least she now had some leads as to where to look. She knew that it would not be long until Raphael arrived home again, so she sat down in the archive to read and prepare herself for her role as his adoring prisoner.
For once he sought out her and not the other way around. He entered the archive and smiled when he saw her. He was in human form. She looked up from her book and smiled back warmly, without showing as much as a trace of bitterness in her expression. She saw him narrow his eyes at that, but his smile did not falter.
It was clear that he was still waiting for a reaction. For her to either explode or break down crying. It was delicious to see him treading so carefully, because he was not sure what to do next. She was not following the script that he had so carefully planned out for her, and she could see that underneath his smile, there was a tinge of frustration over it.
“Evening,” Tav said breaking the silence.
He took a seat in the sofa opposite from where she was sitting.
“Good evening,” he said back, still studying her face for a reaction.
Tav’s smile widened as she noticed how he had decided to sit away from her. She closed the book she was reading and put it on the table before getting up from her seat. She walked over to where he was sitting at a leisurely pace. He sat in silence as his eyes followed her every step.
He then seemed to notice she was wearing much more revealing clothing than she usually did. His eyes were devouring her exposed skin for a moment before they settled back on her face.
She sat down right beside him on the sofa. She leaned forward to place a quick kiss on his cheek that seemed as casual as if she had done it a hundred times before. His body tensed but he did not move away from her.
“How was your day?” she asked with a bright smile.
She could see that there was a bit of amusement to his smile now. It was clear that he was not quite sure what was happening, but he knew that she was up to something.
“Slightly tedious,” he answered casually. His eyes drifted down to her dress and lingered on her cleavage for a moment. “You look even lovelier than usual. The dress suits you…as does that charming smile of yours. You really should smile more, my dear.”
Tav’s eye twitched in annoyance at his last comment, but she quickly hid it. Though not quickly enough that Raphael did not notice it, and she could see the satisfaction in his smile at his comment managing to get a reaction from her, albeit a small one.
“Thank you. That’s sweet of you to notice,” she said instead of the many things she wanted to say to that comment. “It’s difficult to smile when I miss you so much all the time.”
“Is that so?” he purred and snaked his arm around her waist to pull her closer.
She was not fooling him, and she could see it in his face, though that did not stop him from seeing how far he could push her in the little game they were playing.
“Mhm” she affirmed and leaned more against him.
“Hm,” he hummed and kissed the side of her head before murmuring into her ear: “Nothing ruins a good play quite like actors overplaying their parts, dear.”
She smiled and turned her head towards him. Her nose was almost touching his and she was looking directly into his brown eyes.
“You’re one to talk,” she said before kissing him.
He kissed her back and tightened his grip around her waist. He put his other arm under her leg and lifted her to sit on his lap.
He was in control again and Tav was not having it. She was done with simply letting him do what he wanted to her and be a passive participant like she always was with him.
She snaked her arm down between them and felt his hardening erection. He made a low groan in response and his tongue invaded her mouth. Both of his hands were around her, kneading her ass as she rubbed him through his pants. It did not take long before she could feel that he was fully hard.
She tried to discreetly unbutton his pants while they were kissing, but one of his hands slid up her back and into her hair. He yanked her head back.
“What is it that you are trying to achieve with all of this?” he asked, looking into her eyes. Though his question had no doubt been meant to sound threatening, his tone and dilated pupils revealed just how aroused he was.
Tav smiled. Oh, she was having fun with this. It was immensely satisfying for her to finally see him a little rattled and confused. She traced the outline of his cock through his pants.
“Do you want me to stop?” she asked.
Raphael growled in a way that sounded simultaneously aroused and frustrated, as she touched him. He yanked her head back further, so her neck was exposed to him. He left a kiss and a gentle bite just above the choker she was wearing, before letting go of her hair.
“Off,” he commanded. He gave her a firm but not painful slap on her ass and then gestured for her to get off his lap so they could go to the bedroom.
To her surprise he indulged her and let her take the lead, at least for the moment it seemed. He had always been on top of her, but now she was on top of him, kissing her way down his body. She heard his breathing become heavier and heavier the closer she came to the part of him that was aching for her.
The moment her kisses and bites down his stomach reached to just above his cock, she heard his breath hitch slightly at the sensation. She saw his cock twitch in anticipation. It was her first time seeing it so up close. Even in his human form it was impressive in both length and girth.
She teased him by leaving sloppy kisses and small licks up and down his shaft, all while keeping eye contact with him. She could see that the teasing was getting to him. His body was aching for her, and he seemed to be on the verge of losing control.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked impatiently, referring to her endless teasing. She could hear that he was getting impatient, but it was too delicious to have him in the palm of her hand like that for her to stop.
“Mhm,” she affirmed and ran her lips over his shaft, earning her a groan.
She felt his hand tangle in her hair. He was not taking control over her movements yet, but it was a clear warning that he would if she kept going.
“Patience is a virtue, you know,” she said.
She teased the head of his cock with her tongue. It made him instinctively tighten his grip on her hair and groan deeply.
“Is that so?” he said. “So is humility, I hear.”
With that he pushed her head down, signaling that he was done waiting. He inhaled sharply as she took him fully in her mouth. When she began moving her head up and down on her own, his grip on her hair loosened and he let her do it at her own pace.
It did not take long before she managed to push him over the edge. She dug her nails into his thighs as he came in her mouth. He held her hair in a grip that told her that he expected her to swallow. His seed was almost burning in her mouth, but she forced herself to swallow.
He was breathless. He loosened his grip and ran his fingers through her hair instead.
“Such a good little mouse,” he said condescendingly, almost as if to a pet, which somehow managed to both piss her off and turn her on at the same time. “Come here.”
He gestured for her to kiss him. As she did, she wondered exactly how far he would let her take her little game. She felt daring. She wondered, not for the first time, how it would be to sit on that smug face of his and shut him up.
She moved further up his chest, and he must have guessed her intentions, because he smirked and grabbed her. He pushed her backwards, so she landed on her back. He pinned her to the mattress and then he started kissing his way down her body, the same way she had done with him.
“Control freak,” she muttered under her breath. She received a bite on her stomach for that comment.
Raphael was twice the tease that she had been. When he finally reached her now dripping core, he started teasing her with his tongue in an excruciatingly slow pace. She bucked her hips against his mouth, which only made him grab around her thighs to hold her down.
“Tut-tut. Patience is a virtue, dearest,” he said repeating her own words.
“You’re—” she interrupted herself with a moan as Raphael lightly ran the tip of his tongue over her clit. “You’re hilarious…”
So much for staying in control and not being a passive participant. Raphael was being relentless with his teasing, to the point where she was becoming a moaning and dripping mess under him. It went on for a long time and it was pure torture.
“Perhaps I would be able to find a shred of sympathy for you, if you begged nicely,” he suddenly said. She could feel him smile against her inner thigh, as he kissed and nibbled at the skin there.
Tav had to remind herself of the role she was currently playing. She was supposed to indulge him in what he wanted instead of resisting.
“Please…” she said.
“Oh, come now, dear,” Raphael said and looked up at her with a look that was downright sinful. He inserted a single finger into her, making her grasp the sheets. “Surely you can do better than that.”
He curled his finger inside her.
“Please, Raphael,” she moaned. She almost cringed at how pathetic and desperate she sounded.
“Much better,” he said and spread her legs slightly more.
He transformed into his devil form without warning, making her jump slightly in surprise. She seemed a bit confused with why he would suddenly do so, until he lowered his head between her legs.
“Mind the horns…” he said before he started eating her out.
He had to hold her legs open, so that she would not instinctively close them and hurt herself on his horns because of the sensation she felt between her legs. She suddenly understood why she had changed into that form: his tongue was not only longer but it was also forked.
He was looking up at her through the whole thing. He was making a low rumbling noise in his chest that almost sounded like a deep purring sound as he hungrily ate her out. His long tongue was inside her, and it almost sent her over the edge immediately.
She came harder than she ever had before, and it took her by complete surprise. She was grasping the sheets and on the verge of screaming as her climax washed over her. She closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath as it passed. Her legs were shaking, and she could hear Raphael chuckle as he was looking at the state of her.
Fuck him for being able to make her feel like that, Tav thought.
He leaned over her and kissed her. His long tongue was almost in her throat, and she could taste herself on his tongue. It was passionate, hot, and intoxicating. When he let go of the kiss, his gaze went from her lips to her eyes.
She was looking directly into his burning orange eyes when he suddenly changed back into his human form. He kissed her again, but this time it felt sweeter and more loving. His hand was caressing her face gently.
He left sweet kisses down her jaw and neck before laying his head on her chest. An all too vulnerable gesture that made her freeze.
She was not quite sure how to react.
She put her hand on his head with the gentleness of someone daring to touch an animal that might bite them. When he did not move or make a snarky comment at the gesture, she started slowly massaging his scalp with her fingers.
He made a low rumbling noise that almost sounded like a purr. He fell asleep on her chest not long after. Tav could not sleep. His arm was around her waist and his head was resting over her heart as he began snoring softly. She looked down at him. This man who was bigger than her and who was snuggling up to her in a way that seemed completely out of character for someone like him.
There he was, the devil that rips people apart simply to put them back together and start all over again, being infuriatingly human and vulnerable in her arms.
He was doing it on purpose, the bastard, Tav thought. He knew that she was playing games with him and now he was doing the same to her just to assert control over the situation.
She would not be fooled by him again, but she would play along.
#raphael bg3#raphael the cambion#bg3 raphael#raphael x tav#bg3#bg3 fanfic#bg3 fanfiction#raphael fanfic#baldur's gate 3
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The Haikyuu movie is *the* Kenma movie, and I'm living for it. I won't get too into spoilers pertaining to the match, but I will talk about some things in the movie, so if you want to go in blind then stop reading here and go watch the movie!!
I did not expect the movie to explore Kenma and Kuroo's friendship as much as it did, and I love it so much (I didn't read the manga, btw so this was such a surprise). The series already shared quite a lot of flashbacks to their childhood and them playing volleyball together. But, it was always framed in a way that Kuroo kinda dragged Kenma along into playing volleyball with him. I never really expected these childhood flashbacks to mean any more than that. The movie really explored *why* Kenma played volleyball thanks to Kuroo. It really emphasized how important playing volleyball *with* Kuroo meant to him.
Like the scene back to the summer camp when Kenma is thinking he'd rather not play volleyball over playing a video game or watching volleyball, but then Kuroo calls his name and reaches his hand out is just so sweet. Especially considering that Kenma is most likely thinking how this is Kuroo's final year.
I am obsessed with how Kenma's friendly rivalry with Hinata actually parallels his friendship with Kuroo through flashbacks. With Kuroo being the friend that got him to play volleyball, and Hinata being the friend and rival that really pushed Kenma to take a match seriously, and see how fun it can be.
And idk if my take is different, but I really like how Kenma doesn't have a Tsukishima arc. The match doesn't make him fall in love with volleyball, but it just makes him realize that even if he doesn't love the sport, he loves a good and interesting match with his friends. He doesn't care about nationals. He just likes playing against Hinata, in particular (imo). But I think that's what makes the match between them so damn investing.
It's so refreshing to see the movie mostly revolve around Kenma's pov and see this character break out of his shell and push himself. To decode Hinata in an attempt to beat him and have his expectations blown away. Seeing this competitive, smug, and serious side of him is such fan service and I love it lol.
The scene when the match plays out from Kenma's eyes is so (chef's kiss). It's a bit nauseating, but it genuinely is my favourite moment in the movie. The way Kenma's eyes are on the ball before darting across the court, glancing over at his teammates and opponents, and back to the ball again. When it even shows Kenma taking a fall, Lev checking up on him, and Kenma just shouts to focus on the ball, I was just floored with how well it immerses you in the match. It just really has you on the edge of your seat, and quite literally puts you in Kenma's head to know this guy who is seemingly indifferent to volleyball, in that moment, is having the time of his life.
It's such a good climactic moment that's so different from other concluding matches from the series prior. It's not about big final builds up to the final strike, or block, or whatever move the characters are doing. It's just about being in the moment. About Kenma being in the moment. And it's such a brilliant and unique way to end the match.
#haikyuu!!#haikyuu movie#battle of the garbage dump#kozume kenma#kenma#kuroo tetsurou#hinata shouyou#kuroken#kenhina
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drabble #13 - the massage
kai parker x reader
summary: kai's sure he'll win the bet. you're positive he won't.
tags: massage, teasing, clingy!kai, minor mention of murder (bc it's kai)
word count: 835
a/n: idk why i'm in my cheesy fluff era of writing, but here's more
“Relax,” you giggle, feeling his muscles tense.
“I’m trying! It’s weird.”
“It’ll feel so much better if you stop moving around.”
“What are you even doing?”
“Trying to help you relax.”
Kai sighs, clearly unsatisfied with your answer. Nevertheless, he stops adjusting his position and takes a deep breath.
“There you go.”
He mumbles something incomprehensible, but you don’t respond. After a second, you start again. The massage tool in your hand makes a slightly squeaky sound as you run it up his back. You make circles on his shoulder blades, then inch up to his neck. He shrugs his shoulders uncomfortably.
“Kai!”
“I’m sorry!”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No! Yes! I don’t know!”
“Pick one. Tell me to stop, and I will.”
“Don’t stop. I like it, it’s just weird.”
“I can be more gentle.” You do, but he only mumbles more.
“Now I can’t feel it at all.”
“Well then you’re going to have to sit still.”
“I just… what are you even holding?” Without much warning, he flips around to face you. The massage roller in your hand receives a weird stare that makes you laugh. “What even is that?”
“It’s a little tool that helps you relax by easing the knots in your neck and back. Now do you want me to continue, or not?”
“Where do you buy something like that?”
“Literally anywhere. Dollar Tree. Target.”
“I’ve never seen that in my life.”
“Your life has never lived in this decade, Malachai. You lived in the nineties for twenty years.”
“Rude.”
“I’m just saying! Things are different now. We have massage rollers.”
“Weird.”
“Unless you’d prefer to go to an actual massage person, but I bet you’d chicken out.”
He gives you a look. “Me? Chicken out? Do you know who you’re talking to?”
“Um, yes, actually. I’m talking to someone who would absolutely chicken out if anyone but me was touching them.”
“Bet you twenty dollars you’re wrong.”
“You don’t even have twenty dollars.”
“Yes I do.”
“From where? You-”
“Borrowed some the other day.”
“Borrowed?”
“Stole,” he corrects.
“You- Kai!”
“It’s okay! He was using it anymore!”
“Now why’s that? Is he dead?”
“...Maybe.”
“Kai, you can’t-”
“He shouldn’t have made that comment about you within my earshot. He had it coming.”
“Good lord, boy.”
“So twenty dollars I can get through this message-”
“Massage.”
“-thing you’re talking about. I win, you owe me.”
“Probably won’t happen.”
“Guess we’ll see.”
You’ll admit, Kai being anywhere without you gives you an extreme amount of anxiety. Not only because he’s a sociopathic serial killer, but also because you’re overprotective of him almost to a fault. Despite his bully-like attitude to many, he’s a child at heart. He’s gone through so much to make him the way he is, starting in early childhood, and you can’t bear for him to have anymore trauma. It’s probably toxic, thinking of him in such an endearing way, but you can’t help it. You love him.
“It’ll be one hour, okay?” The massage therapist says as she takes him back. You nod your head at her and Kai’s little wink, then she brings him to the back.
He bonded to you immediately. Maybe it was because you could see past the bad boy persona he donned on to gain respect. Maybe it was because you were the first to give him a second chance after the merge. Regardless of the reason, he learned you were a person he could trust, so he did. And even though all your friends tell you you’re brave to be friends with such a dangerous person, you’re there for him anyway. He’s pretty sure he loves you, even though he’s afraid to admit it.
You pull out your phone to pass the time with a game, but no more than ten minutes later, the therapist returns to the waiting room. She catches your attention with a cough, to which you look up questioningly.
“He’s asking for you,” she says. “I think he’s nervous.”
A little smile creeps on your face at the knowledge that you’ve won. You were right, and he was so determined he could beat you. “Okay.”
She brings you to the room where he’s lying down on the table. You can’t see his face until he pops up slightly to look at you.
“Hi.”
“Hi there.”
Neither of you bring up the bet. Boy, he does look nervous. A non-joking Kai is a worried Kai, and for a split second, you wonder just how bad of an idea this is.
“Can you just stay here?”
“Of course.”
“I’m gonna need you to relax,” the woman says, seeing the tension in his muscles before even touching him.
You take his hand in hopes to reassure him. A little squeeze elicits a deep breath, and a lot of the strain drops.
“Good. Let me know if you need anything.”
He shakes his head despite the awkward position on his stomach. “No,” he mutters, rather muffled, “just them.”
#another lil drabble while i work on requests and bigger things#this has been sitting in my head for weeks and i've just now been able to write it out#it's just cutesy clingy kai#kai parker x reader#malachai parker x reader#kai parker drabble#kai parker fluff
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old friend from college that I see semi-regularly because we both work in Boston now told me he and his girlfriend broke up a month and a half ago 🧍🏼♀️
#he’s a year older than me#we were in film club together and the same major#he’s like the only friend from school I keep in regular contact with#we met up in the common for a walk today and it was great to watch up as it always is#and then he was telling me about his cat and then said my now ex and I was like umm????#and he was like I’ll get to that in a second let me finish the cat story lmao#I guess she was like 34 and ready to have kids and he just isn’t yet which is fair like he’s 29/30#for as long as I’ve known him he’s always had a girlfriend of some sort#the one time he was single I was with Nick#and idk if I like see him in a more than friend way#over the years in school I had fleeting thoughts#especially since he always makes an effort to initiate us hanging out#I doubt if he looks at me as anything more#but this was definitely an interesting fact to learn today
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Luffy not knowing about Zoro promising Sanji to kill him if he ever ends up losing himself makes me go feral because that's something they can only know about. Because Zoro's respect for life and death goes beyond anything, and Sanji knows he understands. Sanji knows that if somebody has to kill him, it's him.
And I don't even think it's because Sanji assumes Zoro's opinion of him is hatred and it would hurt less for him to do this, but because Sanji knows only Zoro would be able to treat the promise as it is. Because he would put Sanji's wishes before any feelings he has for him. It's not that Zoro doesn't care, but I think he respects people's ideals and decisions to the extent of being able to kill Sanji if he so desires.
That being said, he'd do it if there's no other way to fix it. If it's either dying or living as an emotionless machine, which is the same as dying for Sanji, Zoro would fulfill his promise. And there is just... Something about Luffy not knowing. Their captain. The man they're devoted to the most as if he were their God. Luffy doesn't know. It's something only the captain's wings are aware of and the thought of these two keeping this from Luffy until the end is just insane. Not even trying to make it romantic here, but the bond and respect these two have for each other is crazy.
Maybe it's the poetry of it all, too. Somebody like Zoro, who has looked at Death in her face multiple times and said "no", ending Sanji's life, who wants to give in to death to not experience a fate worse than death for him.
#bean posting zosan this is so rare and weird don't get used to it sweeties#kind of tired of people jumping to extremes with these two btw like-#they don't hate each others but they're also not best friends-- respect is something they value even more than those things#they're not good for my mental health they make me go insane#this wasn't meant to be in a shippy way but idk if you wanna see it as romantic you do you bc it could def be#it depends on my mood#i consider myself a zosan shippers on random days#you could also say sanji thinks zoro doesn't give a fuck about him and that's why he tells him bc we know this guy's self-worth is awful#but i also like to think it's because zoro's views on life and death are exactly what sanji needs#luffy would try to look for a way to fix this and they others wouldn't be able to do it tbh#i mean if it ever got too serious i think luffy could do it but do you really think sanji's gonna make him go through that#if zoro has to die he wants to die by luffy's hand but if sanji has to die he wants to die without involving their captain#idk if that makes sense okay i haven't slept at all tbf#one piece#black leg sanji#roronoa zoro#zosan
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