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notjustjavierpena · 3 months

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Panties

A/N: Well look who are back. I didn’t think dbf!joel still existed in my brain but it seems that he is actually thriving. A little treat for you all while I polish some hubby stuff. This one absolutely goes out to @sugadolly 💖💅🫶

Summary: You show off your cute little underwear. Joel wants to fuck you but you want to try something else.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, dbf!joel, age gap, daddy kink, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, reader is a good little girl, outside sex (idk what is to call it), clit stim, overstim, reader is cockdrunk af, they’re actually very much in love for real, cum!!!!

Word count: 2.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52857010

Panties

“Lemme see them,” Joel says with a gentle tone as he admires you only in your jeans. He is hovering above you, kisses your lips a few times, and cups your tits as he slips his tongue into your mouth for a brief moment.

You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling his chest against your breasts as you embrace each other. You giggle softly, “They’re silly, Daddy.”

“Never thought in a million years that my baby would be silly,” he says with obvious sarcasm, nudging your nose with his own, “Show Daddy your pretty little panties. I’m gonna see ‘em eventually.”

You remove yourself from him to step back. You roll your eyes, and he raises a brow but then you follow through.

“Fine,” you tut as you lie down on his bed. His eyes lock on your buttoned jeans, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes deeply with anticipation hanging in the air.

You undo your jeans and pull down the zipper, wiggling your hips as you pull the denim down over them, and into view comes your pink cotton briefs. They’re cute, not silly, but you already know this, sporting a little bow on the front and a pattern of chibi-style cats.

“Well?” You kick off your jeans, throwing them onto the floor.

Joel kneels on the bed, admiring them thoroughly, “Pussy panties?”

You snort, covering your mouth and nose as you do, “Shut up.”

“Am I wrong, baby?” He crawls closer to you, lifts your legs up to bend them, and spreads them until his thighs hit the back of yours. He reaches up to peel his shirt off and throws it into your arms so you can hug it close and get drunk on his scent.

“No,” you say as you contemplate crawling into the piece of clothing that he has given you. God, you want him everywhere on you. That masculine smell has you wet in moments.

“Makes ya look real pretty, lovebug,” he compliments, just about to peel the underwear off of you. He stops himself as you scrunch your nose up at the new pet name.

Joel laughs heartily, “Don’t like it?”

“Say it again,” you grin up at him.

“Love. Bug,” he repeats, yanks one of your legs at a time over his hips.

“Hmm,” you tap your chin, “Maybe you should call me it as I come, just to make me associate it with something nice.”

“Cheeky,” he says as he pulls down his own underwear. They are in no way as thrilling as yours; black briefs that can barely contain his hard cock and with a little logo on the waistband. He settles them around his thighs, and whilst he does, you reach down to pull your colorful panties to the side.

“Joel?” You say his name. He makes a movement as if his ears have perked up at hearing his actual name.

“What is it?” He asks, rubbing your legs soothingly. His eyes are locked on your cunt.

“When— when you’re,” you trail off, suddenly shy, “Uh, when you…”

“Yes?” He drags the word out, looks up.

“I want you to come on them,” your heart beats in your chest and ears but out of the corner of your eyes, you spot Joel’s cock twitching in the air upon hearing those words.

“Was that so hard to ask for?” He digs his thumbs into your thighs, causing you to squirm underneath him, “You just lie back and let Daddy treat ya right.”

You wait in anticipation. And then, oh.

Ohh.

“Ah,” you mewl, looking down between you to see what he is doing. The thick head of his cock lays heavily against your clit, and when you tell him how good it feels, he holds the base of his shaft and slaps the tip against the small nub a few times.

You shudder, clenching around nothing and flexing your thighs as you shift a little. Joel’s cock hangs between his legs again, and his hands slide down to rest on your hips, thumbs reaching inwards to spread you open and watch your pulsing cunt.

“You want me to make you feel good, baby? Make you come so hard that your little clit won’t stop twitchin’ until you get all teary-eyed?” He reaches for your clit to circle it with the pad of his thumb, and you can feel slick drip down between your ass cheeks. You moan helplessly and nod repeatedly, already heaving for breath, and Joel beams with pride, “Already cockdrunk? My my. I haven’t even fucked ya yet.”

“I don’t want you to f— I don’t want that,” you say suddenly, surprising even yourself. You reach down for Joel’s cock, pulling it against your cunt but not dipping the head into you. Instead, you rub him against your clit, “This, Daddy, I want to come like this.”

“I can make that happen,” he reassures, batting your hand away to replace it and grabbing at the base of his cock himself. He resumes what you were doing, dipping the head down to catch some of your wetness before adding pressure to your clit. He slides back and forth a few times, “Like that?”

“Mhm,” you hum softly, furrowing your brow in concentration. You hold still to let him rub his whole length through your folds until he is sticky with your arousal. His left hand is still grabbing your hip, and he uses it for leverage as he leans a little weight into you.

When he grows impatient after a few minutes of you crying quietly for him, he tries to enter you. You catch his wrist and shake your head, “No! No… you promised.”

“I did no such thing,” he clicks his tongue at you.

You pout up at him, “But…”

“Oh, don’t make that face,” he groans, “You know I can’t do anythin’ when you make that face.”

“Please,” you beg, “I’ll come so hard for you.”

“Yeah?” He smiles down at you.

“Yeah,” you blink your eyes prettily, “This feels so good. I’ll cream all over your cock, Daddy.”

“Now how can I say no to that?” He moves a little before guiding his cockhead back to where you want it. He rubs the blunt head in circles over your clit for a moment, slaps it against the sensitive spot too, until you can hear the squelching sound of your wetness coating you. It makes him glide over your cunt easier.

You curl your toes and bite your lip as you look down at what he is doing, “Ahh… Keep going.”

He does, building up a rhythm that has you whining pathetically. This shouldn’t be that intense but it is, making your pussy flutter and seek out more.

“Let me try something,” you say, and he stops as you reach down, “One second.”

With both hands, you take hold of the seam of the leg of your underwear, holding tightly at the very top of it and the very bottom. You yank it down to sit tightly over the girth of Joel’s cock, essentially trapping it underneath your panties so it drags along the shaft with each of his thrusts. He sits so tightly against you now.

“Try now,” you don’t even have to say please for Joel to know you are begging.

“Jesus Christ,” he growls at the new sensation, spurred on to make himself feel it even more. He fucks himself against you with a sudden quickened breath.

The bed starts shaking. You start trembling.

You’re not able to take your eyes off of your sinful act, chewing on your bottom lip as he works his cock back and forth over and over again underneath the seam of your panties.

“Please,” your sound is weak, “Fuck!”

“Careful with that,” he scolds, “Eyes on me.”

You quickly look up at his face, barely able to focus with how much he shakes your whole frame with every push of his lower body.

“Say sorry,” he commands, referring to your use of a swear word. He doesn’t relent one bit, rolling his hips again and again.

“S-sorry,” you apologize, too focused on how your orgasm is already approaching, “Please.”

“Hold on,” he slows down, and you nearly sob with how close you are, but he only does it to remove his shirt and uncover your chest again. Then he goes back to his frantic thrusts, eyes fixated on the way that your tits bounce with every push of his hips.

“‘M close, Daddy,” you hiccup, feeling your heartbeat in all parts of your body. You throw your head back and groan loudly at the head of the bed, “I’m so close.”

If you weren’t holding onto your underwear, you would be clutching the bed frame so hard that your knuckles were white. Instead, the fabric is pulled so taut by your fingers that it hurts when it digs into your skin. You probably don’t have to do it so roughly but the pleasure racking up your spine makes you need it.

“Don’t hold back, baby,” he encourages with ragged breathing. Confident that you won’t let go as you orgasm, he lets go of himself and grabs both of your hips. He hoists you up a little, leans forward a little further, and then drives his hips back and forth, cockhead sliding over your clit repeatedly.

“I’m gonna— Oh my God, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come,” you say it like you’re almost in a panic, almost too overwhelmed to embrace the intensity you’re about to experience. You want to push him away and pull him in at the same time but he holds you so roughly in place that you just have to take it. Your eyes find his as you let it happen, “I’m coming! Daddy, oh f— I’m coming!”

“Yeah? My love bug’s coming?” He nods as encouragement, “Come for me, darlin’ baby.”

And my God, you do. You can feel your whole pelvic floor erupt into beautiful spasms of pleasure, your clit pulsing so fast and strongly that you are sure that Joel can feel it against his dick. You thank God that he is holding onto you because you are twitching and moving involuntarily as he continues his sweet torment, and tears stream down your face.

“That’s it, baby doll, you just cry all ya want,” Joel manages to coo between his own moans. You sob as your orgasm peaks, even more when you slip into a state of oversensitivity. Joel doesn’t relent, “Oh, baby. I know, baby, I know.”

It isn’t until your panties start to tear that he draws back, precome beading at the slit of his cock from how turned on he is. He is smeared with your arousal too, pearly white, and he seems to have put all the strength he has into holding back so you don’t pass out.

You shiver, trying to make sense of why your body chose to make you come so hard from a simple clit orgasm. The sweat on your body suddenly feels cold, and you reach for him until he leans down and kisses your lips. You whimper into his mouth. He wipes away a few tears.

“You okay?” He asks softly, pulling back slightly to look you in the eyes as you reply.

“Yes, sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t apologize,” he tuts, “You were gorgeous. God, I am so crazy about you.”

“Now you,” you insist, looking down between the two of you to see the red tip of his weeping cock, “You promised.”

“That I did,” he draws back until he is on his knees again. He grabs the base of his dick, strokes it a few times, and then lays it against the crotch of your underwear.

Joel rubs the head fast against the soft fabric. He holds onto your thighs, neck muscles straining as he seeks out his own pleasure. You watch him whilst delirious with post-orgasmic bliss, occasionally whimpering when he unintentionally slides over your swollen clit.

A moment later, after one of your particularly high whines, he comes with a short breath of relief. He stains the fabric, lays his cock heavy against the front of the underwear, and pulses until he has no more to give. It’s intense to see him like this, and you find yourself grabbing his wrist to keep him in the moment with you.

“Christ, sweetheart,” he pants. He slumps a little.

“I thought it was love bug,” you say with irresistible charm.

“Don’t make me tell you to lick ‘em clean, young lady,” he smirks, already crawling forward to lay down on top of you. He crushes you so heavenly with his weight, pretending-biting your cheek and causing you to snicker, “Are we clear?”

You hold him close, relishing in everything that he is, “We’re clear. I’ll behave. Somewhat.”

“Somewhat?” He nuzzles into your neck and presses a kiss.

“Well, I don’t think I’m quite satisfied,” you say dramatically.

Joel pulls back to glare at you, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I need you inside me too,” you pout even more dramatically, “Pussy feels so lonely, Daddy. Needs something.”

“Well, we can’t starve this insatiable pussy, can we?” Joel catches on quickly, and soon, he has you screaming on three of his fingers.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

#pedro pascal characters #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #my writing #the last of us #joel x you #dbf!joel

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prettyboykatsuki · 8 months

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warm-ups | gojo + nsfw + inspection

✮ tags ; afab + gn!reader (they are wearing a skirt / panties) but no gendered language, established relationship / power imbalance (they're dating but gojo is their superior) , teasing, humiliation, pussy inspection, praise, petnames (sweet thing, baby), fingering + penetration, creampies 18+

✮ wc ; 1.9k

✮ a/n ; i swear on my entire fucking life i did not rig this one at all KJSDF. the wheels just decided i promise this on my life.

idk if the writing reflects what i experienced trying to write this but . good fucking lord. good lord.

"Let me see,"

Embarrassing. Humiliation is making your face burn hot as Gojo stares at you. He's smiling, of course he is - a lazy grin, head tilted slightly to one side. His teeth peek out, sharp incisors and even sharper canines like a light in the dim light of an empty classroom.

"Satoru," You reason, hands fidgeting on the hem of your skirt with a sigh "We're in the—"

"I want to see," He's not asking, so much as telling. Your heart races. You squirm. Earlier, when he called and asked for you to wear something cute - you thought it'd be some of his typical flirting. You decided to appease him. Not particularly hoping he would make any advances on you. It wasn't something you thought to justify to yourself.

It struck you as odd when he asked about it. The husk of his voice as he leaned in behind you and told you good before waltzing off back to his lesson. The whole day he'd done nothing else out of ordinary. Made his usual jokes and stupid, unserious flirtatious advances.

And then you were alone. The building is empty, and you're supposed to be planning practical lessons for the first years. Gojo cornered you here and sat with you in silence for a little while, eyes following your curves and edges before stopping to look at you.

He wanted to see what you wore. But it wasn't like usual. Something was different, obviously - he'd been thinking about something else and like usual opted not to tell you about it. You're sure he won't even if you ask.

It's a trustfall with him - always testing you to see if you'll give him blind faith. You think he likes seeing you flounder more than he's concerned about your loyalty.

You can't get a read on him.

"You're really—"

"Let me see," He says again, not as playful. You swallow thick. It's your fault for indulging him so much "I want to know what you picked."

You go to take it off and Gojo shakes his head.

"Flip your skirt up,"

"You can't be serious."

He looks at you. Reprimanding. He's very serious. You swallow around something in your throat again, turning your head. Focusing your attention on anything else. The open window that gives view to the darkness outside. If anyone came right now they'd see this. You decide to close your eyes after all.

Wordlessly, you grab the end of your skirt and flip it up. Holding the material just over your thighs - to give visibility to the sheer, delicate material underneath. A brief silence is followed with echoey footsteps. Intentional. He's letting his weight hit the ground each time he does it.

You know he stops when you feel him looming over you. Before you can get a worse in edge-wise, he drops down. Squats until his face is at level with your pussy.

But he doesn't touch you. You can feel his breath distantly, and you're too afraid to look. But he's careful not to touch you. When you do feel his hand, it's brushing against your ankle. Fingers playing with the frill of your socks.

"Spread your legs a little."

"But—"

The air changes. You clip your mouth shut and listen, sneakers squeaking along the tile as you spread yourself. Standing at shoulder width, making yourself more clear to view.

"Good," He says, like it needs no explanation "I like when you listen to me."

You don't reply. You just sit, and wait - heart hammering so hard against your chest like you've run a mile.

You count the seconds but the numbers feel muddled after you count up to three hundred. A little over five minutes before he moves again. He touches the palm of his hand against your knee, planing them up the tops of your thigh. A barely there movement. Goosebumps cover every single inch of you. He hums, arbitrarily running his fingers along your inner thigh but never quite committing.

You're almost too afraid to move. Not that he'd do anything bad. But you have no idea what he's doing in the first place. It's starting to make you sweat.

"These are pretty," He says, conversationally running his finger along the top seam where the bows are. Still not touching "They new?"

"U-uhm," Your fingers tighten around your skirt "Yes?"

"Mm," He tugs the waistband, letting it snap against your skin lightly "Were you thinking of me?"

"I thought you'd like them."

"I do. I like when you think of me."

You shudder.

"Were you thinking anything of it when you put them on this morning?"

"No," You answer truthfully.

"Really?" He answers back, genuine "Even in the afternoon,"

"I just wasn't thinking,"

"What a shame," He replies, soft and gentle. He runs fingers against the place where you thighs meet your legs. Still no direct touching. You feel yourself starting to get wet around where he isn't. "I was thinking of you all day."

"Oh," You mumble.

"Wanna know what I was thinking about?"

He doesn't give you a chance to answer.

"I was thinking about," A single finger, his middle finger, runs along the seam of your panties. A ghost of a touch that makes your knees weak "Giving you a nice, thorough inspection."

You can't think.

"I was thinking," He answers again, but this time he pushes and you gasp at the sudden contact "About what it might be like to watch you make a mess like this," Another press, a little harder, still not where you need "Get these nice and dirty,"

"Satoru," Your voice is high-pitched. A whine. A sound you didn't even know you could make.

"I was thinking," He repeats, removing his hand completely "How wet I could get you by telling you all the dirty, awful, nasty things I wanna do with you,"

"What a-are you?"

"It's not proper at all for a trusted grown-up hm? To be pulling up your skirt and showing off your sweet little cunt to your superior? There's windows. They'll see you,"

You can only repeat his name. "Satoru."

"Do you want them to see you?" He asks, hand gentle on your thigh. He trails up "Do you want them to see you bent over the desk while I fuck you? Or maybe you want to spread your legs more,"

You choke on your spit, trying to keep the noises in.

"Make you sit with your legs wide and fuck you with my fingers till you squirt all over the desk. Let everyone see how filthy you let me make you,"

That makes you open your eyes. Once squeezed shut, now wet with need. You turn slightly, looking down at him. He looks pleased by this, by your staring. He watches your face as he gathers the material covering your pussy, pulling it between your lips with enough friction that your knees nearly give out.

"It's good that these were so light," He offers "Didn't think you could get this wet over something like this."

Your lower lip is trembling.

He still doesn't take pity on you.

"You did well," He kisses your knee. It's the most you've gotten from him today "What should I give you hm?"

Your words feel slurred and your head feels completely heavy. "Make me cum. Please, I wanna—"

"Shhh," He coos, patting your leg "Sit up on the desk ,"

You listen, sitting up and far back enough to sit comfortable. Gojo positions you with your feet flat on the desk underneath you. He pulls your skirt up this time, guiding your arms around his neck as he pushes his hand into the waistband of your panties.

The sudden contact is deliciously overstimulating. You gasp and Gojo hums, pleased.

"So sweet," He praises, after you've finally lost all of your resolve - brain clouded with nothing but unadulterated desire. It's hard not to give into Gojo. He always makes it good for you in the end "And so wet. You'll leave a stain."

You sniffle "Satoru," You repeat. He laughs good-naturedly. It makes you huff.

"Right, right. Sorry,"

He doesn't make you wait. The feeling of Gojo's hand makes you gasp with your face buried in his neck. His fingers are thick, smooth skin cool to the touch like a balm on your ever growing heat. He starts with his middle finger, fucking into you slowly and even though it isn't enough to make you cum - it's enough to stimulate you. Already so worked up, so needy it's so good.

But he's not doing it to make you feel good. He's preparing you, wanting to give you something better.

"Gonna give you my cock," He mumbles against the crown of your head, free hand tucking your head to his chest "You're gonna cum all over it for me, okay?"

A pathetic uh-huh leaves your lips, dazed. He doesn't give you anything more after that. One finger without resistance prompts another, and he stops at three. You can feel yourself stretched. You've taken it before, more than once.

But this time feels different. Your stomach is tied in knots. Gojo pulls away from you slightly, enough to undo his pants and let his cock spring free. White hairs neat at the base, tip flushed red. He's so hard, he's throbbing against your thigh where you can feel him.

"Take me in, baby," He hums, pushing the round tip against your cunt before it catches. He lets himself in slowly "That's it,"

The intial stretch leaves your lungs feeling punched out. Already undone, nerves frayed and mind fuzzy - the soft stretch of your pussy accommodating his length leaves you shaking. Skin on skin, raw and desperate, he swears under his breath and throws his head back. His adams apple bobs slightly, smiling as he swallows.

"So good,"

He fucks himself deeper Lets you adjust to each inch, and waits to bottom out until it's comfortable. The brief moment of tension only drives your lust further out of control. You can feel every slight throb and twitch. It gives you a second to appreciate every vein and the slight curve. The deep angle he's hitting you.

Just when you think you can't lose it anymore, he maneuvers his hand between your bodies and uses his thumb on your clit. Every neuron fires at once as he rubs the abused bundle of nerves, achy and weeping between your legs.

Your fingers tighten in his shoulders and Satoru laughs. He starts to move like that, careful and practiced. He angles each thrust of his hips to time it with his fingers. All precision, all reward. He thumbs your needy clit and fucks his cock right against the sweetest, softest part inside of you. He knows it so well by now, it always remembers him.

"Cum on me, sweet thing. Just a little more."

You wrap your legs around Gojo's waist as all the tension in your body started to overflow. All your tight muscles, the hot feeling in your belly that flows and disperses through your whole body. Every sensation works in tandem in making you fall apart and all of it happens at Gojo's mercy.

"Oh, Satoru, oh,"

You cum so hard you see white in your vision. You can feel yourself pulse as Gojo fucks himself as deep into you can go. All the way in your stomach, up to your throat - it knocks all the wind out of you as your pussy pulses and holds and clings to Gojo's cock like it never ever wants it to leave.

Gojo follows you in the aftermath of your own orgasm.

A few more shallow thrust of hips before he pours his cum into you, thick white ropes making your belly feel even hotter.

You stay like that a minute, full and exhausted until Gojo pulls away to kiss you.

"Let's clean up," He offers, an apology without saying sorry "We'll finish up at home, hm? Okay?"

You nod.

"Kay."

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #writing tag #warm ups #do not talk to me. i wrote this with my dick in my hand. jesus christ

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runningfrom2am · 3 months

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the wedding // LTPF

summary: the wedding of the year, i can see it now.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.7k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. she's a bridezilla for REAL and i wish i included more of that energy, protective!coryo, idk people are drinking alcohol? (its a wedding, so duh), also TW for Livia and r's dad just existing p much.

based on this ask and this ask!

series masterlist // playlist

Everything was perfect. Absolutely everything you had dreamt of your whole life when it came to your wedding. Coryo had told you money was no object, and therefore, you spared no expense. You had a strong theory that your father was being sent every last bill, since you knew neither of you had anything more than what the Plinth's were providing for school, but that was the farthest thing from your problem. It was the least your father could do.

The hardest part of the whole thing, even before deciding who would give you away without your father, was deciding on your maid of honour. You didn't have many good friends, or friends at all, outside of your new husband. At one point, you wondered if had things gone differently, would you have chosen Lucy Gray?

Clemensia Dovecote was a fine enough choice. "Let me just say," Her speech began, hitting the side of her overfilled wine glass with a fork. "I have called this wedding for years, and no one believed me." She shot a smile over to you at the head table. "For anyone who doesn't know me, I'm Clemensia. Y/N's Maid of Honour." She had just thrived on the title since you offered it to her which, while annoying, was good because she took her position very seriously. She was the perfect choice- she looked nice, presentable in a dress you had picked out, but the colour clashed with the yellow in the whites of her eyes and the few scales that were yet to fall off after the snake bite. She looked fine, but she also made you look better. "But like I said, I knew this would happen."

She was drunk, repeating things in a way that made you cringe internally but nevertheless, you had to watch. The lights spread across the large backyard of the Plinth's mansion lit up the night beautifully, bouncing off every white and red rose you had spread about. You were very grateful to them for allowing you to host the reception there. They had done a lot for you in the last year since you returned from Twelve.

Mrs. Plinth was very involved with planning the wedding- she loved the winter wedding and leaning into it as a theme. It worked out nicely because it gave her something to think about other than the death of her only child, and she was a tremendous help and support to you. You were truly grateful, but this day was hard on them without Sejanus there. She had mentioned on more than one occasion that Sejanus would have been the best man, and you only slightly doubted that. You wouldn't want it to be anyone else- but Coryo would have had different thoughts, you're sure.

"How much longer will this go on for?" Your now husband whispers in your ear, fake smile on his face as he also has to listen to Clem's rambling.

"I really don't know." You reply with the same fake smile, knowing that eyes were on you just as much as her.

"Some choice for a maid of honour." He chuckles.

You roll your eyes, a playful smile on your lips. "Oh, well, I would have gone with Arachne Crane but, you know..."

"Fair enough." He mumbles, sitting back in his seat. "Are you really the only woman in the Capitol who isn't insufferably annoying? You should have been your own maid of honour."

"Well it was her or Tigris, and Tigris is prettier than me so she wasn't really an option." You hum, grabbing his hand under the table as you keep your eyes focussed on Clemensia, not paying attention to a word she says.

Coryo laughs. "Tigris is not prettier than you."

"She's your cousin, your opinion is invalid." You shrug it off.

"Doesn't change the fact that I'm right." He argues, squeezing your hand.

You don't reply, and you let his hand go to clap once Clem is finally finished. You had already eaten, so now it was supposed to be the "fun part", as Clemensia so aptly put it in her speech. You found it rude, yes, but it wasn't a big deal and after tonight you wouldn't have to see her again for a while.

It was brisk out, being a winter wedding you should have expected that, but you still had another dress to change into so you excuse yourself from the table, kissing your husband goodbye as he gets up as well.

You hadn't allowed him to see any of your dresses, and this would be your third one today alone. He loved every one, and did not expect to be disappointed by the next. Or the one after that.

"Hey, congrats, Coriolanus." He tears his gaze away from your retreating figure to whoever was talking to him.

"Thank you, Hilarius." He nods, smiling politely at him and reaching out to shake his hand.

"I saw this one coming miles away." His classmate laughs. "You remember that though, right?"

"When you said that if I wasn't going to go after her you would?" Coryo asks, eyebrow raised. "I do remember that. It makes me wonder who let you in..." It's meant as a joke as he makes a point of looking past him toward the security they have at the entrance.

He furrows his brow when his eyes catch on your father standing there, arguing with one of the security guards, his wife by his side.

"If you would excuse me..." He says, walking toward them before Hilarius could even respond.

"Ugh, I know. Why did you even invite her, Y/N/N?" Clemensia complains as Tigris helps you step out of your gown.

"Who?" You ask, unsure what she was even talking about.

"Livia." She states, yet another glass of red wine in her hand.

"Oh, I kind of had to. Connections and all that." You shrug. You weren't Livia's biggest fan, she had a "greater than thou" attitude that drove you up the wall, but who in this city didn't?

"Ah, yes. Of course." She hums. "She had a lot of audacity to show up in that dress though..."

Your head whips around to look at her. "What dress?"

"You haven't seen her?" She gasps. "I thought you saw her! It's this white-based floral, really questionable for someone else's wedding. Looks like a tablecloth." She accentuates the statement with a sip from her glass.

Your jaw ticks and you look toward the door, already seeing red.

"Hey, Y/N, it's okay." Tigris rests her hands on your shoulders, prompting you to look at her. "We'll tell security, they can escort her out if that's what you want."

You take a breath, forcing a smile on your face. "Let's not bother them. I'll just go chat with her." You smile, stepping out of the dress in bare feet, quickly grabbing Clemensia's overfilled wine glass from her hand on your way out the door.

"Y/N, Wait! Don't!" Tigris calls after you, well aware of your notorious temper by now, but you don't listen.

You're in your white slip when you storm back out to the reception area through the back patio, immediately and quickly scanning the crowd for the guest in question. You know you have seconds before Tigris likely tries to stop you, but you know Clemensia won't. Then, you see her.

You're seething already. That's practically a wedding dress on its own. You would kill her.

You stomp across the ground, tunnel vision locked on her as she raises her glass to her lips, laughing, and talking with other guests, completely careless to what she had done wrong. Well, she would learn today.

"Livia Cardew!" You grin, walking up to her. "I don't recall sending you an invitation, but here you are!"

Immediately, she's taking in your appearance, giggling at your lack of appropriate attire and shoes. "Y/N! Congratulations." She says, eyes finally locking with yours again.

"May I have a word?" You ask, already grabbing her arm and pulling her away.

"Is there a problem here?" Coriolanus asks, addressing only his security as your father stands there, red-faced with anger.

"Yeah, they've got no invite." He nods, showing Coryo the list in his hands which he quickly pretends to look over.

"Oh! Sorry, yes. There you are..." He says, pointing down at the bottom and your father visibly relaxes. "Under the title there that says 'not welcome under any circumstances'... Well then." He looks at your father now for the first time, tilting his head at him.

"No, this is my daughter's wedding and we will be let in!" He demands, raising his voice.

Coryo clicks his tongue, slightly shaking his head. "No, sir, I thought we were clear on this."

"No, you said the wedding. This, if I'm not mistaken, is the reception. I made my sacrifice. Now, I'm here."

"And only about two hours late." Coryo hums uninterestedly, looking down at his watch. "Father of the year."

Your father's fuming, and it's hard for Coryo to not laugh in his face. "I paid for everything here! You can't deny us entry!"

"I can." Coryo says. "Well, actually, my apologies. Mrs. Y/L/N, you are welcome to come in, if you'd like." He smiles at her, polite demeanour flicked back on like a light switch.

Your father quickly pulls her back behind him. "It's both of us or neither of us. Go ask our daughter." He states, gripping tightly on her arm.

"Oh, no. I won't be ruining our wedding." Coryo shakes his head, firm in his decision. "I'll tell Y/N you send your love, Ma'am. Have a good night."

"No! You will let us in right now or-" Your father's tantrum is interrupted by a commotion across the yard, drawing Coryo's attention. People gasp in shock, and then he sees you, about to absolutely lay into Livia Cardew, who now has red wine all over her face and the front of her dress.

"I must be going, now." Coryo tells them, turning back to the security guard and adjusting the cuffs of his shirt to be able to roll up his sleeves. "If you don't mind, call for peacekeepers to escort him from the property. Thank you."

He doesn't have time to hear your father's angry disagreement as he walks away.

"So," You drop her arm, turning to face her. "I'm not sure if you are aware, but this isn't your wedding." You spit, gesturing to her dress. "And listen, I get it! You're jealous. That's fine, but it's extremely tacky and honestly embarrassing for you to wear a white dress to a wedding that's not yours."

Livia's lips fall open in shock, looking down at her dress before she laughs. "Y/N, come on. It really isn't that serious, you realize that, right?"

You stare at her for a moment, weighing your options. You could smash the glass over her head like you wanted to, demand that she leave immediately, or, you could 'accidentally' spill the glass on her. Before you complete the thought, you're throwing the contents of Clemensia's glass at the front of her dress, smiling as it splatters up over her face and in her hair, dripping down the front of her expensive-looking gown.

"Oops."

Livia gasps, wiping the red substance from around her eyes and flicking it off. "I thought that for one day you could be normal! God, you are vile!" She's practically screaming now.

"This is entirely your fault, you do realize that, right?" You tilt your head at her, a slight laugh under your tone. "If you wanted my husband just say that."

"I- ugh!" She groans in frustration and anger, swiping her hands over the liquid on her chest and flicking it all at you, staining the perfectly white satin of your slip. You look down at it, and then back at her. You were about to go through the roof.

The amount of people watching in the immediate vicinity is the only thing keeping you from grabbing her hair and shoving her head into the dirt. You decide to scream instead.

It turns into more of a wail, pumping angry tears into fake sad ones. Coryo is there in a second. "Darling, what's happened?" He asks, horrified as he looks between the two of you, grabbing your shoulders.

"I-" You sniff, pointing to the girl in front of you. "I just came to offer her something to change into because that is out of dress code and I tripped and-" You hiccup as he's rubbing up and down your bare arms. "It was an accident, and then she... It was just an accident! Now my dress is ruined and, and-"

He turns his gaze to Livia who just looks pissed while you ramble on about having had a little too much to drink, that was all. He's sure that's not what happened, he knows his wife better than that, but this show was not for him. He looks her up and down, visibly disgusted by her choice of dress. It honestly looks better now.

"Coriolanus that's not-" She chuckles with the shock of the accusation, shaking her head as she pleads with him.

"It's time for you to go." He tells her, looking toward a member of security who's not busy with your father, quickly waving him over.

Livia looks at the approaching security man in shock. "I didn't do anything!"

"That dress and causing a scene over it is more than enough." He states, wrapping an arm around your waist and wiping your tears from your cheeks. "Let's get you some water, Darling. It's okay..."

"It's not!" You cry, gesturing to the few small drops of wine on the front of your dress. "It's ruined! She ruined everything!"

Just as she's about to be escorted out, you make eye contact with her, offering a smug smile. She scoffs, which earns her a grab on the arm and a more forceful expulsion from the reception.

"Y/N!" Tigris is rushing across the lawn toward you, careful not to stumble in her shoes and bridesmaids' dress. "What happened?" She asks, addressing her cousin now.

"She's okay, there was just an accident with a glass of wine. We're just going to take a few minutes. I'll help her change." He explains to her.

She nods, looking worriedly down at the small stains in your dress. "I should be able to get this out, alright?" She assures you, rubbing a clean spot of the fabric between her fingers to make sure.

"Okay, thank you." You sniff, leaning into your husband's side as he guides you back up to the house.

You get inside and upstairs to what has become your dressing room and secondary bedroom over the last year. As soon as he shuts the door behind you, you can't hold your laughter back anymore. You're practically doubled over with it, and immediately Coryo understands. He chuckles, shaking his head at you.

"What a show..." He grins fondly, pulling you into a hug which you happily return.

"Oh, you liked it?" You giggle, coming down from your laughing fit.

"It was wonderful." He agrees, kissing the top of your head. "For a moment I was worried about you."

"Aw, really?" You look up at him, jutting your lip out in a pout.

"Definitely." He hums, kissing you softly. "Now come on, let's get you changed, huh?"

"Please." You nod, kissing him again before pulling back to pull your next dress from the closet. "I was supposed to wear this underneath, but now I can't." You sigh, hanging the full dress on the door before pulling the wine-stained one over your head.

"Just that will do, I suppose." Coryo mumbles, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as you toss the slip onto the ground.

"Oh, you suppose, do you?" You chuckle, reaching up to pull the new dress from its hanger.

"Mhm." He nods, planting a kiss in the crook of your neck. "Makes my job easier later."

You laugh, blush spreading over your cheeks and flushing your chest while you unzip the back. You carefully balance as you step into the opening in the fabric, pulling it up around your waist.

"Don't rush, Darling. It will probably take you a while to recover before we can return to the party." He says, watching you adjust the skirt before you plan on zipping it up.

"Good point." You agree, but make no effort to stop until Coryo places his hand over yours.

"What should we do with all this time we have to kill, hm?" He's already leaning down to kiss over the back of your neck.

"I feel like you have an idea..." You mumble, tilting your head to adjust to his presence.

"Have I told you how much I love you?" He asks as he gently pushes the fabric back down to drop in a pool around your ankles.

"You may have mentioned it..." You turn under his palms as they land on your lower back, gently pulling you closer. "And I love you too. More than you could ever imagine, Coryo."

taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world@nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey , @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney

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multifandomimagin3s · 1 year

Text

It's your birthday - 141, Los Vaqueros + König

A/N: Since it's my birthday today, thought I'd indulge myself so hope you guys enjoy :))

Summary: It's your birthday and the guys find out.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Depends on if he's close to you or not.

Mans has the emotional range of a sock, so realistically the most you'd probably get out of him is a gruff "Happy Birthday."

And that's only if he somewhat likes you - if he doesn't then he'd probably just say "You're getting old now, cunt." *Affectionately? Who knows.*

If you were part of the Team, he'd probably take the piss out of you for it.

Would definitely be the one who would tell the waiters that it was your birthday - even if it wasn't - just to embarrass you.

Nonetheless, despite all his teasing, you came back to your room that night to find a little gift on top of your bed spread; there was no name on it, but scrawled across the tag said "Happy Birthday, (Y/N)."

It was a hunting knife with your initials carved into the base of the handle.

You never questioned it but whenever he saw you use it, a small glint briefly sparkled in his eyes.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

He's lowkey annoyed that you never told him when your birthday was.

Would absolutely rope you and some of the Team into going out clubbing - Ghost refused but ended up turning up anyways; "Wanted to watch you make arses of yourselves."

I can just imagine him going to the bar and coming back with a tray of shots - the people who carry and sell the shots in clubs know to carry extra because he buys them all each time.

Would honestly have spent most, if not all, of his money if it hadn't been for Price being the voice of reason.

Would also be the type that would be telling anyone and everyone that it was your birthday so you guys could get free shots.

Orders you whatever food you want on the way back home aswell - kebab? Got it. Pizza? Done. Whatever you want, he'll stumble into the shop and get it.

Your birthday would be absolutely chaotic but it would be one to remember.

Captain John Price

He knew it was your birthday, he's seen your file - the fact that you hadn't mentioned it to anyone meant that you probably had a reason not to, so he didn't say anything.

Would probably wish you a casual 'happy birthday' on a passing, in his normal formal tone.

When Soap invites all the team out on your behalf for clubbing, he's reluctant to go - claims he's "too old for that shit."

But ends up going anyways, purely because he knows that when Soap gets drunk he's a bit of a liability and can easily spend way more than he should (and honestly, same).

Would buy you a drink - whatever you wanted, alcoholic or not.

And maybe, just maybe, if he's had a bit to drink and or is in a good mood, he'd let you wear his hat. Just this once.

But then Soap tried to put it on and said he was keeping it...

So he took the hat back like >:(

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

He also knew when your birthday was - it came up in a conversation ages ago, and he has a great memory.

Also gets roped into your birthday night out by Soap.

He'd probably get just as drunk as Johnny but he'd be taking photos and posting onto his Snapchat Story, basically vlogging the whole night.

I can also see him surprising you with a cupcake, placing a birthday candle in it with a sheepish smile.

Would also buy you drinks but unlike Soap, he wouldn't be killing his bank account - self-control and all that.

Would get the DJ to play a birthday song for you - not the traditional cheesy one, but either 'It's My Birthday' by Will.I.Am or maybe 'Birthday' by Anne-Marie.

Alejandro Vargas

"Ah, feliz cumple!" *idk if this is correct, using this article for reference*

Like Soap, he wants to go all out for your birthday - if both teams were together at the time, it'd be one big chaotic night out.

He's a big flirt, regardless of what age you are he's complimenting you nonstop.

If he and Rudy get roped into the Night Out by Soap, Rudy and Price end up having to the be the voices of reason - Soap, Gaz, and Alejandro keep ordering shots; they managed to convince you into doing that challenge of getting a drink of everything from one end of the bar to the other.

Needless to say, you're all legless by the end of the night - well, Alejandro's still vertical but his alcohol tolerance is insane.

Would definitely want to spoil you - takes you shopping and tells you to pick anything that you want, don't worry about the price.

Honestly this is making me think of what Sugar Daddy! Alejandro would be like and it's giving me ideas...

Rudy Parra

This sweet guy would absolutely go out and get you a cake, maybe a balloon, and a card.

How did he know it was your birthday? He's a good listener, you'd been talking about your life outside of the military and had flippantly mentioned when your birthday was, which he noted.

Like Alejandro, he would honestly spoil you rotten.

If you both weren't deployed, he'd plan a trip away somewhere, surprising you with the tickets.

If he gets roped into going out by Alejandro - who was roped in by Soap's enthusiasm - he's practically glued to your side for most of the night.

Takes a bunch of candid pictures of you - they're honestly really good, he should be a photographer.

He'd probably have to stop Alejandro from feeding you and the others stronger shots - the jump from sambuca to jagerbombs to tequila was not a good idea.

He'd listen to your drunk ramblings with a smile on his face, letting you feed him your pizza.

He always remembers your birthday and makes each year memorable.

König

Finds out it's your birthday when your Superiors wish you a brief 'Happy Birthday' during training.

Straight away, he feels so guilty for not knowing but you reassured him that you hadn't really told anyone so he needn't worry.

Nonetheless, he'd still try and make the most of the rest of your birthday.

He'd cook for you - a traditional meal that his Mother taught him, and she used to make it for him on his birthday.

He'd run you a bath, give you a massage, and pamper you - he'd dote on you even more than usual, if that's even possible.

If you wanted to go out and do something, he'd do it - even with his social anxiety, he wants to see you happy so he'd bite the bullet and go for it.

If you wanted to stay in for a chill night and watch a movie, he's game for that too - lets you choose whatever film you want to watch, gets all your favourite snacks and gets all the fluffy blankets and pillows he can find to make a comfy spot on the couch.

He'd also secretly set a reminder on his phone for next year, so he never forgets.

He's honestly just so sweet.

#simon riley #soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #john price #alejandro vargas #rudy parra #konig #simon riley x reader #soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #rudy parra x reader #konig x reader #cod #call of duty #multifandomimagin3s

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jeonsbabygirlsworld · 5 months

Text

CRAVE

SUMMARY: You get a call from your husband sitting pretty with his hard on out and you need to for sure help him with it .

PAIRINGS : idol Jungkook X boss reader (not mentioned actually)

WORD COUNT : 600

SMUT WARNINGS : Hand job , masturbating on a phone call, Whiney subby kook kinda , reader has her boobs out and she is a breast feeding mom so yeah , Jungkook cums on her panties he brought it to his work. Lmk if I missed anything:)

A/n : I tried making jungkook a sub but idk if I did good lmk , comments and asks are always appreciated. Enjoy <3 THIS IS A SMALL DRABBLE FOR 500 + FOLLOWERS!! I HOPE YOU WOULD LIKE IT ! ❤️

You choked on a spit when your husband video-called you luckily you were in your cabin and thankful you had your AirPods on. Curses left his mouth while he sat there stroking his hard-length wearing his baby pinkish shirt ready to perform on stage.

“Fuck baby I need you Jagi I’m so fucking horny,” he says palming his length. He sat on the chair, legs spread. The bracelet looked sexy on his wrist , while palming he came a bit forward to let you see his swollen tip. “Jungkook you are so hard, baby what got you so hard?” You question him, feeling wet. Your pussy lips felt sticky, he sat down on the chair “Baby want you, just want your pussy”he whines making a tight fit around his heavy cock. His heavy balls were tucked in his boxers.

“Yeah, Kook gonna cum for me?” You said while he nodded. “Can you close your one fist around your cock baby? And use other to palm it? You ask him your fingers unbuttoning your top.

“Yes, gonna do it,”he says standing up from the chair and showing the precum. His tip is shiny, and the prominent veins fuck his cock is so pretty.

“Baby fuck yourself yeah? Do the thrusting thing you do with your hands when I’m away imagine it’s my pussy Jungkook” you muttered showing him your boobs.

You just wish no one knocks till the time he comes, and until you button up. “Yeah y/n I’ll do it, fuck” moans left his mouth a few minutes passed by him moaning and groaning when you tell him to not forget about the tight fit of his fist.

“No don’t kook wait lemme see that cock, come closer” he sat down after a few minutes. Like a good boy, he is he brings himself closer to his phone.

While you press your nipples flicking them from time-to-time bit of milk spilling. You’ve been breastfeeding your baby girl. You were surprised to see the milk because you had pumped milk before coming to the office . But for now, you focus on Jungkook.

“Yeah baby, so sexy,” you tell him while he whines “Want that y/n” he bawled “cum kook make a mess yeah?” Just when you thought he was about to come he took out your lace panties from his pants pocket.

Aligning them towards his red tip “Kook from where you got this?” You asked surprised not expecting him to carry your panties to work. “You want to cum on that? Rub yeah baby, reeks of my scent right?” You help him, he looks so hot and really pretty the makeup was done perfectly.

He palmed himself for a few cumming all over your panties some spurt of his cum dropped on the phone and the rest on the panties. “Came so much baby,” he says showing.

“Yeah, baby can see you, what got you so worked up? you asked taking the tissues and cleaning your messy boobs while he speaks “got hard when you went to work, you looked so fucking perfect in the tight pencil skirt and the red top” he explains.

“Jungkook you could have told me would have given you a head baby” you whine wanting nothing more than to taste his cum.

“Can I come after the award show ? At the office wanna have you ride me on your office chair” he asks this looking so pretty while you chuckle wanting this .

“Yeah, come soon Jungkook I’ll be waiting” you say giving a flying kiss and cutting the call. It’s going to be long night and you both are up for it .

Tag list : @jungk97kwife , @kimmingyuswifee , @jk-hoe97 , @useyouridentity, @ohsweetmimosa

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thatdeadaquarius · 14 days

Note

Imagine a horribly clumsy creator in the sagau... like trips over their own feet, starts coughing due to choking on air randomly, knocking a vase off a table that was in the middle of the table somehow???? Silly goofy stuff like that (I pull these silly goofs often personally)

(obv goes w/o saying sorry for being so late to reply /gen) ;-;

clumsy reader is so me core idk why i didnt think of this lmao

(this gif is liek the modern equivalent of Charlotte posting ur embarrassing clumsy moments on insta Steambird acc lmao)

(so sometimes im lazy and dont include the ask stuff esp if its shorter like this, so here's at least the characters in this one: Fontaine ppl <3 along with a G for general audience, barring cuss words)

Navia would politely ask you to go the edge or whatever area ur in whenever she pulls out her cannons/guns LMAO

every time you and either Clorinde or Neuvillette are walking next to you, or doing rlly anything, its like night and day

ur out here finding all the cracks in the sidewalk, bumping everything that could even possibly have a liquid in it, and have constant bruises from hip checking/stubbing toes on mechas walking around

Clorinde is impressed at that point bc mechas are actively programmed to get out of your way, so how u managed to put them back into ur way rlly fascinates her 😭😭

Neuvillette would like to wrap u in fabric/bubble wrap equivalent for his old ass, in an attempt to desperately stop u from hurting urself lol

u get a new coat or new pants from him all the time, u just thought at first he was rlly into giving u Fontaine fashion until Furina pointed out that it was spring/summer and you wouldn't wear thick woolen pants and fur-lined coats everyday 💀

(poor dragon guy doesn't rlly get the practical side of clothes, he likes fashion, but he inadvertently subscribes to the "hoes don't get cold" philosophy by being an ancient dragon lord)

Wriothesley is unfortunately nice enough to constantly try and catch his poor god, which ends well for neither of you 50% of the time

its not even ur weight takes him down, he's buff as hell after all, and he's dealt with rowdy inmates, its just.. ur clumsiness spreads.

if ur tripping, and the poor Duke reaches out to catch you, ur reaching out at the same time to steady urself on a side table w/a vase full of water, which u then knock off, drenching ur back and his face at the same time LMAO

he doesn't learn, despite u literally begging him to stop trying to help u, then u try and compromise to just let u fall and help u afterward asdfghkl-

Wrio's too chivalrous tho, the most u can get him to do is always grab ur arm instead of trying to bodily catch you

if u think after the first like, ✌️ TWO times Lynette is willing to help you, u r so wrong lmao

she's seen her brothers clumsiness, she knows theres no saving u

she does comfort u after slipping (not even falling but just flailing dramatically) for the 5th time in the puddles around water fountains tho

Lyney and Freminet are lowkey legit convinced someones cursed their god atp 😰

Freminet always had bandaids for u, and Lyney keeps a supply of ur fav candy to cheer u up after embarrassing urself by falling ass backwards right into the Fountain of Lucine right in front of Opera house lmao

...

...Charlotte thinks this is all vv hilarious, no she has no respect for ur godliness, her archon was Furina like LMAO- IM SORRYYY

(she has started a small section in the steambird of a near daily- DAILY picture of u being clumsy 😭)

(u, not srsly, threaten to smite her and she just giggles)

(its ok they take it all in a cute/endearing trait type of way)

☆

again, sorry for lateness, when i reopen askbox (soon, FINALLY-)

ill try and stay more on top of it and try and sort whatre just chats/non-requests better too 😭😭

hope u guys are having a good week!! tysm for being patient and nice to me :')

Safe Travels Kai,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit / @chinuneko / @silvers-tongue

@kiyomi-uchiha777

#genshin sagau #sagau #genshin isekai #my asks #aqua asks #genshin impact sagau #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #gender neutral reader #oh tags #my beloathed #idk anymore to put pls just take this #anyway u think sigwienne would do that blunt child thing where they kinda read you to filth #bc i do #i rlly do #and i think this is one teyvat god reader that would not handle it well 😭

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deanbrainrotwritings · 4 months

Text

— LINES OF YOUR HANDS

SUMMARY : dean tries being seductive in a Santa suit… and it works, surprisingly.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), fluff, on the kitchen table, Santa suit kink, nude photography, breeding kink, jerking off, cum play

WORD COUNT : 2.3k

A/N : devil wears prada song title. @spnkinkevents : #12daysofspnkinkmas2023 — (Santa) suit kink and nude photography. this was cute to me, idk ‘bout y’all, like yeah, the sex, but Dean’s so cute in my imagination (and in the show). had clara oswald and danny pink in mind for this one, lmao XXX

“Merry Christmas, my love!” Dean exclaimed from the doorway of the kitchen. His girlfriend turned around, distractedly biting off the arm of a gingerbread man.

“You could’ve at least picked something sexy,” she snorted, turning away from him to bite the other arm of her gingerbread man. Dean pouted and made his way to her unenthusiastically.

“Well, guess what I’m wearing underneath,” he proposed excitedly with his hands on his hips. She didn’t turn around to look at him this time.

“Uh… your Scooby-Doo boxers?” She asked, grinning at the space in front of her before taking a bite of a gingerbread cookie’s leg. She knew that would make Dean whine more. “One of the hundred of black t-shirts you own, and uh… those ‘send noods’ socks, my fave,” she continued with a dreamy laugh. Dean sputtered.

“No,” he pouted adorably. She shrugged, mouth full, drinking warm coconut milk to help the cookie go down. Defeated, Dean’s frown deepened. “Nothing,” he whined, then stomped over to her, hoping she’d look at him. “Come on, admit it’s sexy,” he smiled cheekily, sitting on the table next to the small plate with crumbs and a gingerbread man that no longer had arms and legs.

She sighed playfully and then leaned back, eyes trailing from the top of his cute head to the bottom of his hot legs. She checked him out once more, contemplating his appearance: she stared at his thighs, the tent in the red, fluffy trousers, the tightness of the suit on him, the little bit of skin showing at his neck, the floppy red and white hat on top of his head.

She tried to give him what he wanted, to see the sexiness in his costume. But… she couldn’t help it, she smiled brightly at him. He was too damn adorable.

“Oh, come on!” He whined, then hastily undid the black belt around his waist, letting the coat fall open. She held her breath as she watched him, her eyes glued to his taut, hot body, and his warm, freckled skin. He bit his lip, and pulled his pants down to release his cock, and slowly started to jerk himself off.

That did it for her. Her stomach flipped and her pussy clenched, warmth spread over her face, her stomach, her cunt. She released a shaky breath as a wave of dampness ruined her underwear almost instantly.

Squeezing her thighs, she fumbled and checked her pockets for her phone to take a picture. Maybe a lot more than one. This was so hot and definitely worth being kept in the hidden photo album of explicit photos and videos of her and Dean.

When he saw it in her hands, he stopped touching himself and reached for the phone, but she snatched it away before he could snatch it away.

“Hey!” He complained. He thought she was going to ignore him and scroll through her phone instead.

“Shut up,” she grunted, which made his mouth shut instantly, “I’m trying to eat my gingerbread man and you want to seduce me… now deal with the fact that it worked.”

“You’re torturing the little man,” he stared down at the gingerbread man with an exaggerated frown. “But, hey, I ain’t complainin’ if you wanna take a few videos of me right now,” he grinned, going right back at it. “Did ya name him?” He asked, running his thumb over the tip of his leaking cock.

“Patrick,” she laughed softly, then stood up to find the perfect angle. It didn’t matter though, he looked good from all angles. She snapped a photo, kept tapping and tapping the red button to get as many as she could. Data storage be damned.

“Want some more frosting on Patrick?” He jested, but she was actually contemplating his offer. He cursed softly and watched her with hooded eyes.

She leaned down to collect the beads of precum at his tip with her tongue which made his body tense up, a loud moan erupting from his throat. She reached over and took a bite of her cookie, mixing the sweet and tangy flavour of her two favourite things. “Yummy,” she snickered, staring straight at Dean.

“Fuck,” he whispered, licking his lips.

“Maybe when you’ve got another load, you’re cumming inside me first.” She pushed her cup and the headless cookie to the far end of the table, close to the wall. “Fuck, actually… should I take a picture of you cumming on your hand first?” She stopped in the middle of lifting her shirt up, staring at him as he slowed the pace of his movements to stop his orgasm.

“No, later,” he decided for her, “please, get up here and ride me.” He begged, then shifted on the table to lie on his back, aware of the plate and cup she pushed against the wall when he placed the Santa hat with them. She snickered and lifted the top over her head. She wore no bra this morning and the sight of her breasts made him moan softly.

“Comfortable?” She asked, kicking her slippers off and then slid her leggings and underwear down in one swift pull.

“Just get up here,” he told her impatiently, reaching down to tug at his balls instead of jerking himself off. She laughed again and did as he asked. She climbed up the chair, made her way onto the table, and then sat on his lap, taking his hard cock in her hand.

“How are you making this work?” She teased, biting her lip, slowly stroking from base to tip. He instantly grabbed her hips, his red lips parted to release quick breaths as he brought her forward over his erect cock.

He shrugged, biting his lip and smiling cutely. “Please,” he begged again, urging her to take him. She playfully, teased her entrance with the tip of his cock, and stared down at him mischievously.

“Sam’s gonna get mad that we fucked on the table.” He knew she was stalling on purpose, getting him riled up. Her intentions were clearer when she reached for her phone again, and took a couple photos of his cock in her hand.

She stopped stroking his cock to focus on taking more photos. It frustrated him and he groaned, reaching between her legs. While she treated him like a sex model, leaning back in his lap to capture him at the best angle with her phone, he separated her folds and brushed his thumb against her clit.

His cock twitched when he brought two of his fingers to her entrance and an insane amount of slick met his fingertips. “Wow, it’s really workin’,” he chuckled, smiling up at her smugly. She rolled her eyes, lips parting when he pushed two fingers into her, meeting no resistance. “Please tell me you’re done, I wanna be inside you and feel all of this… wrapped around my dick,” he mumbled, pushing a third finger into her, then spread them apart inside her.

“Oh… fuck, Dean!” She moaned in surprise. Her phone tumbled out of her hand and rattled on the floor, but it didn’t break. She slammed both hands on his chest as her thighs shook on either side of his body as his fingers curled against the front of her walls.

“It’s Santa now,” he teased, pulling his soaked fingers out of her fluttering pussy to wrap it around his cock. She barely composed herself when he bucked his hips upwards, thrusting his cock into her swiftly.

She cried out again and buried her face into his neck, making a tight fist with both hands clenching around the red and white Santa jacket he wore. She moaned softly when he rolled his hips gently, soothing the amazing stretch of her cunt around him.

“Shit.. that was way too easy, babe,” he gasped, giving her ass a gentle swat. “You okay?” He murmured, kissing her temple. She nodded, her pussy fluttering needily around his cock. “Well…” he paused for a moment, reaching up to move her hair to one side, then lifted her mouth up to his. “What do you want for Christmas, sweetheart?” He mumbled against her lips, giving her a few loving pecks.

She kissed him lewdly, licking across his sugary lips and into his minty mouth with a hum. With a smirk, she replied, “a baby.”

His grip on her hair tightened and his cock twitched inside her. He pulled her off him with a sharp tug of her hair and stared at her face, stunned and aroused. “Don’t ask for something if you’re not serious about it…” he murmured, planting his black-leather-boot clad feet on the table.

“Who said I wasn’t serious?” She asked, placing her arm beside his head and laying her palm flat over his toned stomach.

“That shit-eating grin on your fuckable face.” Before she could get out a reply, Dean began to piston his hips up into her, clasping both hands on her hips roughly to keep her from moving.

With a surprised moan she pressed her forehead into her arm and wrapped her hand around one of Dean’s wrists, above his watch.

She panted heavily into his ear, occasionally moaning encouragements that made him fuck her harder. Her clit slapped delightfully against his pelvis with each thrust and upward grind. He focused on chasing her pleasure more than his own, angling her hips so he could press his cock into the front of her pussy, brushing repeatedly over her sweet spots.

“You want a baby?” He asked breathlessly, cock throbbing inside her velvety walls. He could feel her getting as close to her orgasm as he was, and continued to grind up against her after every thrust to stimulate her clit. “I’ll give you a baby,” he growled, latching his lips to her pulse.

With a sharp thrust and a hard bite, he came inside her with a grunt of her name against her neck. Hot cum pooled inside her and triggered her own orgasm. With a shuddering moan of Dean’s name, she took Dean's face lovingly into her hands and kissed him as he helped her ride out her orgasm.

Her kiss-swollen lips moved across his jaw, down his flushed neck and chest as they attempted to catch their breaths. Dean pulled her closer, his warm hands squeezing his favourite parts of her body that he could reach. Barely having caught their breaths, he mumbled, “I believe you need to let me eat your cookie now that I’ve delivered your gift. Santa’s gotta get a reward,” against her flushed cheek.

She moved away from his mouth and lifted a brow at the playful grin he gave her. “Do not call my vagina a cookie ever again,” she giggled, pushing up off his chest. Except he pulled her back down with his fingers around the back of her neck to peck her lips, once, then twice.

“Babe, please, I’m trying to be in the Christmas spirit,” he reasoned playfully with a nod, dimples on display with his puckered lips. He slid his hands down the curve of her back and stopped just shy of her ass, calloused hands caressing her soft skin.

She eyed him suspiciously and then dropped a lingering kiss on his forehead for cuteness. “Okay, I’ll let it slide… this time,” she smiled, then dropped doting kisses over his cheeks and nose.

“Right, but you have no problem with me referring to myself as Santa, hmm?” He muttered, feigning disappointment. Mischievously, she stopped her kisses before she could get to his mouth, hovering over his lips after kissing the corner of his mouth.

She pulled away as he waited for her kiss with a very subtle pucker of his lips and then, he had the audacity to pout again. “Be happy that I fucked you in this ridiculous costume at all,” she frowned, but her bright and amused eyes betrayed her serious face.

“This costume is not ridiculous, okay? You’re ridiculous…” he scoffed, moving his hands away from her hips to cross them over his chest defensively.

She bit back a smile and slid off his soft dick, which made him reach out for her to return with his lips parted to ask her to come back. Instead, she took his hands to balance herself as she climbed off the table and took her phone off the floor, his cum already starting to dribble out of her pussy.

She squeezed her legs together as she unlocked her cellphone to study the photos she took of Dean. “I’m gonna get these framed… or.. I’m making my own porn magazine with photos of you naked.. yeah, that’s a great idea,” she spoke to herself thoughtfully.

Dean blindly grabbed for the Santa hat, lifted his pants up, and slid off the table to wrap his arms around his naked girlfriend. He put the hat back on and dropped his chin on her shoulder to gaze at her phone.

“Only if you do the same for me,” he proposed bashfully, then slowly started moving his hands down between her legs. She smiled and parted her legs for him, but she didn’t expect him to send a slap over her sensitive clit.

He must have expected her reaction because he released her immediately and backed away when she jumped with a shout and turned to face him swiftly. She glared at him and walked towards him until the metal counter hit his back.

He licked his lip, trying to lean casually against the counter with his green eyes shining bright like shiny ornaments on a Christmas tree. He swallowed excitedly and smiled at her flirtatiously—that stupid smile he gave women when he tried picking them up or to get information out of them.

“I’m tying you up with the Christmas lights for that,” she threatened seductively, pressing herself up against his taut body. He bit his lip and carefully moved his hands to her ass to keep her close, then squeezed.

“Really?”

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#dean x female!reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester #12daysofspnkinkmas2023

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navyhyuck · 10 months

Text

how many times? — 2.3k words, choi yeonjun

warnings: explicit marijuana usage, shotgunning, kissing, so incredibly suggestive and so much sexual tension, stoner!yeonjun, sorta mutual pining/bff2l idk, reader gets a little goofy

a/n: my comeback!! honestly i was high writing this because what the fuck. i got so carried away. anyway @itgirlgyu (i hope it's ok i tagged u hehe) wrote the most lovely little thing and getting shotgunned by yj would most def lead to.. something :> so thank you for the inspo! also pls don’t smoke kids, i would let only yeonjun absolutely demolish my respiratory system. tagging kai @channoticedmeuwu bc … yes! <3 (yes it’s not soobin but he’s otw ok). listen to often by the weeknd for ultimate vibes!

you’ve decided that you absolutely love the way yeonjun rolls his joints.

there’s nothing special about it, of course. you’ve watched him countless times, folding the rolling paper with hazed concentration, carefully packing the perfectly grounded weed inside. it’s the stupid sleeveless shirt he insisted on wearing today, stolen from soobin’s closet after a fifteen minute banter—as you’re told, because it’s ‘too hot outside’ to wear a short-sleeved t-shirt instead.

his arms are bare, smooth skin stealing the attention of your gaze the moment you walked into his apartment a few minutes ago, and you still haven’t gotten over it. not when yeonjun rolls the unfinished joint between his fingers, involuntarily flexing his forearms as he does so, flitting his eyes towards you as he asks in question to your silence, “you good?”

perfect. you simply nod, untrusting of your words at the moment. he smiles lightly, getting back to work as you let your eyes wander once again, finding yourself caught up on your friend a lot more than you usually do.

that’s not to say you haven’t thought about him in the past, when he’s invited you over to sit on the overpriced outdoor furniture outside on his balcony, sporting a handsome smile and tousled hair, getting you higher than taehyun’s gummies ever have. the other boy swears his working on increasing his milligram count, but you think it’s a little more than that.

you’re on-your-knees, borderline inappropriately attracted to yeonjun; clearly, considering you watch a little too intently as he raises the joint upwards, licking a quick stripe to seal the paper. fuck, if you leaned in just a bit closer, you could waft the addictive cologne he’s rubbed on his neck, one you gifted him on his birthday last year, and maybe it’d get you off in ways you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about.

yeonjun finally lights the joint, slowly rotating it in his fingers as he does so, sharp eyes focused on perfection. it was hard to believe how much he cared how intentionally his joints were lit (price inflation?).

a gentleman as always, he places the joint to your lips with a gentle expression of want to go? and you couldn’t imagine saying no to him.

how could you? pretty boy perched next to you, legs spread in such an inviting position—you’ve almost lost it already. eyelashes fluttering, you inhale deeply, trying to ignore the way his fingertips pressing lightly at your lips, keeping the smoke contained from the very beginning. you wonder how his lips would feel on yours, maybe for a little longer than you should.

when he pulls away, you lull your head back, your body slumping, easily enamoring yourself in the sudden joust of pleasure. it makes you forget where you are momentarily, giggling in a daze as you part your lips, letting the smoke leave your mouth.

“all that with one hit?” yeonjun teases, and your eyes meet his with a roll of annoyance. there’s a smirk dancing on his lips, playfully as you watch the smoke bellow around him, slowly releasing from the corner of his mouth. always so fucking pristine, a perfectionist if you will.

“it’s been a long day,” you say in response, furrowing your eyebrows as the boy shrugs, passing off the joint. “remember how my manager told me to recruit another intern for our team?”

“hmm,” he hums, running a hand through his hair as he watches you inhale again, relaxing your head back as you always do. he finds it so innocent, the way your jaw relaxes as the weed takes its effect, and your lips, as inviting and plump as always, opens only to the smoke.

there’s a sort of numbing feeling, either from watching your jaw slack, mouth open, eyes closed with a string of dense fog surrounding your face or simply the high he’s slowly losing to watching you. it’s almost intoxicating, how you tilt your head to him, small smile lining your lips, offering him another hit as you continue speaking.

“i referred taehyun, you know,” your eyes are narrowed now, gazing nearly shamelessly at yeonjun when he’s unsuspecting. “dude’s got a fucking stellar resume. but they hired this other guy instead, and he’s just been following me around like he’s my intern.”

“yeah? what’s he like?”

sharp eyes trail on you carefully, watching intently as you subconsciously dart out your tongue, licking along your bottom lip before going off on one of your usual ramblings. it’s so easy to get lost in the way you look, yeonjun thinks, especially when he’s slowly prodding a ‘wow’ or ‘no way’ into your rants every so often, just so you don’t get so caught up in the way he’s absolutely undressing you with his eyes.

he can’t help it, you’ve always been so difficult to be around after a certain hour at night; when the clock strikes midnight and he hears, from a distance, the university bells signaling the arrival of tomorrow, you take his invitations with open arms, spreading your legs on his couch and marking your spot. it’s not as though he spends his time smoking in pg rating with other girls at 2 a.m. anyway, that’s all reserved for you.

the dark-gray shorts and white t-shirt combination is maybe his favorite ever, he thinks, as you suddenly flail your arms up in sudden annoyance, screaming about some ‘and he fucking asks me again!’, the uneven hem of your shirt riding up slightly, exposing the smallest sliver of skin. yeonjun’s mind wanders to where you might’ve gotten this shirt; maybe he should ask you before he tears it off of you.

yeah, maybe it’s time for another hit.

and your voice blurs more than it did before, surprisingly, sounding increasingly more attractive with every word that leaves your mouth. yeonjun’s dazed, drunk on how you lean towards him, chest forward before your face, reaching to grab his joint with your perfect, graceful fingers. in a split second, he moves it out of your reach, smiling lazily when your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“want me to shotgun you?” he asks with a tilt of his head, words spilling from his mouth impulsively. your forehead smoothes at the question, maybe a little too casually for his liking, and you shrug a nonchalant sure. “i–have we done this before?” he’s got to be crazy, he’s never lost his memory smoking weed ever in his lifetime.

“no,” you’re trying to search his eyes, “hmm, taehyun’s shotgunned me before, though.”

the innocent shining of your eyes paired with your response has yeonjun suddenly giggling, making him place a hand over his mouth as if it would mask anything. oh, he hadn’t known you could be this cute, whining lightly as you question his laughter. when he catches his breath finally, planting his sight back on you, he simply pats the seat right beside him, “come here, i’ll show you.”

you’re quick to oblige, your body buzzing from the marijuana in your bloodstream, keeping you warm even as a cool breeze blows by. yeonjun’s presence is ever-so comforting, more so than ever, and you nearly have to hold yourself from resting your head against his shoulder. with parted lips in unadulterated awe, you watch as the dark-haired boy takes a long drag, the simple motion appearing astonishingly alluring. you’re hooked on deep, and there’s nothing to save you.

but when yeonjun turns towards you, suddenly holding the side of your face–thumb pressing down on your bottom lip to keep your mouth open, and moves impossibly close, you practically freeze.

heart in your throat, his eyes beckon you to fill in the gap, never faltering. when you shuffle close enough, cautiously grabbing onto his forearm—you can almost taste the ghost of his lips, barely an inch away—he exhales straight into your mouth.

oh…your eyes flutter shut at the soft sensation, your fingertips pressing tightly into his arm as you let the high course through your body. maybe it’s because you’ve already taken too many hits (how many times?), but the intimacy has you buckling down even faster, the rate possibly record-breaking in guinness terms.

yeonjun’s waiting when you open your eyes, nearly blowing the excess smoke right into his face, yet he isn’t fazed. it wouldn’t matter anyway, no, you could do anything to him and he’d take it without hesitation.

“wow,” you mutter, laughing breathlessly as your friend plasters on a stunning smile. “yeah, i definitely haven’t done that before.”

good. taehyun would be dead otherwise. his hand’s found solace resting on your thigh (when did it get here?), barely grasping at the flesh with nimble fingers. the material of your shorts are soft against his skin, loosely covering you, reminding him of just how easy it would to simply tug—

“can i try?” yeonjun’s fighting inner demons at this rate, testing the deep levels of his self control. he lets you do as you will (of course, why not?), eyes widening when you shift onto your knees, cautiously placing one in between in his legs. he’s gripping on your waist now—just lightly in case you’re overwhelmed, hoping he doesn’t look incredulous with the way he stares at you taking another hit, absolutely enamored with every move you make.

there’s a flash of desire in the way your pupils dilate, suddenly hyper-fixated on your best friend’s exposed arms. it’s driving you crazy, your mind wandering back and forth—palm grazing up his bicep, feeling the taut muscle beneath your fingers. yeonjun’s gaze wanders on you, quietly leaning forward and putting out the joint against the ashtray.

you’re looking down at him now, hovering over him in a less than platonic way, glancing between his eyes and lips. opening his mouth, he guides your jaw back towards him, warping you in far too close than the previous time. everything is so heightened, senses tingling from the ends of your finger to your nose—which barely brushes his—and you exhale.

you’re a natural, yeonjun thinks, from how you don’t let your stream falter, giving him a high just as well as yours. as you finish, you realize you’ve moved your hand to grip at the junction between his shoulder and neck, leaving slightly reddened marks against his skin.

“sorry,” you mumble, trying to rub them away, but yeonjun merely brushes it off, instead pressing your hand back against him. “i didn’t mean to…”

you lose your voice to the dead of the night, faltering when he runs his thumb back over your bottom lip, eyes scanning your face. when you all but gape at him, he takes it as his invitation to yank you down, crashing your lips against him.

he’s kissing you feverishly, desperate for the way you let out the slightest sound of surprise before surrendering completely, finding it more than difficult to keep you perched above him. your legs are spread over him, nearly lewd in the way you press up against him, drinking him up to the very last drop.

even when you lean back, disoriented from how the world around you spins miraculously, grinning from ear to ear, yeonjun pulls you back. licking into your mouth, begging for anything physical, feeling you up from the sides. oh.

“yeonjun,” you’re panting, dodging him lightly as he tries to chase you. blinking dazingly, your fingers find purchase in his dark locks, gripping a lot harder than you would’ve done sober. “jun—i didn’t know you liked me like that. i thought we were just friends.”

you’re giggling under your breath as he groans, now tightly wrapping both arms around your waist. it’s so contagious, how your smile lights up your entire face, and he can’t help but match your expression. “what am i meant to do, y/n? have you seen yourself?”

you scrunch up, now gazing at your hands as if you’ve never experienced them before. “i’m seeing myself…”

yeonjun clicks his tongue, gathering your attention with a humorous look on his face. “fucking gorgeous, right?” you start giggling again, shying away when he presses a kiss to the corner of your lips.

“mm, but you’re hot,” you all but whine, overcome with confidence when you lean in, molding your mouth against his with an adrenaline-filled fervor. hands run down the sides of yeonjun’s neck, circling around until you’re grasping at him. you gasp while he delivers the smallest licks to your lips, taking advantage of your open mouth.

he sucks on your tongue—such an obscene action in your usual book, yet you can’t care. laughter racks up through your chest when his impulses get the best of him, sinking his teeth into your tongue hard enough to elicit the most indecent sound.

you’re lucky you’re high, or else you’d be doubling over in embarrassment at your behavior. you’d have to thank yeonjun for getting you stoned later.

“hey,” he calls for you, thumb caressing your cheek, “you’ll let me kiss you after this, right?”

you climb off of him, much to his dismay—laying down against the cushions, stretching your legs, opening your arms—grinning up at your friend. shirt riding up, exposing your midriff as you make a show of your position, nudging him with your legs.

he's giving in to your beckoning, palms grazing your thighs, gripping and tugging, slotting between your legs. caging you in with his arms, you woo dramatically at his biceps, pecking at the skin with quiet giggles. “yeonjun…”

he hums, admiring you softly, desire and longing lingering behind his eyes.

“you can have me anyway you want,” you whisper, igniting a fire in his stomach, roping him down in your embrace with a tantalizing kiss. now tangled amongst you, prying mindlessly at clothing that seems so unnecessary in the moment.

oh, that’s something he’ll have in his mind forever.

#yeonjun x reader #yeonjun imagines #choi yeonjun x reader #yeonjun x y/n #txt x reader #txt x y/n #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun scenarios #choi yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun fanfic #txt fluff #txt suggestive #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt angst #i hope this shows up in tags if not i'll...

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dawnthequeen · 3 months

Text

one last try

pairing: donatello x reader

show: rottmnt

tags: fem reader, jealous donnie, wingman leo, rowdy reader

warnings: cursing (once), y/n used once, maybe ooc idk 😞

word count: 1326

Your hair was bleach blonde before you met them. You were trying to settle on a color, but you just couldn’t make up your mind. You thought about dying it your favorite color, then decided not to because what if it didn’t compliment you? That would be the absolute END OF THE WORLD.

But! Your mind was made for you after you had gone on one of your wannabe superhero escapades and met some… strange boys.

You could fight decently, and when you first saw them you definitely thought they were some sort of evil monsters from another planet that you’d have to somehow defeat, however you were pleasantly surprised to find that they were just teenage mutant boys! They were your age, too.

You helped them out with the villain they were tailing and ended up making friends with them! They told you about this lair they lived in that was inside the sewers and that you should visit. You promised you would, though you looked…

Different.. When you arrived. Your blonde hair was now purple. Everyone knew immediately what was going on, especially after how you acted when they first met you. Well… everyone except the one you wanted to notice. Donatello.

He immediately piqued your interest after you had realized they weren’t evil space aliens there to kill you. He was smart, witty, and had this whole bad boy persona that made him oh so attractive. It’s like he was made to be your kryptonite.

Though he didn’t seem to feel that way about you. Actually, all of his brothers couldn’t help but adore you. You were this loud, rowdy girl who was also super fun to talk to. Those were all of the reasons Donnie didn’t like you.

You irritated him so much that his entire body flared up, angry heat spreading across his face. You went on and on about things that happened at school, or at home, or with this girl who told you that your sense of style was bad. You were invading his life all the time, and he was sick of it. Who were you to barge in and talk to him and try to be his friend? The audacity!

Yeah. He hated you. Sadly, that was the exact opposite of how you felt about him.

You tried for a few months to charm him or to generally befriend him, but he shot down every attempt. He showed absolutely zero interest in you, and you were going to accept that.

Until Leo had an idea, which is what led you to now.

You had just walked into the lair, a nervous smile plastered on your face. “Hey guys!”

The boys all perked up, looking over at the door. “Yoo!! Y/N!! It’s so good to see you–” Mikey got up and grinned before freezing.

Raphael was second to get up. “Did you get here saf–” He paused.

Donnie barely spared you a glance before he did a double take. “What did you do to your hair?”

Your normally purple hair was blue. Blue like..

“You look great!”

Leonardo.

“Thanks! I really like how the color turned out.” You didn’t acknowledge Donnie or his question, skipping over to Leo and sitting next to him.

“Blue really suits you.” He wore a shit-eating grin as he watched his twin from the corner of his eye.

Leo had always known that Donnie liked you. He saw the smiles that Donnie hid, and the way that he would just.. Look at you. Really look at you. That’s why he jumped to action the moment you told him you were going to try to move on. He prompted one last try. One last shot at winning Donnie over. He had tried to give Donnie time to process his feelings for you, but he just wasn’t getting it, and it was hurting you.

“D’aww, thank you.” You put a hand on his arm, mentally gagging. “Wanna hang out in your room?”

“Definitely!” He stood up, holding out a hand that you took as you both went on your way to his room.

…

Donnie was fuming. He had no idea why, but he was fuming. He had always passed off you and Leo’s friendship as an annoyance. Two loud mouths put together. Annoying, but bearable. But this… Were you dating? You ignored him. You just walked right up to Leo, then walked right into his room! His bedroom. It’s not like you two didn’t hangout there alone before, but it was just.. Just weird now!

Why was this bothering him so much? He shouldn’t care what you were doing. He shouldn’t care that you dyed your hair.

Then it dawned on him. It hit him like an anvil, this realization that he was not ready for.

He liked you.

All those times he brushed you off and you irritated him, he was really flustered. His face getting hot from anger was him blushing. You made him blush. You invaded his life because he let you. You invaded his brain because he likes you.

He didn’t know what to do with this newfound crush. You were very possibly dating his brother, and he didn’t want to ruin your relationship just because he figured out his feelings too late. He screwed it up.

But.. there was something that lingered inside him, telling him that he shouldn’t be so sure that you were dating Leo. He just hoped that little voice was right.

The next time you found yourself alone with Donnie was that night, in the kitchen. You had decided to sleepover since you genuinely did go over to hangout with everyone, not just Leo in an attempt to make Donnie jealous.

After Donnie had passed up watching movies with you guys in favor of working on a project, you hadn’t seen him. You and Leo’s plot didn’t seem like it worked. He was the exact same Donnie, just kind of.. Avoiding you?

You ran out of your drink during the second movie and excused yourself to the kitchen to refill it. To your surprise, you ran into Donnie, who had gone to get some water.

“Oh, hey.” You tilted your head a little when he tensed, slowly turning to you.

“Ah… Hey.” He swallowed, looking back to his cup.

You walked over to the fridge, grabbing a soda can. “What have you been up to?” Your usually energetic demeanor had disappeared, and you spoke with a soft voice.

It bothered him. “Just this.. Thing.”

“Ah.” You nodded, taking a sip from your cup. It was silent for a minute, and just as you were about to leave, Donnie spoke.

“..Are you dating Leonardo?”

“W– what?” You coughed on your drink, nearly forgetting all about you and Leo’s plan. “Oh.” You swallowed. “No, we’re not.”

Donnie visibly relaxed, enough that even you noticed. “Oh.”

The two of you were silent again. “..Why did you change your hair?”

You looked at the can before setting it down, rubbing the back of your neck. “I uh.. I guess I just didn’t think purple suited me.”

Donnie stared at you, looking for something in your eyes before he casually stepped closer to you. “I think it suits you.”

You looked up, blinking at him. “R–really?”

Donnie nodded. “And uh, I think purple would like to.. Apologize.. For not treating you well in the past, and not realizing how much he– I mean it, cared.” His cheeks heated up, and he glanced to the side.

You stared at him before you smiled softly, pink dusting your cheeks. You giggled. “Well, I hope purple knows that it’s okay, and I still like it.”

He looked at you again, his lips twitching up into a smile. “Really?”

You moved your hand down, taking his cautiously. “Really.”

+ extra

You and Donnie walked hand in hand into the living room, the both of you blushing brightly.

Leo looked over before whistling. “Called it!”

a/n: would anyone want like a pt 2 of this at any point ??? lmk if soo... same w if u want a version of this with one of the other boys <3

#x reader #fanfiction #donnie x reader #donatello x reader #donnie #donatello #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello x reader #rottmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #platonic leo x reader #leonardo #leo #fem reader #y/n #donnie x y/n

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fairuzfan · 3 months

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Your post about how many people are unknowingly falling for & spreading propaganda... yeah. I typed up a whole spiel of a comment on one of your posts the other day that I ended up deciding not to not actually post because it felt like detailing, but seriously. The amount of well meaning, genuinely anti-zionist people ignorantly sharing zionists' posts because they just don't pick up on the leading undertones is honestly more terrifying than than the amount of actual zionists in some ways.

I'm someone who was born into a doomsday cult, and seeing all these people falling for the exact same blatant (or so i thought lol) recruitment/manipulation tactics I've seen used by them my entire life has absolutely fucking terrifying. These are people who are actively trying to combat zionism, but I guess the general public is so uneducated about propaganda/cult tactics that what immediately reads as blatantly manipulative, misleading bullshit to me just doesn't even register as strange to most people. Not to be repetitive, but seriously: fucking terrifying.

There's so much focus on the way people/groups who want to manipulate you will use language of fear, but in this case especially, people need to realize they will almost always appeal to your compassion before they appeal to your fear.

It's all peace and love and happiness because that's what gets people in the door. You preach (or post) the mushy, happy, fun stuff that makes people feel good to draw them in, and you slowly start peppering in the ideas you actually want to lead them to believe later on once you've got them wanting to believe you.

This also has this added effect of helping the group or person's image. Even the people who you don't manage to draw in will have the impression of you as someone who runs their mouth 24/7 about how you're full of love and want the best for everyone, which is especially useful for when you inevitably want to frame yourself as the victim to demonize the people who will inevitably oppose you. If your first and only exposure to a person is seeing them calling for world peace and universal love, you are much more likely to be inclined to believe they (and by extension their cause) are the sympathetic, loving, peaceful good guys being unjustly targeted.

Sorry for rambling, but like... really. It won't always be something nefarious, of course--the vast majority of the the time, it won't be--but I think we would all be in a much better situation if people took it as a general rule of thumb that you should always be a little suspicious of overly vague talk about peace and love.

You're EXACTLY right. I really appreciate this message, because you put to words a lot of my inherent analysis of arguments and ideas. I like grew up with this rhetoric so it's easy to spot for me, but the way that people speak about "peace" as the overall goal when they're zionist is so blatant to me because there is no material change in the scenario they propose but rather a calmness where Palestinians are ignored.

And picking up on subtext of a lot of messages is something you have to have a muscle for kinda because of how subtle it is. The frightening part is, you're right, that the indoctrination part of zionism is the most harmful part because you appeal to their pathos — their fear, their sense of safety, etc — and you go on down the rabbit hole and slowly start being radicalized and pro-zionism or you might not even be pro-zionism 100% but enjoy... soft zionism as a mutual of mine put it once (if you read this and want to be tagged, lmk). Which soft zionism is the MAIN opinion in many liberal circles btw, its not an uncommon opinion.

I even remember once sharing a post by a zionist because i saw them talk about esims but when i went on their blog a few days later because something rubbed me the wrong way, I noticed their pinned and I was like "oh dam I gotta delete that other post" like that's how often this happens.

Idk, I try to combat this by putting sources or approaching from a standpoint of logical arguments rather than identity-based politics (although, sometimes i think there are some things that people who are a certain identity can be the only true experts on) so that I try to encourage actual engagement with ideas and walking them through thought processes rather than "I'm palestinian so just trust me."

Like even with my one fact checking list, idk if I succeeded but I wanted to emphasize that there are multiple factors you should consider when confronting ANY sort of information and should not blindly trust things. News sources have regularly burned or ignored Palestinians so I know a lot of us are really sensitive to these things, but I don't know! I hope people can engage with ideas more than just surface level thinking in general because it helps everyone when you actually interact with the point of view the other person is providing rather than just blindly trusting/distrusting people.

#thanks for this ask btw i really appreciate it

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myfictionaldreams · 2 years

Text

Happy Halloween // poly!marauders x fem!reader

Summary: You were your own worst enemy. The boys have surprised you by changing their looks for the Halloween party but you can't decide if you're highly aroused or intimidated by their new looks.

A/N: Hello everyone! I’m sorry it’s been a while I’ve been super busy with work and University. but anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dom/sub, foursome, submissive reader, self-conscious and intimidated reader, moustache/facial hair kink (idk if this is a thing), oral sex (f and m recieving), multiple orgasms, blowjob, fingering, anal sex, squirting, double penetration, begging, praise kink, daddy and sir kink, overstimulated, edging, (not beta read)

Word: 7.5k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

(gif made by me :))

“Can you give me at least a little hint as to what you’re all wearing?” you asked with a hint of desperation evident in your tone as you glanced between the three boys across the table.

Around you, similar questions were being asked among the excited students at Hogwarts as Professor Dumbledore had planned a Halloween celebration in the evening. But, this wasn’t the party that most of the older students would be attending, as The Marauders had somehow managed to sweet-talk Madam Rosemerta to have a “civilised” gathering that most definitely wouldn’t include copious amounts of firewhiskey and music. Everyone had been talking about it for weeks, and it was only as you mentioned to Alice that the dress you were borrowing from Lily was blue, did James perk up, a devilish grin spreading across his cheeks, “I’m wearing blue as well, we’ll be matching my love”.

“What do you mean you’re wearing blue? You don’t own anything blue”, his grin slipped into a smirk as he turned away from you, leaving you to ponder. Usually you were lucky to see James or Sirius in anything that wasn’t their school uniform or quidditch jumpers so to hear that he’d brought something specifically for the party had you questioning him about this discovery at any spare moment. This only increased when Remus and Sirius revealed that they also had brought “special” outfits for the party and now you were really confused and desperate for any minor details that your boyfriends might reveal.

However, they were also very good at keeping secrets and even though the four of you shared a bed every night, no amount of snooping in their wardrobe would bring you closer to finding out what they were wearing.

Even now, as you continued to stare at the three of them, who were now blatantly ignoring your questioning as they finished their meals in a hurry, you sighed in frustration still not being able to get the answers you were hoping for. Instead, you turned to Lily, asking what time she was going to start getting ready tonight.

Only a few moments later did the three of them stand up, catching your attention, frowning as Sirius and Remus rushed off whilst James collected his bag from under the table. “Wait what are you going? I thought we were all going to the library together?”

“Sorry, we need to get ready love, we’ll meet you in the common room at 7” he responded, reaching across the table to gently cup your hand, lifting it to his lips and giving a slow kiss across your knuckles, smirking down as your shoulders dropped in relaxation a soft smile on your lips, momentarily forgetting that he was leaving you until he dropped your hand and you watched him disappear out of the great hall.

“Did he say they were going to get ready? We still have all afternoon yet, surely it’s not going to take them 6 hours to put a suit on” Lily asked confused.

Shaking your head, you shrugged your shoulders, “I have no idea, they seem to have a few things planned for it but they won’t tell me anything even though I can see them whispering away every evening when they think I’m asleep. Your guess is as good as mine”.

Opting out of the library, you spent the afternoon with the Gryffindor girls, talking about their predictions for the night, who would be the best dressed, the prediction for who would be drunkest and how long we all thought it would be before Madam Rosemarta kicked everyone out. Finally, it was a reasonable hour to climb the stairs to the girl's dormitory and begin getting ready.

In the excitement of wanting to see what the boys were wearing, you were ready in record timing, mostly because the other girls had come to your aid, having watched you struggle with the simple spells to sort out your hair and makeup. So, Marlene perfectly styled your hair whilst Lily slowly moved her wand across your face, applying a light layer of makeup. Getting changed was the easy part, some new underwear that you’d picked especially for today to surprise the boys and the floor-length blue dress with a hip-length slit up the right side of the leg, paired with simple black flats, not trusting yourself in heels tonight.

You moved to wait on the common room sofa, waving off your friends as 7pm came and went and yet, your boyfriends still didn’t appear. You’d even attempted to knock on the boys’ door but all you heard was shuffling and Sirius shouting that he would be down soon. As it neared 8pm, you could feel your eyes starting to droop from staring into the fire for an hour, your head slipping on your fist that was holding it up.

Slowly standing, you decided to go to the bathroom and try to freshen up, hoping your eyes would open. You knew the layout of the common room like the back of your hand so with your tired eyes closed, you stepped around the sofa and bumped into the hard chest of someone that you hadn’t heard descend the stairs.

“Woah, careful love” James chuckled, gently grabbing your forearms to keep you upright. You smiled at his voice, still not opening your eyes as you rested your forehead against his chest, smiling wider as he kissed the top of your head, hands circling your back, whispering, “I’ve missed you this afternoon too”. You usually spent all day with the boys so it felt odd not to be in their arms for all of this time.

Taking a deep breath, his mouthwatering cologne took over your senses and as he whispered how beautiful you looked in your ear, it finally dawned on you - he was finally dressed!

Snapping your eyes open and taking a step back so his hands were resting on your shoulders, you looked at him.

Blinking a few times, your mouth gaped open, eyes slowly travelling over his body. Does he look taller? And older somehow? Swallowing harshly, you tried to take in every detail of your boyfriend who looked so incredibly different to the messy-haired, lean built Marauder. James was thriving in your reaction, cockily looking down at himself before straightening his tie, “I know, I know, I scrub up well, don’tcha think?”

Glancing down you took in every detail, his leather shoes were burgundy in colour, nothing like his scruffy school shoes. Next was his three-piece suit, pinstripe blue, darker than the blue you wore but it was fitted to perfection, particularly over the muscles on his arms that seemed bigger than they did this morning. Beneath the suit, he wore a light blue shirt with a black tie decorated with skulls. From the side of your eyes you noted that he also wore big thick rings on his hands, but as you looked back at his face, this was the biggest transformation, the one that had your knees feeling weak. A thick beautiful moustache now lay over his top lip, and his hair seemed to be longer, usually, it was kept short and seemed to always be sticking up in every direction but not today, instead it was swept back and now reached his shoulders and a single earring hoop in his left ear.

“Honey?” James asked, finger stroking your cheek which snapped you out of the trance you seemed to be stuck in, swallowing loudly again. You’d never seen him look like this before and the moustache… he knew that would drive you crazy.

Confusion sparked through your expression, “what?” you whispered, looking him up and down repeatedly and blinking slowly. James then went into an explanation about potions for hair growth and how he had been saving for this suit for a while but you were only half listening, instead just basking in his beauty, trying to ignore the pulsing between your legs.

But you were also your own worst enemy, here he was, looking hot as hell, and there you were in a hand-me-down dress borrowed from Lily, you’d look like an eye sore compared to him.

James knew you probably better than you knew yourself, noticing the glazed-over look in your eyes, the way your breathing rate increased and the fact you were nibbling nervously on your lip. Stepping closer so you were toe-to-toe, he swiftly cupped your cheeks, tilting your head back so he could lean down and kiss your lips tenderly. At first, you pulled away but he held firmly and soon as you breathed in his smell you relaxed, trying to remind yourself, it was only James, your James, not an attractive stranger that you needed to impress.

“You look beautiful my love” he mumbled between kisses, not stopping until your body relaxed fully, hands lifting to hold onto his wrists, feeling the cool metal of his chain bracelet trying to find comfort in touching him. James leaned down, leaving kisses all over your face causing you to giggle at the sensation, “there she is” he smiled down at you as you mirrored his smile.

Taking a deep breath, you couldn’t stop staring at his moustache, wishing that you could feel it on your mouth, breasts…in between your legs. “I knew you would like it” James muttered, almost reading your thoughts just by the way you were staring at him. He leaned down, capturing your mouth deeply in a kiss that stole your breath and you reciprocated with just as much want, needing more.

However, another voice stopped you. “Woah, why are you guys having all the fun without me, I thought we agreed to wait until after the party Prongs before any funny business” Sirius whined, stepping down the final few steps from the boy's dormitory.

Flushed from the kiss, you hide in James' chest, trying to slow your breathing but as you peeked around your boyfriend and took in Sirius’ appearance, nothing could stop your cheeks from warming. They were really pushing you to the maximum today.

Sirius almost looked royal with his attire. Black leather boots that stopped midway up his calf, with tight black trousers tucked in, and the jacket - it was exquisite, intricate details all over the material, with silver buckles up the centre and finally a peak of burgundy colour at his neck teased a shirt beneath the jacket, however, as stunning as his outfit was, this wasn’t what held your attention.

“You’ve cut your hair” your voice was small, giving no indication as to whether you liked the change or not. For all the years that you had known him, he had always had shoulder-length curly hair that you loved to spend hours with your fingers running through it so this was a big change for him.

Sirius stood taller, pulling his jacket straight, eyebrow raised as he asked, “what do you think? It’ll grow back if you don’t like it darling”.

Stepping around James, you reached up a tentative hand, playing with the new short hair at the nape of his neck, slowly bringing your hand across to the also new stubble that covered his cheeks.

“I love it” you managed to croak out, if only he knew that your heartbeat was pounding in your ears and cunt, not sure how to handle the arousal that was pulsing through you, both boys were handsome but you’d never seen them like this before.

“Yeah? You love it? Well, I love you” he leaned down, hands on your waist to pull you closer, you had to still go on your tiptoes to reach as he kissed you slowly and deeply, a hand slipping up to hold the side of your throat and what he felt had him pulling back. “I can feel your pulse pounding baby, everything’s ok, I know it's a big change but it’s still just us”, his thumb stroked along your jaw.

Dropping back onto the flats of your feet, you glanced down at your hands that were playing with the hem of his jacket as Sirius kissed your forehead. Sometimes, you really hated having your brain, hated how anxiety ruled your thoughts leaving you feeling worthless and stressed. This situation was ridiculous, you were standing with two of your boyfriends, and they’d decided to dress up a bit so why were you feeling so self-conscious that you couldn’t even look them in the eye?

Sirius glanced down at what you were wearing, hand reaching low to the top of your thigh, near your hip, which was where the slit in the dress ended. “Well, I really fucking love this” you huffed a laugh, a good distraction from the thoughts in your head. If only you had looked up to see the smile that spread across James and Sirius’ faces when you laughed, they always said it was their favourite sound.

James, who had been leaning against the back of the sofa watching the interaction stood, approaching the back of you, hands circling your waist to gently tug you back into his arms, lips brushing against the soft column of your throat, his moustache tickling the skin.

“Excuse us Prongs, you’re taking my job”, Sirius remarked, mirroring James' movements but from in front of you, his mouth attaching to the other side of your neck. Closing your eyes, you tried to relax but if it wasn’t your self sabotaging thoughts, the only thing you could think of was the intense clenching that your pussy was doing as the sweet sensations that their lips were slowly driving you crazy.

It was footsteps descending the staircase that caught your attention as Remus finally finished getting ready, doing up one of the cuffs on his jacket, and observing the three of you with hungry eyes. “Boys, I thought we were waiting for this, otherwise we’ll never get to the party”.

James and Sirius reluctantly let you go, knowing you would also want to go and be in his arms but you seemed to stop breathing in awe as to how he looked, he somehow looked older too, with a beard starting to grow in, his hair perfectly styled and his suit… that damn suit… these boys were really trying to push you to your limit today.

It was an all-white suit and shirt, paired with some simple black leather shoes, but it all shaped his body exquisitely and now your nerves were really a mess, as well as in between your legs, you could feel your juices smearing across the top of your thighs.

Remus was looking you up and down just as fiercely, whistling low as he took everything in before him, “you look perfect” he spoke, almost dazed himself. He started to step forward, noticing your hesitation and could practically feel your nerves rolling off of you.

Lifting a finger under your chin, he tilted your head back enough to kiss the tip of your nose, “you ok, pup?” he whispered.

“Ye-yeah” you just about choked out, feeling Sirius and James each take one of your hands in their own, squeezing it supportively.

“Do you still want to go?” He held your jaw firmly, making sure you couldn’t look away from his intense eyes.

“Yes,” you whispered, not having the nerve to have any other answer. For a moment, your eyes dropped to Remus’ lips as he leaned in further to gently brush against yours before pulling away, squinting his eyes as if unsure of your answer.

“If you get overwhelmed, if you want to leave at any time, if you want to get some fresh air, anything - you will tell one of us won’t you?” You tried to nod but Remus tutted, shaking his head. “I need to hear you say it Pup, you know that.”

“Yes sir”.

“Good”, he kissed your forehead before standing to his full height, extending his arm, and offering it for you to take which you gladly did.

You knew you were being quiet on the walk to the carriage, and you knew that the boys had noticed this. Even though you clung to Remus’ arm for dear life, you still couldn’t look either of them in the eyes, hardly answering their questions and almost cowering away from them.

Finally, you all climbed into the carriage. Usually, you would have either sat in one of their laps or been pulled in close to one of their sides but today, you couldn’t muster up the courage to do this so opted to sit next to the window, eyes dazed as you watched the cart begin to move.

You could feel each of their eyes on you, Remus was to your right on the bench with James and Sirius across from the two of you. Your hands nervously twitched in your lap as you tried not to become overwhelmed and even noticed the “I told you so look” that James gave the other two.

This was exactly what you were like before you all began dating. Timid, nervous, couldn’t look either of them in the eye, purely because you were intimidated by them and how attractive they were. You’d found them all to be the three most handsome men you’d ever seen, so being the introverted person that you were, you avoided them at all costs but what you hadn’t noticed was that they were watching you, wanting you just as badly as you wanted them and it took a long long while to coax you out of the anxiety to be calm around them.

So now, sitting with them all dressed up in a way you hadn't seen them before, it was almost like sitting with three strangers and it put your barriers straight back up again, even though you knew it was your boys, your mind was overstimulated by the situation.

You hated being this ridden with anxiety, wish that you could be excited that they all looked so gorgeous, wish you could go back to looking forward to the party with all of your friends but instead you were dreading every moment. Expecting them to all leave you as soon as you arrived because why would they want to be seen with you when they all looked like that?

You tried to clear your self-sabotaging throughs that spiral around and around in your mind, could feel your eyes glazing over, your body starting to shake but you couldn’t stop it.

“Come here, Pup” Remus mumbled, gently reaching across to pull on your hands you recently did as commanded, sliding across the bench until your leg brushed against his but Remus continued to pull on your hands. “Not close enough just yet”, he smiled softly down at you.

You tried to smile back, warming in your cheeks as you moved to sit in his lap with his help, “relax back, that’s it”, he muttered. You still couldn’t look back at him or across at the two sitting opposite so instead stared at your hands as he moved your body to be comfortable, legs lying over his muscular ones that you could feel beneath, and then his arms cradled your body to his chest, hands engulfing yours.

His lips brushed against the shell of your ear as he whispered, “relax, love”. Your body trembled as you released a hard breath, your muscles going from tense to jelly in a second as you melted back into Remus, but still only looked at your now joined hands. He didn’t have any fancy jewellery on except for a lavish watch, so his hands around yours looked as they usually did which comforted you as you ran your fingers over the scars that scattered over his skin.

“Close your eyes” Remus instructed and you immediately did, finding this the easiest thing you’d done all evening. “Take a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your mouth.” You did this, breathing in all of their colognes, at least these hadn’t changed, it still just smelt of the three boys you loved, the boys you recognised, the boys you loved. Your hands held onto his tighten, head tipping back against his shoulder.

“That’s it, just breath us in Sweetheart, it’s just us, it’s just your boys, we’ll always be your boys, nothing has changed no matter how we look”, he sweetly kissed the side of your head once more before continuing in trying to calm you down. “It’s just me, it’s just Sirius and it’s just James, no one else”.

“My boys” you finally mumbled, the tight knot in your stomach relaxing slightly enough for you to feel comfortable enough to turn your head and nuzzle into his neck, even though it felt different iht his facial hair, it still smelt like him, underneath the cologne, it was still him.

“That’s right, your boys, just like you’re ours” his arms tightened, pulling you harder against his body and that’s when you noticed the hardened lump under where you were sat on his lap, a small smile now playing on your lips.

“As I said, you look perfect tonight, like you always are Pup” he muttered, gently rolling his hips so you could feel the full extent of his erection. You immediately started to grind down on him, softly mewling at the sensation.

“I need you daddy” your words had him tensing, eyes rolling back and cock throbbing. Remus looked to the other two sitting across from him, noting how they were both pulling against their tight trousers, trying to relieve the pressure on their cocks. They both watched closely as Remus's rough hand inched towards the slit in your dress.

James shifted forward in his seat, forearms resting on his knees as he watched Remus’ hand closely, “that’s not fair you said we had to wait until after the party and I called the first dib, I’ve wanted to taste her all day”.

You're instantly rubbing your thighs together, moaning at his husky voice, wanting nothing more than for him to go through with this.

Remus’ chest rumbled as he responded, his voice now low, “fuck waiting for the party, go ahead Prongs”. He removed his hand from your thigh, moving it to hold your waist steadily so he could ease your legs on either side of his, spreading you before them, the slit in your dress widening until your entire left leg was exposed and your cunt only just covered but they could see a peak of blue lingerie.

You still kept your eyes closed, not wanting to overwhelm yourself as you tried to refrain from shaking in anticipation of hearing James slide to his knees, not caring if he messed up his suit in the process.

His hot breath spread across the thigh of your exposed leg as he kissed it, his hands stroking along the skin delicately but it only caused you to go into overdrive with how much you wanted him. “Please daddy” you huffed, trying to roll your hips but couldn't in the position Remus had moved you to.

James chuckled at your desperation, licking the top of your thigh clean as it had been covered in your juices, moaning at the taste before finally pushing back the dress to expose your centre and stopping at the sight before him. “Well well… if this isn’t the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen I don’t know what is” James muttered against your skin as Sirius simply whispered the word “fuck” at the view.

You had decided to wear some crotchless underwear, knowing that the party would end in fucking so you thought it would be a nice treat for you and the boys - and easy access. This meant that your clenching, wet cunt was now bared to them all, James’ mouth seemed to moisten even further, and each of their cocks throbbed wanting to be buried deep in your warmth.

He couldn’t wait a moment longer as he leaned closer and licked a strip from your hole to your clit, licking up everything you had to offer and he could see just how sensitive you were as you moaned desperately, bodily twitching at the sensation.

He started by pushing his tongue deep into your hole, pushing in and out, his nose brushing against your clit with each stroke. His moustache was also adding in a rough but satisfying sensation as he continued opening you up before swiping up to the sensitive bundle of nerves, flicking it at first before sucking it into his mouth which had your hips nearly falling off of Remus's lap if it wasn’t for his strong hold of you.

You were moaning loudly, not caring if people outside of the carriage could hear you, your hand falling into his perfectly styled hair, holding him close to your cunt as the other hand gripped the back of Remus’ neck holding yourself to him.

Vaguely you could hear another movement and deep moans and you had a slight suspicion that Sirius was wanking himself off watching you getting eaten out. Your cunt clenched violently at the thought, already feeling yourself being worked up to the orgasm you desperately craved, especially as James lifted his hand and inserted two fingers deep, gently rocking them in time with your hip movements, tongue swirling around and around your clit.

Your breaths were hot and heavy, your mouth hanging open as you moaned frantically. Remus’ lips brushed against the shell of your ear once more, commanding, “open your eyes, I want you to look at him when you cum in his mouth”. You felt James’ mouth twitch into a smirk against your pussy, but didn’t falter in his movements, bringing you closer and closer.,

You couldn’t even think properly as you opened your eyes, looking down at the man in between your legs and the sight of his handsome, moustache face was all you needed. It was such an intense orgasm that you nearly toppled forward, pulling James' face off of you as you quivered around his fingers, eyes rolling as your body spasmed, the contractions in your cunt nearly had you floored.

Shuddering breaths rattled through you as you found your bearings. Quickly opening your eyes, you let go of the strong grip on James’ hair, you apologised having nearly ripped out his hair and messed up his perfectly styled look. But the look that James’ gave had your heart jumping in your throat as he sat back on his knees, licking the juices off of his lips and smiling devilishly at you.

“Don’t ever apologise for that” he muttered leaning up to kiss you deeply before collapsing back in his seat next to Sirius who was waving his wand over his lap that was covered in his cum, his half-limp cock being tucked away. James then pulled his wand out from inside of his jacket and waved at the wet patch that was leaking through his trousers as he too had cum from your display.

Your cheeks were impossibly warm as you leaned back on Remus, his cock still hard beneath your lap. Reaching beneath, you tried to stroke him through his trousers but his hard gently cupped your wrist, placing it back into your lap. “It’s alright Love, we’ll sort it out later, anyway I think we’re going to be arriving soon”.

He helped you to sort yourself out, trying to look as if you hadn’t had James’ head between your legs so no one would suspect but the heated gaze you held, you knew you’d fool no one.

Sirius helped you out of the carriage, kissing your knuckles softly before pulling you into the hut where the gathering was taking place, waving politely to madam rosemarta who looked confusedly at the three boys with how different their appearance looked before pushing open the door to the back room.

A few hours later, you were sitting in a chair in the corner, drinking down some water to try and keep you awake but after all the dancing and laughing you’d been doing, you were struggling to keep your eyes open. You knew you should ask to leave but staring across the room at James and Remus, who both had forgone their blazers and had rolled up their sleeves, as they danced with their fellow Gryffindors, you didn’t have the guts to stop their fun.

Wiping your eyes but also being careful of your make-up, you tried to wake yourself up more which was the exact moment when Sirius came up behind you, leaning down to wrap his warm arms around you, his jacket long discarded somewhere as he kissed your neck.

“Tired, love?” he asked as you leaned back into him.

“Maybe a little bit” you responded shyly at having been caught looking tired.

“Let’s go then darling, come on, I’ll tell the boys” he pulled you up gently but you shook him off not wanting him to miss the fun.

“It’s ok, I’ll be fine Siri-” the end of your sentence was cut off as a yawn rippled through your body, definitely no chance of hiding your exhaustion now.

Sirius didn’t say anything, just simply stroked your cheek before carrying on with informing the boys that you were both leaving before returning back to you, placing his jacket over your shoulders, a warm hand against your lower back and guiding you outside to the awaiting carriage.

“Wait for us!” shouted from behind as Remus and James followed after the two of you, pulling on their blazers, not giving you a chance to argue that they should stay before they were lifting you into the carriage. Sirius was quick to then pull you into his lap sideways so you could nestle into his chest as James sat next to him, easing your feet into his lap, removing your shoes and massaging your feet that had you moaning.

“Sorry for making you guys all leave” you mumbled tiredly into Sirius's neck.

James paused his movements on your feet, “don’t apologise, I’ve told you that” he whispered, nipping one of your toes that had you squealing before he carried on rubbing his thumb into the hell.

After a few calm moments, Remus came up with an idea. “Why don’t we spend the night in the special place? Gives us some peace and quiet from the drunk Gryffindors that have already gone back to Hogwarts?”

“I thought Dumbledore said that the special place was only for our furry friend,” Sirius countered his idea.

“Yeah well, Dumbledore doesn’t need to know about this, does he?” Remus having decided for the group lifted his wand and tapped it against the ceiling, causing the cart to change directions.

The shrieking shack was there the boys were to be during the full moon to look after Remus, and on other occasions, the four of you would go during the day to hang out… and specifically use the large bed in one of the rooms for certain activities. Even though the outside of the building was dark and dreary, the inside wasn’t as bad, thanks to Remus’ charms, it was kept nice and clean for all to use.

The journey was shorter so before long, James was slipping on your shoes once more. Even though you knew that the shrieking shack wasn’t actually haunted, you still had goosebumps littering your skin as you all walked down the spooky path.

Once inside, you all climbed the stairs to the bedroom, Sirius flicking his wand towards the fireplace to light it up, warming the room instantly. The four of you sat in chairs in front of the fire, sharing a bottle of firewhiskey that James had snuck for the party but kept just for you all, which you know shared, the liquid warming your insides.

As James started telling the group the latest gossip that he’d heard from Lily you began to become fidgety, becoming slightly uncomfortable in the dress having been in it for too many hours now, you couldn’t keep still, trying to pull on the bust to ease up the feeling.

Sirius watched you in amusement, adoring the way your bottom lip stuck out at the feeling before finally asking, “what some help there, love?”

Sighing you turned to him, “yes please”.

Standing directly in front of the ire, with your back towards the boys, Sirius stepped behind you, kissing along your shoulders as he slowly undid the zip up the back of the dress, his hand trailing along the skin that was slowly being exposed. As you pulled your arm out of the sleeve, he stopped you, whispering huskily, “wait, do it slowly I want to watch”, and with that collapsed back into his chair, taking another swig from the bottle.

At first, you were too embarrassed to undress in front of them, it now going deathly silent except for the fire crackling before you. However, the whiskey had given you a slight buzz of confidence so smiling softly you closed your eyes and began to slowly pull your arms out of the dress until you were holding it to your chest.

Glancing over your shoulder at the three of them with half-lidded eyes, you dropped the material until it pooled at your feet, leaving you only in the crotchless panties and matching blue bra. You smiled widely as you saw their visible reactions, sitting up higher in their chairs, biting their lips and looking at you in anticipation.

Feeling rarely brave, you turned to face Remus. “You know earlier, you said you wanted to fix your problem”, referring back to his hard-on in the carriage that he never released. “Well, I um- I want to help you with that”.

Remus’ eyes dropped down your body, taking every inch of your body, he lead back in his chair, spreading his legs out. “Oh yeah, and how are you going to do that Pup?”

Tentatively you walked towards him, stopping between his legs and then dropping to your knees. Taking a deep breath to hold your nerve you gently ran your hands up his trousered thighs, smiling to yourself as you could feel he was already getting hard. With surprisingly steady hands and not moving your eyes from his, you unzipped him, reaching inside to pull out his perfectly sized cock.

It bobbed in the air as you raised higher onto your knees, holding the base as you licked a single strip up the underside of him, enjoying the way it was throbbing due to your actions. Swirling your tongue over his tip, you tasted everything that was only his taste before taking his member into your mouth, stopping as it reached the back of your throat and sucking as you slowly came up.

You could feel his thighs clenching as he hissed, “merlin, that feels so good sweetheart”. You continued this action, bobbing your head up and down and using your hand to wank the length that couldn’t fit into your mouth. His hand reached out to your spare hand that was on his thigh, fingers interlacing with yours, and it made your heart thump for a moment at this little gesture.

Movement sounded from behind you as Sirius began to lie on the floor, reaching where you were he pulled you back so you were forced to remove your mouth from Remus’ cock. Sirius kept tugging until you were kneeling on either side of his head, his hands steading on your hips to pull you down until you were sat on his face, his tongue instantly delving into your depths.

“Sirius!” you gasped loudly, looking down at him between your legs, your favourite view. He moved his tongue expertly over your cunt, licking up and down before concentrating on your clit, going slowly then quicking with back and forth actions before slowing one more, he knew exactly what he was doing to your body.

Looking back up to Remus you whined, reaching a handout and he stood in front of you instantly, his cock bobbing in front of your face you took him back into your mouth, flicking his tip with your tongue, using your hands to steady yourself on his hips.

You still needed more though so without stopping your movements with your mouth or the moaning that you were doing, you reached your hand out beckoning James over who didn’t waste any time in pulling his cock from his suit trousers and placing it into your hand. You moved your hand up and down his shaft, feeling it throb at your movements, much like the one in your mouth was doing.

As Sirius sucked on clit, your moan vibrated around Remus’ cock and you couldn’t help but harden your grip around James as you were close to cumming, feeling that beautiful tingly bliss forming in your abdomen, knees wobbly. Pulling Remus out, you had to lean your head on his hip moaning widely that you were going to cum.

“Stop Sirius”, Remus demanded, gently pulling your head back to look at him as you whined the sensation in your abdomen fizzled out as Sirius dropped his head onto the floor, looking up your body to where Remus stood. “I want her to cum with all of our cocks inside her”.

Moaning at his dominance, feeling wobbly as he helped you to your feet, pulling you into a fierce kiss, you were sure he could taste himself on your tongue but he didn’t seem phased as his tongue danced with yours. Your mind was so lost in his touch that you hadn’t even noticed that he had been walking you back towards the bed until the back of your legs hit the edge and you tumbled into the middle of the soft sheets.

Leaning up on your forearms, you watched as your three handsome boys undress until they were all naked and pumping their cocks staring down at you with soft smiles.

“Boys if you would” Remus once again directed, gesturing onto the bed which, James and Sirius then climbed onto and before long you were making out with James, his moustache causing slightly friction against your face but you didn’t care. Especially as Sirius started to lick over your clothed nipples, teasing the bud as it sent a thrill straight to your soaking cunt.

Finally, he pulled the material down and sucked your nipple into his mouth, teasing with his teeth that had you gasping and lifting your hips. His mouth then travelled north up your body, sucking against your neck and soon was replacing James' lips on your own as he went to the breast that lay untouched.

Their hands and mouths were fondled with your breasts, neck and face, you weren’t sure where James started and Sirius ended, becoming lost in their touch. It was only as the third set of hands joined the mix did you open your eyes to glance down, seeing Remus lifting your thighs back, spreading you open and the other two then held the legs back for him but neither stopping their attack of pleasure on you.

Remus was watching the three of you with dark eyes before he looked at your wet core, his thumb brushing against your clit gently with one hand, whilst the other covered his fingers with the juices that were covering you. He moved south with that hand, past your cunt and lower and you knew exactly what he was doing, knew what he meant by all of their cocks, knew that you wanted it more than anything.

Remus’ finger circled your puckered hole for a moment, and you tried to relax your body enough that he would slip in, which he did. It definitely wasn’t your first time doing it in this hole so your body didn’t have as much resistance anymore which you were thankful for because you needed to have them in you soon otherwise you’d start begging.

As his thumb continued to rub slow circles around your clit and James and Sirius each sucked on your nipples, Remus eased two more fingers in, thrusting them in steadily until you he was happy with your progress but you weren’t thinking about that, you were thinking about that tight knot that had formed in your abdomen one more.

Once again, however, Remus knew your body seemingly better than you realised as he once again demanded, “stop!” You knew cried at how frustrated you were as the tingling subsided once more as all hands and mouths left your body, leaving you to look up with your bottom lip sticking out.

“Please daddy, stop edging me, I really want to cum” you moaned, not caring how pathetic you looked you just wanted to feel that euphoria.

Remus leaned over your body, hand gripping your cheeks so your mouth became squished, “you’ll cum when I say you can cum, do you understand?”

“Yes sir” you answered quietly.

“Good girl now gets up, Pads take her spot”. James helped you over to his side of the bed as Sirius lay in the spot where you were just laying. Remus then directed you to straddle him so you did, hands laying on his chest as he smiled softly up at you as you eased yourself down on his leaking cock.

You had to bite your lip as you were already once again close to cuming, your cunt clenching harshly around him until he too was cursing at the sensation, hands squeezing your hips. “Please… please… I’m so close I can’t hold it back for much longer” you begged, keeping your eyes closed in concentration.

“Nearly there sweetheart, that’s it, open up”, he tapped your cheek so you opened your eyes and mouth, now seeing that he was standing on the bed, feet on either side of Sirius’ head much like it had been only moments ago as he held his cock out in front of him, ready for you to suck on it once more which you greedily did.

James now positioned himself behind you, covering his cock up with spit before lining it up at your prepared hole, “ready honey?”

You gargle around Remu’s cock as a yes and finally, he starts pushing in, slowly his tip went in and once it was past the thickest part, the rest was easier, slipping in until you were absolutely full and overstimulated to the max that all it took were a few swipes of James' thumb against your clit and you were orgasming, having been edged a few times, you were just about seeing stars when your pussy and ass contracted around both of the cocks.

In your muddled brain you had to use everything you had not to bite down on Remus's cock, instead the moaning scream you released that vibrated him had his head falling back, eyes closing at the sensation. It took a few moments for you to get your bearings again before pulling your aching mouth from Remus’ cock, before nodding, indicating for the other two to start thrusting.

You were quite sensitive so you were clenching incredible hard at first but soon relaxed into it, trying to continue sucking off Remus but it was hard when Sirius and James were fucking into you in tandem.

Remus was watching the three of you, the moans and groans you were all each producing and just as you reached up to fondle his balls, he couldn’t hold it in, stroking your cheek he grunted his seed spilling down your throat which you hungrily drank down.

“Merlin you are good at that” Remus complimented as he pulled his cock out of your mouth and you all but collapsed onto Sirius's chest, the dribble on your chin smearing across the littering of hair that was on him. Remus now sat on the side of the bed, stroking your hair and cheek, comforting you as both boys started to fuck harder into you.

You began to repeatedly chant the word “please” over and over, feeling entirely overstimulated, and sensitive but needing both of their cum as you were desperately trying to hold your third orgasm back.

As you clenched your lower body as Sirius hit directly on that sweet spot, you heard James curse loudly as he suddenly came deep inside your arse before pulling out to watch his cum drip out and onto Sirius's cock who was now pounding away, chasing his and your own high.

Without James restricting his movements, Sirius held the back of your thighs by his hips, so he could fuck into you hard, causing you to squirt droplets uncontrollably with your orgasm rippling through your body intensely. His mouth dropped open at the sight, moaning deeply before he too came holding your body still as he spurted a few times before collapsing back into the bed.

It took a few moments for you all to catch your breath before Remus helped you to move off of Sirius and onto your side, pointing his wand at your cunt and washing away the mess that they had caused. Smiling sleepily, Sirius cuddled your front with Remus climbing in behind him and James spooning in behind you, kissing your shoulder with his moustache once again tickling your skin.

“Can you all please keep the facial hair please” you mumbled, sleep close to taking over your body.

James chuckled, “whatever you want, love.”

#the marauders #the marauders smut #james potter smut #sirius black smut #remus lupin smut #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #james potter fanfic #James Potter #sirius black fanfic #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #hp smut #mine*

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b0ther · 6 months

Text

baby, no attachment

toji has nothing to do on a friday night.

pairing : fushiguro toji x reader (feminine pronouns. afab) rating : explicit, not safe for work (sexual content) type : short one-shot???? bro idk tags : deadbeat situationship toji, vaginal fingering, a bit of dubcon, the usage of the word “baby” and “sweetheart” word count : 870

author's note : title from 'casual' by chappell roan. idk what this is it's just hot... also send requests and i'll see what i can do cuz i'm stuck doing this commission and i need a breather lmfao. toji is so obviously an ass dude it's almost painful to me.

( masterlist │ ask/request │ ao3 )

Your not-boyfriend boyfriend who somehow always ends up spending the weekend in your apartment, bending you over in ways you never thought was possible is there once again on your queen size bed, one hand on the back of your thigh as you type away on your laptop, revising some stupid report due at midnight.

Swinging your legs, you tune out the sound of obnoxious ads playing from the television—and everything is going well until you feel Toji squeezing your flesh, rubbing the skin of your thigh up and down, occasionally tugging on the hem of your shorts.

“Don’t you have a fucking job to go to?” You say, irritated, propping your upper body to look back at him.

Toji shrugs, his hand behind his head against the wall. “No,” he continues massaging the inner part of your thigh, “Besides, it’s a Friday night. What kinda dork works on a Friday night?”

You slant your eyes, knowing damn well that he is probing on your buttons the same way his fingers are trying to probe on your clenching opening. You huff. He’s too easy to read—you can smell his excitement from where you are lying on your stomach.

“Not my fault Masuda’s a greedy bitch,” you mutter, turning your torso around once again, ignoring the obvious hardening bulge under his pants.

“Mhm,” Toji says in a concurring tone, despite not knowing your boss at all. He continues his touch, kneading on your thigh before slipping his hand under the loose opening of your shorts, his wide fingers palming the entirety of your ass cheek. “See, that’s something Masuda and I have in common.”

“Right,” you close your eyes, burying your face in your hands for a moment, taking in a deep breath as to not give him the satisfaction of hearing you moan. ��And I so totally would let Masuda bend me over in my free time.”

Toji lets out a low chuckle, his point finger circling the jiggly surface of your ass. “You seem like the type of girl to let an old man have his way with you like that.”

He tugs on the band of your panties before letting it go, letting the rubber sound ring through the room.

With your eyes shut, you tell yourself to calm down. But you end up jerking back to him a little, seeking the heat emitting from his electric touch.

“Ohh…” Toji breathes, shifting on his seat when his middle finger slips in between your ass cheeks and is immediately greeted with how wet you are.”Masuda gotcha this wet?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you groan, pressing your face harder on the mattress, raising your hips to ease his access, now ignoring the impending deadline before you.

His thick digit is lubed up with just your juice—he wastes no time in prodding around the opening of your cunt while massaging your lips before pushing one finger in. Just as good as you remember it: thick, rough, spreading you open with a sudden thrust as he shoves another finger in.

“Fuck—” You gasp, freeing your face from the bed sheets, damp from your slobber. “God, Toji—”

He only hums, curling the top of his two fingers inside of you, feeling the way your walls mould to the shape of his fingers. You can never fill yourself up the way he does with just his fingers—anything else you’ve slipped inside of your soaked cunt, any other cock can’t satisfy you the way he does.

As he tugs your shorts and panties aside, you can feel the cold air of the air conditioner hitting your sopping pussy lips.

“Hurry,” you cry—urge—for him, wiggling your ass. “Finger my wet cunt with your fingers, fuck me haard—”

“Patient,” Toji grabs your ass cheek, squeezing before landing a sharp slap on its jiggly flesh. He slowly drags his fingers out, also taking his sweet, sweet time in pushing them back inside.

“I don’t have all night, Toji,” you hiss, and he chuckles.

“Well,” he lands another slap on you, “I do.”

He curls his fingers again as you open your mouth, ready to launch another string of curses at him, and your mind is suddenly filled yet again with fogs. You feel drowsy with his fingers inside of you, like he’s able to dumb you down with two fucking fingers.

“Fuuuck…” You push yourself off your position, sitting on your two knees.

“Hmm?” Toji tilts his head at your newly found position, adorning his stupid face with a look meant to be innocent.

You snake your arm around his head and pull him in for a kiss, sinking down on his fingers.

“Ohh, shit,” you mutter against his chapped lips, pressing your forehead against each other. You bite your lips, lifting your body before slamming yourself down yet again on him. “My baby’s sooo big,” you quietly praise with a laugh under a sluggish smile.

“My baby’s sooo tight,” he chuckles, mocking the way your words slur.

You roll your hips, running your hand amongst the strands of his hair. “You better finish what you started, you asshole.”

Toji licks his lips, pressing a firm kiss upon your lips. “I’m gonna be workin’ hard tonight, sweetheart.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fushiguro toji #toji smut #jjk smut #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #toji x reader smut #fushiguro toji x reader smut #fushiguro toji smut

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owlespresso · 5 days

Text

the red fruit which ripens

alpha!blade/beta!reader you are a beta courier. one of your clients is getting too close. tags: blackmail, mind games, nonconsensual touching, blade and luocha are just weirdos idk pt 2 of my part in @lorelune's a/b/o collab. the first part can be read here.

You have never known peace. You doubt any emanator ever has. The Mother of Harmony, of peace, bestowed upon you a fraction of her immortal grace. She cored herself, tore out a seed—jewel like and glistening, and beckoned you to feast. The taste went down so smooth and sweet.

That was the first and last time you held your blessing in awe. Xipe sentenced you, that day, to never know the peace she covets. You could catch glimpses of it, inhale the scent of it deep, but it would fade like morning mist, chased away by the winds of chaos and whatever awful business you were to tend to next.

When you strayed from The Family, tore yourself free of their clutches and hid where their millions of bulging eyes could not find you; you believed it possible to know peace. Perhaps not immediately. There was so much to take care of during your first days on the Luofu, paperwork and apartment hunting. It was all jarringly normal. You were mystified by the mundanity, delighted by it even. The world suddenly closed in for the better. There were no enemy factions to worry about corralling, no petty politics, no attempts to usurp you or take your life.

The world became the Luofu. It became your apartment. It became your favorite food stalls and your neighbors and the little birds fluttering about in the trees.

But it was not peace. Soon, you came to realize that even the average Luofu citizen did not know the concept as intimate as you hoped. They live in fear of Mara, of the Abundance, which they are so intimately intertwined with. Every pain is a life threatening risk, a potential trigger to a deadly malady. Outside of the Abundance, so many run themselves ragged, weighted by long work hours and petty squabbles with loved ones. The kindly folk by the docks find themselves cornered by the IPC.

No mortal knows peace, you have come to realize. Perfect tranquility is a ripe and red lie, birthed gold and glistening from the Goddess’s many lips, spread carelessly and listlessly across the universe. Unattainable by the emanator’s closest to her.

You believed once, and it hurt you. Not again. You will heed no honeyed words. You can only believe in what is cold, concrete, and solid.

—

“I feel like—” you begin, pushing through the rusted metal paneling of the dilapidated fence. “—you could have gotten here by yourself.” You usually don’t talk this much, but Blade’s habitual silence combined with your burgeoning irritation leaves you uncharacteristically eager to complain aloud.

The abandoned warehouse looms an eerie, empty monument of crumbling sheet metal and shattered glass. Long columns of broken machinery are gutted in pieces across the concrete yard. You make note to return later, just to make sure you’re not leaving valuable goods out to waste.

“I have never been here before. Kafka thought it wise to come with a guide.”

“And what do you think?” you pause, shoulder buried in the outside paneling of the building itself.

“What I think… does not matter.” Blade says cooly. “A blade is meant to be wielded. It does not choose who it cuts down or where it goes.”

“Hm,” you don’t have much to say to that. You shouldn’t have opened your yap in the first place. The less you know about the bizarre relations of the Stellaron Hunters, the better. You squeeze into the building through the gap. Blade hardly two paces behind. The metal groans and squeaks as he forces his way in. It feels like the loudest sound you’ve ever fucking heard, an offensive and high pitched screech that probably rings through the yard and neighboring alleyways.

“At least try to be a little quieter,” you grumble, squinting into the dark. The main room is made a maze by haphazardly laid out storage containers, many cracked open and already emptied. Wires hang from the ceiling, which has become an amalgamation of mechanical matter and rotting parts. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.

Black grunts his assent.

“Well. You’re here, safe and sound.” you waste no time, doubling back towards the Blade-shaped hole in the wall. Did he just walk straight through!? What are they feeding this guy? “So I—”

The sound of thundering footsteps and approaching shouts freezes you mid-step. Momentary panic jars you still. The Cloud Knights? Here? Now?

Your pulse thrums in your ears as you turn tail, ready to haul ass in the opposite direction, only to collide face-first with Blade’s firm chest. He jostles you to the side with his shoulder, ignoring your grunt of complaint. His hand rests on the hilt of his blade. Your stomach jumps into your throat.

“Where are you going!?” you hiss.

“To take care of the vermin,” Blade replies drolly, looking down his nose at you. His lips twitch into the beginnings of a puzzled frown.

“Absolutely not!” you say, and his frown pulls deeper. “Where there’s ten, there’s bound to be twenty waiting to back them up.”

It is unlike you to be so bold, but you seize him by the wrist, pulling him further into the jagged steel labyrinth. He allows himself to be led, surprisingly docile as you round corners and scuttle down corridors. Pale moonlight covers the room in a silvery sheen, providing just enough light for you to make out a door embedded into the outermost wall. Footsteps echo around you, calling voices made cacophonous by the echo. Blade’s grip on your hand tightens, likely annoyed and sorely tempted to begin the slaughter, but you yank open the door and jam yourself inside what seems to be a cramped server room.

A few circuit towers stand side-by-side, dark and dusty with disuse. Blade shuts the door behind you, opening his mouth to speak, but you’re already wedging yourself into the lone aisle between the wall and the towers, pulling him behind you.

A few moments later sees you crammed in the narrow space. The back wall and server towers rise on either side of you, caging you up against your troublesome accomplice. One of Blade’s thighs presses tight to your own. Warm and firm. The proximity betrays what you’ve expected since your first meeting. Blade is an alpha. Only now, brought so obscenely close, are you fully able to realize that. It’s a footnote in comparison to your agitation, which swims and simmers just beneath the surface of your skin.

“How long were they following us for?” you grumble aloud. “Tell Kafka she owes an extra 20% when you see her, and that I’m not doing this ever again.”

Blade sighs out of his nose. You can’t see his face well enough to make out his expression.

“You’re wearing a mask. Your identity is safe.” he says.

“The threat of being arrested still remains,” you grumble, listening to the clamorous noise outside. Trained troops rush back and forth, kicking up dust and old grease. You can’t quite make out what they’re saying, beyond a few paltry words, but no one has yet knocked on the door. Surely a good sign.

Blade squeezes your hand, and subsequently reminds you that you are holding it.

“That won’t happen. Destiny’s Slave would not risk your safety over something so simple. No harm will come to you, tonight.”

Well, isn’t that comforting. You wrest your hand away with a scowl, and clamp down on the pressing urge to let him know what you really think about his boss. He stares down at the place where your hands were once joined.

The next half-hour passes in relative silence. His eyes are all that is visible in the empty dark of the room, candlewick embers extinguished when he shuts them and leans back against the wall.

Eventually, the outside noise quiets. No more thudding boots or searching shouts, the warehouse silent as it had been when you arrived. Shimmying out from the pitch dark crevice is much more awkward without the frantic adrenaline, but you manage it, emerging in a new layer of dust.

“Alright. I’m heading out. Be careful.”

“They won’t return anytime soon,” Blade remains inside, arms crossed and impassive. Your frown deepens. You clamber through a hole in the wall. No Knights have remained behind. You feared a few would have stayed just in case, but none leap out from behind the rubble. Which means that the horrible feeling prickling up the back of your neck is just Blade’s cold, empty gaze trained on your retreating form.

Strange beast, you think to yourself, scuttling into the nearest alleyway.

—

One of your favorite things about Luocha’s home is that he is hardly ever in it. The first time you met him after helping him with his pre-heat, he pressed a silver house key into your palms, before turning and leaving. Not even allowing you to splutter a single, indignant protest. Back then, you mentally swore that you wouldn’t use it.

Now, you use it almost everyday. His neighborhood, smack dab in the middle of the Luofu, intersects with several of your regular routes. It’s just too easy so slide in between deliveries for a quick rest. It helps that he’s hardly ever home, leaving you to pilfer snacks from his fridge and take brief naps on the couch. You haven’t been bold enough to stay overnight. You’ve become far, far too intimate with the man.

No more, you decide, and stay firm to that decision even when he beseeches your company not a week later. It’s rude, but you can’t risk getting anymore attached than you already are. He’s become a bothersome burr stuck to your side, a looming presence in your thoughts even when he’s far across the stars, doing Xipe knows what.

There’s a knock at the door. You startle, because this has never happened before. You remain stock still on the couch. If you remain still, surely whoever is out there will get the message and bugger off. Another knock. You should have known that any solicitor determined to walk through the forest of a front yard would be too stubborn to give up after only seven knocks.

At the eleventh, you get up and stomp to the door. It’s mostly to preserve your own sanity.

You throw open the door, prepared to give the nosy bastard on the other side an earful.

It’s Blade. Blade is stood there. He blots out the afternoon sun, leaving you in the shadow he casts. It’s like seeing your clothes in the fridge. You blink several times.

“Ah. It’s you.”

“It is,” He’s holding a bouquet of flowers in his left hand.

“What… why are you here?”

“Kafka’s orders. She wanted you to have these,” he hands you the bouquet. You receive it. Fresh petunias and sprigs of rosemary curl next to daisies and tulips. It’s a nonsensical thing. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. Nothing particularly artful about the presentation besides the pretty colors.

“I see… Is this your home?” He looks like he already knows the answer.

You decide not to humor him. You tuck the bouquet underneath your arm and lean up against the doorframe. “What’s it to you?”

He blinks, looks confused, and then responds after a moment of silent thought. “I… there is someone else who lives here. I remember it clearly, now.”

“You two know each other, huh? What a coincidence. But… how did you know where I was?”

“I asked the woman next door. She directed me here. I’ve been searching for you since the early morning.”

“All morning?” you tut, somewhat sympathetic. “That’s a lot of walking.”

“It is nothing compared to other pains I have endured.” Blade says, solemnly. “And I have traveled far greater distances on foot. You shouldn’t worry.”

“...Well,” you stare down at the bouquet for a moment. “I’d feel bad if I didn’t give you anything for the effort. You know that big, red maple by the pond? Go sit there. I’ll get you something to drink.”

Two minutes later sees you outside, cradling two crystalline glasses filled with lemonade. You didn’t get him the fancy stuff—the strawberry-kiwi-whatever fruit stuff that you hand mixed. But it’s something.

He’s hunched beneath the red canopy. There’s a dark, inky type of handsomeness he possesses. Dark hair tumbles down his back, shaggy bangs frame that wolfish face. He looks dour almost all the time. Like the frown lines and cold apathy have permanently creased it. He’s hunched beneath the shade. Like it sits on his shoulders as a physical weight. He looks up at you as you settle next to him, accepts his glass without fuss or thanks. Which is just fine, with you. You probably shouldn’t be doing this, anyways. He’s an intergalactic criminal. The less time you spend together, the better.

But at the same time… you can’t help but be curious. Curious about the mara which buzzes underneath his skin, yet somehow never breaches it. Curious about what manner of creature he must be to withstand the final stages of Yaoshi’s curse. Curious if there’s any real, lingering emotion beyond the stoicism he treats… well, everything with.

The two of you sit in silence and sip. You don’t feel any need for artificial conversation. It’s easy to sit down and simply exist next to him. No impulsive need for niceties.

“This house isn’t yours,” he says.

“No. The owner is a client of mine. He lets me stop by here, in between deliveries. It’s convenient.”

A few beats of silence. “How well do you know the man that lives here?”

“As well as I know any other client,” he looks at you expectantly, as though waiting for you to finish that statement. “Which isn’t very well. He’s not here most of the time.”

“You should remain cautious while in his presence,” he says, and you nearly raise a brow at the unsolicited advice. He levels you with his dull, candlewick gaze, as impassive as ever. A leaf flutters from the lowest branches onto his head. “That man draws his power from the source of the mara. He wields it under the guise of a blessing, and yet…” Blade frowns, almost a grimace, and doesn’t say anything else.

“I know.”

“Yet you take shelter under his roof and exist willingly in his space.” Blade stares at you. There’s a faint bristling in the air. A shuddering of the atmosphere that emerges from him. Thorny tendrils of bitter gold crackle beneath his pale skin. You don’t know exactly what aggrieves him so, but you get the feeling that you should say something to appease him, quickly.

“Well. I don’t know any other rich diplomats willing to offer me a free, mostly empty house to take a break in for… around twenty minutes a day,” you shrug. “It’s convenient.”

That seems to settle him.

“Do you… not like him? The merchant?” Does he even know Luocha’s name? What kind of relationship do these two weirdos have?

“In the strange purgatory of my existence, he acts as both poison and cure.” Blade informs you, as if it tells you really anything. As if sensing your befuddlement, he deflates a little, nose scrunching. He looks like a dour cat, stuck out in the rain. “He wants something from me. I can’t tell what it is. His unseemly fascination means it can be nothing good.” His attempt at elaboration gives you somewhat of a clearer picture, but it’s still some insanity that you’ll have to unpack later.

“I see. I’ll make sure to remember that,” you’re not sure if it’s possible to forget a conversation with Blade. Especially one that lasts more than a few moments. What prompted this? Genuine concern for your well-being? You have a hard time believing that. There are many things that are better off left unsaid, in your experience, so you don’t ask.

The rest of the visit passes in relative quiet. Blade finishes his lemonade.

You reach over. His gaze snaps to you immediately, a beaten dog evaluating a potential threat.

“You have something in your hair,” you inform him helpfully, plucking the leaf from his sable locks. You curl the stem around your fingers.

He doesn’t say anything after that. The two of you stand. He murmurs a brief farewell, and is off through the yard, slipping through the ferns to become one with the cast shadows. You’re not sure how long you remain after he leaves. The pond water ripples with each gentle breeze. Glimmering koi bob to the surface, in search of mid-afternoon snacks. When they find none, they dive beneath, water droplets flickering off their lashing tail fins.

Well, you think after another moment, at least you learned something.

Now, it is high time that you tend to the bouquet so generously sent your way. You dump the glasses in the sink, halfheartedly vowing to deal with them later, before taking a closer look at the arrangement of flowers. As you expected, it’s more than a paltry, sentimental gift. Tucked into the plastic wrapping is a small card.

Bladie said you got in quite the mess, the other day. You have my deepest gratitude for handling it so cleanly. He’s not that good at talking things out. He seems to like you, though! I wonder what makes you so special?

P.S. Next Tuesday, please escort Bladie to the address written on the back of this note. Please? Do it for me. :)

—

You hate working with criminals. Criminals other than yourself.

Though, you don’t fancy yourself much a criminal. Deliveries are an entirely different beast, simple points of contact which last at most for five minutes. Escorting a known, intergalactic criminal through multiple layers of the Luofu is completely different—something you would never do if anyone besides Kafka asked. You’ll dance to her tune, run her errands if it keeps you off her shitlist. But is there even a point if keeping off of hers just puts you onto someone else’s?

You’ll have some fierce thinking to do after you shake off the six Cloud Knights currently on your tail. You dive between market stalls. You leap over a counter, sending an array of fruits and vegetables tumbling onto the pavement. You ignore the enraged shout of the peddler behind you, pulse thundering in your ears as you weave between the passerby, narrowly avoiding a stack of crates.

The air stings at the corners of your eyes. The marketplace blends together to the point of featurelessness. You don’t know who you pass or what else you know over, too focused on what’s ahead to care about the wreckage left behind. At the very least, it may hamper the Knights as they shout and stomp and rush after you—and Blade, whose fault all this is.

You slide around a corner and into a red-bricked alleyway, lanterns strung between the two rooftops, gold and glittering against that fake, blue sky.

“Dead end.” Blade grunts. You hear the telltale click of his sword being unsheathed.

“No! Just follow me!” you snap, seizing his wrist and pulling him forward, all the way to the end. As you trudge forward, you tap a sequence into the walls on either side. The worn clay surfaces are coarse under your fingertips. None move after you touch them, but you feel a subtle shift in the energy as it rushes down to the focal point. The pattern ends at the back of the alley. You tap a chipped, ragged brick embedded into the dead-end wall. The slabs unfold, layer-by-layer, to form an opening.

You pull him through.

It folds shut behind you, the quiet sound of grinding stone following you through the passage. The hollering and thudding of the pursuit have been silenced. Their chaos of the market sealed away behind the otherwise impenetrable seal. You doubt the low-ranking footmen who chased you will know the way.

Yellow-green vines crawl up the pulsing walls. Luminous particles bob and float in the air like fireflies. The place is silent, leaving you with only the sound of your own panting and Blade—Blade’s rasping, spluttering wheezes.

You stop, right where you are, because you have never heard him make such a sound before. Even after a chase, or a fight.

The passage opens to a wider tunnel up ahead. You drop Blade’s hand, and turn to look at him. The adrenaline is fading, now leaving room for fresh, common sense.

Blades hunches up against the wall. The air enters and leaves his lungs in winded, rushed wheezes. His eyes are wide and unseeing. Those candlewick irises dart from the floor, to the place where your hands had been joined, and finally, then, to you.

A scent, like firewood charred too long, blistering into crumbled charcoal, blooms in and clouds the thin space. It’s like nothing you’ve ever smelled before, the vicious pheromones of an alpha at the very end of their tether. Something more, too, something earthen and ancient and charged. A flavor which has graced your palate only once or twice before.

Encroaching mara. You don’t know what he’s like, when his symptoms flare. You’re not eager to find out. The capricious nature of his mara has not once posed a threat to you. But his composure is slipping, his hands curling like claws and flexing. Like he’s getting a feel for his own body. Like the joints are sore and need stretching.

“Blade,” you stumble forward, pressing your palm to the cold, pale pane of his cheek. “Blade, look at me.”

His shaky irises hover awkwardly over your shoulder, before at last meeting your gaze.

“It approaches,” he rasps, looking as haunted as you have ever seen him.

“Blade, do not let the mara take you.” you take in a deep, steadying breath. The violent pulsing in your ears returns in full force, the unhinged mass of his disease gnawing at your physical form.

Bracing yourself, you reach within. You touch the very bottom of your long neglected wellspring. Harmonic Essence leaps to the surface, warm and loving and so eager to be put to use. It feels like an old coat slipped around your shoulders, a familiarity you wouldn’t dare indulge in under ordinary circumstances. It is a power long wasted on you, but useful this very once. It pulses from underneath your fingertips, washes underneath his pallid skin.

The acrid taste of his mara brashes against the tip of your tongue for a single, fleeting moment. It then skitters backwards. Retreats into the dark, churning void of what you assume to be his subconsciousness. It’s a temporary balancing of the scales, but his wild pulse settles.

You sigh, shoulder slumping in relief. The tension winds out of your body, hand dropping back to your side.

He still looms above you, jet black hair curtaining you in. When did he get so close? Or had it been you in your haste to soothe him? He runs hot as a hearth, the warmth which radiates from him thick enough to feel. This close, you can see his every breath, soft mounds of his chest straining the fastenings which hold his shirt together. Slender stripes of pale skin peek through his chest wrappings. You swallow and look away, up at the strong column of his neck.

“Are you with me?” you murmur. You don’t dare move, lest your retreat trigger the chase instinct which some alphas are known to possess. You don’t like making assumptions. You feel like Blade would be among that number anyways.

“Yes,” Blade’s voice is sandpaper rough. He moves before you do, shouldering past you into the wider tunnel. “You make use of these often, I take it.”

As though nothing had ever happened. Something bitter churns in your gut, but you don’t bring it up. There’s no reason to. He probably wants to distance himself from this episode as quickly as possible. You don’t blame him. The mara must be a humiliating affliction to live and cope with.

“It’s the fastest way to get around,” you break into a brisk walk, overtaking him. You’re the one who knows your way around, here.

“The mara would rend asunder the minds of anyone not wearing the correct protective gear,” Blade observes. There’s nothing pointed in his voice, but the weight of his gaze makes your skin crawl. Its keen focus is that of an apex predator’s, a beast somehow sated enough to keep his teeth from your throat. How long will that last? Fifteen minutes? An hour? The air here swelters with abundance. His mara must sup on it like a starved prisoner, far stronger and fuller than it could ever be on the surface.

He could easily match your pace, but he chooses to walk behind you.

“I could say the same for you.”

“I am an abomination of Yaoshi. The abundance has already taken hold of me.” Blade says, grimacing. You toy with the fraying edge of your sleeve between your forefinger and thumb. “All the saturation here does is spur on the symptoms.”

You make a face. He must sense your unease.

“I should be able to resist the pull until we surface. Provided we do not linger overlong.” Blade replies. It does remarkably little to reassure you.

A predator stalks at your back, one whose sanity may pop like an overfilled balloon at really any moment. Against your better sense, you feel anxiety lash at the bottom of your stomach, guts churning with that primal fear.

“Reassuring.” you bite out thoughtlessly.

“It would be in your best interest to focus on finding a way out, rather than back-talking me.” Blade says, and you swallow.

“Back-talking? I think my frustration is quite justified. You’re the reason we’re in this mess, after all.” you pointedly remind him. The words roll bitter off your tongue. Prickling discomfort coalesces with the saturation of abundance in the air, becoming a consistent buzz against the back of your skull.

Blade makes a ragged little noise, wedged between a wheeze and a laugh.

“Another do I make pay the price. I was not always like this. deathless beast borne of blind ambition and hubris…” he trails off. “I was once a man. Death walked with me as it walked with every other. It was never meant to—to become—”

A distorted warble slowly creeps into his voice. Shit, you just shouldn’t have said anything. The hovering energy coalesces, thin whispers congealing into thick, mist-like mass around him. It’s drawn to him.

“What’s your favorite food?” you turn on your heel and ask, crossing your arms. He looks down at you, brows furrowing as he roots around for an answer. “You haven’t thought about it, have you?” Do the mara-struck even have to eat? Blade is a particularly unique case among them, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he even remembers to eat. He is a blade, according to his own words. And a blade doesn’t need to eat. How desolate an existence he must have lived. Must still be living if his own preferences evade him.

“Well. Try to find an answer while I get us out of here.” you command. He’s quiet for the remainder of the trek. You emerge topside and immediately feel several pounds lighter. The air is fresh and sweet, the skies blue and open. You’re two blocks from your apartment in a dark, neglected alleyway.

“You can find your way back from here,” you sigh, chancing a glance at your companion as you stretch your arms above your head. “Right?”

He’s still quiet. You don’t sense the acrid tang of the illness. He looks thoughtful. You wish he would just give you an answer already. You’re not eager to be chanced upon again by a patrol, or by any other witnesses for that matter.

“Your question. I don’t have an answer.” Blade says. He sounds almost regretful.

Over your few interactions, you’ve come to realize that not much bothers him. Very little manages to budge that glacial mien. His demeanor, as you have come to understand, either sits as stoney neutrality or maniacal, giddy rage. The shades between are so very visited.

“It’s no big deal. You can just tell me next time, if you want.” If he even remembers. The idea of turning your back to him still riddles you with unease, but you do it anyway. Your steps are slow and measured. He stares you down until you disappear around the corner, meld into the crowds like just another thread in a blanket.

—

The sky above hangs a pale grey. It’s the threat of a light drizzle rather than a raging storm. You slip through the abundant foliage of Luocha’s front yard, unable but to notice that the shrubs and vibrant blooms have somehow grown in size since your last visit. The greens are hearty, fresh dewdrops glimmering off grass and unfurled leaves.

It’s not difficult to spot him. He’s lounged beneath the sole scarlet maple of the yard. He’s a spot of red himself, swathed in a richly-colored, likely richly-made, robe of it. The fabric pools on the lawn chair he lounges atop of. His eyes are shut, blonde lashes fanning against his perfect cheeks. Those eyes open as you skirt along the jagged stone edge of the pond, manilla envelope clutched in your left hand. He smiles, but does not lift his head. Sumptuous locks of golden blonde fan out behind his head like a halo. The very picture of serenity.

“Well, well. To what do I owe this visit?” he tilts his head, smiling like a contented cat. You huff, and avoid looking below his neck, where the plush robe parts to reveal the pale soft of his chest. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, but any sliver of intimacy you may have granted him has long passed. The moment you look down, he’ll notice and impose upon you another outlandish favor.

“Don’t get excited.” You hand him the package, and begin to pull back, but he’s faster. He darts for you like a viper. Long fingers curl around your wrist to hold you in place. The look in his eyes is beseeching. He gently deposits the envelope on the side table next to his seat. He doesn’t look away from you for even a moment.

“Always so busy… doesn’t it exhaust you?” he murmurs, a sympathetic coo. He’s putting just enough strain on your arm to make standing uncomfortable, in hopes that you’ll sit down beside him.

“No. I’m used to it. I like being busy,” you bear the ache in your arm with unyielding ease. It is so small and insignificant in comparison to every other you have endured.

“Do you… like being busy, or is it that you’ve never known anything else?” Luocha tilts his head to the side, smiling. Your skin prickles. You resist the urge to swallow.

“You know what they say about assumptions.”

“Which is why I’m glad I’m not making one. You go to awfully desperate lengths to not be known, Courier.”

The corners of your lips twitch downwards, and his eyes gleam. “Don’t be coy with me. Did you talk to them?” You ask. The question has lingered on your mind for weeks, leaving you restless and more unkind than usual. The persistent threat of him is always at the back of your mind, represented in the throbbing between your temples, in the harshness of your voice as you snap at someone who might not deserve it. There’s no sense in beating around the bush, anymore. Not if you want to preserve your sanity.

“How very vague, for someone who just accused me of being coy. Be at ease, I haven’t had any contact with The Family. Merely some… particularly useful informants who have heard a thing or two. Hunches based on speculation that you’ve proven by being cagey.” Luocha assures you.

“...So, what do you want from me?”

“Merely conversation. I do find our interactions so compelling, however short they may be.”

“Being blackmailed doesn’t put me in the mood for conversation. There’s not much for us to talk about.”

“I beg to differ. I know so very little about you, despite all we’ve shared. I’m curious—what set you on the path of Harmony?”

“...” You look away, internally evaluating the pros and cons of going along with his little game. “Peace. She promised us peace. Because that’s what Harmony was supposed to be.” His eyes soften. The indignation sizzling inside of you sparks into a raw flame (he has no right to look at you like that), but you smother it.

“Did it live up to your expectations?” he asks. His thumb rubs circles against the hollow of your wrist. His gaze sweeps from your face, down your arm, to where he’s still got you. He’s waiting for you to be vulnerable, you just know it. A shark that smells blood in the water, circling and searching for tender flesh to lay its rows of teeth into. How does he imagine it will taste? Soft and meaty, melting underneath teeth and tongue? Layers of skin peeled back and pried open, made thin by older slices?

“It didn’t work out.” you reply. sagacious enough to play along only minimally. When you elaborate no further, he releases you with a smile.

“How interesting,” he hums. He reclines further, eyes fluttering shut. You could pounce on him so easily, like this. You could fix your teeth into his jugular and make it so he never threatens you again. The blood would be so warm in your mouth. His skin would be so sweet.

Don’t be gross. You grimace.

He drums his fingers on the armrest of his chair.

The fluttering of wings erupts in the canopy above you, a flock of songbirds taking an afternoon flight. He cracks open his eyes, then. He tracks some sort of movement (you aren’t looking up), idle, like you aren’t even there. He tilts his head to the side, the slender column of his neck completely exposed. The robe slips off of his shoulders, curvature of his collarbones and soft expanse of his chest open for your viewing pleasure. You’re annoyed.

“I’ve held you long enough,” he sighs. “Thank you for sharing. Though, I do hope we can manage a longer conversation next time.”

“We’ll see,” you just barely keep a sigh out of your voice as you turn to leave, speed-walking up the grassy slope.

—

“That old man’s damn cat has been coming into the yard and bothering all the birds,” you grumble, squinting into the aforementioned patch of forest.

Blade makes a noncommittal noise, indicating that he’s heard you.

“It pisses me off.”

“You care about the birds in someone else’s yard.” Blade observes. You frown deeper.

“It’s annoying. Cats are an invasive species, here. They slaughter all of the native wildlife—and sometimes they don’t even eat what they kill,” you sigh, tampering down your rising agitation. If you’ve learned one thing in your short and storied life, it’s that being impassioned isn’t good for you.

“So, how would you suggest the problem be solved? If the owner insists on letting it out…”

“I don’t really live here, so it’s not like I have any right to get involved,” you shrug, “It’s just… if you’re gonna be that irresponsible with an animal, you don’t deserve to have it. You know?”

Blade makes another noise. Closer to a hum, this time. You don’t know if he knows or not. But you do know that he’s listening. You stare into the yard, and in your periphery you can see him staring at you.

—

You see Blade more in the coming days. Despite your best attempts, a routine slips into being, like weeds through cracks in the cement. Silver Wolf doesn’t show up to accept her own packages nearly as much, anymore. It’s almost always Blade. You see him so often that you question if he even has a job anymore.

He glowers. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He says, low voice almost lost amongst the bustle of the crowd. The markets are especially full today. Nestled in the crook of your elbow is a plastic shopping basket, loaded with some bread, some spices, and some vegetables. The stall you’re at rests beneath a red tarp, casts warm shadows onto his pale, bone-weary skin. “There are currently no tasks which command my presence at the moment.”

“Well. It’s good to have time off, but you don’t need to follow me around.”

“...” he doesn’t reply, but he does follow you all the way up to the counter. You can’t tell if he doesn’t understand the nuance, or if he’s just being bizarre and stubborn. Regardless, tailing you like a lost puppy seems to alleviate his boredom. To each their own.

“If you’re just going to walk behind me, can you—” you shift the basket from the crook of your arm, preparing to offer it. He snatches it from you before you can even finish speaking.

“...Thanks.”

He takes his newfound job as the basket carrier very seriously. His dour face doesn't budge an inch as you peruse the rest of the wares, plucking a few items from open crates and wooden shelves to add to the bundle.

“So, see anything that piques your interest?” you’re not sure what prompts you to speak up. You should get through this as silently and as quickly as possible. The less time you spend in public with this man, the better. The presence of the Cloud Knights isn’t nearly as felt on this level, making it as safe a haven for criminals as can be. You suspect, sometimes, that it’s purposeful. In your many travels, you have come to realize that the criminal class is a valuable part of any economy, no matter how much those at the top may protest it. Those who disavow it the most fervently are usually the most involved, under the table.

Blade doesn’t respond, at first. His crimson gaze glances over the nearby shelves. He grabs a bottle of cloves and presents it to you, completely straight-faced.

You get the overwhelming sense he’s appeasing you more than anything.

“...Yeah,” you pluck it from his hand and halfheartedly eye the label. It’s hard to muster the energy to argue with him, especially when he looks so resolute. The fact that he’s continuing to tail you through the market is cause enough to ignore him. You drop the bottle into your basket and move on.

Thankfully, the rest of the trip passes in peaceful silence. You can feel Blade’s gaze, unreadable, lingering on your form as you pull your wallet out of one of your many pockets. The shopkeep, a sprightly young man with a head of bouncy, brown hair beams at the sight of you. You don’t remember his name, but you’re familiar with him. He opens his mouth to speak, but shuts his mouth tight before he can get a word out.

He glances over your shoulder. You swivel just barely to look at your stubborn shadow. Blade looms closer than you remember him being, leaving you with an up close and personal view of his chest. You tsk and look up at his face.

“Can you get a bottle of white cardamom for me? It should be with the rest of the spices.”

Blade looks at you, and looks at the shopkeep. He is silent. The lines of his face are harsher than usual, burdened with deeper shadow. For a few, agonizing moments, you fear he may object, but he turns almost robotically and walks off. You’re not sure what’s upset him this time. You don’t particularly care. If you troubled yourself with the qualms of every pouting client, you’d be just as miserable as you were with The Family.

“Thanks. I could hardly get a word out while he was giving me those evil eyes,” the shopkeep says, shuddering.

“I guess his manners still need work,” Not that men in his line of work really needed any.

“Alphas that smell that strong and don’t even try to put a lid on it are the worst,” he gripes, bagging your produce with nimble hands, before pausing and looking back up at you. He wrings his hands, contrite and sheepish. “—er, no offense.”

“He smells strong?” you tilt your head to the side.

“Well, yeah. He’s all over you,” the man blinks. Some of his bangs fall over his big, brown eyes. He swipes them behind his ear thoughtlessly. “You guys just get together? He’s probably trying to flaunt it. Stake his ‘claim’, y’know?” he says with a sympathetic roll of the eyes.

You don’t particularly care what he says about Blade. A man able to lift a three-thousand pound sword doesn’t need defending. It’s his misconceptions about your relationship that irks you, for some reason. You don’t care about the opinions of others (you try not to care about the opinions of others) but you can’t resist the sudden urge to correct him.

“We’re not together.”

“Oh,” he blinks at you. “Does he know that?”

“Ugh. Enough. It’s none of your business.” your lips twist, a sliver of teeth exposed in your displeasure.

The shopkeep nods and beams at you, all previous curiosity wiped clean off his face. “Heard loud and clear!”

He finishes ringing you up and sees you off with a “have a nice day~!”. Blade follows you to your next stop, a stall that sells fresh fruits.

The frustration builds within you slowly. It’s a candlewick of a thing, at first. Blade is following you around. Irritating, but you can cope with it. He would leave if he was asked. Maybe Kafka told him to stick around for a while. She’s gotten into a bad habit of pawning him off on you, like he’s a child that needs watching rather than one of the universe’s most efficient killing machines. That’s fine. You’re not keen to get on her bad side.

Blade is scenting you. He’s sticking to you tight as a cobweb and giving dirty looks to people you talk to. That, you cannot abide by. It takes you at least five minutes to simmer, from the crate of apples to the lefternmost all of the stall to the bundle of leeks close to its middle. You’re not really looking at anything. Lost in thought.

“I am not an omega for you to covet. I don’t need your protection,” you tell him, letting your gaze idly roam over the prices. They’re written on fancy little labels with red accents, each one neatly stickered just below the lip of each crate.

“I never said you did,” Blade replies after a moment of deliberating. You look over a crate of cantaloupe. Selecting a ripe one is a practiced art.

“You didn’t have to,” you pause, melon held in your hands as you give him a scathing look. “Control your pheromones. You’re not an animal.”

“No. Worse, I am a blade.” he sighs, suddenly sounding unusually surly. Your lips twitch in the barest beginnings of a frown.

“Not an excuse,” you helpfully remind him. A shadow is cast over his face, then, dark and brooding. The space between his brows wrinkles, an uncertainty you haven’t quite seen from him before. There’s so little need to deliberate in a life like his own, so what troubles him now? It nettles something in you, makes you feel in a way that you don’t care to name and don’t want to look into. You deliberate asking, but he makes the choice for you.

“I will leave you, now.” When you turn to look at him, he’s already walked away from your side, strides longer than usual. He dissolves into the crowd like a sunset shadow, naught left in his wake but the scent you know still clings to your clothes.

—

“My, my. You rarely ever visit at this hour,” Luocha says, giving you one of those mirthful smiles where his eyes scrunch, unabashedly delighted (and undeniably smug) to see you. He lounges on the ottoman, slender fingers parting the pages of a furniture catalogue. “To what do I owe the honor?”’ He’s already deduced that you want something from him. You take no excessive pride in your poker face but it still pains you to be so easily read. Luocha stands apart from the crowd with his soft hands and feigned delicacy, but he smells blood in the water just as easily as any other follower of the Hunt.

“I just wanted to talk,” you see no reason to dance around it.

“You came all this way for a conversation?” He rests his chin on the palm of his hand in a haughty way that pisses you off.

“Isn’t that what you’ve wanted this whole time?” you grouse, and he laughs.

“I’m flattered, regardless. Come, sit and tell me all that is on your mind.” he beckons to a seat at his side, which you stiffly sink into, unable to relax beneath his hunter’s gaze.

“You’re an omega—”

“Yes, quite,” his smile is now coquettish. You feel your face wrinkle in annoyance, line of your brows dipping low.

“I wasn’t done. You know more about secondary genders than I do—and I don’t have anyone else to talk about it with, so…”

“I appreciate you confiding in me like this,” Luocha says, sweet as honey, timbre smooth as silk. There’s an ease about him here, in his own domain, that soothes and disarms you despite your best efforts. “It couldn’t have been easy for you to ask, so unused to relying on anyone else. I’m no professional, but I will answer your questions as best as I am able.”

He steeples his fingers with a smile, way too delighted for you to feel good about his generosity. He just likes knowing something you don’t, doesn’t he?

“Well. I’ve been spending time with an alpha, lately. It’s a work thing, but he keeps hovering around. Even after I tell him he can leave.”

“Ah.” Luocha says. The corners of his smile grow taut with something you don’t quite recognize.

And it’s a question you suddenly have to wonder for yourself. Is Blade bothering you? You can count on one hand the amount of times you have been genuinely upset with him. He’s quiet, most of the time. He answers your questions and attempts to appease you whenever possible. He carries your bags whenever you happen to be at the markets, together. Even if you really wish he wouldn’t, you can tell he’s trying to be kind.

“He hardly speaks. And when I does, I don’t really mind. But he hovers and keeps grabbing my shopping bags whenever we’re at the markets. I don’t get it. Is it some sort of courting gesture?”

“He certainly sounds like a character,” Luocha muses, sounding far off for a moment. “You have the right idea. He’s carrying your things to both lessen your burden and to prove himself capable, even if he himself does not realize it.”

You grimace, face twisting up, The truth has an acerbic tang to it. Luocha laughs unabashedly at your dismay, the sound melodic and trilling. The longer you spend in his presence, the more convinced you become that the Aeons crafted him specifically to vex you. You give him a scathing look.

“Come, now,” Luocha wheedles. “My humblest apologies, Courier—it’s simply so rare for you to be so expressive. I was caught off guard. Shall I get you something to drink? Come, please, sit back down. Surely you have more to ask of me?”

Reluctantly, you drop into the armchair closest to the door, leaning back as far as you have the space for, You fold your fingers together, elbows perched on an arm rest each.

“I don’t envy you. It must be difficult to bear the attentions of such a peculiar alpha,” Luocha says.

“You know him, then.” You can’t keep the accusation from your voice, something frenetic and ugly kicking up your pulse, making your stomach go sour. How deeply do they know each other? Enough for Luocha to consider spilling your secrets? Enough for them to conspire against your purposes unknown?

No, don't be ridiculous. You're not important enough a figure to be the center of any such elaborate scheme. Weak, as far as emanators go. Painfully average, even as far as betas go. Unremarkable in status and career. All that threatens you is what you have long left behind.

“I do know him. Quite well, in fact.” Luocha muses, undisputed fondness in his voice. How close are they? The question lingers bitter on the tip of your tongue. It vibrates underneath your skin, wild and desperate and gods, you want to know so badly. “Though he may deny it, he can be shy. You’re alike, in that way.”

“I am not shy,” you bristle. It’s your curiosity alone that keeps you in his company.

“An argument best saved for another day. Let’s not get off track—Blade is an alpha, but he bears few of the typical mannerisms associated with his secondary gender, which makes this newfound attachment to you all the more significant.”

Progressively, throughout your conversation, you’ve been able to feel the wrinkles on your face multiplying and darkening.

“It makes sense, if you ask me. You’re quite the extraordinary individual,” Luocha says, drumming his fingers idly against the armrest.

“So how do I get him to stop?” you brush past his superfluous flattery with practiced indifference. He wants to fluster you, to see you squirm. It’s one of the ugly truths behind the chivalrous front he wears in polite company.

“Are you sure you want him to stop?” he inquires.

“What are you getting at?”

“If you truly wanted to no longer be the object of these behaviors, you would have no problem telling him yourself.”

You laugh, and it’s a cold and bitter thing. “Not all men take rejection well.”

“As I well know,” Luocha reminds you. He’s so haughty, so utterly confident that sometimes you forget he’s an omega, a demographic as subject to unwanted advances as any you are a part of. He stands up, empty glass cradled in hand. The sheer material of his robe billows around him like fine mist, treating you to the outline of his smooth, toned legs. Blade is more built, the thought comes to you unbidden. You squish it like the raspberries you juiced only a week ago on Luocha's kitchen counter. You wonder if the stains ever came out.

“Objectively speaking, you have more of a reason to hold your tongue around me than you do him. Yet, you hardly hesitate to make your displeasure known in my company,” he points out. “It’s not because of my secondary sex. You hardly ever remember that I’m an omega, unless my heat is soon.”

“And your point is?”

He seizes your chin, then tilts your head up until you’re forced to look into those grass green eyes. Cradled between his forefinger and thumb, you are left with nowhere else to go. You wonder briefly if it thrills him to do this because he is an omega. If he finds some kind of perverse pleasure in subverting the roles society espouses about his kind.

“You could have told him off on your own. Instead, you went out of your way to consult someone you deeply dislike, looking for another, less direct way of handling it. All of that implies some degree of care, whether you want to admit it or not.”

He’s right, and you hate nothing more than when he’s right.

“Thank you for your time,” you dip back into your customer service with a placid and empty drone, because you know how much he hates it. You say it to his chest, refusing to give him the eye contact. Unwilling to expend the effort. For plausible deniability, because you don’t know what you’ll find on his face. The air has grown balmy and cloying and fragrant. You stand up, and he steps backwards. “But I must be going, now.”

“How unfortunate,” Luocha coos as you awkwardly find your way around him, having been sandwiched between his body and the coffee table. “I was going to put the kettle on…”

—

The shroud of night has settled over the Luofu. A crescent moon winks down at you from the artificial sky, peering between the treetops. You’re laid on your back, on the concrete patio near the shed.

Footsteps head in your direction. You already know who it is. There’s no one else that has that blistering, writhing aura. Blade comes to stand over you. His brows wrinkle in displeasure. You don’t know why. It’s not his patio that you’ve gotten your blood all over.

“You’re injured,” he says, frowning. He crouches over you. A pale thumb smears the drying crimson on your upper lip. Your entire face scrunches up, gnarled like a gargoyle, recoiling from the unexpected touch.

“Nosebleed,” you mutter. The space behind your eyes throbs in protest, accompanied by a fierce pressure at the bridge of your nose. All typical symptoms. The gifts bestowed upon you as Emanator unfortunately do not shield you from your allergies. To think, an Emanator could still be laid low by something as mundane as allergies.

“Who gave it to you?” Blade looms a little closer, gaze steely.

“No one. Sometimes my allergies act up. That’s all.” you assure him, squinting irritably. You hope your judgmental flower will shame him out of your personal space, but he lingers.

“You should remain indoors, then.” he draws. He lifts his bloodied hand and looks at it, too contemplative for your liking.

“I take medication for it. Just forgot today,” it feels wrong to justify yourself. He isn't owed an answer, but this is a rare moment. Blade showing such outright concern over something so novel is interesting (a more sentimental person might call it touching). Has his immortality rendered him incapable of distinguishing a few pesky allergies from a deadly ammonia? You can’t imagine someone so riddled with regeneration to register the difference between a gaping gash and a papercut.

“Then remember to take them.” he advises coolly.

“I will.”

You lay there, then, in silence unperturbed for a few moments. The hard ground is cool against your back. It’ll fix your aching spine, you’re sure.

“Are you not going to get up?” Blade asks.

“No. It feels nice to be on the floor, sometimes.” you assure him quickly, lest he assume your nosebleed has robbed you of all mobility. He stares at you, blank-faced, but you somehow can tell he is skeptical. You pat the space next to you, a silent offering.

You don’t expect him to take you up on it. This rare creature, crackling with the energy of his divine “gift”. You don’t indulge in typical sentiments, and you spurn love and limerence for your own sanity, due to the madness you have seen both inspire. To adore is to give of yourself, to exhaust what limited energy you have left. Yet, there is no arguing the fact of his beauty. His hair pools like fresh slick pitch. Faint moonlight catches on the sable strands. His jaw cuts a sharp and handsome shape, eyelashes long and thick. He stares up at the sky, unreadable.

“Kafka has no need of me in the coming days.” “It is… strange. The Stellaron Hunters are few in number, so our hands are always full. To be bereft of any responsibility… is rare.”

“You don’t sound thrilled about that.”

“No. It will leave me restless. And the silence will only give the mara room to spread. It’s better—more manageable when there is a task at hand.” Blade admits, a shiver in his voice.

“I do. I believe you are familiar with the place,” he says. That catches your attention. And makes you just a little nervous.

“Do you even have anywhere to stay?” The Stellaron Hunters surely have a vessel of their own where he can lodge. You’re ultimately not too concerned. You shut your eyes and listen to the midnight breeze, feel the black of the night against your skin.

You turn to look at him, almost afraid to ask. “Familiar?”

“The merchant has opened his home to me. I will remain there for the duration of my… off time.”

Again, you are sorely tempted to question the exact nature and origin of their relationship, but it’s truly none of your business. You’ve long espoused a policy of isolation, but there’s no denying how thoroughly entangled you have become in them. Elbows deep. You’re not quite sure how it happened. They’re infiltrated your monotonous life, moved in so slowly that you didn’t even notice until this very moment.

“Well. He’s not there most of the time, so it’ll be like having your own place,” You can’t imagine Blade as a homeowner, for some reason. It just invokes the image of him mowing a lawn in khaki shorts with that same, placid face he always wears. He’s too ethereal and strange to trim the hedges or fix a leaky faucet. Sometimes, you think he’d look more in-place if he levitated instead of just walking everywhere.

“I had lemonade the other day,” he says, and this fascinates you, because it is so very rare for him to initiate conversation about something so little.

“...And? Did you like it?” Perhaps it’s petty, but you already have a feeling that he didn’t. You hate to presume, but you think you have similar palettes.

“...It was too sweet, and burdened by a lingering, chemical taste,” he confirms your vague conjecture and you very nearly laugh. Or make some sort of short, wry noise like a horse’s snort.

“Yeah. Ones that aren’t made from scratch tend to be like that.”

“And that is why you make your own.”

“Exactly,” you lift your gaze from him and return it to the sky. “When you make something from scratch, you can make however you like. Ones you buy pre-bottled have too much sugar.” He hums in acknowledgement, but says nothing else.

The twinkling stars are no more authentic than the clouds which hover during the day. But you wonder how many far off stars he has visited across the span of his long un-life. How many civilizations he has seen toppled, how many lives have ended at his hands. What a terrifying beast Yaoshi has created. Yet, here he lay beneath a sky he has likely long tired of, humoring your purposeless requests for reasons unknown.

—

You’re tucked on the steps off the side door, head leaned back and eyes shut, drinking in the warmth of the artificial midday sun. Blade leans up against the wall next to you, arms crossed. You don’t blame him for staying in the shade, not when he’s always dressed so darkly.

You shouldn’t show your stomach to a known apex predator. Your instincts are tampered down, but you still curl your spine and lift your knees to your chest when you usually it on the stoop. You haven’t done it, today. Anxiety thrums in the space right behind your eyes. The scared animal inside of you writhes in his presence. You look at him, gaze by happenstance falling on the profile of his chest.

Breasts, you think stupidly, and laugh aloud. The noise is so sudden that you almost don’t realize it came from you. Blade looks down at you like you’ve grown a second head, and you're still too caught up in your own disbelief. Spending so much time with him has softened your skill, started to fry your remaining brain cells. He’s always been handsome. But you’ve started to too keenly note the bow curve of his lips, the narrowness of his waist.

And you hate, hate, hate proving Luocha right.

“What is it that you find so amusing?” Blade speaks slowly, like he’s talking to a scared dog or a lost child.

“Nothing,” you shut your eyes and tilt your head back, letting it thump against the top step. Blade inhales sharply. “Just remembered a stupid joke I heard a few days ago.” When you open your eyes, Blade has turned away, inspecting a row of gladiolus planted next to the nearby shed. The line of his shoulders has gone tense.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” you muse.

“Did you plant them?”

“No. I delivered the seeds. Only a week ago, I think. They wouldn’t have been able to sprout this fast.”

“Under normal circumstances, perhaps,” Blade skates a finger over a bright orange petal. “That merchant utilizes his gift so shamelessly. Even while at the heart of his natural born enemy.”

“And it’ll all be for nothing if that damn cat comes and eats them,” you grunt. You’ev stumbled upon torn up patches of grass and bitten through flower patches, stems snapped and petals crushed. You briefly, in one of your pettiest and cruelest moments, nearly suggested Luocha plant lilies next. The callousness of your own thought had startled you into silence, so gladiolus it was.

“Ah. About the cat,” Blade begins. You blink, wide-eyed. A cold pit forms in your stomach, because—

“You didn’t,” you gape.

“I did not kill it,” Blade says sourly, clearly affronted by the assumption. “I brought it to Kafka. They seem to get along.”

The tension melts out of you at once. Your petty grudge isn’t worth the blood of an innocent animal. You let yourself fall back against the stoop. The edges of the stairs dig into your spine.

“That makes sense,” you say, a touch wry.

Blade grimaces. “They send me images of the little beast every day I am not there. If Silver Wolf is to be believed, it ‘eats better’ than she does.”

Does Silver Wolf eat well to begin with? “That was kind of you,” you say instead.

“Was it? Or was it cruel to the man who will wonder where his pet has gone?” Blade inquires. He doesn’t sound particularly bothered by the possibility.

You scoff. “I doubt he’ll even notice.”

—

You are natant in the dull haze of half-sleep. The soft scent of camelias and fabric softener and linens. A cloying warmth cocoons you, keeps you mired in a state of partial sleep. Burrowed beneath the comfort exists a nagging feeling of wrongness, like a pebble in your boot. You cling to the sensation, let it pull you from the inky, peaceful depths. You’re not sure how long it takes for you to breach the surface. It feels like ages by the time you pry your weary eyes open.

There’s a body crushed into you. An unyielding, solid mass of muscle. The scent of something charred wreathes around you. Your cheek is pressed up against a heartbeat, steady and strong. It would be comforting if you knew where you were, or who you were with.

Alarm, molten hot, jots down your spine. Shaken from your stupor, you begin to writhe. Your palms slap against the chest of the man beneath you. You brace yourself against him in an effort to pry yourself free.

An arm around your midriff tightens, and the panic grows. You lash out, snarl, a hand reaching behind you to grab onto the assailant’s wrist.

The room blurs, then. The breath is knocked from your lungs as you’re reoriented and pinned with minimal effort. Your eyes blow wide, gaze caught by those candlewick eyes. Blade’s hair is mussed from both sleep and the struggle. His lips are pulled into a snarl. Your gut squirms at the flash of those deadly canines—sharper than you’d imagined (he’s never bared his teeth at you).

“Stop,” he commands, low and throaty. You shudder, foolish hindbrain moved to obey the order. This, you realize, is what an alpha’s command must sound like.

As you lay beneath him, chest to heaving chest, the pieces of the previous night return to you in fragments and shades.

Blade came to your door at dusk’s end. The shuttles had shut down for the night. You let him in, quickly, before anyone could witness a known fucking criminal at your door. You fed him dinner, anyways. Spoke late into the night—about what you cannot truly recall. Somewhere around three in the morning, you must have nodded off.

“Have you calmed down?” Blade asks.

“Yes,” you grumble, feeling thoroughly chastised despite his flat and empty tone. You attempt to dislodge yourself a second time, but Blade stops you fast. “Blade—” The beginning of a feeling you cannot quite name crawls up your spine, up the back of your skull. It’s a creeping, white hot sensation. A sudden deprivation of air. His eyes have closed. You feel your pulse spike. “Blade.” You try again. “Let me up.”

He draws a shaky breath.

“You don’t understand, do you?”

“What is there for me to understand?” you ask, voice a tepid little thing. He laughs. The sound is manic and bitter. When he opens his eyes, they’re hot enough to burn a hole in you.

“I… remember you,” he begins slowly. There’s a creeping breathiness there, you feel it under your palms, writhing inside of his ribcage. “When you are not there. I remember how warm your hands are, the smell of your sweat—the taste of when we are… together. And I crave it every moment we are apart. It’s—maddening.”

“What.” you’re taken back, all the sudden, to the sixth time Sunday called you to his office. A servant of the Harmony, you were, still protected by your naivete, still convinced by the smiling faces and open arms which surrounded you. A child. A seed, among the older and wiser trees in Xipe’s forests.

You remember the exact shape of his lips when he said it—you remember how it felt. You feel the same way now, pinned like a little butterfly. Lost in the reeds.

“I remember you,” Blade continues, slower and calmer, now. Burning wood to dead charcoal. “When we are apart, you are all I remember, and the emptiness that exists in your shape is too much to bear. I need—” he licks his lips, his empty pupils blown so very wide.

“The mara becomes quiet, when we are together,” he whispers, like he’s sharing a secret. His eyes close. His forehead is a wide rash of heat, pressed against yours. He takes a single, shuddering inhale, breathing your air.

And you—you’re still frozen there, caught up in the vice of his body and the couch. You stare emptily beyond him. His face settles into the crook of your neck.

The lamplight flickers on and off.

#oz write #hungering for hsr #blade/reader #hsr/reader

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beautifulbrainrot · 1 year

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Idk if you do this but househusband!spencer fluff ?? ( also the white text doesn’t show up so you get purple ) 🪷

Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

househusband!spence in a cute lil apron awhhhh.!! kissing his neck while he cooks and swaying with him ayehejevegh

also dancing in the kitchen ?!! i didn’t write that in this but i want to now!

cw | fluffy!! spence in a cute lil apron being all happy and blushy awwhh, kinda allusions to smut?? reader likes his apron but it’s not 18+!

you dropped your bag on the sofa as you entered yours and spencer’s apartment, smiling contentedly at the feeling of being home after a long day.

your smile stretched wider as you heard you beloved boyfriend moving around in the kitchen, most likely preparing dinner for the both of you. you walked to the kitchen quickly, excited to see him after your tiring day.

as you rounded the corner to the kitchen you almost gasped, breath catching in your throat. the kitchen door was wide open to the sight of spencer, mixing a pot over the stove, dressed in his lounge clothes with the cutest white apron wrapped around him. you stood at the door silently for a few more seconds, savouring the adorable sight happily, smile still stretched wide across your face.

spencer felt a presence behind him as he stirred the pot, smiling softly to himself when he realised it was you.

“i can feel your eyes on me, you know.” he quipped, turning his head to shoot a playful smile at you before turning back to focus on his cooking.

you smiled back and walked up behind him, placing your hands gently on his hips and pressing soft kisses on his exposed neck. he giggled at the ticklish feeling, trying to wiggle away from you, but you just gripped his hips a little tighter and planted more sloppy kisses into his neck and up to his flushed face, eventually landing a loving kiss of his smiling lips.

you pulled back to admire the dopey, post-kiss look on his flushed face before looking down at what he was cooking.

“what’cha cooking here spence?” you questioned, closing your eyes as you breathed in the delicious aroma of whatever was boiling on the stove.

“it’s an apple and parsnip soup i found in the book of vegetable soup recipes we got the other day! try some, it’s really good!” he replied excitedly, using a spoon to bring some of the warm soup to your lips which you eagerly tasted.

you moaned softly at the delicious taste, and smiled. “it’s so good baby, i cant wait to have a bowl later!”

his face lit up with a smile at your praise.

“i’m also loving how you look in this cute little apron..” you continued, grasping his hips again . he giggled softly as you did, a blush spreading up his face.

“i thought you might..”

——————

i didn’t really proof read so sorry for any spelling mistakes hshshe

i will def write more like this! i want to make a tag list but idk if anyone would join ahh!

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #fluff #blurb #drabble #🪷#🪷 anon

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seresinhangmanjake · 1 year

Text

Back for More

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake up and left you without explanation right before a mission. Now he’s returned wanting you back, but you want that explanation before you’ll be willing to let go of the pain and heartbreak from his sudden departure a month prior.

Notes/Warnings: the beginnings of smut and smutty thoughts, so 18+, Minors DNI. Fluffy ending, angsty-ish, cursing, heartbreak stuff. Idk why I added an emotional attachment to peanut butter in this, but it’s in there. I’m sorry if you’re allergic. Just switch it out with frosting. Works just as well.

Also: This is unrelated to Signed Away. I know—random, odd time to post this, but I finished it so…yea. Sorry if that disappoints :(

Join my tag list

Words: 2518

Requested: Yes, mostly. The peanut butter thing is my weirdness alone though.

-------

He liked peanut butter. He liked eating it off you; spreading a thin layer along the line of your neck, or over your stomach, or around the hardened peaks of your breasts, just to lick it away. He would kiss you and you’d taste it on his tongue, that mixture of the pasty substance and your sweaty skin. He loved it, like it was the flavor of a drug he was unashamedly addicted to. He moaned like he would dedicate an hour of every day worshipping you in that way. And that’s exactly how he saw it, how you once saw it as well…worship.

After he left, you hated the stuff. It was too sticky, too gooey. Too salty or too sweet depending on the brand you bought, so you stopped buying it altogether. It wasn’t the same. Under that layer of salt or sweet was a glob of bitterness that made you spit out any spoonful you shoved past your lips. It hit your tongue and all you could taste was him. Him, after he had licked all over your body.

So you hated peanut butter—now—all because of Jake Seresin.

A month had passed without him. A month without any news. Those thirty days had come and gone, and you still had no idea if he was okay, if he was alive and safe. If not, you certainly wouldn’t be among the first notified, if notified at all. Jake claimed he wanted you to meet the important people in his life—his mother, his siblings, his team—but then he ended your relationship, and you didn’t have the slightest understanding of how many people knew of your existence, let alone who you once were to each other.

You tried to convince yourself that if he didn’t need you then you didn’t need him. And you were able to stay true to that conviction until a thought of him entered your mind or a random muscled, six-foot tall, blond man entered your peripherals while trying to run your errands. When that happened, you were left with no choice but to retreat to your bed and hug your knees to your chest as you gave it your best effort to breath in and out at a steady rhythm.

But when you inhaled, he was still beside you. No matter how many times you washed your bed sheets, you couldn’t escape his scent. It enveloped you. You drowned in it, letting it fill your lungs until the exhaustion of suffocating on tainted air wore you to sleep. And for a few hours, you didn’t have to remember it, him, and the agony that was eating away at you.

Don’t wake up. You heard the words, cloudy and out of reach. Just let us stay like this.

You could still smell him, but a warmth accompanied the scent now. The chill that had taken his place when he left now surrendered to the balminess of body heat. Featherlight touch made a line from your hairline to your jaw. A ghost’s fingertips. It was too good, too reminiscent of what home used to feel like, and you didn’t want to tempt the fates that whispered little cruelties of none of it being real, so you listened to the hazy words and let yourself stay in your dream, tucked away from reality.

When you woke, the world was gray. Sunless gray phasing into black. For the first time, you felt a kinship with Mother Nature. Perhaps she was miserable at the moment as well. Maybe she had turned the sky drab and filled it with dark, swollen clouds because she too thought she sensed her lost lover only to realize they had been a figment of the unconscious. If that was the case, then you took back every time you cursed her for pelting rain or frigid winds. No one deserved the pain of—

“Hi.”

You perked at the sound—a jolt to the system—and you whipped around. He stood somewhat rigid in your doorway, drying his damp hands on one of your dishrags. You’d seen this image before: Jake standing before you, waiting with a smile on his face for you to fully wake so he could drag you into the kitchen for an expertly prepared breakfast. But there was no smile this time, no gentle curve to the lips, no glint in the irises.

“Are you real?” you asked, blinking once, twice, to clear your vision, but he was still there.

“Real as ever,” he replied softly.

You couldn’t hold back your light scoff, your eyes rolling and landing on the rag in his hands as he continued.

“I, uh…” he threw a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of your kitchen, “I made you something to eat. When I came in earlier you looked like you could use some—”

“Jake, what the hell are you doing here?”

A beat passed. He stared blankly, like your question was out of the realm of the conversation, like it belonged somewhere else. Then his head fell forward, shoulders slumping to match his look of defeat as he fiddled with the rag. He tossed it on the mattress and ran a perfect hand through his perfect hair before looking at you.

“I’m back,” he answered simply. Too simply, irritatingly so.

“I didn’t invite you back.”

“I know, baby, but I need to explain—”

“You dumped me!”

“I made a mistake!” He snapped, then much quieter, repeated, “I made a mistake, ok?”

He waited for you to give him something in return, but you had nothing to give, nothing to share, nothing to reassure him that you felt any emotion at his words.

“I…” He took a step forward, but further examination of your empty features had him halting. “I thought I was doing you a favor.”

Your eyebrow quirked and you resisted the urge to cross your arms like a brat. “A favor?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “A month ago, I was assigned on a mission that forced me to remember the harsh sacrifices my job requires; not just of me, but of those I love,” he said, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress, still a good four feet from you. “I couldn’t guarantee it was going to end well. And realizing that it might not told me all I needed to know. That you don’t deserve to have the burden of losing someone you love that way. You shouldn’t have a boyfriend or husband who might end up dead.”

You considered it all, words absorbing into every pore and vein of your body. But once it sunk in, anger was what surfaced in its place. If that thought were ever to cross someone’s mind, it should have been yours; yours well before it should have been his. And yet, never did it. Not once had anything remotely close breached the barrier around your mind. That was how much you loved him. That was how dedicated and devoted you were. Everything you gave to him—your body, heart, emotions, love, loyalty—you had handed over with purpose. You knew you were giving yourself to the right person, and yet, the right person let you go.

“That’s not how it works, Jake,” you said. “You don’t just leave someone because of…” you shook your head, “If you loved me you—”

“I do love you!” he said sternly; not harshly, yet with absolute surety. “I have always loved you, Y/N, so do not try to take that away from me.”

“Then what do you want, Jake?”

“I want everything,” he replied. “I want you to want me back. I want to see you every day. I want you to…” His mouth was open, caught in mid-sentence, but then it closed as a cautious smile spread across his face. “I just want you.”

“And you’re suddenly fine with the idea of us being together again?” Thinning your lips, you shrugged your shoulders in false, nearly sarcastic, nonchalance. “Just like that? No big deal?”

“My job shouldn’t be a defining factor in our relationship. It took me losing you to see that, but believe me, I see it.”

“You didn’t lose me, Jake. You gave me up.”

The painful reminder pinched his features. “I know, and I’m a selfish prick for coming back, but not being with you…” He sighed and swallowed, then he shook his head and said, “I don’t know, sweetheart. Living life not being together may be an option for you, but it isn’t an option for me. I was stupid to think I could convince myself otherwise.” He looked down at his hands. Fingers intertwining, he leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. A few strands of hair fell from the defined shape but he didn’t bother to fix it.

A heavy sigh fell from his lips.

“If you decide you don’t want me,” he continued, his voice slicing into the few moments deafening silence, “that’s your right. But I don’t think I’ll ever get over you.”

“Why?”

He chuckled weakly and finally smoothed the wayward hairs back into place. “I’m not entirely convinced it’s possible.”

“And you think it’s possible for me?”

He turned his head to look at you, desperation clashing with more desperation. “I’d rather it not be,” he said, “but to wish for that would be selfish as well.”

It most certainly would be. You’d spent hours, days, weeks, going over in your head what you would say if ever you were to meet Jake Seresin again after what he’d done. Cursing was in abundance in your imaginings, spoken in an unrestrained tone while you held back unshed tears like a seasoned champ. The words exchanged in the last few minutes didn’t do justice to those thoughts, but now, as you looked at him and heard his truth, you couldn’t find it in you to spit more his way. So, selfish was he, yes, but his wish was not so unlikely to be granted. You knew you would never get over him either.

Sitting up on your knees, you crawled across the mattress until you were close enough to lean your chest against his back and wrap your arms around his neck. A large hand landed on one of your forearms, sliding back and forth along your skin.

“I missed you,” he said, quiet, practically to himself as he pressed a kiss to the inner side of your wrist. “I missed your scent.” Another kiss, lips open, accompanied by a small, warm lick from his tongue. “I missed your taste.”

You rested your chin on his shoulder and he turned his head to catch your eye. His gaze darted to your lips and back.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

Your breath shallowed, but you nodded.

He didn’t instantly attack you the way you anticipated. Instead, he licked his lips, shifted his body, and with a gentle hand, pushed you down on the mattress until he was hovering above you. The leg he had wedged between your thighs brushed against your barely clothed core, forcing a whimper that was cut short by the press of his lips on yours.

“God, I didn’t think you’d ever let me touch you again,” he whispered between kisses, “I thought I—”

“Jake,” you stopped him, your hands on either side of his face, “if you do this a second time…if you leave…”

“Baby, I won’t,” he swore. “We don’t have to keep going right now if you don’t want to, but I’m not leaving you.”

Your stare flicked back and forth from his right eye to his left and back again, searching for a lick of dishonesty. Trust was never an issue in your relationship before, but this time, and rightly so, you wanted to verify his sincerity for yourself. His eyes never lied, and thankfully you could see now that he wasn’t deceiving you.

“Then I want you inside me,” you said as you reached your hand between your bodies and began to take apart his belt. He watched your fingers work, his eyes briefly slamming shut when you snuck your hand behind the band of his underwear to pull out his hardening cock.

“Really?” he breathed out in relief. His pearly whites peeked through the soft curve of his lips.

You smiled back. “Really, Jake.”

With the hand not wrapped around him, you gathered your t-shirt up to your navel and reached toward your thighs to pull the center of your underwear to the side. The chill that hit your core made you clench tightly, desperate to have something fill you. “Come on, baby.”

You gently tugged on his cock until he moved closer and lowered himself on top of you. Your hips lifted, forcing his tip to bump against your clit, and Jake blew out a jagged breath, allowing his head to fall into the crook of your neck. He took three more inhales, heat of the exhales fanning against your collarbone, then his hand lightly slapped at yours so he could take his cock back before he lined up with your entrance and guided himself through your folds.

“Everyone still wants to meet you,” he said.

You both laid on your sides, chest to chest, your arm wrapped around his waist as he brushed his fingers through your hair and gently massaged your scalp. You were still a bit dizzy in the aftermath of what you’d done to one another. Your head was a little heavy, and your eardrums felt full and fuzzy from your rushing blood, and your eyelids were growing weak. You shifted your leg and were reminded of the ache at your core. You’d not had sex in a month and Jake had a cock not easily adjusted to. He had been careful with you, gentle, and he took his time, but that didn’t stop his size from stretching you to your limit.

“They know about me?” You asked. The question came out lazily, thick and syrupy with elongated words.

“Mhmm.” He pressed a kiss to your damp forehead. “My mom is begging. I told her if you take me back then I’m going to marry you—or going to try to, anyway, seeing as you’d have to agree.”

Your head tilted back so you could better look him in the eyes. “Jake—”

“Don’t panic,” he soothed. “I’m not asking now. I think we both know I need to earn it first.”

You smiled and lengthened your neck for a kiss, which he eagerly returned, before tucking your head against his chest. You pressed your lips to his pec and nuzzled into him. He smelled amazing, even with the layer of your combined dying sweat sticking to his muscled body. He smelled like home. And Jake was home, your home, just as you were his.

“I’ve missed the peanut butter, Jake,” you mumbled.

He chuckled and hugged you closer and said, “I love you too, baby.”

A/N: I have no real excuse for this. The idea just wouldn’t leave my head.

tags: @marvel-ousnesss @thespeeder @nobody7102 @marrianena @blue-aconite @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @dempy @chaoticassidy @alana4610 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @dracosluvbot @smoothdogsgirl @smit41 @wkndwlff @rileyloves5 @gigisimsonmars @hangmanbrainrot @withakindheartx

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