#when my replies make no sense for their verses

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

BNHA

something else to pretend by beeclaws

Bakugou apologies. Somehow, this makes things worse.

Retrograde by redrobin1989

Retrograde /ˈretrəˌɡrād/ adjective: directed or moving backwards noun: a degenerate person. verb: go back in position or time.

Seasoned pro heroes Midoriya Izuku and Bakugou Katsuki are mentally transported back to their younger bodies due to a quirk. All they have to do is wait for the quirk to wear off for everything to return to normal. But sometimes the journey is worse than the destination.

DC

dick move by konan_konan

Part 1 of batfam twitter shenanigans

dim trake ☑ @timdrakeceo・52min guys what if dick grayson IS batman. that’s why he thought he was getting cancelled. it all makes sense. 784K Views | 142 Retweets | 52 Quote Tweets | 63.9K Likes

tason jodd ☑ @jsntdd・49min ↳ replying to @timdrakeceo asshole last week you said i was batman 461K Views | 88 Retweets | 16 Quote Tweets | 18.3K Likes

or: a civilian overhears a conversation between batman and nightwing. twitter does what it always does: makes things worse

the rules of playing make believe by hoebiwan

“We can’t squat in some dead guy’s mansion, Damian,” Tim says. Damian, in the midst of packing all their meager belongings into grocery sacks, ignores him.

“Why not?” Jason demands. “It’s not like he’s using it. Finders keepers, losers weepers.”

Or: Homeless!Reverse Robins squat in Wayne Manor.

Nine Worlds

with a winged heart by celebros

"Cliopher. Cliopher. Cliopher." I blink. It's Conju, standing with his hands on my shoulders, and I go to answer him and realize that I am already speaking, babbling, and Franzel is behind him, wringing his hands and looking near tears. I try to focus on what I'm saying, but it's like a stream, light and splashing past me, too quick to hold, not enough to catch, somehow, somehow – A few weeks before the start of the viceroyship ceremonies, Kip finds himself the unwitting recipient of a truth serum.

Original Work

That Frightful Nest Inside the Throat by whereveryouroam

Part 1 of That Dreadful Clockwork Beats Below

Living horses were in vogue among the high and mighty of the great families, but Peter’s new owners had sent proud motorhorses, clicking over in a blur of cogs and wheels, to draw the carriage. It was a very nice carriage - plush and cushioned. He couldn’t help but think this was sinister. Masters didn’t transport slaves in finery. At least, not slaves like him.

Peter’s spent years under the cruelty of masters who want the Monster inside him to become their weapon. He is quite sure that Lord and Lady Arken will be no different.

Percy Jackson

Through rose-colored glasses (the past is perfect) by Mo13

Part 1 of Rose-colored glasses verse

Luke/Percy were in a non-consensual 'relationship' when Percy was twelve. Percy deals with the aftermath, while constantly convincing himself that his relationship with Luke was fine (IT WAS NOT). Mostly cooperates with canon up to the end of Heroes of Olympus.

The Goblin Emperor

A Complete Education by bomberqueen17

Preparing for the Emperor's wedding, everyone has some things they need to learn about.

Emperor's Best Friend by imaginary_golux

Ino and Mireän decide their cousin Maia needs a special present for his twentieth birthday.

a burning coal of kindness by egelantier for Morgan (duckwhatduck)

When Maia is kidnapped by a faction hoping to halt the construction of Wisdom Bridge, Beshelar, gravely injured, is by his side. It might just be their undoing.

The Stairs Beneath the Heart by hermitknut

Part 1 of Keystone

The reign of Varenechibal IV is over; the reign of Edrehasivar VII has begun. The transition, however, is anything but smooth, as the Alcethmeret household navigates grief and worry as well as adapting to the new emperor.

A series of missing scenes and unseen moments centering around the Alcethmeret household over the course of the first few months of Maia's reign.

#sorry for the delay you guys!!! #i'm in the middle of moving house ooft #weekly fic round up #my posts #tge recs #dc recs #bnha recs #pjo recs #hote recs #misc recs #fic recs

[shymaidxn]

@flovverworks | cont. from ( x )

Of course she pauses when they finally get the courage to speak, her entire process halting with her key dangling from the lock. Ah...They doted on her so much. She knew by now that it was their nature to just be concerned over their friend - no matter how close that friendship was - and it truly was a comfort at her low points to have such a caring neighbor. But her heart aches at the offer too. Her thoughts still flooded with self-deprecation, seeing Akira and knowing that, while they cared so much, this was also just business too. It's not their fault, though, even if her annoyance and worry presents itself with quick words and furrowed brows. Oh, she should just tell her mom to help her move apartments, but that wouldn't solve anything. Her mother and Bishop would both reject the idea when she felt so safe in this little complex. And, despite the cloud hanging over her, she'd hate to leave her only other friend...

"...I'm sorry." She says it in a dry laugh, finally giving Akira the time of day and looking them in the eye. This situation always sucks though, forcing a small smile, while not sure what exactly to say to ease the situation. God, she really was so boring and terrible...

"I'll, um...Let me, first -" She doesn't finish before grabbing her keys from her door, putting them back in her purse before taking a step towards Akira. A bit shaky, a bit stiff, yet trying to laugh off nerves with tired, smiling eyes. "...I'd love to try a cup. I feel like my tea selection has gotten a bit same-old, same-old anyways, you know? I should try new things once in awhile..."

#flovverworks #v: shining in a new light #( *poses like a model in the middle of the runway* angst is in season~ #anyways #GETS SHAKEN!!!!!!!! #HER MODERN VERSE JUST MAKES IT MORE AAAAAAAAAAAA #i will give you so many more. when i have the energy (which idk maybe soon~) but yeah #HMMMMMMM i've thought about making her like 16 in modern. and that her contract expires when she's 18. #or like 18 to 20 but she's definitely young; since the idol industry goes.....young;;;;;; #but yes she's definitely so much younger than akira #thAT DIFFICULT LINE IS MY FAV PART OF YOUR REPLY but also it's so true just aaaaaaaaaaaaah #akira's hesitation and knowing that their friends but also bishop's concern being kind of the same way #caring in a friend / familial sense; but also from a business standpoint of “you're our best girl; you can't get hurt” #and diantha definitely knows it's more caring from akira but also “producer” from another friendly company that's kinda roped in to help he #yet she knows their so genuine but she also feels bad both in a friend sense and in making trouble for both their companys #screaming and crying in my head rn #anyways though the cat furniture must be the best thing in existence FGFGFGJHGHKJHGCV #DFGDFHGHGFCHFGVCHF TEXTING DIANTHA LIKE “look at this cat couch!! that arms are huge paws!!” “did s/o approve?” “they will when they see it #how many cat things does diantha hold in her apartment until akira can clean up and put them where they want them to be #how many would she have to hold while akira tries to convince their s/o that it's the PURRFECT IDEA and then their s/o facepalms #also the “more books than a normal place” comment: ummm diantha has read all of them and requests akira to buy more #not like she also doesn't have her own massive bookshelf filled with random books #ranging from her own tastes to fan gifts / reccommendations #ALSO OF COURSE I MENTION THE OTHER MAIDENS + BISHOP they are my lifeblood on this blog #the shock diantha will feel learning bishop's name is actually poppy...diola would make a comment like “your hair isn't red tho?” or smth #I STILL NEED TO REREAD THEIR SEASONALS i'll do that when i get home tonight )

[longagoitwastuesday]

Do you have favorite actors for the various roles in "Cyrano de Bergerac"? I would love to hear your thoughts!

I do! I actually rambled a lot about this while I was watching the different productions I could get my hands on (I tagged it "Cyrano de Bergerac" and "I talk too much").

My favorite productions are the one with José Ferrer and the one with Benoit Solès, and those actors make the best Cyranos in my opinion. Though that's probably something in part beyond the actors' choice, their dynamic with their respective Roxane and Christian are the best ones, I think, and I find how Cyrano moves around these two particular characters at the core of a good Cyrano characterisation.

José Ferrer's use of his voice, which is arguably Cyrano's true most characteristic feature, is unmatched imo (although McAvoy does a very good job with this too), and he manauvers very well several of the different aspects of the character, such as his playfulness, his shittiness and longing. By the end of the play you believe he is the most beautiful man on Earth. Cyrano, however, is a bit pathetic (not just in a "pathos" way), and I'd say Ferrer gives off an air full of dignity very fitting of many scenes, but that eats almost entirely this aspect of Cyrano; Benoit Solès manages this very well, while also playing well with some of the other ones, such as the playfulness, the longing, the pain and the despair. Both Ferrer and Solès are hilarious, tender, a bit shitty, vulnerable, playful and sad. Albeit neither of them portrays 100% what Cyrano is, I think both come pretty close in slightly different flavours, and by the end of the play one ends up being terribly fond of them.

My favourite Roxane is Clara Huet in the production with Benoit Solès, but Mala Powers in the 1950 film is a close second. I think they portray wonderfully Roxane's spunk, and her mix of honest playful cheerfulness and her haughtiness, her intelligence and wit, and how much like Cyrano she is.

I've not come to love for now any Christian as much as I've loved Ferrer, Solès, Huet and Powers, but again I think the Christians in the 1950 film and the Solès productions are very very good. I love the dynamic they have with their Cyranos, especially the one Christian and Cyrano have in the 1950 film, enhanced positively by the added scenes (they actually work so well in showing their developing as friends, their deep love and care for each other!). I don't want to expand too much on this to avoid spoilers (beyond the already known 'Christian dies' ones I mean), but some things they do with both these Christians are a thing of genius, and both feel vulnerable, kind, ready to fight and truly desperate at times; I like when they do that.

There's an Italian production which has a Cyrano I truly enjoy as well, despite how they dumbify him more than I usually like my Christians. His mix of anger and deep pain when he discovers Cyrano's feelings for Roxane were so well made, and his physical presence makes you identify who Christian is even before the play starts.

The Podalydès production has two different Christians. The one in the version on youtube isn't bad, but @ride-a-dromedary likes Éric Ruf a lot. I actually adore him based on the clips and gifs she's posted of him, but I haven't been able to find the version with him online, so I can't know. But he truly seems one of the best. Based on what little I've seen, I love his intense gazes and subtle gestures.

I'm not entirely sold on any Le Bret, De Guiche or Ragueneau yet.

I think the German musical has a decent Ragueneau in vibes, and the 1990 French film does as well. I found his poem made song for what I think is a Spanish production (I'm not sure if it's a fan creation based on the Spanish production), and while I've not been able to find that production online, the song works well in vibes too I think.

The German musical's Le Bret in vibes is very good. He encompasses well his deep love and worry for Cyrano while also being done with his shit. They truly feel like close friends. The 1950 film kind of combines Gaston de Castel-Jaloux and Le Bret into one character, which sadly changes Le Bret's dynamic with Cyrano a bit, but that's a very good Le Bret as well. The one in Solès' production is pretty good too. He has my favourite delivery of the scene in which Le Bret chastises Cyrano for risking his life sending letters.

De Guiche is complicated. I think productions often make him too pathetic and laughable or too bad, so bad it makes the last act kind of not make sense. The 1950 one, the 1990 French one, the Kevin Kline one and the Solès one are all good, but I am not passionate for any of them either.

And basically that's it!

#I'm sorry for such a long reply‚ it wasn't my intention. In fact I tried to keep it short but oops #As an extra I'll say that the Japanese film based on Cyrano‚ Life of an Expert Swordsman‚ has a quite good main trio #The Christian character is pretty‚ noble and kind. The Roxane character is smart and well-versed in poetry and a writer in her own right #I loved when productions enhance these aspects of these characters #Kline isn't a bad Cyrano‚ but he is a bit too unbelievable to me. He is too pretty being too old. I already don't like these characters #being old because it makes it lose some sense (they're idiots in part because they are young) but he is so fit for a ~60yo which is like... #Really? The nose? A young man with the same traits is more believable to be self-conscious and think himself unlovable I'd say #I like that Kline comes off at times as a bit cruel and violent and I think it works well with how he is a lot of fun #But at times he is so much fun it ruins the mood‚ although this is a problem of the production in general and of it being based #on Burgess' translation‚ which is something I could ramble about on its own and that makes me kinda mad #I think Depardieu on the other hand falls short on being fun. He tries so hard it isn't funny and it often feels a bit pathetic to me #but not in the way Cyrano is meant to be. On the other hand‚ I felt Depardieu was too full of himself in this film and was too aware #of being he protagonist. The thing about Cyrano is that he doesn't think he is #All in all‚ the more I watch this film the less I like it and his portrayal of Cyrano. I also don't like their Christian and Roxane #(although she isn't as bad as the Klein production of Roxane‚ who is for me among the worst) #I'm not sold at all on the 2021 Roxane either‚ and this Cyrano is so much the dashing tragic hero that he isn't funny #which is one of Cyrano's main characteristics. So I don't like the 2021 Cyrano a lot either. But that's not due to the acting‚ #but because the musical does a poor work at being an adaptation of the play and its characters I'd say #The worst Cyrano out of the ones I've seen is perhaps the one in the Italian production I've mentioned that had a Christian I liked #Their Roxane was awful too but iirc Le Bret was good and Ragueneau was decent #I'm not into the Podalydès Cyrano at all. One of the Cyranos I enjoy the least I must admit. But at least he isn't that Italian one #I conclusion‚ and I always feel kinda sectarian‚ everyone should watch the Benoit Solès version #The José Ferrer film is popular enough not to mention #I talk too much #Cyrano de Bergerac

[cagesings]

@heygutlcss​  /  riff  sent:  “  i  know,  i  know.  you  asked  me  to  leave  you  alone.  but  that  was  two  weeks  ago,  okay?  and  i  haven’t  heard  from  you.  you  aren’t  answering  my  texts,  you  aren’t  even  reading  them.  nobody’s  seen  or  heard  from  you,  and…  and  now  i  just  want  to  know  that  you’re  okay.  so  please,  open  your  door,  and  let  me  make  sure  that  you’re  safe,  will  you?  “(  i'm  assuming  it's  cause  the  judge  found  out?  not  sure  how  modern  would  work  for  them  but  i  am  intrigued!)

            he  wasn’t  supposed  to  be  there.  the  moment  her  guardian  practically  threw  her  into  that  place,  johanna  waited,  rocking  back  and  forth  on  her  heels,  for  anthony.  for  anthony  who  she  knew  would  find  her.  for  anthony  who  would  save  her  from  this  personal  hell.  during  the  more-than  limited  visiting  hours,  she  waited  with  her  stomach  full  of  fire  for  one  of  the  nurses  to  peek  into  the  room  she  was  assigned  to  with  all  the  other  girls  they  told  her  were  like  her,  and  wait  for  her  to  say  that  she  had  a  visitor.  it  would  be  anthony.  it  would  be  anthony  and  johanna  would  nearly  skip  to  the  little  jail-like  area  where  the  visitors  were  allowed  and  he  would  be  there.  when  the  nurse  finally  popped  her  head  into  the  room  during  visiting  hours  and  johanna  followed  her  to  that  little  area,  it  was  not  anthony.  

            it  was  him.  

            anthony  told  her  about  him  once.  anthony  told  her  everything.  on  the  day  of  their  high  school  graduation,  he  showed  her  a  picture  he  had  saved  on  his  phone  and  told  her  all  about  the  friend  he  made  in  new  york  city.  anthony  mentioned  him  before  that  but  johanna  actually  got  a  name  that  day.  riff.  not  the  name  on  his  birth  certificate.  anthony  shrugged  and  told  her  that’s  what  everyone  called  him.  he  told  her  that  riff  was  going  to  come  to  their  wedding.  johanna  watched  as  he  ordered  the  plane  ticket  for  him.  ordering  that  plane  ticket  meant  it  was  real.  that  they  were  going  to  get  married.  

            johanna  slid  into  the  chair  across  from  riff,  staring  back  at  him  with  the  eyes  of  a  wounded  deer.  this  is  anthony’s  friend,  she  told  herself  in  order  to  try  to  calm  herself  down.  he  probably  just  found  her  first  and  he  would  tell  her  that  anthony  is  on  his  way.  it  didn’t  prevent  her  leg  from  bouncing  up  and  down  though.  

            he  told  her  the  worst  news  of  her  life.  he  told  her  anthony  was  dead.  she  didn’t  believe  him.  not  until  he  showed  her  proof  of  the  accident  that  killed  him.  not  until  he  told  her  about  how  he  called  her  name  in  the  hospital  room  and  the  barber  and  the  baker  he  told  her  about  were  at  his  side  when  he  took  his  final  breath.  johanna  didn’t  believe  him  but  once  she  could,  she  knew  it  was  the  judge  who  was  behind  it.  

            the  clock  on  the  wall  ticked  away  at  the  minutes  as  the  thoughts  in  her  head  screamed  louder  than  any  of  the  patients  in  the  building  ever  could.  if  anthony  was  dead,  the  plan  she  came  up  with  in  the  many  months  she  was  there  was  over.  until  she  looked  back  up  at  riff  who  was  somehow  still  sitting  in  front  of  her.  

            will  you  marry  me?  johanna  asked  him.  it  was  the  only  way  she  figured  out  how  to  escape  with  anthony.  the  only  people  who  could  get  her  released  from  the  hospital  were  either  her  legal  guardian  who  put  her  here  or  her  spouse.  her  directions  were  direct  and  whispered.  if  he  could  get  a  marriage  license  and  the  necessary  paperwork,  she  already  asked  one  of  the  girls  to  sign  as  a  witness  (  at  the  coast  of  having  to  help  her  hide  her  food  for  a  week  and  a  half  )  and  a  man  who  previously  became  an  officiant  for  his  sister’s  wedding.  they  only  had  to  hope  that  he  was  himself  the  day  riff  came  back  as  a  visitor.  

            when  he  returned,  the  papers  were  signed  swiftly.  the  guards  nodded  at  riff  to  leave.  a  few  days  felt  like  all  those  months  she  already  waited  but  by  the  end,  a  nurse  gave  her  the  clothes  she  came  in  back  and  johanna  was  free  to  leave.  with  her  husband.  

            they  stayed  under  the  radar  for  months.  longer  than  johanna  expected  it  to  be.  they  fought.  they  misunderstood  each  other.  for  the  first  time  in  her  entire  life,  she  got  a  phone.  just  so  they  could  keep  track  of  each  other.  even  all  the  fighting  between  the  two  of  them  was  too  good  to  be  true.  

            it  was  another  fight.  the  walls  were  too  suffocating.  the  air  was  too  thick  to  breath.  johanna  did  the  one  thing  she  tried  to  do  for  her  entire  life.  run  away.  she  wasn’t  leaving  for  good.  she  simply  needed  some  fresh  air.  apparently,  the  need  for  some  fresh  air  could  lead  to  a  black  car  pulling  up  beside  her  and  the  window  rolled  down  to  reveal  the  face  of  the  man  she  hated  most.  the  next  thing  she  knew,  johanna  was  back  in  her  old  bedroom.  

            her  forehead  leans  against  the  door,  pausing  to  speak  until  after  he  was  done.  she  couldn’t  read  his  texts.  the  judge  took  her  phone  and  smashed  it  on  the  table  right  in  front  of  her.  one  of  the  pieces  flew  against  her  skin.  there’s  still  a  red  mark  from  it  on  her  wrist.  it  wasn’t  supposed  to  be  two  weeks  (  is  that  how  long  it’s  been?  ).  it  wasn’t  even  supposed  to  be  two  hours.  why  he’s  here,  she  doesn’t  understand.  

            ❝  how  did  you  find  it?  here?  ❞  johanna  raises  her  voice  just  loud  enough  for  riff  to  hear  on  the  other  side  of  the  door.  ❝  you’re  lucky  the  judge  isn’t  here,  you  know  that  right?  if  he  were  here  .  .  .  you’d  be  .  .  .  you’d  be  anthony.  ❞  the  last  part  is  whispered  to  herself.  anthony  tried  to  help  her.  he  tried  to  make  plans  for  them  to  run  away  once  they  were  at  university.  anthony  is  dead.  

            ❝  i  can’t  open  it  up.  it’s  locked.  ❞  he  made  sure  she  saw  it  when  he  locked  the  door  behind  him.  ❝  he,  um,  he  looked  through  all  the  records.  that’s  how  he  found  the  marriage  license  and  things.  it  was  under  barker.  maybe  he  also  went  through  my  phone  -  i  don’t  know.  ❞  using  the  door  as  a  guide,  she  slides  down  to  her  knees.  ❝  he  stalked  me.  i  wasn’t  smart  enough  so  he  found  me.  ❞  she  pauses.  ❝  i  think  he’s  .  .  .  well,  he’s  out.  maybe  he’s  trying  to  track  you  down.  you  married  me.  ❞  in  a  smaller  voice,  johanna  continues,  ❝  i’m  sorry.  it  wasn’t  supposed  to  be  two  weeks.  ❞      

#darks when i tell you that i have been thinking about this for am embarrassingly long time #i mean it #i hope it shows in this monster of a reply oh my gosh i'm so sorry #their plan could work kind of the same way the only thing holding them back is that it's well less easy to get married in this day and age #also made jo a little bit older because in her modern verse she's a little older when she marries anthony and i had to keep turpin alive for #a little bit longer so this can happen #but i figured anthony's dad or whatever was in the military so they stayed in nyc for a little while so that's how anthony knew riff #and that's how he got him to england #since there's better technology now turpin can find the records of their marriage and track jo down and abduct her so it makes perfect sense #that he can find her here #as long as turpin's alive jo would prefer to remain married just because turpin still wants to marry her also she doesn't have a job so #but once he's dead she gets his money!! they won't have to be completely broke in this verse!! #i hope my rambles make sense idk #*❈ ‣ ❝ 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒌𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈， 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒌𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒔 ❞ — ( interaction. ) #*❈ ‣ ❝ 𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒚 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 ❞ — ( v. modern. ) #heygutlcss #long post tw #medical tw #medical illness tw #adduction tw #kidnapping tw #murder tw #death tw

[otakejin]

❛ i’m starting to think you like wasting my time. ❜ // Asura

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃   |   dark and angsty. @kiriisu   :     ❪  asura  ❫

Dragging speech cuts off abruptly,  amber eyes blinking slowly at the interruption to his monologue,  before shark - grin once again settles upon brazen mien.   Sun - kissed face gleams blustering hubris,  calluses home upon gilded hilt of the sacred jade blade,  and he regards the other wearing a proud smirk flashing of pointed teeth.   Golden halo crackling static revolves his head tilted skyward in a haughty angle,  scoff piercing the air.       ❝   You’ve pretty impatient,  aren’t you ?   ❞        He tosses his head back and laughs.       ❝   Hahaha,  very well then !!   I,  Otakemaru,  will be your opponent.   ❞        Drawing his treasured sword from its scabbard at his waist,  dual - edge glints like dripping fangs of the great white    ──    confident in his victory,  unfaltering like the great mountains he was named for.

It soon becomes clear that his opponent is weighed down by some invisible burden fettering blood - red arms that could have ripped through the kijin’s barriers of earth many times over  [ … ]   he withdraws,  twisted scowl dampening voracity for an opponent that should be matching him blow for blow.   Willing his sword back to his grip and returning the sacred relic to hang idly at his waist,  he accuses,       ❝   You are holding back on me.   ❞        Indignation churning beneath tanned skin roils his vision like storm clouds overcast the sun,  he notices naught the stain of emotion in the other’s expression,  disrespect not amongst the mud.

Although self - centered in his presumption,  evenly inflexible and unwilling to see beyond himself  [  stubborn,  but not unkind in his perceptions ;  he does not notice how people wish he wouldn’t bear the weight of the world upon his shoulders so that they don’t have to  ]   he searches for reason.       ❝   If you don’t fight back seriously,  you will be killed right here,  right now,   ❞        His threat is hardened with warning in place of an unasked question.   The kijin doesn’t understand what hinders the other man,  and perhaps he has no yearning to know,  yet he stills his sword as ‘ she ’ would have done    ──    a waiting blade clutched in one hand while the other hand extended in peace offering,  keeping an open - mind so unlike his own.

#kiriisu #*.ﾟ⛩┆ ❛ in character. #i am sorry for his cocky bastard energy its off the charts #he likes to toot his own horn #ALSO. i saw that we had the same idea when responding to these asks #i already had this half written when i saw u posted the reply to my ask #so i attempted to have it make some amount of sense #(u can just treat this as a standalone its a bit messy) #anyway! tysm for the ask #*.ﾟ⛩┆ ❛ verse i ：❪ ﹠ sealand boss. ❫

[mythvoiced]

@jeoseungsaja | the GBEP

---

Well, it's not something he'd admit with ease, misplaced pride and all that, but the goblin can't actively lie about it either, the matter of the fact that he is competitive, especially in all manners regarding love.

Maybe even up against the very subject, object, past present of his love, entering his field of vision like petals blown from a peach tree to wash over the profile of a monk sat there beneath it, praying not for salvation or atonement, but in gratitude of the ease of heart he's been granted.

In gratitude for the ease of heart Yeo has granted him, gentle and fiery in his presence, a crackling flame in a fireplace during cold winters and winter nights that were just so-so, his favourite excuse to pretend he likes the outdoors more or the indoors more or wherever it is that Yeo is so he doesn't have to say out loud how every place becomes his favourite if that crown of cinnabar is the silhouette he's following into it.

It'd be an easy concession to make, if he were to allow it to roll of his tongue like a saving grace pressed as a kiss onto a sinner's forehead. But he's the punished here, he's the sinner, and he finds such a confession might be too heavy for a conversation accompanied by the melody of Yeo's smile, the ease of his movements, the flowers appearing in Shin's hand, and the reverberation of the shiver of Shin's everything at the most minute of touches Yeo delivers to his skin.

He kisses him softly and with reverence and Shin has to keep the altars out of his voice, the confessionals out of his eyes as he lets the fox of his heart guide his face.

He goes along the way he'd follow him to the very end of the world and then some, the way he'd break any oath and any vow for him, the way he'd become a monster and than a little bit worse than that if it meant ridding the world of all evil that haunts Yeo, even though he muses Yeo wouldn't appreciate that, having his absolution ripped from him.

But he would.

He would because it's him.

He would because the little shit knows what he's doing.

Shin, terribly and divinely enamoured by the soft petals unfurling beneath his general's fingers when he brushes them over the flower crown, finds a corner of his heart to save the image of it in and then puts it aside, reaches out to the coffee table to place the crown down as gently as though it were made of the most precious crystals this timeline has to offer.

All because he must free his hand to hold something even more valuable.

He reaches out, smooths his hand along Yeo's side, moving along with it to get the necessary stretch past his hip, past his waist, find a spot in his lower back to press into while his other hand grabs Yeo's free hand, pulling him closer, inviting him into his lip where he might admire him better.

"Maybe I am," he answers belatedly, admitting that, well, yeah, maybe he is that competitive, smiling widely enough to kid the world into believing they aren't the pained veterans they are.

He pulls his hand away from Yeo's, finds a line to trace from his cheekbone to his temple, unorthodox in relation to himself and the gentleness he has for Yeo.

"And if I can have that domain too... I'd only be a fool not to take it. And you, my King? Do you know where you reign?"

#jeoseungsaja #the goblin;kim shin #a drop of red is it the wounds in your soul or the bright fox heritage on your head;verse 4 wang yeo #the length of my life becomes apparent when i realise how much of it we spent apart;verse 4 wang yeo & kim shin #ALEX MY ADORED LOOKIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I DIDN'T GET BACK ON DISCORD YESTERDAY (15/05 as of posting this hehehe) BUT #HERE I SHALL YELL ABOUT YEOSHIN VIA THIS INSTEAD >:333333 LOOKIT FINALLY ME REAPPEARING IN YOUR ACTIVITY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 #I WILL ETERNALLY BE GRATEFUL TO YOU FOR THESE TWO SIMPS NO MATTER HOW LONG IT TAKES ME TO WRITE A REPLY FOR 'EM #THEY ARE SO DEAR TO MY HEART THEY'VE SHAPED ME SO MUCH AS A ROMANCE WRITER AS WELL??? #IF THAT EVEN MAKES SENSE?????? JUST YOU AND EVERYTHING WE WRITE TOGETHER #FUNDAMENTALLY AND ALWAYS IMPROVING GOOD OL' LENA~ KLGFHJGF ♥♥♥ #AND I'M SO SORRY THAT HE PUT THE FLOWER CROWN AWAY FOR A MOMENT THERE HE'S JUST SUCH A BIG FOOL HE'S LIKE #A CUTE LIL THING OVERWHELMED BY ALL THE SWEETNESS HE'S ALLOWED HERE #THOSE DETAILS YOU MENTIONED ABOUT THE CROWN IN YOUR TAGS I-!!!!!!1 THEY #WILL BE ADDRESSED WE MUST ADDRESS THEM... AS SOON AS SHIN GETS OVER HIMSELF JUST A MOMENT #HIM AND HIS SIMPING FHKLGHGKLJSKLGDHLFJHK #I HOPE THIS IS STILL OKAY LOVE YA LOADS~

[chuunai]

Hi hi! Would love to participate in your event if that’s cool

I was wondering if we could hav a Fyodor with scenario 2 and prompt 14

Idk if you want more details but I discovered your blog and I kinda got baby fever too sooooooo

Fire away friend

I’m sorry for making you sick : (

✧˚ · . my days are yours, yours - fyodor dostoevsky

how can a baby control his heart?

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff, established relationship (marriage with reader), babies, babies and babies, SFW → minor mentions of death and overall fyodor trying to be a daddy while juggling killing the entire world. Spoilers for the last episode of BSD season five and the latest chapters of the manga.

Lord, she looked so much like him.

Rounded purple eyes and thick strands of black hair, she was his copy. Of course, genetically speaking, she was half his. And half yours. But Fyodor had a greater influence on your baby daughter. A squirming seven month old named Avdotya Fyodorovna Dostoevskya. Ironic, wasn’t it? That his child’s name meant good while he was evil?

It made sense, though. Yin and yang.

Putting down his pen, Fyodor looked over at the small makeshift crib that was next to his desk. In it was the sleeping Avdotya—Dunya, for short—wrapped up in cozy blankets and stuffed animals.

He’d worked enough for today.

Carefully picking up the newborn, his pale anemic hands cradled her, supporting her head as he held her to his chest. His heart sped up a bit when Dunya stirred a bit, but she ultimately didn’t wake up. She looked so calm and content in the moment. Fyodor shared the same feelings. Besides awe, of course.

For all of his planning and manipulation, he had never planned for a baby.

Sure, you were his wife, but he’d always use protection. An infant wouldn’t work with his current dangerous plans. Yet he somehow managed to knock you up. A completely unplanned variable in his plans. Yet it seemed so right. As a man of god, Fyodor couldn’t deny the blessing that God gave him.

His study door soon freaked open by your arrival as you quietly walked behind him, arms sliding around his neck in a tired way as your cheek pressed against the fluffy material of his ushanka.

“She’s doing okay?”

As if his little angel would ever be harmed.

“Of course, дорогой.”

He replied in an equally hushed tone. He turned his head slightly to the left, placing a gentle peck on your arm affectionately. For someone who regularly manipulated people who trusted him (albeit in a scared way), he could never find himself using you or his newfound family for his plans. God would disapprove of a man who hurt his family.

“You should rest. I’ll watch over her.”

It was only fair.

You had been watching Dunya constantly—babysitters and nannies couldn’t be hired due to his prolific crime record—while he was gone setting up his plans and relations. Fyodor had seen you cry over the stress multiple times. Each time he reassured you all would be better in due time. And it would be. When all the sinners of the world were gone, angels like you and Avdotya would be safe.

In the meantime though, he’d make you as happy as he could.

Feeling a gentle kiss on his cheek, Fyodor faintly smiled as you left for some much needed relaxation and sleep. Tucking his baby’s hair behind her tiny ears, he hummed a small lullaby.

He remembered that as a child his mother would sing some to him. It was one of the few comforting memories he had.

And his Avdotya should have the same experience.

Reaching the second verse of the lullaby, his deep voice quietly filled the room. He slowly rocked his baby, warmth flooding through his usually cold body. A peck on her perfect head.

He’d have to teach you these sorts of lullabies and cradle songs. While you knew a bit of Russian—limited to affectionate nicknames and general greetings—, you could do better. Perhaps you two could study together when Avdotya would nap. Him struggling with kanji, and you resting your head on his shoulder as you stared at Russian characters and committed them to memory.

Fyodor relaxed back into his chair, content with the familial moment.

The finale soon came.

He sat there for minutes afterwards, just taking in the sight of the life he created. Dazai was wrong. Fyodor was no demon, no, he was a god. He had created life, and so had God. And while others may point out the billions of other parents in the world, he’d merely dismiss their claims. They had birthed normal children.

Not an angel like his Dunya.

Could other children have such awe-inspiring eyes? Or the affinity she had for music just like her father—how she babbled and cooed in your lap while he played cello for the two of you. He knew she’d grow up to be something great like him. A firstborn always took after their father, in his opinion.

Standing up with little Avdotya in his arms, he walked to the nursery, passing by your shared bedroom where you were sleeping by now. Creaking open the door, he carefully navigated the dark room, lowering his daughter into her crib before carefully covering her with a warm blanket and her favorite stuffed toy.

A fuzzy penguin gifted by Sigma.

A lot of the nursery’s decorations were bought by Fyodor, but there were a few given by his fellow DOA members. Sadly, a majority of Nikolai’s gifts had to be scrapped. Dunya couldn’t use clown makeup or the miniature cherry bombs. A pity, really.

Fatherhood suited Fyodor rather well.

Flicking on a small nightlight, he soon left after a goodbye to his daughter. His footsteps pattered on the wooden floor, making his way to your bedroom to finally sleep off the day’s events.

Once again, the door slowly creaked open as he walked in. He already had his pajamas on—a baggy long black shirt and some black pants—, sliding into bed next to you as one hand found itself on your stomach, the other already playing with your hair. Fyodor admired your body. It grew his angel, and now it nourished her.

While you were adamant that you looked worse after birth, he could only say the opposite. All of the Renaissance paintings and sculptures had been wrong in their depictions of goddesses and heavenly figures. He could only see you as a true goddess who fell for a sinner like him.

Would such a goddess permit him to have another child with her?

Fyodor had grown up in a small family back in St. Petersburg. Just him and his mother. His father had left him long ago.

He didn’t want Avdotya to feel the same. Lonely.

Siblings would prevent that. Maybe two? Even three, if you felt up for it. He hadn’t said anything about it since you were still recovering and getting used to being a mother just to one child, but he oh so badly wanted a bigger family. More look a-likes of him and you.

“My goddess.”

His lips nuzzled against your hair, murmuring sweet affections and praise. Even he couldn’t have predicted such a thing like this. A wife. A daughter. A family of his own.

And even when weeks later he was stuck in Meursault with four other men playing Nikolai’s twisted game of escape, he thought about you. The plan would work, and he’d see you again after he faked his death. Sure, it might take weeks or months, but he’d come back. He’d made sure of it—having thought of the betrayal of his subordinates a while ago.

And when Dazai would later tug his severed arm out of the helicopter’s crash site, it wouldn’t have a ring on the ring finger.

That ring would be snugly set on his other hand.

They could take his body, his wealth, his intelligence.

But they couldn’t take him away from you and the vow you two had made. Until death do you part.

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts, @xxcandlelightxx

Help this took so long

#bungou stray dogs #bungou gay dogs #aspiring writer #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuunai #fanfic #fem reader #baby fever #baby fic #fyodor x reader #bsd fyodor #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky #bsd tag #bsd imagines #bsd fluff #bsd spoilers

[bunnywritesjunk]

My King

Series summary: Your parents signed you up for an Alpha Omega Match company when you were eighteen. It took years for them to find your match, but you meet the giant austrian man. Will he be a good partner?

Chapter summary: You and König attend a holiday party.

Pairing: König x Fem Reader

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics (Never use this abbreviation without the slashes it is an indigenous slur) 18+ MDNI, vague racism, heat (omega verse)

Word count: 3.1k

Genre: Mostly Fluff a little angst here and there. Smut.

A/n: Omg....Hi guys......it's me.....hey.......I am alive. This chapter is defiantly geared more towards my poc readers. Theres some angst that i'll revisit in a later chapter. Some comments are made. You'll see. Anyways, I can't promise I will be posting super consistently but I will definatly try to post more then I have been.

Previous Chapter

Chapter Five:

Your editor droned on about deadlines and writing engines as you ate some soup König got you earlier. You can hear the desperation through the computer screen. You'd be lying if you said you were listening. They'll get the pages when they get them, with you, no money. König sat on the couch waiting for your meeting to be done. 

“I'll get the next chapter done, Frankie.” You said.

“You promise?” He was almost teary-eyed.

“Yes, I promise.” 

You hung up and closed your laptop while sighing. You got up and walked over to your giant Alpha. You outstretched his arm, inviting you to cuddle. You obliged plopping yourself on his lap and resting your head on his chest. The November winds were seeping into the atmosphere slowly. You didn't mind. That meant the holidays were coming. 

“The 141 is having an early holiday party. Everyone goes on leave one week into December, so we celebrate early. Would you like to go with me, Schatz?” 

“Oh yes, that sounds lovely. When is it?” You asked delightedly.

“This weekend. It's a dressy event.” 

The weekend was in four days. You haven't done your hair or dressed up in a while. You'd want a new dress for this especially with the cold, but you supposed you could make something work. As for your hair, it was time to hit up a YouTube tutorial for some ideas. König seemed to sense your internal struggle. 

“We can go shopping today, I need a button-down shirt.” 

“You don't have a button-down?” You asked a little amused. 

“Never needed one.” 

“Huh, well I also want to get my hair done. But, I've never been to a stylist here.” You started searching for braiders in the area, and to your surprise, there were some. 

The prices were comparable to ones in the US so that gave you some comfort. König looked over your shoulder browsing the different styles along with you. Some he has seen and others he hasn't. He chimed in with some styles he thought would look cute on you every so often. 

“Oh, she has an appointment available tomorrow.”

“Book it, I'll take you.” 

“I can take myself it's alright.”

“Nein. I'll take you.”

You grumbled a bit at his stubbornness but gave in. You booked the appointment and placed your deposit. 

“How much is it?” König asked.

“Um, all together with the deposit, one hundred fifty euros. I was also gonna tip but I forgot Europe doesn't do that.” 

König replied with a 'hmm' and tapped away on his phone. Your phone dinged and you checked the notification. 

'König has sent you € 150,00' 

“Kö, You don't have to pay for this.”

“Why shouldn't I? You are mine, You want it, I like it when you look beautiful, so I pay.” He said simply.

König had a habit of paying for everything. You liked it but it made you a little uncomfortable. This wasn't how you'd be treated back in the States. Whenever you mentioned it, König would always rant about how American men were cheap and lazy. He also would mention how he has more money than he needs so spending it on you is fun. König loves to see your little face light up whenever he buys you something sweet, or a piece of jewelry you were looking at. He told you to get dressed for the shopping trip and you obliged, making sure you were bundled up for the cold weather. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two of you opted to shop for König's clothes first. Finding clothing that fits him nicely is a challenge with how tall and muscular he is. There were some stores specifically made for big and tall men that you went into first. One store only had bright floral patterned shirts and loosely fitting dress pants. Neither you nor your Alpha liked that. The next one had some nice boots in his size. They were a fancier version of combat boots. Finally, you found a simple black button-down shirt and slim tapered dress pants for him. You made him try it on before leaving the store.

 My god...You had to keep yourself from drooling. The pants hugged his waist perfectly, and the shirt was just tight enough for you to see some muscle peeking through. König smirked at your reaction. 

“You think this will look good with my sniper hood?” he asked. 

“What?! You're gonna wear your hood and cover-up that gorgeous face? No way.”

“I don't show my face to anyone on base, Schatz.” 

“Hmm, well you look good in anything so... I guess.” You pouted.

König got dressed and paid for his clothes. Nearby there were a few boutiques with dresses. You wanted something nice, but not too fancy. You didn't want to overdress. König was patient with you as you browsed a bunch of stores. Eventually, you found something you liked. It was a midi deep purple knit dress. It had elegant sleeves and looked like it could be dressed up or down. Perfect for a cold night. König sat on the bench of the fitting room as you tried it on. You came out and twirled giving him a full view of the dress. 

“So?” You asked.

“Beautiful.” He motioned for you to come closer. When you did he placed a hand on your hip gingerly. 

“I can think of many things I could do to you in this dress.” He said quietly. 

“König!” You gave him a light slap on the arm and went back into the changing room embarrassed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day you started prepping for your hair appointment. You had to wash your hair but the stylist said she could blow-dry it for you. You spent about an hour washing your hair and another detangling it. König kept you company on the couch as you combed and sectioned it out. You sighed and slumped on the couch once you were done. Your arms were a little sore but you were glad you were done. You put your bonnet on to keep your hair neat and moisturized. You made sure you had your tip ready and a book to read while you got your hair done. König stood at the door watching you pace around the apartment gathering your things. 

The drive to the salon was quick and smooth. König gave you a kiss on the cheek before you exited the car. You opened the door to the building, and the smell of hair spray wafted into your nose. A tall woman greeted you as you walked in. Her hair was braided back into neat rows and her dark cheeks had a warm glow to them. 

“Are you my twelve pm?” She asked with a smile.

“Yes, I am, nice to meet you.” 

She guided you into a salon chair and got started. Her hands were quick, skilled, and gentle as she worked her way through your head of hair. In about two hours she finished. You admired your new do in the mirror and thanked your stylist profusely. König waited at a café down the street. You spotted him sitting peacefully at one of the outdoor tables, away from most other patrons. As you got closer he glanced up to meet and look at you. His eyes widened, taking in your new look. Although he had his mask on you could tell he was smiling under it. He stood up to greet you. 

“You look beautiful, Liebe.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead careful to avoid touching your freshly done hair. You giggled bashfully and returned his kiss on his cheek. 

The next few days went by quickly. You did some extra work and scheduled an editor meeting before the weekend. When Saturday rolled around, you were anxious. You wanted to make a good impression with your Alpha's coworkers. How do you act around military personnel? Your father never brought you around any of his military friends. As you got ready you just tried to keep an open mind and stay confident in yourself. Also, you will get to see Soap again. You slipped on your dress and spritzed a light mist of perfume.

You walked out of your room while looking through your purse to make sure you had all of your essentials. König was sitting on the couch but stood when he saw you. He was dressed and ready, looking over your form affectionately. You zipped around the dining room and kitchen making sure you had everything in order. König walked over to you, stopping you in your path. He slinked his hand around your waist pulling you out of your thoughts. He pulled you into his chest gently. 

“Relax, Schatz.” He purred. You looked up at him and gave him a nervous smile. 

“I think I left my wallet in my room. Do I need it? Should I bring a gift?” You rambled. 

König pulled your wallet out from his back pocket and handed it to you. He shook his head and gave you a small smile. His sniper hood was hanging haphazardly over a dining room chair. He led you towards the door swiftly grabbing it and opening the door. You followed him out reluctantly. 

The drive to the base was uneventful aside from your occasional worrying that was quelled by your alpha quickly. You can't help but feel more on edge than you usually would, but you can't put a finger on why. König pulled up to the massive, barbed wire-lined fence. A man in full military gear and a large gun strolled up to the window. You hadn't noticed that König out his hood in a while back. He rolled the window down and quickly flashed his ID to the soldier. The man nodded and waved his hand in the air. The gate slid open almost painfully slowly. König placed a hand on your thigh as he drove slowly through the base. It helped calm you for the time being. 

There was a large building with a few dozen cars parked outside. König Parked the SUV rather haphazardly a good distance away from the entrance. When you opened the door you heard faint music coming from the building and lots of voices and laughter. Your alpha lapped the car and met you on the passenger side. You started to walk towards the door but he stopped you.

“What is the matter, Schatz?” His eyes softly gazed down at you. 

“Nothing is wrong, I'm fine.” You said quickly.

“If you are uncomfortable, we can go.” He gently caressed your cheek., his scent enveloping your senses. 

“I'm ok, I'm just a little nervous.” Deep down you knew something was off, but you were confident you could get through this night. 

“Shcatz, You forgot your collar.” König said nonchalantly.

You gasped and your hand flew up to your neck covering your exposed scent glands. 

“Oh no! Why didn't you tell me? Now I'm gonna stink up a storm in there.” You turned around embarrassed and even more on edge. 

Your Alpha said nothing, he simply opened the back door of the car and pulled out a small black bag before closing the door. He spun you around by the waist to face him waving the bag in front of you. You glanced at him unsure before taking the bag. König gave you a small nod waiting for you to open it. Inside was a large square jewelry box. When you opened it it held the most beautiful gold metal collar. The one you looked at from the boutique a while ago. 

“König....” You truly didn't know what to say. Tears pricked your eyes but you quickly wiped them away and replaced them with a smile. 

“Thank you, Alpha.” You said while wrapping your arms around his middle. 

He held you close and kissed the top of your head through his hood gently. He pulled away and took the collar out of its box. He clasped it around your neck locking it with the provided key. It fit perfectly, you could barely tell it was there. König held the small key out for you to take but you shook your head. 

“Keep it safe for me Alpha.” You said giving him a warm smile. 

Although you couldn't see his face, you could tell he was happy you trusted him with the key. König held out his elbow for you to hold and led you towards the event. You were still nervous but you brushed it off, you had someone there to protect you. The large hall was buzzing with conversation. Most people were sitting around in large groups having conversations and others were at the bar. There were string lights hung all around the ceiling giving the place a relaxing atmosphere. König led you to the bar eager to get a drink. Parties are not you or your Alpha's natural element.

He ordered a beer for himself and a gin and tonic for you. As you waited you glanced around taking in the different people. You were probably one of the very few omegas. You could tell who was military and who wasn't very easily. Some were still in uniform, others wore masks or dog tags. Some soldiers brought a plus one but it was a minority. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a figure approaching. You turned to see a familiar mohawk. 

“Hey! There they are!” Soap exclaimed pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. You could smell the alcohol on him. 

“Hey, soap.” You eked out while being squeezed. 

Soap turned to König and gave the large Apex a hug as well. König grunted, a little uncomfortable with the contact but patted his back affectionately. 

“We've been waiting for you two to get here, everyone wants to meet the Colonel's Mrs.” His Scottish accent was thick and slightly slurred. 

The bartender set your drinks down and you quickly scooped yours up and took a sip. Soap led both of you away toward a group of men. You lingered behind König slightly allowing him to greet the group first. Soap announced your name loudly sparing König of the burden. You waved shyly giving everyone a small smile. Everyone greeted you and your Alpha before returning to the conversation they were having. You were grateful the attention on you didn't last as you could sip your cocktail and listen to the drunken ramblings of the soldiers. 

As the night dragged on, you met various people. You chatted with Ghost a bit and met Captain Price, as well as Gaz. Though the drunker people go the more rowdy things become. You sat on a chair near the group, only on your second drink. Your Alpha was loosening up after four. Soap suggested they go out to the field and play football, challenging Ghost to a team match. The whole group along with some others from the party joined them outside. König glanced over at you. 

“Will you be ok if I join them?” He asked gingerly.

“Of course, go have fun.” You gave him a reassuring smile. 

You watched him follow his coworkers out of the door into the frigid night. You decided to hang out at the bar as your drink was almost done. Although the night has been fine so far there was still something nagging in the back of your head. You plopped down on one of the bar stools and ordered another drink. Good thing this event had an open bar. You scrolled on your phone for a while not noticing how fast an hour has passed. An Alpha sat on the bar stool next to yours sighing loudly. You didn't bother acknowledging him as many people have sat there in the time that has passed. 

“It's a nice night huh? Not too cold.” The guy said in a European accent you can't place. 

You looked up from your phone. “Oh, are you talking to me?” 

“Yeah, I am. So uh, are you a new recruit or?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh no, I'm just a visitor.” You glanced back at your phone hoping he would leave you alone. 

“I've never seen an omega like you.” 

“An omega like me?” You looked at him puzzled.

“Yeah, you're so exotic. I thought omegas like you have to stay in your own countries.” He said while taking a sip of his drink. 

“Well, that's rude and extremely ignorant.” You scowled at him.

“Come on, it's a compliment. I mean I knew your kind your be spicy but damn.” He chuckled. 

You took that as your cue to leave. And you stood up from the bar your felt a tug on the crown of your head. 

“I mean, is this even your real hair?” He rubbed the hair he grabbed in between his fingers. 

You ripped away from his grip. “What is wrong with you?! Don't touch me!” You yelled. Everyone at the bar turned to look in your direction. 

“Relax, I'm just joking around.” The Alpha said trying to diffuse the situation. 

“You don't touch a random person's hair, who raised you?!” 

You felt a hand rest on your shoulder gently from behind. The Alpha you were confronting turned pale. 

“Schatz? What did he do?” Your Alpha asked lowly.

 You turned to face König anger still written all over your face. As angry as you were, you wanted this to be a teaching moment for this young Alpha. You turned back to the Alpha who was standing up now sweat forming on his face. 

“Nothing Alpha, this guy just needs to watch where he's going, right?” You eyed him carefully. 

“Yes! Yes, I'm very sorry miss.” He looked down at your feet. 

You looked up at König who seemed unconvinced. He was staring daggers into the young Alpha. You saw König take a deep breath closing his eyes while doing so. When he opened them he looked down at you.

“Time to go, it's a long drive home.” He placed a hand on the small of your back and led you out.

 Some people glanced in your direction as you left. You couldn't help but feel embarrassed. You hurried to the car in an effort to get out of the cold. König opened your door for you and helped you slide into the passenger seat. 

“I forgot something inside, I'll be right back.” He said quickly shutting the door and storming back inside the building. 

You couldn't tell if he was about to torture that soldier or not. But you did what you could, if he gets in trouble it's his own fault. König came back out no more than two minutes later. As he started the car, you got cozy relishing in the heated air. 

“What did you forget?” You ask him.

“I had a project for Ghost, I had to tell him about it.”

“Hmm.” You responded, not buying it completely. 

As your Alpha drove, the gentle rocking of the car lulled you to sleep.

As your Alpha drove, the gentle rocking of the car lulled you to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

König shook you awake gently. “We're home.”

You stirred and sat up stretching gently. You felt warm, a little too warm. Did you drink that much? You followed König into the apartment and kicked off your shoes at the door. That's when the cramp hit you. It was so painful it made you dizzy causing you to stumble. König caught you by the arm and ushered you to the couch.

“Schatz? You're burning up.” He laid you down and hurried to the kitchen.

You felt the sweat forming on your brow. Your heat had come early. You whined into the couch cushions trying to breathe through the dull achy pain. König brought some water and sat you up to drink.

“Why didn't you tell me your heat was coming?” he said concerned.

“Early...it came early.”

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[zepskies]

A Little Danger

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized!Reader (Latina)

Summary: While relaxing together in the bunker, Dean takes your playful teasing to a new level. (And he’s too horny to care about the consequences.)

AN: Couch sex, basically. This is another one for the Espresso-verse! Includes a call back to Devour Me.

Word Count: 2K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Smutty smut in a semi-public place. Hair pulling, flirty teasing, endearments, “twist” ending.

Start from the beginning of the series: ⤵️

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Usually, Dean likes the feeling of your fingers running through his hair.

Like now, on a rare day of quiet relaxation after a long hunt. When Mary’s out and Sam’s on a grocery run. And Dean’s laid out across the couch in the library, arms crossed, earbuds in while Zeppelin’s “Going to California” plays in stereo, his head and shoulders resting against your plush thigh.

Your feet are propped up on the coffee table, your mostly bare legs crossed at the ankles. You have a book in one hand while you’ve been absently massaging his head…

But when you start to get weary of reading, in your boredom, your clever fingers become less soothing through his light brown hair, and more playful in their ministrations. You start to push his hair in the opposite direction, making it spike forward in disarray.

Dean frowns. You can’t see it, but you sense the change, in the way he stops bobbing his head lightly in time with the music.

You bite back a smile and continue your little game, even tugging a little on the strands when you push them forward. Like rubbing a cat the wrong way.

Letting out an annoyed breath through his nose, Dean takes out one earbud.

“What. Are you doing?” he asks.

It takes everything within you not to laugh.

“You’re my erizito,” you reply, smiling. You take a peek at his profile and catch the way his brows furrow.

“What the hell’s that?” he asks.

“My little hedgehog,” you translate the Spanish endearment for him, and you tease him, tugging again on his soft strands.

You finally have to giggle at the way he looks back at you from the corner of his eye. You get maybe one more time to sweep your fingers through his hair the wrong way, before he grabs your hand and turns over.

Your resulting squeal turns into laughter when he yanks his earbuds off and plucks your book out of your hand.

“Eh, eh! Don’t lose my place,” you warn, stopping him from closing the book all the way. He allows you to dog-ear your page, but he then tosses the book onto the coffee table to join his phone and earbuds.

“Come ‘ere,” he mutters.

Then he grabs your crossed legs and manhandles you beneath him on the couch. You allow it with a yelp of surprise and much giggling when he jostles you, pulling you down by your hips. Dean lowers himself between your legs, where he’s so often welcome, and settles his body over yours.

You smirk in his face. His hair is all kinds of fucked up.

He can see you’re admiring your handiwork. Little hedgehog, huh?

With a shake of his head, he bows down and silences your teasing with a kiss.

Your eyes fall closed. You breathe in and utter a sound of contentment. You frame his face with your hands and follow the familiar dance of his lips against yours.

A delicious push and pull that has his teeth grazing your full lower lip, sucking it into his mouth, his fingers tangling in your hair. His other arm is perched high above your head, giving him leverage to completely cage you with his broad, heavy frame.

But it’s a good heavy. You like the feel of him laid out over you, protective and claiming all at once. And he likes the feeling of every soft curve of yours; thighs, breasts, and soft middle all a welcoming place for him to rest—and then ravage.

His lips veer away from your mouth, allowing you both to catch your breath. He burns a warm, sloppy path along your jawline. You wrap your arms around him and splay your hands across his back. They slide lower as he moves down, and down your neck.

“Babe,” you prompt quietly in his ear. You can’t help but smile. “We’ve gotten in trouble on this couch before.”

As in, you both have been caught buck ass naked and tangled together on this couch. By his brother. Twice.

Dean smirks, just before he starts to tease the shell of your ear with his tongue.

“Tell me you don’t like a little danger,” he says. 

Right, you think, with a shudder at his tongue. Or, he just has no fucking shame.

You have to giggle regardless. The trembling in your chest moves both of you, makes the shape of Dean’s smile press into your skin. He continues his downward path and rucks up your shirt.

Your knees bend further on reflex and squeeze his hips when his tongue dips between your breasts, still pushed up by your bra. You arch your back so he can slip a hand under your back and unclip the white lace. He slides it off your body, along with getting your shirt up and over your head.

Your hands dive under his layers of red plaid and black undershirt, sliding up and down the smooth slopes of his back, grazing with your nails, getting him worked up enough to have him yank off the layers himself.

He’s left in his jeans, which begin to find friction against your clothed center through the little shorts you often wear around the bunker. Dean both likes them and hates them.

Likes them, because you fill them out well, and he likes getting a handful of your ass (like he’s doing now, while he begins to rock the hard bulge in his jeans against your core while kissing you hungrily).

He also hates these little spandex shorts, because he’d rather his brother not get to see you in them. Still, Dean gets too much enjoyment out of slipping his fingers under them, squeezing your thigh, letting his thumb brush down towards your center.

Already your pussy’s throbbing.

“Need you,” you pant against his lips.

It’s been a bit too long since you two have had this kind of time alone together, not to mention the energy to fool around. It’s making you not really give a fuck about being out in the open in the middle of the library, when your shared bedroom is just down the hall.

Dean nods, then he finally palms one of your breasts like he’s reacquainting himself with an old friend. He rolls a budding nipple between his fingers and moans when he gets the other into his mouth, swirling with his tongue.

He drags a moan out of you too. You delve your hand into his wrecked hair and grip tight to keep him there.

You find yourself writhing underneath him, your hips rolling against his with need.

“Dean…” Your voice is pleading.

“Okay, I gotcha,” he says against your skin. He drags down your little shorts by the hem and reveals bare ass against the couch cushions. He hums with interest. “No panties today?”

“Surprised you didn’t notice,” you quip.

Though you do the work of unclipping his belt and helping him shimmy out of the jeans, letting them pool to the floor alongside your clothes. You roll down his boxer briefs far enough to let his cock spring free. He grabs your arm and utters a deep groan at the way you handle him, with a gentle but firm hand along his shaft.

“Guess I’ve been distracted,” he admits. He presses a forehead against your shoulder and bucks into your hand, the more you tease him. “Fuck, how long’s it been since—”

“A couple weeks,” you answer him. You begin to kiss down his neck, occasionally nipping his skin. “Too long.”

“Too damn long,” he agrees, with another sound of pleasure. He stops your hand so he can concentrate on getting you ready. He slips a long finger down your slit and between the wet folds of your pussy, where you’re already soaking for him, coating his digit.

“Fuck,” he mutters again, “all this for me, baby?”

You breathe a laugh and drag your nails down the back of his neck. “Always.”

Dean grins. Just to be thorough, he slips two fingers into your wet channel. He revels at the way you hold him close by the back of his neck and moan encouragements into his ear. But you cry out when his thumb finds your clit, and circles it with precision. Then the rest of his fingers open you up and rub against your most sensitive places.

As your inner walls tighten, so does your hand; it moves back into his hair so you have something better to hold onto. 

“Dean,” you utter a warning. He nods and withdraws his hand from inside you. He peeks over the couch again, just to make sure no one’s coming. You both know this is about to be quick and dirty.

You both are panting when he grasps your hips and gives himself a better angle. You hook your thighs around his waist and give him an encouraging nod. With that, Dean positions himself at your entrance and slowly sheathes his cock deep inside you.

You release a shuddering breath, pressing your head back into the cushions. Your hair is a tangled mess fanning underneath you. He still has a hand planted on the couch’s arm above your head; you grasp his arm for stability. Dean rubs one of your thighs, in part to also get himself together as your inner walls spasm tight around him.

Fuck, it has been a while.

But he’s making up for lost time. He gives you long, steady strokes at first, letting you feel every inch of his cock as he drives back into you. A shiver of pleasure runs down your spine and you arch against him, your hands clasped on his arms.

Your heels pressing into his ass spur him on and speed up his rhythm, until he’s hitting so hard and deep against your cervix that it almost hurts. It’s a mix of intense pleasure tinged with that briefest bit of pain as he also hits your G-spot over and over.

But a few purposeful swipes of his thumb over your clit ensures that you come with him when he finally spills into you. He buries his face where your neck meets your shoulder, and a ragged grunt rolls from his throat as his release truly hits him.

You hold him to you, your own thighs quivering along with his last few strokes inside you. That hot coil snaps and you let out a gasping moan—one he swallows up with a deep kiss.

“Jesus,” you breathe, after he releases your lips. Dean catches his breath and gives you a shrug, despite his smug grin.

You smirk and once again sweep your hand through his ridiculous hair. It’s even more wild than before. You pull your hands through it, sliding down his neck on both sides. 

“I stand corrected,” you say slyly. “Now you’re my erizote.”

Dean snorts. “And that would be?”

“My big hedgehog,” you tease.

Dean rolls his eyes, even as his face warms. He tries not to laugh in the face of your unending giggles.

Neither of you register the footsteps coming closer until it’s just about too late.

“Dean, are you—Oh!”

His face falls, and his eyes widen when they meet his mother’s over the back of the couch.

“Shit!” he exclaims, covering you with his body when you gasp. But it’s not really you that you’re worried about her seeing.

No mother should have to see her adult son’s naked ass.

Mary stands there behind the couch with her hand over her eyes.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t see…anything,” she says. Usually she’s a better liar.

“I’m so sorry, Mary,” you try to say, but she waves you off.

“Just…clean the sofa. Okay, guys?” she says. Then she walks away without looking back.

Dean grimaces like he’s in pain.

“Sorry, Mom,” He calls to her retreating back.

He releases a breath and lowers his forehead into the crook of your neck. Your body shakes with involuntary giggles while you hold him, soothing him with a caress of his cheek. He’s still buried deep inside you, but by now he’s released your thighs from being wrapped around his hips.

“At least it wasn’t Sam this time,” you offer.

“I don’t know what’s worse at this point,” Dean grumbles.

You bite your lip. “Well, I mean, I did warn you—”

Dean gives you a playful slap on the ass to shut you up. But your resulting squeal and laughter just makes him smile.

AN: 😅 This one-shot started out innocent, I swear. What was once a simple "chilling on the couch" drabble turned into smut somehow, but I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think. 😘

Keep Reading:

Next up in this series is "In Bad Weather." It acts as the finale of the Espresso-verse, though I'm still writing stories within the world to fill in the gaps when different prompts come to mind:

Summary: You and Dean tackle the biggest possible monkey wrench in your relationship yet: could Chuck have been manipulating you two all along? [Set in S15 - “Fix It” for season finale]

▶️ Next Story: In Bad Weather

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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#A Little Danger #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x latina!reader #dean winchester x plus sized!reader #dean winchester x plus size!reader #Midnight Espresso verse #dean winchester x you #spn #supernatural #dean winchester x poc!reader #dean winchester fanfiction #poc!reader #latina!reader #plus sized reader #dean x reader #dean x you #zepskies writes

[0oolookitsme]

Like Gold Dust

Hii everyone! This one is kind of different than most of my fics. There are lots of descriptions and lesser dialogues and she's an angsty one! Lowkey poetic too, I think? I don't know! You tell me! I hope you enjoy reading <3

Verse - Footballer!Harry x Art Director!Y/n (uni era)

Word Count - 3.1k

Warnings - This fic is about Harry dealing with Seasonal Depression and he doesn't deal with it in this fic very healthily. So, if that, in any way, seems like it might be triggering for you or you don't wanna read about it, I totally understand! Close this fic and take care of yourself, I'll see you in the next upload! Sending love <3 (Also, there's miscommunication as well because of course, they are in uni!)

Winter has come knocking the wind out of Harry's lungs, and happiness has begun feeling like gold dust to him -- everybody seems to be chasing after it, but rarely catches it. But while Harry deals with the harshest Winter he's ever had, Y/n seems to have begun hating her favourite season.

Please rb to share! | Masterlist

With her head lowered defeatedly, Y/n slapped on the door with her palm for the fifth time. "Harry," she exhaled a breath that she had held hostage in her lungs so that she wouldn’t miss his reply. "I know you're in there ...let me in, please," her voice went meek towards the end, eyes moistening making her screw them shut, tighly.

She let her head rest on the door, sniffling a few times when she feels the sudden tiredness overtake her senses once again.

Maybe he's asleep, she thinks to herself just to get herself moving. Nodding at her own thought, she fisted the hand that was still pressed against the cold shut door and put it back in the warmth of her coat’s pocket.

This was nothing new. Every morning she'd come to his dorm, knock and knock and knock, and get teary eyed when he wouldn't open up. She'd catch him on the campus sometimes, walking in the same clothes she'd been seeing him in since the past three days, his head low and eyes avoiding any and every gaze.

"Harry!" She'd call after him and run up to match her steps with his. "I went to your dorm; thought you were sleeping but here you are!" Halting in her place she'd exclaim. Then, she'd mumble sadly -- "looking all pretty," running a little because he hadn't stopped with her.

She'd walk with him quietly then, cautiously weaving her fingers through his rough ones. He'd squeeze her hand three times in return and hold on tightly until they'd reach the point where they needed to part ways for their classes.

Truth be told, those little encounters seemed to be the only thin thread she was hanging by. His simple touches, holds, and cold lips pressed against her forehead. It made her believe that he didn’t entirely hate her, that she wasn’t as useless as she felt.

Y/n felt like she was lacking somewhere. That she should be the one he should be talking to in moments like these, that she should be the sole source of comfort he had but it seemed like he kept his distance from her as much as he could. And that made her feel like maybe she wasn’t his favourtie person, after all. 

She knew that it wasn’t the truth in her heart. That Harry did still love her, and found his safe haven in her – the smallest actions he made were assuring …but they weren’t enough to prevent Y/n’s opposing, combatant mind from exceeding its thinking capacity.

Every night she found herself doubting herself – her capacity to love, especially. Was her love not enough for the both of them to sail a little longer? At Least until Spring came and Harry’s sunflower plant became full of life again?

She feared that their relationship was withering away, just like his sunflower, and she was sat in his room on his window sill with the plant in her lap, frantically giving it sunlight and air and water and better soil but it just won’t stop shrinking in size and fading in colour.  

Doing everything she could, still Y/n was always feeling helpless and in despair. It was like she was screaming but Harry wasn’t listening…whether intentionally or not because, from Harry’s point of view, no sound seemed to be coming out of her scream – maybe because he was under water.  

"I'll see you soon," she'd tell him and get up on her tiptoes to hug him close to herself, pressing a kiss on his unshaved cheek. And with that, she'd walk away, her hand a lingering touch until she had walked far enough, and she, yet again, proved to be insufficient and not enough.

Walking against the brittle wind, she caught sight of the on-campus cafe. Walking inside, she looked up at the jingling bells above the door and smiled. She’d been coming here for so many months and yet she looked up at the source of the chime every time she walked in – for coffee, mainly, and for some warm shelter, secretly.

"A medium coffee please," she told the barista, who also happened to be a good friend. The cafe was opened by some of the college students, for the college students. It was nothing fancy but did its job remarkably well.

No one was speaking this early in the morning. Everyone was bundled up in any corner that they could seek, and Y/n looked around in hopes that maybe the footsteps she'd heard inside Harry's dorm weren't actual and that she might catch him cozied up here, instead. Because sometimes they'd bump into each other here or at the library, and that would bring her the peace that she was feeling rarely this Winter – which came as a shock to the system because she didn’t nearly love any season as much as she did Winter.

But alas, it was only a hope after all.

"Can I get a refill, please?" Someone asked, slightly embarrassed as the peeked from behind their laptop screen. Standing in front of Y/n, the barista – Kate – agreed to the request with a warm smile.

-

It was brighter than usual today, Harry had noticed. The sunlight pouring in through his open window laid right on his bed and if he wasn’t already feeling brighter today, which is the reason why he is standing fresh out of his bathroom and rubbing his towel against his head with another one wrapped low on his hips, his mood just felt as if it had bubbled up so high that he couldn’t handle it all by himself.

The flimsy curtains were still drawn in front of his windows, as he quickly changed. Even though he hated dressing up before his skin had fully dried. Unconsciously, he began humming a song and when he realized that while brushing his hair, he felt as if he had caught himself off guard. 

Happiness had begun to feel like it was like gold dust, to Harry. He’d suddenly become very aware of how difficult it was to obtain, how everyone wanted it and it was almost as if it had grown out of his comfort zone. 

He wasn't excited about the winter, not that he ever was. But he was depressed. Harry avoided his own gaze in the mirror then. He hadn’t said anything to himself other than a broken sob in weeks, so to find himself humming a song felt surreal. 

Throwing some things in his backpack, he swung it over his shoulders. He didn’t have anything on his feet, he realized and sprawled on the floor to look under his bed for the socks he was sure he had absentmindedly kicked under there. 

He took a quick sniff at his socks, deciding that he could go with them this last day. With a few grunts he pulled them up on his feet, sitting on the floor of his dorm room and tying his shoelaces. Y/n had gifted him those among some other things for Christmas, and that thought made him smile as he stared at the Nikes on his feet for little.

A few of his bones popped as he got up, making him groan in satisfaction. Checking if he had his phone and headphones on him, he decided to go and quickly check the scenery outside via his window and see for himself if he should carry an umbrella, which didn’t make any sense because it could begin raining cats and dogs any time where he lived.

That was when he caught sight of snow – falling down in flakes, slowly like feathers. His mouth fell open as he pressed his palms against the cold window glass, looking outside like some eager kid with his nose slightly smushing against it. His gaze wandered and he realized that everyhting was covered in white snow, shimmering beautifully as sunlight fell down.

Suddenly in a much bigger hurry, he swung his backpack on one of his shoulders again, and locked the door once he was on the other side of it.

The temperature inside his dorm room was much colder than the temperature outside, Harry realized, just as he does every other day and proceeded to walk down the hallway with his hands in the pockets of his bright pink hoodie. He’d been thinking all morning that maybe this serotonin release was only for one day, but chose not to dwell over that so he could simply live for at least some hours – for as long as the sun was away from the jail-bars, namely clouds.

But then he realized that it had finally begun snowing, and he felt like no one could take his happiness from him; absolutely no one.

He hated this issue that he had. He’s been suffering with seasonal depression since he was fifteen, he’d guess, and he hadn’t had one winter since that made him happy. Except, of course, the last one, in which he finally had the nerve to kiss Y/n under a mistletoe that had been hanging on the wall indentation that separates the dining area from the kitchen in his home.

And she made the Winter sufferable, if not entirely rainbows and sunshine for him. But it only made Harry hate himself worse – the fact that she adored no season as much as she did the snow one, and yet she was sad all the time during the span of this Winter in particular, because of him.

When Winter was approaching, she had strictly told him to come meet her before he’d leave for practice in the mornings, just so that she could hold him for a little before they’d go in for entirely different classes for the day, because she was aware that one of his love languages was physical touch. She didn’t really have a clue about how harsh this Winter was going to be on them, considering it hadn’t ever been so bad in the years she had known him, even as his best friend.

But he hadn’t been following the one rule she’d made; he was unable to.

He tried to stay away from her, when he realized that. Just so that she wouldn’t have to share all of her love and happiness with him to the level that she was left with nothing but his sadness. It wasn’t making him feel good, it hurt worse than the Winter did – staying away from her. But it was for the better, he’d tell himself over and over again as he would roll his lips in his mouth and shut his eyes tightly when she would come knocking on his dorm room morning and night, voice sounding as if she were on the verge of breaking down and begging him to open up so that she could come in and help him, and herself even.

“This is making me very sad, Harry. This – whatever it is that you’re doing, i – it isn’t making me feel anything but … but sad,” she would utter defeatedly outside his dorm, being ignorant about the strangers that might be hearing her. And, Harry would clench his eyes shut if his mind showed him a sight of her bottom lip trembling with fat tears rolling down her flushed cheeks.

What would matter to anyone hearing her, if Harry wasn’t hearing her? She’d think as she’d knock for the last few times, getting louder and louder.

It made Hary question his decisions, if he was doing the ‘right thing’ after all. But still he would gulp down his cry that threatened to escape his aching throat. He cried, and held himself as his body shook and broke down in sobs, because it felt selfish to have her do it when she could be outside building a snowman.   

He was well aware that she was concerned about him, it showed in her actions -- bled through the looks of care she passed him before she had to part from him. And he felt careless, like he wasn’t being responsible and mature enough by simply letting her in but he was. He couldn’t explain as to how or why, but in his head, he knew he was being sensible by not enclosing her in his misery.

Around Y/n he was calmer and more at peace – that was, nowadays, whenever she would catch him sulking on the campus somewhere. Almost all the time he wanted to be coddling her, holding her or being near her -- he knew she’d keep him sane, at the least but still he didn’t go to her. So he managed to comfort himself by the things that reminded him of her.

He felt such geat despair in that moment, when he would be sliding down the wall of his dorm as tears fell one after another from the slits of his eyes. He’d feel resentful of himself, but would still wrap his arms around his weak body and strangle his sobs because the walls were paper thin. He’d rest his head on his knees, back against the cold wall before he’d crawl to the foot of his bed and cry into the mattress as if it were his mum’s or Y/n’s lap. 

The sun had begun its hideaway for multiple days on end, and it got dark way earlier. Although he'd liked to think that he was prepared for the season, for the entirety of the beautiful autumn, he knew he was just baffling to himself. His current state was proof for it.

He felt tired, always. Never sleeping and being irritated at the slightest mistakes made during practice -- whether it was with himself or with his teammates. He had no interest in eating or getting out of his dorm room in the mornings, which was extremely unusual of him. Exams were around the corner and as much as he'd like to say that he was ready to tackle them, it was a lie far far away from the truth.

He wasn't even sure what the syllabus was, if he was being completely honest.

By the end, his throat would be aching because of the stifled wails and the sun would have risen by the time he’d be done collecting himself, and then a headache would follow and his eyes would've dried up because of the night time that he used to study instead of sleeping. 

Swiftly climbing down the flight of stairs to go to y/n's dorm, he felt the same kind of sensation he did when he was going back home for the winter break.

He knocked thrice, gently because he’s sure she's still sleeping or just woken up. There was a rush in his body, the thought of seeing her was making him more and more impatient. He was beginning to feel nervous, almost verging on anxious.

The door opened, and Y/n peeked through the small crack before and her eyes widened at the sight in front of her. He was standing right there, freshly showered and dressed in a fresh pair of clothes. His face was shining and as he smiled down at her, his dimples indented in his shaved cheek and she could smell the strong smell of his shaving cream that lingered around for a while. His lips were stretched so far that the front of his bunny could be seen from the small gap forming in between.

He didn't look much better than he did on the mornings that have passed them by since winter started, but he did seem to be in a better mood. It made her happy that he loved the hot pink hoodie that she bought him as much as she did. He had paired it with some joggers, and the shoes that, again, she had gifted him.

Tears pooled in her eyes in an instant and her nose flared a bit as her mouth swung open in a grin, spurts of laughter falling out as she gazed at him in disbelief. 

She made herself fully visible and opened the door wider. Instead of saying anything, she closed her mouth shut, still smiling at him brightly, and opened her arms for him to lean into her.

"Good morning," he gritted through his teeth as she held him tightly, rubbing her back up and down as she broke down in his arms. Pushing the door shut with his leg.

“Good fucking morning,” she sobbed and hicupped, a crack in her voice indicating that this was the first time she'd spoken since she'd woken up, and that she would’ve begun screaming in victory if only she could stop the stuttering cries rushing out of her.

This was the sole reason she'd begun to dislike mornings less, in the first place -- the love she felt oozed out of her at the sight of Harry. But she hadn’t realized just how off and gloomy she had been this whole time until she broke down at the mere sight of him looking decent. All these mornings that she had to wake up knowing deep in her core her that she wouldn’t see the sun, no matter how much she begged for it to come out had put her in a despair so great that she couldn’t even fathom the feeling of it.

But when she’d woken up this morning to see the land outside covered in white snow, shining as sunlight fell on it filled her with a certain hope to the brim. It almost made her flinch, the way sunlight fell on her face as she laid in her bed, eyes swollen and pillow still wet with the tears she’d cried into it the night before.

"You look exceptionally good this morning," she said while pointedly eyeing him up, wiping off the snot with the sleeve of her hoodie. "All good?"

Harry laughed at that, picking her up and taking her to the unmade bed. It looked like she was in the process of making it because all of her stuffed animals were strewn all over the floor -- and she tends to sleep with them on the days Harry isn't there to take up more space than necessary.

“I would’ve been on my way to buy some flowers for you, had I not seen the snow outside. Got too excited to see you, couldn’t wait,” he spoke softly, like she was still in a fragile state.“Plus, it’s too cold outside and I’d like my golden girl to come with me… For the sunflowers only bloom at the sight of the sun,” he smiled with his eyes crinkling on ends, and dimples shying away from Y/n’s gaze. 

“First of all, we need to talk and second of all – how many times did you reframe this cringy speech, Harry?”

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfiction #boyfriend!harry #harry styles concept #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shots #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles au #footballer!harry #frat boy!harry #harry styles fic

[cupid-styles]

the punishment

an extra for this one-shot about sugar daddy harry

in which mia is craving attention from her boyfriend, but she goes about it the wrong way.

content warnings: smut ! (spanking, dirty talk, harry being a mean dom, ruined orgasm, breeding kink, light bondage, spitting)

word count: 2.2k

main masterlist | sugar daddy h masterlist

talk to me

Mia can be a brat.

Harry knows this — it's not a new revelation, and he probably realized it the first time they met when she fired back sarcastic comments about him having a bad dating profile.

(In hindsight, she was absolute right, as she is about many things, but he'll never admit that. At least not for right now.)

They've only been seeing each other for around two months and properly dating for one, but Mia is a creature of habit and he's gotten to know her quite well. She's always cranky after a late afternoon or evening class, she gets a headache when she's hungry, if she drinks more than three glasses of wine without any water in between, she's ending the night with her head in the toilet.

Harry doesn't mind any of these things — he's actually really enjoyed getting to learn the things that make her her, and even if he's holding her hair back with her knees pressing into the heated floors of his bathroom, he adores her.

He really, really adores her.

That's why he's all but clamoring into her apartment, eyes wide with concern, his fist rapidly hitting the wood — because while she was waiting for him to come over, his pretty, lovely Mia is walking around in nothing but a baby tee and a slinky pair of white underwear, and he can see her straight through her window.

Harry considers himself to be well-versed on the threat of violence against women, so he's immediately pounding on the door, demanding she open it. When she does, she swings it open with a look of confusion, still in the same scraps of fabric that barely cover her body. He hisses out and nearly pushes her through the doorframe, slamming it behind them.

"Mi, your fucking curtains are open," he sneers, brushing past her and straight to her living room. He grabs the fabric and pulls them closed, a scowl on his face when he turns around to look at her. 

She's standing behind him with her arms crossed, tucked under her breasts just enough to push them up. 

"Okay," Mia replies with a shrug, "Are you done?"

Harry furrows his eyebrows, a crease forming between them as he glances back at her now covered window. Is he hallucinating? Why isn't she concerned? 

"What are you talking about? Mia, someone could have seen you—"

"Yeah, you did."

"Exactly, but it could've been someone more dangerous than me and you could've gotten hurt—"

"But I didn't."

He huffs in annoyance and steps closer to her, trying to read her expression through his own squinted eyes. 

"No, you didn't. But I don't want you prancing around your house with the windows open so some weird perv can watch you. Especially when you're wearing... that."

Mia tilts her head to the side, her lips slightly pursed. "Wearing... what? My pajamas?"

"Those aren't your pajamas, Mia." 

He's growing increasingly frustrated with her, not understanding why she's fighting him on every little thing, even if it doesn't make sense.

And then it clicks.

She's doing it on purpose.

She wants to be punished.

"I don't get why you're being so conservative," Mia says with a roll of her eyes, "Maybe if my boyfriend actually paid attention to me, I wouldn't have to try to get it from weird pervs."

Harry's eyebrows shoot up and he surges forward, his form towering over hers. He grabs her by the hips, his fingertips slipping underneath the tight waistband of her underwear. He pulls at the fabric, holds it, and then lets it snap against her skin. She gasps in surprise, but refuses to back down — he can see it in her eyes, she only wants to continue challenging him.

"Is that what you want?" Harry snarls, ducking down so he's at eye level with her, "Attention from strangers you've never met instead of your sweet, loving boyfriend that buys you whatever you want?" 

His hands travel around to her ass, cupping and massaging the soft flesh. Goosebumps raise over her arms and legs at his low tone, her eyes rounding out as he grabs at her skin. 

"No answer?" he continues, clicking his tongue against his the roof of his mouth, "No? Nothing? You don't wanna admit to me that you know how I sweet I am on you, huh? Remember when I bought you all that makeup you wanted last weekend? And what about the massage I scheduled for you when you were feeling tense from school, hm?" 

Mia opens and shuts her mouth, her words dry in her throat every time she goes to answer. Of course she knows how much Harry does for her—how much attention he gives her in a million different ways. But the longer he paws at her ass, arousal quickly dampening the white fabric covering her modesty, she finds that it's impossible for her to verbalize anything, entirely too swept away in Harry's dominance.

"What, you don't wanna be such a brat now?" he pushes, one of his hands moving up the length of her back. He grabs a handful of her hair and pulls, his grasp tight as Mia lets out a wet gasp.

"I'm not a brat," she finally mutters out, teeth grit from the slight bite of pain at the base of her skull, "You just don't how to fuck me, is all."

"Now, I know you're not that fucking dumb," Harry hisses, angling his face closer to hers so that they're almost nose-to-nose. "I know you're just feeling bratty and you want my attention, so I'll give you one chance to apologize. Now."

They both know there's not a chance in hell she's saying she's sorry.

He releases her head and shakes his own, using his newly free hand to grab her jaw. "Open."

She doesn't.

"Mia, open your fucking mouth."

Harry swears her lips pull even tighter together.

"You're an absolute menace, you know that?" he mutters. She's not sure what's she's expecting—she knows she's being the absolute worst right now, grating every last ounce of his patience—but it's certainly not his spit landing on the surface of her lips, a wicked smirk on his face, as if to say I-fucking-told-you-so.

"Lick it up," he simply instructs, removing his hands from her body. She does as she's told, nervous bouts of energy firing through her as her tongue peeks out of her mouth to get rid of his saliva. It's dirty and demeaning but so, so good. 

While she does that, he makes a move to remove the leather belt slung around his hips. They've experimented with the belt a few times, but nothing more than a few swats to her thighs or bum — it's intense, and after a few hits, it becomes unenjoyable. 

So she's expecting that, but instead he sits down on the couch and pats his thighs. Silently, she complies, prepared to straddle his waist. 

"No." he says curtly, nudging her body away with his knee, "Tummy down, ass out."

Mia swallows and nods, slowly lowering her body over the length of the couch. She stretches her torso across Harry's lap with her bum fitting just below his thigh. Once she's settled — with no help from Harry, may she add — she feels him wrap the leather around the thick of her thighs, securing it tightly with the metal buckle. She gasps at the roughness of it; how he's just manhandling her like some kind of doll, the arousal leaking from her pussy smearing between the insides of her legs.

"Why did you have me come over if you just wanted to be a naughty little brat?" Harry asks, his palm finding the globes of her ass, rubbing over them softly.

"I don't know." she mumbles as she crosses her elbows under her chin.

Suddenly, his hand disappears, and just as quickly it's back, a harsh smack sounding through the room as it comes down on her ass. 

"Oh!" she exclaims, flinching slightly at the surprise of pain. 

"Give me an actual answer, pet."

Mia swallows nervously and rolls her lips into her mouth. "I... I missed you."

"You missed me?" Harry scoffs from above, "So you thought that was the best way to get my attention?"

"We've both been so busy with work and school... jus' wanted your attention, daddy."

He sighs and trails his fingertips up her spine. She allows her eyes to flutter shut at the gentle touch, a reminder that even if he could be mean and punishing, he was still her Harry.

"I know, you're right," he eventually murmurs, moving his hand up to her hair and stroking it, "I know we haven't seen each other much lately and I'm sorry for that."

Mia doesn't reply to that, instead shifting her position slightly, her thighs starting to feel irritated from the constriction of the leather.

"But you know there are better ways to communicate that to me than doing what you did," Harry continues, forming her hair into a loose braid as he speaks, "Your safety and happiness is my number one concern. Always. And I'm not happy that you put your safety at risk just to get my attention."

"I know," she whispers. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are. You're my sweet girl, I know you didn't mean it." He keeps his voice low, his chest vibrating with his words as his other hand dips below the waistband of her underwear, plucking at the thin fabric. "Still gonna have to punish you, though." 

Mia makes a hmph sound and he smirks, snapping the waistband again. 

"Thought you were doing being bratty. Are you gonna take your punishment like a good pet?"

She can hear the taunting tone in his voice without having to turn around and see his impish face. Even though she's craving his touch, quickly becoming desperate to have his hands on every inch of her skin, she knows disobeying him won't get her anywhere — at least not now, after she's made a scene he won't let her forget. 

"Answer me, pup." His words are punctuated by a firm slap across her right ass cheek, a gasp falling from her lips. The quick sting feels good, especially since she knows it's coming from her lover. 

"Yes, daddy." Mia replies, pressing her thighs together.

"There's my good girl," he says through a low voice, smacking her left cheek this time, "Now, what are you gonna do the next time you want my attention? The next time you're missing me and thinking of being naughty?"

"Gonna tell you," Mia winces as he delivers another blow. "Not gonna be bad, gonna communicate."

"That's right." 

The slaps come faster after that; he counts out 10 but her mind grows fuzzy somewhere around 8, when her skin feels hot to the touch and she's sure the imprint of his hand is clear as day on her ass. The thought makes her core flutter. 

"Good job, baby," Harry murmurs, smoothing his hand over her lower back. He uses the other to unbuckle the belt and she hears it tumble to the floor. "You did so good."

She hums, crossing her ankles behind her, "Am I done being punished?"

"Hmm, what do you think?" Harry gently tugs her up so she's on her knees, splitting her thighs to pull them over his waist, "Do you think you deserve some pleasure now? Or should I make you watch daddy just jerk himself off instead?"

A whimper scratches its way out of her throat as she shakes her head, eyes wide.

"No? You don't think I should just tuck my cock into those pretty little pussy lips? Rut against you until I cum all over my pussy?" He presses soft kisses along her jaw and up to her ear as he speaks, a juxtaposition from his dirty words. "And instead of letting you play with my cum the way I know you love... I'll just shove my fingers inside to make sure it sticks, hm? No orgasm, just get you knocked up, all swollen with daddy's cum."

"F-fuck," Mia mewls just as Harry raises his thigh ever so slightly, just enough to brush up against her sensitive clit. Her hips stutter; she's expecting him to scold her but he doesn't, and so she rolls them once more, the smallest bit of pleasure electrifying her entire body. 

"Does that turn you on, puppy?" Harry whispers against the shell of her ear, making her jaw drop as she ruts her pussy over his thigh once more, "Having an older man get you pregnant? Make you a mumma? Gorgeous girl with a swollen belly full of daddy's cum, hm?"

"Daddy," she moans, ducking her head back. The stimulation between his words and his muscular thigh is almost too much. She feels like she's close to exploding, every cell in her body erupting into stars. 

"You're such a dirty girl, aren't you?" He presses with a dark chuckle, "Should've known from the second I set my eyes on you, going on a date with someone so much older. Just wanted my cock the whole time. Wanted a real man who could take care of you and get you pregnant."

She's moving her hips impossibly fast against his leg now, the layers of fabric doing nothing to stop the bliss quickly zipping through her body. 

"I'm gonna— I'm gonna—"

"You're gonna what?" Harry mocks, the sudden feeling of his fingers denting her hip bones making her eyes snap open, "I know you're not gonna say you're coming, puppy."

Mia's jaw drops, her pussy clenching at the orgasm that could have (should have) been. She stutters through an attempt at words but she's too surprised, the evil smirk on Harry's lips distracting her. 

"Think that's enough of that for today," he says, tapping her legs once as a wordless request to get up. "Have you eaten? I'm starving."

As Harry trails into the kitchen to look through the contents of her fridge, Mia stays frozen on the couch. 

Oh, she was going to get him back for this one. 

#writing #sugar daddy h #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles fic recs #one direction

[crxshed-skxlls]

hiii i absolutely loved the fic of sub!toby and i was wondering if i could req more hcs of it?

Of course beloved anon. Your sins are my command 🙏

— ❝ 8 Sub!Ticci Toby x Fem!Reader

Based on my fanfic, "Enough is Enough"

NSFW tags: BDSM elements, bites/markings, rough sex, pnv sex, teasing, anal sex, mention of strap-on, degration/praise, pegging, semi public sex mentioning, experimentalist elements

Although he's a verse, Toby is an absolute brat when he bottoms. He'll give snark replies, teasing remarks that really question your dominance. Though, you always give him a thrill with breaking that false facade of defiance and disrespect with the way you tease him back.

Since Toby has CIPA, he can't feel the pain of overstimulation. He can feel the waves and sparks of pleasure for days though, watching as you fuck the senses out of you.

Toby loves it waking up in the morning seeing love bites and kisses down his neck and collarbones from previous nights. It takes him back to the loving moments fondly.

Toby loves when you go rough on him. Whether he is slowly fucked in the ass by your strap, whispering such dirty words to him all the way to orgasm denials and begging words. He can take all of it, and you know that he will.

Semi public area sex are absolutely tense and thrilling to Toby. He is an absolute horndog, and he loves when you surprise him by dragging him into more isolated places. The way he has to keep quiet as you suck his dick with an alluring gaze as Masky and Hoodie are just around the corner during a mission.

Toby also loves taking control sometimes. Even if he was a bottom for the most part, he knows all the key pieces to make you lose yourself. Whether it be purposefully slamming into your sensitive spots that made you lose it, or whether it be whimpering and crying into your ears for more. The man admittedly loves to watch you fall for him over and over again.

Believe it or not, you love experimenting with Toby. To explore his body, to know exactly what makes him tick. The way your hands rubbing his skin earns a pleased sigh or when your tongue hits a specifically sensitive vein that makes Toby shiver.

You love when Toby makes his own marks on you. When Toby sucks a hickey into you as you slam your strap into his ass, or even when he makes subtle love bites while you ride him to exhaustion. It all is worth it when you both end up waking up to bruised and slightly formed bite marks into each other.

#ticci toby x y/n #ticci toby x you #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby #creepypasta #creepypasta smut #not safe for minors #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #mdni #smut #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta headcanon #smut headcanons #headcanons

[iamsherlocked1479]

Admit it

Word count: 1.9k words

Description: Sherlock believes that lingerie is pointless so y/n decides to prove him wrong, no matter the costs.

Warnings: 18+, very angsty, BJ, P in V sex, choking, slut shame

A/N: this is my apology for not posting as much hope you like it! But chapter 11 is about halfway done atm.

“I don’t get it!” Sherlock shouted at the television screen, jolting you awake with his movement, you had fallen asleep on him again, which of course he didn’t have a problem with.

“W-what now?” You ask dazed from your sleep

“These adverts look at those women.” He pointed to the ad you had seen thousands of times for a designer company showing off their new lingerie.

“Its just an ad?” You say confused, this is your punishment for letting him get to intrigued in the reality tv shows you watch, his attempt of proving he could be a normal boyfriend.

“Yes but I don’t get why lingerie is so amazing.” He turned to you

“Because its a way to feel pretty, seductive almost.” You laugh

“But you don’t need lingerie to look beautiful.” He added

“You know you should use that line more often.” You laugh

“I really don’t understand society.” He sighed and turned his head back to the screen.

“So you wouldn’t care if i wore something like that?” You ask

“I prefer you in nothing, we both know that.” He squeezed your thigh

“No but its meant to make their partners want them more. A treat i would say.” You thought how you ended up explaining the use of lingerie to your boyfriend who was very much experienced by now in the arts of physical relationships with you.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does.” You laugh “its like when you wear that purple shirt that’s slightly too tight for you” you smirk as his brow raises

“That actually explains a lot.”

“Never mind the show is back on.” You point to the screen

“You’re just going to fall asleep again.” He smiled

“Would that be a problem?” You ask

“Never.” He added, and as usual he was right. You woke up the next morning in you shared bed trying to work out how you’d gotten there but then remembered your conversation from last night, maybe he would like it if you wore lingerie. You hadn’t exactly tried that before, you knew he was probably out on a case so you got dressed with your mission clear. Finding the perfect lingerie to seduce the great Sherlock Holmes, who also happened to be the man who never had physical relationships with anyone, in a physical relationship with you.

You started out with a few common clothing shops with nothing really taking your fancy so you decided it would be better to look in the expensive shops, like the one from the advert. You browse the isles being amazed by the different styles and colours in all shapes and sizes before finally seeing the perfect set.

On a mannequin in front of you was a purple laced bra and panties set. It was almost the same colour as his shirt so you knew it would be perfect, the bra was lace and obviously see through and the panties would fit your figure just right.

It was early evening by the time you got home, and Sherlock’s violin could be heard throughout the apartment. He smiled when he saw you, but didn’t stop playing. It was obvious whatever case he was on was really toying with his mind mind.

“I’m just gonna take a shower.” You yelled not expecting a reply, it was time to put your plan into action. You showered and washed your hair, whilst also performing for the various bottles of shampoo that probably wished they didn’t need to hear the same verse from careless whisper three times over. You towel dry your hair enough so it wouldn’t be dripping wet, without getting too frizzy the next day and slipped on the lingerie. And god it was perfect, there was no way in hell even Sherlock holmes could deny you didn’t look good, you weren't one for loving yourself too much but this made it difficult.

You left the bathroom wearing only the lingerie and Sherlock was still playing, but upon hearing you enter the room he began playing a careless whisper mocking your singing.

“Was I really being that loud?” You laugh

“I’ve heard worse.” He still hadn’t turned around, dam his stupid mind palace.

“So what case are you stuck on?” You ask moving to the kitchen and ignoring the severed human limbs to make tea.

“A soldier was murdered, found dead in the shower, no way in, no way out and no signs of a struggle. Just dead, it appears as if a ghost killed him.” He still hadn’t turned around, god he was arrogant sometimes.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” You ask

“Yes and is there any biscu-.” He stopped and finally laid his eyes on you. Your back was to him, your ass clearly showing.

“Everything okay back there?” You smirk

“W-what are you wearing?” He asked, you could have swore you heard a gulp.

“Oh this little thing? I picked it up today. What do you think?” You tapped the tea spoon on the cup and turned around, he watched your every move as you entered the living room. You place the tea on the table and walk over to him, now he was intrigued. It was time to play your game. “Sit please” you push him back into his chair and he falls back with a huff his eyes scanning every part of your body.

“I- I think its n-nice.” He watched as you teased him moving your hips as you turned around allowing him to look at everything.

“But you see I’m not sure about it, could you have a closer look?” You step towards him, and place yourself in his lap straddling his legs, with your chest in his face, his hands slid up your legs towards your hips, but you pushed them away. “Ah ah, remember I thought you didn’t see the point in clothes like this. In my opinion i’d say they’re pretty effective.” You could feel him twitching beneath you,

“Maybe they are helping a tad bit.” He shuffled in his seat trying his best to do as you said but he wasn’t going to admit you were right.

“Pitty, I thought they were working.” You began circulating your hips, grinding yourself against his growing length, letting out small moans of pleasure. You watched as he gripped the arms of his chair tightly at the sensation of you rubbing against him. You moved your hands to his chest and unbuttoned his shirt. His fingers moved closer to you tracing along your leg, but you stopped your movements and tutted. “Admit I was right and maybe I’ll let you touch.”

He grunted frustratedly he wasn’t one for admitting he was wrong, but here you sat in his lap grinding against him and he couldn’t even kiss you. “Shit” he sighed “fine you were right” you smiled at your win and pushed your lips against his and began moving faster.

“I can’t help myself around you, fuck baby.” He trailed his lips along your neck going in between the crevice of your breast with his tongue, he pulled down the straps of your bra and pulled your tits free. He took one into his mouth, nibbling the nipple slightly while gripping the other with his hand.

You gripped his hair pushing him further into your chest letting out more moans edging him on. You pushed your soaked cunt harder on him, making his cock rub against your clit beginning to causing the knot in your stomach to grow tighter, growing closer to your release. He purred into your chest as your wetness soaked through his trousers, which grew ever tighter with your work. You couldn’t hold it back any longer your hips jolted as you came,

“Oh fuck Sherlock yes, fuck you’re so hard its s-so good.”

“Mmm fuck i can’t wait any longer.” He stood up and carried you through the hall towards your bedroom, his lips still locked to yours as he kicked the door open and carried you to the bed. He dropped you there watching as you knelt below him, wiping the hair stuck to your sweaty forehead.

“Want your cock, baby, I need it.” You whimpered as you unbuckled his belt. You pulled down his boxers and watched as he moaned as you licked a stripe down his length before gently sucking on his balls as your hand pumped him slowly. His head knocked back with a sigh of relief as you reached his tip again, and slowly began bobbing your head down over it, working your tongue around him before sinking down a little farther. You tried your best to swallow around him he helped by pushing himself in gently letting out deep moans the further you got. His hip’s jolted again as you pulled back and worked on the tip again, he was becoming too sensitive and he hadn’t even fucked you yet. He pushed your mouth away and brought you to his gently gripping your throat.

“Don't think I forgot you wouldn’t let me touch you, I won’t let that go unnoticed. I’m going to make sure you can’t walk for a week.” He pushed you onto the bed and positioned his frame over you, he practically ripped off the panties and entered with a hard thrust causing you to yelp and grip to the bed sheets. He pushed hard into you the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room accompanied by your moans, you clawed at his back as he fucked you

“Look at you so cock drunk, you think you can parade yourself around like a little slut in my apartment and get away with it. Do you?” He asked

“N-no.” You whimpered, leaning your head back as your back arched

“No what?” He grabbed your chin making your eyes level with his dark blues

“N-no sir.”

“Good.” He flipped you over and knelt over you, slowing his pace, taking more time to push harder into you. “Now say you’re sorry.” He slapped your ass, hard smiling as a pink gleam appeared

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered

“Good girl, now we can enjoy this.” He sped up his pace and placed one hand under you, his thumb rubbing your already swollen clit. The pulse of you clit sent waves through you as you squirmed, he fucked you hard through your orgasm

“Oh fuck, sherlock just there, thats right!” Your voice was muffled as you buried yourself in the sheets pulling them from the corners.

Sherlock groaned, he loved the sight of you being this way around him, so cock drunk you couldn’t even hold yourself up. He too was reaching his end the way your pussy clenched around his cock was enough to set him off, spewing thick white ropes deep inside of you and collapsing onto you.

He took a moment to cat his breath, his cock still inside you before pulling himself off the bed,

“Looks like you need another shower.” He held out his hand as you turned and sprawled onto the bed

“I can’t, too tired.” You say breathlessly

“I told you you wouldn’t be able to walk.” He smiled while wiping the hair stuck to your forehead.

“Hmm” you groaned as your eyes fell closed. Sherlock fixed the sheets around you before wrapping your body in a cover and allowing you to sleep. He showered before going back to his violin, this time thinking only of you. Though he would never tell you, maybe just this once you were right.

#bbc sherlock #benedict cumberbatch #sherlock holmes x reader #benedict cumberbatch x female!reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock smut #smutty #sherlock bbc #y/n x sherlock #i am sherlocked #sherlockedit #spotify

[crushofdoves]

speaking of devouring fics where sirius' gender has been trans-ed, do you have any recs?? i know some people don't like to recommend fics so feel free to ignore if that's your vibe!

yes, i do have recs for this! here are a few off the top of my head, in no particular order:

honey sweet by @vajazzly

explicit - ft. city boy sirus who is down bad for the beekeeper with horrible fashion sense (but he’s good with this hands)

gathering home by @quietlemonhush

explicit - sirius raising regulus & harry after literally burning down his family home, remus is reg’s teacher. heavy themes but overall very funny & sweet & tender.

suffer for the people - orphan account

remus is regulus’s camp counselor, has lil bit of a meltdown and asks for his brother who comes to visit to calm him down. feelings occur. sooo cute & comforting, very fluffy.

our destiny in the stars - orphan account

explicit - remus is insecure about his (plus size, disabled) body and decides to try online dating where matches can’t see what the other person looks like. he meets sirius (trans, a teacher) and they uh - hit it off. this fic makes me smile so damn big. it’s just - it’s a classic, i’ve read it a million times.

whatever words i say - orphan account

sirius can’t stop acting out and it’s stressing out the rest of his band, so lily hires remus to keep an eye on him. obviously, they fall in love. a sweet lil band au.

a fool and his money - orphan account

explicit - chronically ill remus is roommates with regulus, meets his rich older brother and agrees to an arrangement: pretend to date sirius, show up with him to events - in exchange for money. y’all can guess where this is going and it’s so good. love a good sugar daddy/fake dating fic.

abyss by @titstraction

explicit - highschool au, remus & sirius are both on the track team and can’t seem to the same page. this fic is - so good. it’s very much a comfort read for me, but there are some heavy themes and transphobic jokes. this fic will hurt your feelings but it will also make you giggle and kick your feet and scream into your pillow.

have time to grow by queer_and_trashy

explicit - queer professor & amateur poet remus meets trans professional poet sirius - they try to get their shit together. hot & sweet and just, deeply deeply gay.

the entire rock n’ pole verse by @jennandblitz and fivepips

explicit - ace rock climber remus meets genderfluid dancer (mainly pole) sirius. this ‘verse is huge, there’s literally millions of words of it and y’all - i’ve read all of it. incredible ace representation, and overall just very sweet and sappy. mild angst, but everyone is in love & has a happy ending so don’t worry!

living like we’re renegades - orphan account

explicit - cheerleader sirius + journalist remus = everything i’ve ever wanted. i loooove this sirius so much they’re so gender.

the prettiest star ‘verse by raging_queer

tattoo artist sirius meets single dad remus - actually, sirius meets his child, teddy. sweet bonding with teddy looking up to Elder Queer sirius. very fluffy and comforting.

staying strangers by 3amandcounting

the texting fic, my fave of all-time. genderfluid sirius & demisexual remus. if there is one fic out there that will just make you want to open a window and yell about it to the other townsfolk - it’s this one. idek how to explain it, it’s just - it’s perfect.

also most of my fic features trans sirius, my masterlist is pinned!

disclaimer: this list is non-exhaustive, i know i’ve forgotten some, and i will be updating this tomorrow when i’m not half-asleep. and y’all, please reply with your fave trans sirius fics bc i want to read them all!!

#gonna reblog this tomorrow and add all my fave trans remus fics too! #@mutuals if i forgot ur fic i’m so sorry i’m on my phone and don’t have my full bookmark list i LOVE u #please add ur own recs! #trans sirius black #fic recs #wolfstar #ALSO i’m sure some of these authors do have tumblrs i just don’t know their urls or whatever so lemme know if i need to update my tags

[star-suh]

will you ever give me winwin and yangyang with top male leader

Cruisin' for a Fuckin'

winwin & yangyang x male reader

cw: top m reader, verse winwin. bottom yangyang, double penetration, cruising, public sex, unprotected sex, breeding, yangyang is a bit needy, pwp, cum eating.

an: no idea if the title makes sense but it just came to my mind and it sounded cool there lol.

—

y/n was using a dating app as an easy way to find a hookup, lucky him, he found not only one but two people to spend a heated night, "i've never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly" yangyang said to him after seeing his dick pics "don't worry, that ass is gonna eat good tonight" answered y/n "do you mind if i bring a friend with me?". "as long as you give me your cock i don't care" replied yangyang.

the three agreed to meet in a park with huge trees and bushes that made a perfect place to give in to their horny desires. "this is very exciting," says winwin, "just thinking that someone can see us gives me a lot of adrenaline" murmured yangyang. "calm down you hoes, if you both keep talking someone might discover us" says y/n "use that pretty mouth for better things" he continued pushing yangyang down and pushing his face to his bulge, yangyang like a bitch in heat was sniffing and feeling the heat of y/n's cock "it's not gonna suck by itself" says y/n looking down at yangyang with a raised eyebrow. the man didn't wait for more and went straight to unzip the top's pants, pulled down the underwear and started to lick the cock, up and down.

winwin and y/n started to kiss with the later massaging the bulge of the other guy, "go help my friend down there" whispered y/n, winwin obeyed and went down to suck cock along yangyang. both licking a side of the cock and occasionally kissing between them with the cock in the middle of their mouths, "such good sluts i found" thought y/n who was trying to contain his moans. when the cock was coated fully in saliva yangyang begged to be fucked first "i need you right now.. please" he says whining "then what are you waiting for? hop on this cock" says y/n slapping it against his hand. with no hesitation the bottom put all of it inside him at once "woah… a greedy one" mentioned winwin who was jerking off. skin slapping sounds filled that part of the park at this point they didn't care if they get caught, they want just to cum and use each other for pleasure. minutes later y/n was fucking winwin while he was fucking yangyang "such a tight hole fuck" grunted y/n "fuck it until it gets the shape of your cock" said winwin, "right there fuck~" says yangyang feeling the man's cock brushing his prostate. some minutes passed and y/n lifted yangyang with the help of winwin and put his cock inside the hole waiting for winwin to do the same "let's stretch this hole together" says winwin "we're gonna fill you up so good that you gonna come back asking for more". tears streamed down yangyang's eyes he had never felt so excited and horny in his life, fuck it, he loves those cocks and would do anything for them "fuck yes please, fill me up, re-arrange my insides, do what you want but just start to thrust already" he says making both guys laugh "so needy for our cocks, what a slut" says y/n who was playing with yangyang's nipples. "as you wish" answered winwin who thrusted first making yangyang squirm "you like it?" asks winwin licking yangyang's neck. "bet he does" says y/n jerking off yangyang.

the guy was so cock drunk that he started to says nonsenses "who's a good cocksleeve?" asked y/n cupping yangyang's face "is-ishh me?" said the bottom with hooded eyes and drool spilling form his mouth, "of course you are" answered the top then both kissed. the thrust started to get sloppier. signaling that both tops are about to cum and they did inside of yangyang when they pull out the cum dripped down his hole and fell to the ground, winwin sucked on his hole making sure to leave the hole clean while y/n was sucking and jerking yangyang to make him cum, seconds later he cums in y/n's mouth who swallowed it all "tasty" he says to yangyang and then kisses his forehead.

yangyang was to tired so they decided to sit on a bench and let the guy rest a bit there. "is your friend ok?" asked a lady who passed by "oh yes he is" winwin quickly replied "don't worry he's just tired" he smiled at the lady who resumed his walking "he just got his insides re-arranged" mocked y/n laughing along with winwin.

#winwin x male reader #winwin smut #dong sicheng x male reader #yangyang x male reader #liu yang yang x male reader #yang yang smut #male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #smut #male reader smut #yang yang x male reader #nct x male reader #wayv x male reader

[seiya-starsniper]

#6 or #19 for the gentle prompts? 🥺🥺❤️❤️

#6 - "I've got you." || [AO3 Link Here]

I love the HELL out of this prompt 💖 Apologies this ended up being a lot more hurt/comfort than anything else, but there's still plenty of gentleness in it! Thanks for sending in the prompt, I hope you enjoy my little slice of birthday cake from me to you 🍰😄

-----------------------------------------------

After he releases Calliope from her prison and exacts his revenge on her behalf, Dream is left feeling unmoored and inadequate. 

He should have tried to escape sooner. He should not have stayed so long stuck in his foolish pride. He should not have been caught at all, even though he knew that his summoning was not his fault, but a plot orchestrated by his younger sibling. Still, Dream was the elder and he should’ve known. He should’ve—He could’ve—

Dream finds himself standing at the front door of the New Inn, and the noises of cheer and joy erupting from within break the Endless out of his maudlin thoughts. He looks up at the sign to the pub, sighing as he considers how he ended up here.

Hob Gadling had greeted him not even two weeks ago as a friend when Dream came to him after his imprisonment. They had talked late into the night, and Dream had found himself able to talk candidly about his capture for the first time. Hob had taken him gently by the hand at the end of the night and told Dream to return to him any time he felt he needed a friend. He did not need to wait 100 years. He was welcome anytime.

And so, here Dream is, in need of the company of his oldest friend. Perhaps his only friend.

He doesn’t even know if Hob will be inside, but if not, he can always return another time. When the door bangs open, and a pack of drunken patrons merrily make their way outside the bar, Dream slips inside past them, and into the warmth and familiarity of the New Inn. He immediately spots Hob standing with a microphone near the bar. 

He is—singing?

Dream furrows his brow in confusion before he scans the daydreams of the bar patrons, determined to give himself context to what is occurring. Apparently the New Inn is celebrating something called Karaoke Night. All patrons are encouraged to participate, it seems, and as the owner of the pub, Hob is usually the one to start the festivities, as well as keep them going throughout the night. 

Dream realizes that Hob has a rather lovely singing voice. Already, he can feel the tension slowly leaking from his shoulders, disappearing into the crowd the longer he watches his friend joke and laugh with the other patrons of the bar in between verses.

Dream wonders if he should not come back another time after all. Hob is clearly preoccupied, and it would not do for Dream to beg for his friend’s companionship when there are others who are much livelier and more deserving of it than he. Perhaps he should—

“Dream?” Hob calls out to him, breaking him out of yet another bout of self-deprecating thoughts. Hob is looking at him, and he appears to be delighted to see Dream. He hands the microphone off to the man managing the music, and then rushes over to greet him.  

When he reaches Dream, Hob wraps his arms around him in a hug. It’s meant to be a greeting, a quick embrace, but Dream’s body must sense that he needs more than that, because he practically collapses into his friend's arms. Hob grunts as he takes on the Endless’s unexpected weight but then he squeezes Dream’s shoulder and presses his face into Dream’s unruly hair.

“Hey, you all right?” Hob asks him, his voice soothing and gentle.

Dream wants to reassure his friend that he is fine, that there is nothing wrong with him, to apologize for his one moment of weakness—but he is so tired. He is emptied out after today. He would like to rest. Just for a little while.

“No,” he replies, internally cringing at just how weary he sounds. “I am—not well.”

And then Dream decides to indulge—he indulges because Hob had told him he was allowed—he wraps his arms around Hob, and then buries his face in his oldest friend’s shoulder. Hob only hums in response, before he calls a woman over to where they’re standing. 

“Hey Beth, I’m taking off early tonight,” Hob tells the woman who comes to check in on them. Dream peers up at her from Hob’s shoulder. Her name is Elizabeth Lovegood. She has worked for the New Inn for a little less than five years, but she dreams of one day owning her own bakery. She is smiling kindly at him, and Dream feels undeserving of it.

“Is he all right?” Beth asks. “This that the same guy who came in here that one time?”

“Yeah,” Hob answers for him, then gently rubs Dream’s shoulders. “Think he’s just had a rough day and needs a place to crash for the night.”

Beth nods. “I got everything under control here, boss. You feel better all right, hon?”

Dream nods, and then he is being shuffled away to the back of the pub, near the stairs where Hob keeps his flat above the New Inn. 

“Hey, shh it's okay, I've got you,” Hob tells him gently as he leads them up the stairs and into the warmth of his home. 

Hob prepares tea and wraps Dream up in a blanket that had been previously sitting along the back of the sofa where Dream is now sitting. When they are settled together, he asks,

“What happened?”

Dream recounts the story of Calliope and her imprisonment. Hob asks some clarifying questions about their relationship and Dream does his best to answer without straying too close to the topic of Orpheus. He is not ready to discuss Orpheus yet. Not with Calliope. Not with Hob. He is not sure if he will ever be ready. 

When he is finished, he sighs deeply and leans back into the softness of Hob’s couch.

“That is everything,” he finishes. “And now you are aware of one of my greatest failures.”

Hob’s brow furrows. “Failures?” he asks, confused. “But you freed Calliope, and without much trouble, how is that anything but a rousing success?”

“But she should not have had to suffer for so long,” Dream insists. “If I only I had not let my pride get in the way, I could have—”

Dream, Hob interrupts him, a rare sternness in his voice Dream has not heard since 1889. “You cannot live in the what-ifs, my friend,” he continues, his voice back to gentle and calming. “That way leads to madness, and I think you and I both know that better than most.”

“But I am not human,” Dream argues. “I am Endless, and I should not have been captured by Roderick Burgess in the first place.”

“So the Endless never make mistakes then?” Hob asks him pointedly. The accusation stings and white hot anger flashes beneath the skin of Dream’s mortal form. 

“You—!” Dream exclaims, suddenly standing, his still hot tea splashing violently within its mug. “You still dare—”

“I do dare,” Hob replies, getting off the couch himself and placing his own mug on the coffee. “Because you’re my friend and I care about you, and I won’t watch you berate yourself for things that were clearly out of your control!”

Out of his control.

It’s those words that finally make Dream deflate. He drops back down onto the couch, splashing tea all over himself and the furniture. Hob yelps in alarm, but Dream merely waves the liquid away. He is tired again. He has been tired a lot lately. 

“I am sorry,” Dream says, staring up at Hob’s ceiling. “You are right. These things were outside what I could control. And I do not like things that are out of my control.”

Hob snorts. “I don’t anyone likes the things that are out of their control, my friend,” he says, before plopping himself down next to Dream. “Want a hug?”

Dream does. He leans into the crook of Hob’s arm, and once again he feels his tension and sorrows from the day bleed away into the fabric of the couch. 

Perhaps he shall stay. Just for a little while. 

#dreamling #the sandman #hob x morpheus #dream x hob #seiya writes #seiya writes dreamling #seiya's birthday prompt fills #not me accidentally posting the ao3 link early so now I'm posting this 10 mins sooner than intended ahahahaha