#I love it when he smiles and shows his teeth

[peachesofteal]

Simon Riley / female reader Secret baby trope / 18+ Inspo musing

It’s your eyes.

He notices them first.

They glance over from across the room, incredibly brief. You touch on everyone seated along the worn wood, cataloguing, categorizing, before turning your attention back to your friend, who seems to be in the middle of a story.

Like Johnny is.

“LT, ye even listenin’ to me?” Simon nods, but he’s still watching you. Tracing your spine, staring at the exposed skin on your neck. He imagines you smell like lavender, or citrus. Something spritely and soft. He conjures up the image of his thumb pressing into your bottom lip, and he wonders how plush it is.

You look like a perfect little treat.

And he’s in need of one.

“She’s bonnie.” Johnny sips his beer, eyebrow raised. “Like what ye see?” He shrugs. He hasn’t taken a woman to bed in years. It always ends up feeling wrong somehow, stale. Unease twists in his gut when clothes start to come off, anxiety trembles in the swell of his blood, and his scars begin to feel fresh. Torn open.

Sex makes him feel torn apart. Ripped to shreds.

But he’s not opposed to having another go at it. Not if you're the one taking his cock like a good girl.

There's something about you. You’re bright, like a little jewel, sparkling in the sun. A piece of something precious. Too golden to be tarnished, too sunny to be sullied by darkness.

He nearly swallows his tongue when you appear at the end of the bar, opposite of Johnny. You’re waiting to order another beer, he assumes, but you look over at him for too long, a second or two, and it tells him all he needs to know.

It’s in your eyes.

“Hi.” Your lips curve upwards at each side, a secretive smile, imparted only on him. His heart flutters like a school boy, young and naive all over again. His skin is hot, prickled under his clothes, hair on the back of his neck standing straight up.

Fuck, you're so pretty. You're perfect.

He's staring at your lips, memorizing the pert Cupid's bow, the soft color that shines when your tongue darts out to lick them.

Johnny clears his throat. Simon's brain catches up to his body. "Hey-"

An oversized brute jostles you, his shoulder nearly pushing you into Johnny. You blink, doe eyed, and then step back from the bar, allowing him to take up the space where you just occupied.

Simon grits his teeth, vision tunneling red.

Kitten doesn't have any claws.

That's okay, he thinks. You wouldn't need them, if you had him.

He wonders if violence scares you. If he beats this ogre to a bloody pulp, would you run from him? He takes in the confused crinkle in your brow, wide, shy eyes, and decides on a different tactic.

"C'mere love." He husks, extending his hand, pushing Johnny's stool over with the heel of his foot, carving out a space for you to sidle in between them.

You press against his thigh as you take your spot, leaning forward to talk to the bartender, and when you look over your shoulder at him, small smile tugging at your lips, he presses his palm to the small of your back.

"And... two shots of whiskey, please."

You're... everything.

Naked, laid out on your bed with your legs spread, eyes still wide and sweet, and he can barely get his mouth to work as he looks at you.

"Simon," you whimper in the dark, hands reaching, searching, and he kisses each finger like they're a decadent treat, one he'll never have enough of, "please."

Moonlight illuminates your face, shines across the curves of your body, and he has to blink multiple times to steady himself, to keep himself grounded.

Your fingers don't feel like razors. Your mouth isn't torture. Every soft word you give him is like a balm. You're everything.

And he's going to show you, he's going to make sure you know- you're everything.

He's going to fuck you face to face.

But first, he needs-

Your hand wraps around his wrist. "I'm on the pill." you whisper, desperate. "I want to feel you... I'm clean, if you-" The trust you're implying is a foreign concept, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he worries. You're going to let him fuck you raw? You're going to let him feel the clutch of your pussy, without any protection?

You're out of your mind.

But so is he.

"I haven't been with anyone in years." His accent is a rasp, heavy with desire. "And 've got a clean bill of heath."

It's a mutual agreement. And it doesn't take any convincing.

"You want me to fuck this pretty little pussy raw, sweet girl? Is that it?" His mouth covers yours, and then trails down to your neck, nips across the tops of your breasts. "Want me to fill you up?"

"Yeah," his fingers slide through your folds, teasing from top to bottom, swirling around your clit, "fuck, yeah, I want-"

"I've got a lot of cum for you, honey. You sure you can take it?" You clench around the finger he's slipped inside, and moan.

"Oh my god," Your spine arches, and he holds your hips, aligning himself before pushing into your body, melding the two of together almost perfectly.

Almost, because you're so bloody tight, it's like you're strangling him. He's not going to last.

"Relax," He murmurs, kissing your jaw, rubbing a slow circle around your clit. "There you go, that's my girl." It slips out, but you don't seem to care. Neither does he. Tonight, you're his. You and your body and your heart and your soul, belong to him. He'll mark you like you’re his. A fantasy, a wish, a far cry from reality.

In another life, maybe he'd have you forever. For real.

But in this life, he'll take what he can get, and you let him. You let him take and take and take all night long, on your back, face bared to him like he's the brightest star and not the darkness haunting dreams. You kiss him like it's real, and when he comes inside you once, and then twice, you let him stay there, locked tight, staring down into your eyes. He rubs your cheek with his thumb, and you smile. He presses his forehead against yours, and your cup the back of his head, gingerly kissing him, carefully, like you know. Like you can see him.

You say his name. You moan it. You scream it. It's never sounded so good, and he wonders if this is what it's like- to have and to hold.

In the morning, before the sun rises, he stands at the foot of your bed, watching you sleep. He wishes you'd wake, wants you to open your eyes and ask him to stay, hopes you'll roll over and realize he's not there and call his name-

It's all a fantasy. Something that could never be more than what it was in that moment, in the moonlight, a secret held between two strangers, the first breath in the dawn.

He brushes his lips across your forehead one last time, and then disappears down the hall.

Out the door.

Out of your life.

#this Simon is very similar to Light On Simon #but there are key differences #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #phone writing #peaches writes #simon riley #so mind the mistakes

[emmyrosee]

ONG OMG OMG CLOTHES SHOPPING WITH SAMU AND SHOWING HIM ALL UR OUTFITS WHILE HE SISTS AND COMPLIMENTS U AND AHHHHH 😍

“Okay. That one’s my favorite.”

You roll your eyes and snicker as his eyes glaze up and down your body, a smile on his face while he soaks you all in. “They’ve all been your favorite, baby,” you remind him.

“I can’t help that you look good in everything,” he scoffs, leaning his elbows on his knees. "What, are you saying I shouldn't be grateful for dating a goddess? You're out of your mind."

Your cheeks are blazed from his words and your mind swirls, how he’s so sweet and the best at hyping you up keeping your heart pounding in your chest. Osamu’s always had the way to make you melt into a pile of mush, though doing it in public so boastfully is definitely new.

“I think I’ve got one more,” you assure, stepping back k into the dressing room.

“I miss you,” he calls.

“I miss you more,” you return, and you pick up the final article of clothing- a short, tight dress, one you snuck in when he was looking at men’s shoes so he’d never get a peek before seeing it adorning your body.

It slips on and fits like a glove.

You’re pretty sure you saved the best for last.

You smirk at your reflection as your hands smooth down the dress, giving yourself a little spin in the wide mirrors. You sigh softly, happily, and you hear him chuckle, “don’t leave me in suspense, come on now.”

“I don’t think you’re ready for me,” you challenge.

You hear him scoff, “oh, I’m ready for you.”

You’re quick to fiddle with the lock and open the door, revealing yourself for the nth time today.

This time, however, his jaw drops. His eyes widen and they shamelessly take you all in, and the smirk that starts to spread is captured by his teeth as he sinks his them into the fat of it. His body tightens, and he lets out a small sigh through his nose, a small hand coming up to card his hair back.

“Holy fuck.”

“Osamu!” You giggle. “Dont say that!”

“You look… divine, momma,” he exhales, dropping his hand and resting it on his knee. “I was full of it before- this one’s my favorite.”

“Yeah?” You mewl, using your index finger to beckon him closer, and as if tranced, he stands up and makes his way to you, hands immediately reaching out to rest on your hips. “You like it that much?”

“I love it, angel face,” he confesses, his eyes shining with adoration and complete obsession. “If you get nothing from today- which you absolutely should- get the dress. For me.”

“For you?”

He chuckles, “yeah. Wanna look at you in it forever.”

#i made this with a dress but i can ABSOLUTELY redo this for shorts and what not just give me a holler 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 #osamu miya #osamu miya fluff #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya x f!reader #osamu miya x reader fluff #osamu miya imagine #osamu miya haikyuu #miya osamu #miya osamu fluff #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu x f!reader #miya osamu x reader fluff #miya osamu imagine #miya osamu haikyuu #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader fluff #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x f!reader #haikyuu x yn #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n

[gloomwitchwrites]

hi!!! i literally started reading your blog and FR YOU HAVE TALENT. Got me giggling and kicking my feet cus of that girl dad!tf141 fics.

I was reading one of the links you put in for prompt ideas and I read that one six words sentence from link five: "I can't risk losing you again." hello?? potential angst to fluff?? I couldn't get it off my head and i was wondering if you could write something from it :>

Thank you so much! That's so sweet of you! I'm so glad you enjoyed reading the Just Like Dad stories. I had a lot of fun writing them.

"I can't risk losing you again" is such an open-ended prompt. There is a lot you can do with that. I hope my humble offering is enough. I certainly went more angst than fluff on this one, but I really do love sad things with twinges of hope thrown in.

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, mild blood, non-graphic mentions of violence, angst, fluff, pregnancy, mentions of pregnancy complications

Simon "Ghost" Riley: An enemy of Simon's harms you, forcing Simon to make a tough decision. (wc: 315) Kyle "Gaz" Garrick: Kyle decides there is only one way to keep you close. (wc: 323) John Price: Price worries after you tell him you're pregnant when the first pregnancy had complications. (wc: 329) John "Soap" MacTavish: Johnny learns that falling in love with a teammate can only lead to sorrow. (wc: 542)

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Busted door. Shattered glass. Overturned table.

The lights aren’t working and rain enters through the open patio door. You are safe and whole and far from this. But is it enough? Will Simon be able to keep you safe?

What was once doubt is now cold truth.

It’s not your trashed home but the state Simon found you in. It was your heavy-lidded eyes and bruised face. It was the pools of red that Simon didn’t know belonged to you, the dead man facedown in the carpet, or both. It was your smile of relief when you realized it was Simon drawing you into his arms.

Simon knows the man who did this—no. He knows who fucking ordered it.

And when he finds Makarov, he’ll show that fucker just how trigger-hungry he can be. The lead will burst and fuse to his lungs, and Simon will bathe in the aftermath.

All that’s left is your safety. If Simon knew that his career would lead to this, he would have taken steps to protect you years ago. You are always his one bright spot, that candle in the dark that is his life.

With you, he became more than his trauma. More than his guilt. More than his past. With you, he found peace. He found happiness. You are the sugary candy that sticks in the teeth but is too addictive to give up.

Departing is agony. The return is his reward and his longing.

You are everything.

And that is why he let you go.

Why he said, “I can’t risk losing you again.”

He put his head in your lap, his fingers digging into the sides of your thighs and failed to push down the tears.

Laswell will take you far away. She will keep you somewhere safe.

Makarov won’t find you.

And maybe—perhaps in the future—Simon can return to you.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle is a nervous wreck.

The tiny box sits heavy in his pocket, burning an invisible hole. His plan is not the most romantic, but the two of you aren’t the type to go big. It’s all subtle, and Kyle only wants this moment to include the two of you.

This is his last chance.

Kyle’s final opportunity.

In this relationship, Kyle has kept you second. Not on purpose but out of habit. Work is his lifeblood. It drives him, and every successful mission is a point of pride. But in keeping up with that, Kyle left you behind.

His absences lengthened, and over time, he noticed you were pulling away, closing off. But that isn’t your fault. Kyle created the perfect brew for you to drink. These are the consequences of his actions, and he needs to make it right.

There was a time when Kyle nearly did lose you. When he came home and thought you had packed up and left without saying a word. That broke him. Made him realize just how distant he’d become.

Change is difficult.

But Kyle did it. Slowly.

Your smile returned, and when he comes home, your greetings are full of passion.

I can’t risk losing you again.

Kyle takes a deep breath as the deadbolt on the front door disengages. There is a slight tremble in his hands. Kyle is never nervous. Never. But fuck—taking this next step is driving him up the goddamn wall.

He pushes off from the couch, turning just as the front door swings open.

You step inside, face turned away as you go to shut the door. When you finally glance into the room, all the nervousness inside Kyle’s chest evaporates.

Your smile is so sweet, and you don’t hesitate. Dropping your bag, you rush toward him, and Kyle cannot help but meet you halfway.

He’s making the right choice in asking you to stay with him forever.

John Price

“You’re not happy.”

John is happy. He is. But old worries bubble up, seeping into the joy. It’s tainting everything, and that is clear by how your smile starts to fade.

“I am happy,” he says, but his mouth is a hard line. John knows he’s frowning.

You shake your head, one hand resting over your stomach. “Don’t lie, John.”

This is supposed to be a happy moment. He should sweep you up in his arms. He should kiss you until you’re begging for air. But all John can think about are all the doctor appointments he attended with you, and the grimness of what might not happen.

From that came a daughter. John loves her. Adores her. But bringing her into the world nearly killed you. He grappled with that stress while being as present as possible with you. Growing your family has always been a dream, and John doesn’t fault you for a second. There is no family without you.

John grasps the sides of your face and moves into your space. Your own hands close over his, keeping him from retreat.

“I am happy,” he reiterates. “But we both know what it took to bring our daughter into the world.” John shakes his head absently and breathes deep. “Don’t do this for me.”

“John—”

“I can’t risk losing you again.”

This time, your smile returns. There is a hint of sadness lingering behind it, as if you too are reflecting on all that happened.

“Everything will be fine.” You release his hand and gently cup his cheek.

John kisses your forehead, his thumb absently tracing your jaw. “Are you sure?”

The decision is ultimately yours, and John will respect whatever you decide.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” he nods.

John pulls you in, lips finding yours. When you melt into him, accepting all that he’s giving, a wave of peace settles over him.

This is right.

And whatever happens, the two of you will face it together.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny drips water all over the floor. He is soaked through. Shivering. But he could give a fuck.

“Where is she?”

“Soap—”

“Where the fuck is she, Price?”

Captain Price sighs heavily and crosses his arms. “She needs rest.”

Johnny swallows down his retort. He’s not upset with Price, and shit like this happens all the time, but he needs to know if you’re okay.

You took a fucking bad fall, and Johnny couldn’t stop to run after you. The mission comes first, and it wasn’t his job. Other people stepped in and whisked you away. But from the height you plummeted from, Johnny feared the worst.

Still does to an extent.

If you were dead, Price wouldn’t hide that from him. But he might hide how bad you’re injured as a way to protect him. Price has always been fatherly in that regard. Right now, it’s driving Johnny fucking nuts.

“Captain. Please,” Johnny clenches his fists and then releases them. “Let me see her.”

Price’s frown smooths a bit and the middle of his brow wrinkles with concern. “For a few minutes. All I can spare.”

Johnny has to keep from rushing to the hospital room doorway when the words leave Price’s mouth. He has Johnny walk with him to your door. Thunder rumbles in the distance and rain steadily hits the large window at the far end of the hospital room.

Just as Johnny takes a step inside, Price’s hand is on his shoulder.

“She’ll make it,” is all he says before he shuts the door.

Johnny lingers right inside. All the lights are off except a small lamp in the corner. Your eyes are closed, and your face is peaceful. There is bruising. A few bandages. The machines next to the bed beep softly.

He was so eager—so determined to get to you. Now, Johnny deflates.

On quiet feet, he grabs a chair and brings it over to your bedside. You don’t stir. Simply sleep. Johnny eases down into the chair and leans forward, his forearms crossed as he rests them on the side of the hospital bed.

Still, you don’t move. And Johnny doesn’t dare wake you.

Rest is important, and all he wants is for you to recover.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “That I didn’t come sooner.” The rain picks up and Johnny smooths back his wet hair. “But I can’t keep doing this. Every time you’re hurt I—” He sighs heavily and rests his forehead on his crossed arms.

“I can’t risk losing you again,” he murmurs into the bedding.

It’s become too much. You’re not supposed to fuck your coworkers and you shouldn’t fall in love with them either. But Johnny did both. With you. And he cannot take that back.

He’d give anything if you’d set this all aside.

Your fingers brushing against his scalp startle him. Johnny lifts his head, only to find you watching him. There is a soft smile on your lips, and his instinct is to grasp your hand and bring it to his lips, kissing each knuckle and then your palm.

The moment your mouth opens to speak, there is knock at the door. Johnny frowns and looks up, finding Price in the doorway.

“Time’s up.”

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[bandgie]

I had an idea but idk if you'd be comfortable with it so feel free to ignore it

I thought of minho and hyunjin for it. minho knowing hyunjin has a crush on someone. minho knows her but hyunjin doesn't. to tease him, minho takes the girl out on a friendly date and takes pics to show hyunjin. he gets jealous but that pushes him to talk to the girl and after meeting up a few times, they fuck. as revenge, hyunjin takes a picture or video or whatever to send to minho

I like loser to cocky hyunjin 😶

2k words

warnings! MDNI 18+, blowjob, throat fucking (light), cum swallowing, recording during oral

"Hyung, can you not send me things like that?"

"Like what?" But Minho already knows. He has a sly grin that makes his top two teeth slightly poke out. The smile only widens when Hyunjin groans, digging his phone from his pocket and unlocking it.

It only takes a few clicks before Hyunjin shows Minho the message. A sent picture of you holding up ice cream, smiling, and throwing up a peace sign.

"Ohhh," Minho pretends to finally understand. "Did you know she loves strawberry ice cream?"

"Minho!" Hyunjin jumps at the sound of his voice. "You know how I feel. It doesn't make me feel any better." He shoves his phone back into his pocket, folding his arms. "You're being a mean hyung to me."

"Mean? It's not my fault you're not doing anything. I'm just trying to give you a little encouragement." And although that's somewhat true, Minho can't lie that he finds joy in Hyunjin's scowl. 

Hyunjin shakes his head. "Well, stop it. It's not working."

But Minho doesn't. Every few days, Hyunjin gets an image of you with Minho. It ranges from going out for lunch to volunteering at animal shelters. Minho is in the same major as you and Hyunjin only came across you once. That's all it took for him to develop an innocent crush; one that Minho is seemingly keen on ruining.

Message after message, days upon days that leave Hyunjin feeling a mix of emotions. He's at the university library, staring at his phone and debating on blocking Minho's number until a glimpse of your figure catches his attention. 

It shouldn't be a surprise to see you, you all go to the same college, but it's rare for Hyunjin to come across anyone he knows due to his schedule. For a minute, he just watches. He observes the way you survey the room to look for a spot, and steps slowly to get a good look. He watches as your eyes lock with his, smiling and giving a small wave. You quicken your steps in his direction-

Holy shit. Are you going to sit next to him? Hyunjin hurriedly collects his scattered papers to make some room, not bothering to lock his phone that he hastily sets on the table. Your steps get closer, his heart beats faster. He's managed to make a small, messy pile when you stop just a few inches shy away from him. 

"It's Hyunjin, right?" Gosh, even the way you say his name makes his stomach dip.

Hyunjin nods, eyes shifting from his paper to your face. "Yeah."

"Okay good!" You happily set your backpack on the table and choose the seat right next to him. "I wasn't sure. I just seen you and thought you looked familiar. You're Minho's friend, no?"

This is the closest Hyunjin's ever been with you. He can smell your perfume, the lip balm that makes your mouth shine, and your cheery expression as you speak. How is Minho even friends with someone so happy?

Probably to make Hyunjin's life difficult. But there isn't an opportunity to answer as Hyunjin's phone goes off. Still unlocked, both of you stare at the message. 

From: Asshole [image sent] got to try out the new cafe with your favorite person the other day lol

Hyunjin reaches for the phone, but the damage is already done. You're quicker than him, snatching it off the table and scrolling further into the messages. Some casual conversations, lots of cussing, but mostly you. Just photos of you with captions ranging from what you did with Minho to Hyunjin asking- no begging - for Minho to stop. 

"What the hell?" You mumble to yourself just as Hyunjin successfully pries his phone from your grasp. He's sweating, you notice. Chest expanding rapidly and hands shaking. "Why is Minho sending pictures of me to you like that?"

He just shakes his head, unable to answer from embarrassment or shock, you're not sure. His dark hair sweeps over his face and he hurriedly packs his things. "I need to go." His voice is just as shaky as his hands. 

You grab a hold of his bag, preventing him from leaving. "You're not going anywhere." You yank on the material and he whines. "Hyunjin." He whines again at the sound of his name, but he remains standing and pulling against your grasp.

"Hyunjin. Sit. Down."

His legs turn to jelly, a final whimper escaping his throat as he plops back in his seat. You let a sigh, rubbing your temples in a way that makes Hyunjin gulp.

"Sorry, I...I didn't mean to say it like that." You take a deep breath. "I just don't understand why Min is sending you pictures of me. It comes off a little...weird. You know?"

Weird? Oh, he's so fucked. You're keeping a neutral expression, but Hyunjin isn't sure how much longer that'll last. If he tells you the truth, you might be disgusted. You both hardly know each other, how can he harbor even just some feelings for you? This is Minho's fault. It's only fair that he gets the full blame. 

"Yeah, no I get it," Hyunjin nods. "He just..." Fuck, what is he supposed to say?

You give him a few seconds before you prompt him again, "He just what?" You're being so patient. So understanding that you're still here letting Hyunjin save his ass. You should have called him a perv by now, slapping him across the face. But you didn't.

"He's just a dick." Fuck it. "I've already asked him to stop, but he just likes to torture me." You raise a curious eyebrow, but Hyunjin continues. "It was one time. I said that I think you're pretty just one time and he makes it his fucking mission to make sure he sees how much fun he's having with you."

That's not what you were expecting, but Hyunjin is far from done. "I would love to get to know you, to talk to you, but I'm such a pussy. That dick rubs it in my face how often you two hang out. Like, that's cool and all, but I want to rip my hair out." Hyunjin gets more confident as he talks, most likely getting riled up from talking about Minho, but you hardly mind.

"So, yes, it's weird. I know. But it's not my fault!" Hyunjin quickly scans the near-empty library at the raising of his voice. "Minho just keeps sending me you 'cuz he likes to tease me. That's all."

He stares at you and you stare back. A few seconds pass with quiet blinking before you realize you should say something.

"Oh."

Hyunjin groans, burying his beautiful face in his hands. You stare at his ashamed state, both pathetic and endearing. Truly, this isn't a big deal, but his dramatic reactions bring a small smile amidst the anxious atmosphere.

"So you think I'm pretty?" Hyunjin lets out a scoff, shaking his head at your question. "Is that really all you got from that?"

You shrug, but the smile on your lips still lingers. "Maybe. But that does sound annoying. I'm sure you get tired of looking at my pretty face all the time." Hyunjin laughs, finally picking his head up to look at you. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes like moon crescents. He gleams in the artificial lighting and it casts beautiful shadows on his features.

"Have you ever thought about getting back at Minho?"

Hyunjin stops his cheery laughter, eyes growing curious. He pinches his eyebrows together in thought, "I mean, does blocking count? Cuz if so, then yes."

You shake your head, lower lip caught between your teeth as a mischievous thought comes to mind. "I was thinking something a little more."

-

It's hard for Hyunjin to angle the camera at you. His hands keep shaking, the phone threatening to fall from his grasp right on your face. You're looking up at the lens from your knees, mouth full of cock. Your knees slightly ache from the bathroom tile floor, but you pay no mind. The main center of focus is quietly gagging on Hyunjin's length. That women's bathroom may be empty, but the sound of wet pops and smack echoes in the room rather embarrassingly. 

With a hard suck, you pull away from his cock. Hyunjin lets out a whine, hips shaking as you replace your mouth with your hand. 

"Are you getting my good angles?" You can't help but tease with swollen lips. Even in a messy state, he nods. You can't see his face, but you can see the black, tangled hair that moves. 

"Pretty," he chokes out as you pump him. " So so so pretty."

You flash your teeth at the camera, "Aw! Thanks. Do you think Minho will think so too?"

"Ye- Mmf!" He cuts himself off by pinching his lips. You've wrapped your lips around his girth again, sucking the tip while you stroke his shaft. He whines and whines, unable to stay quiet while staring at you through the phone. 

The video is wobbly but if he slows the footage down, he might be able to screenshot a few good frames. There's just something surreal about indirectly looking at your mouth take him inch by inch. It's like you're his personal pornstar, though he's keen on making sure little no one gets to see how good you look.

You relax the back of your throat, slowly pushing him deeper until his pubes barely tickle your nose. A soft gag comes from you, but you're determined on deep-throating him at least once. Hyunjin uses his free hand to brush a few strands from your face, coaxing you. You hum in appreciation and fit the last few bits.

Hyunjin's tip presses deep against the deepest part of you, pulsing from your tight throat. You can tell he's trying not to move, to fuck into your hot mouth to not overstimulate you. 

But he wants to. He can taste the orgasm on his tongue. So close, so warm, but you look so good with wide eyes. Tears brimming your lashes as you hollow your cheeks. 

Hyunjin moans, a long, drawled-out sound that makes him throw his head back. "Fuck. You're gonna make me cum." 

It's too difficult to speak, so you gently rock against his hips instead. As much as you would love for Hyunjin to bruise your mouth, this isn't the time. Right now, putting on a good show for the camera is your priority. To make sure you suck dick so good that Minho never bothers Hyunjin again with pictures.

His tip repeatedly hits the back of your throat, a little salty from the oozing precum. With one of your hands, you massage his balls. Hyunjin mewls at the sensation, toes curling in his shoes. His breath turns jagged, and now he can't help himself. His gentle hand turns rough as he reaches the back of your head. He makes a tight fist with your hair and drives his cock deep.

You gag, the tears finally falling from the relentless pace Hyunjin's set. He's already so close, you might as well let him use you.

"Look into the camera." Hyunjin's voice is rasp. While you were trying not to choke, your eyes were unfocused. Now you're trying desperately to look into the phone, mostly likely going cross-eyed from the force his his thrusts. 

His cock twitches in your mouth and you brace for the spurts of cum. Even as your prepare, you can't help the gurgled squeak you make on Hyunjin's cock at the salty release. He shoots his hot load down your throat, and all you can taste and feel is cum. Your hand tightens around his sack and they tense in your hold. 

He's moaning, panting like a dog behind the phone. Hyunjin gives a few more sloppy thrusts before pulling out, cum dribbling from the corner of your mouth. 

You groan as your throat empties, using your tongue to wipe the semen as Hyunjin's cock slowly goes down. Once the cum has collected, you flatten your tongue to give a good look to the camera before tucking your tongue in your mouth, swallowing.

"And, scene!"

note! I am in a but of a rut, but hopefully this'll help me get back on game!

#smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids #skz hard hours #skz hyunjin #skz #hyunjin stray kids #stray kids hyunjin #hyunjin hwang #hyunjin #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #skzsmut

[heavywithourbabies]

“Fill me” She had texted him with the photo. She had been so pleased with herself. The angle was perfect. The finger biting was sexy but cute. Her pert tits on display with just enough of her pussy on showing to entice him. She had wondered if she should have shaved before hand and decided to dismiss it. A little bit of hair was, in her mind “kind of classy”. She would send these photos to him with similar messages to drive him wild. “Breed me?” , “ Cum and claim me” , and when she sent a particularly lewd photo of herself spread wide she added “Breed me daddy.” At 24 she was having the time of her life dating a man ten years older than her. Old enough to have a few gray hairs popping up but still in good shape and able to make her legs shake in bed. She had never told any of her previous boyfriends her breeding kink but when he divulged his pregnancy fetish she thought it was a perfect match. She could finally indulge the itch that she had never been able to fully scratch before. It was everything she wanted, passing out with his seed dripping out of her, a safe way to finally play…..until she started feeling sick at random times and for no obvious reason.

Her breasts began to feel sore and she couldn’t help but notice her pants felt just a little bit tighter. After the second missed period she went to the doctor who confirmed what she had been silently dreading. Somehow her birth control had failed. Congratulations. There’s a little bun in the oven. She cried in the doctors office while her boyfriend gently comforted her. He would take care of her. He would be there every step of the way. She couldn’t help but notice how many teeth he was showing when he smiled and said “You’ll look beautiful carrying my baby.”

She soon found out it was babies. Not baby. And that there was a big difference between having a breeding kink and a pregnancy fetish

“Fill me” She had texted. 8 and a half months later she regretted those words.

She could barely breathe with the weight of her achingly full womb and tits pressing down on her as she was on her back with him fucking her for the third time that day. She was exhausted and every inch of her new ample body ached. Her once pert breasts could now could only be described as bloated, uncomfortably full from the pregnancy and breast milk. So tender she couldn’t help but wince a little as the full flesh clapped against her globe of a belly with his thrusts. It might have just be in her head but she could almost swear she could hear milk slosh around inside of her chest when she moved. Both of the babies were wide awake from all the rocking and her gravid belly was quivering with their movements. She was so tired and swore there was no way she could possibly cum while feeling this huge and uncomfortable but over and over her own body betrayed her as she felt the waves of pleasure run through her and begin to peak again. She almost wanted to beg for him to stop. It felt good but her poor sex was so swollen and tight it was now almost painful when she came. “Please - “ She tried to say as the dam broke and she felt herself contract around his iron hard cock and gush all over him. That was new and unwelcome as well. Almost every night she would fall asleep a sopping mess, too tired to lift her now fat ass up to try and clean up the mess. Just as she started to come down just enough she heard him groan and his cock twitch inside of tender walls. “Oh noooo” She began to moan as she felt him spurt one thick hot rope after another and her body reacted in kind, flooding the two of them all over again.

He lay there with his arms wrapped around her monstrous belly, trying to soothe his babies as she tried to catch her breath. Why did she ever play with fire like this?

“God, I love you like this” he whispered in her ear and she couldn’t help but get goosebumps. “After the girls are born and we can…. I’m going to fill you again.“

[after-witch]

Surrounded by Hunger [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: Surrounded by Hunger [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: You're an artist, with no muse. Until Mahito shows up on your back porch.

Word count: 3500ish

notes: yandere, mild body horror, reader is a trans male

“I want you to paint me,” Mahito says, with an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face. No smile, no leer today. Just a somber frown as he appears from nowhere--as he often does--and sits himself in front of you. 

The cool summer evening air would smell as clean as the breeze, but for the cigarette lazily perched in the ashtray on the edge of the porch. 

Smoking.  Your one vice. Or is it your eighth? You don’t keep much track of your vices, these days. If you did, you might actually try to quit them. But smoking is one of two current addictions that you can’t fathom letting go of right now.

The other one is sitting next to you.

"Like one of my French girls?” you murmur, lips quirking up. 

Mahito tilts his head towards you, still frowning. You wonder, idly, if he has an actual brain inside his skull. Do curses have brains? You’re not sure about the technicalities of how they function, but it’s not something you’d really like to ask Mahito, either.

But it’s like you can see his brain working from the minute movements of his body language. The body is one thing you’re usually good at reading, and you ought to be, considering your career. No one wanted paintings from someone who didn’t understand the basics of body movement.

“Ah,” he says, finally, with a small smile. “Titanic. Directed by James Cameron. 1997.” His smile gets a little perkier. On anyone else, that smile might look deranged. But it suits Mahito, you think.

“I liked the sinking part the best. The way they…” He flicks his fingers in the air, and makes an eerily accurate sound reminiscent of bodies banging against metal parts. “And the frozen baby!” He closes his eyes almost all the way, leaving just enough room for you to see his gaze slide over to you. “Humans do love representing their own misery, don’t they?”

Something squeezes in your chest. It might have been a barb about you and your work; and it might not have been. One of the trickiest things about Mahito was that you could never be sure when he was trying to hurt you, and when he wasn’t. 

The worst part was, you knew that it didn’t matter either way. It wasn’t like you’d ever ask him to leave. He knew that, too. Maybe that was the actual worst part.

He doesn’t elaborate on his statement. Instead, he leans his head back, looking at the darkening sky; the deep blue of the evening oozing away to make room for the blacker part of the night. His profile like this is fascinating--the way his hair seems to almost shimmer in the fading light, falling back against the side of his neck. 

“Well?” He asks.

You couldn’t say no. You were already imagining ways to capture him, like this. In profile, staring up at the sky with eyes that were anything but human. With a brain that was perhaps not a real brain. With a body he could change at will. 

Despite all that, here he is, sitting on your porch, breathing in your cigarette smoke and staring up at the ordinary evening sky.

What does he see that you don’t? That no human does? Why does he even come around you, when he could be off trying to--your brain fumbles for snatches of what he’s told you--battling sorcerers? 

Maybe you can capture something of the answer in your painting. 

“Okay,” you say, lightly, even though the answer is anything but. “But we have to go inside for the sketch. There’s not enough light out here this late.”

Mahito smiles. In profile, you see only the half of it, the edge of his lips curling, a glimpse of his teeth. 

You’ll be up all night sketching, trying to capture this expression. 

--

Your first finished painting of Mahito isn’t all that great. The evening skyline was done from memory because the next few days had been cloudy and they stole the sky’s normal colors away. And no amount of mixing could quite give you the right shade for his hair; you put something new on order, a type of shimmer pigment. That might help for future pieces.

The expression, though. There was something in that. Something not quite human that you managed to capture, although if you had to do it over, you’d reconsider taking your drawing from sketch to painting. The sketch had something raw to it, like Mahito might just turn his head and wink at you. 

As an artist, you knew that such a subject was rare. It was not always easy to find inspiration that kept you working almost relentlessly, eager and passionate rather than staring at an empty canvas and willing the world to send something to you.

Mahito was a gift, wasn’t he? To an artist. To someone like you, who needed something to make your work stand out. And it does, here. Mahito looks unusual--striking, beautiful, but with something unpleasant itching to get out from underneath his skin. 

But still. It’s flawed. 

And that’s not the standard artist humble-brag designed to avoid a reputation of pompous pride. Your paintings, as a whole, just aren’t good enough. 

It’s why the galleries rejected you. Why what few connections you had with other painters tended to fade away, becoming more and more untethered as they were invited to galas, as they held openings, as their works went to auction, and you…

You sat on your porch smoking and waiting, heart pacing, for a curse to show up on your door.

--

Mahito stands in front of the revealed piece, quietly observing it. His fingers reach out and skim the canvas, bumping along a few rough areas of paint. His mouth parts a few times, then closes. 

You expect him to be blunt with some kind of critique. He’s never been shy with honesty, no matter how hurtful. It was something you hated and loved all with one confusing, awful sameness.

Instead, his gaze flits over every square of the canvas enough times that sweat begins to bead down the back of your neck. Does he hate it? Is he about to tell you that you’d be better off doing something else, something more ordinary, something more mundane? 

No.

What he does is turn his head towards you, slowly, something that is not quite a smile on his face. An expression that makes you think of the back porch, sunsets and cigarette smoke. 

“Now do it again.”

--

You should hate this, really. Someone who sticks around and more or less demands that they be your muse. Most artists purge these types of people from their lives, unwanted flypaper hangers-on who pout and demand to be painted. 

But Mahito is your muse, and you don’t hate it, and you don’t think he’s clingy or desperate like others who have found themselves on your back porch before. 

He’s your muse simply because he exists. You could not fathom knowing Mahito and not committing him to the canvas. The only shock is that it was his idea, not yours; and maybe, deep down, you were too afraid to ever ask him. In case he said no.

So you draw him, and paint him. He drapes himself over your couch wearing nothing, spreads himself on your bed with winter clothes in the summer heat; perches on the end of the kitchen stool and watches gnats circle a bowl of bananas. 

The ideas are his, mostly. 

And the pieces are interesting. “Intriguing,” your regular art gallery said, when you submitted the one of Mahito sprawled out in a fuzzy scarf and hat and puffy winter coat while sweat clung to his forehead from the summer afternoon sun.

Interesting, intriguing, a striking model… and yet. They’re still not enough--not enough to get paid. Not enough to get noticed. 

Not enough to get you out of bed some days, when all you want to do is smoke lying down and hope the smoke alarm in your bedroom still has low batteries. 

This is how Mahito finds you this morning. Half-resting on sore elbows while smoke wafts up to your  ceiling, imperceptibly adding to the layers of brown and yellow build up. 

“Hey.”

He pokes your nose. You blink, slowly turn your gaze towards him. Then close your eyes and let out another puff of smoke.

“You’re being mopey,” he says, flatly. Not teasing or whining, certainly not with sympathy. Just a matter-of-fact. 

The options weigh heavy on your shoulders. It’s not like you two don’t talk about serious things. But God, with Mahito, the roles are reversed between artist and muse. You’re the clingy one, the one desperate to keep him around; afraid that the wrong word or gesture might make him blip out of your life as quickly as he came into it.

Who were you, if you didn’t have Mahito? Just another failing artist who could barely afford their cigarette addiction. 

But you trust him. Because he’s here. Because he hasn’t left yet. Because when you’re drawing him and you ask him to lift his arm up, he somehow knows the exact angle you mean, every time. So you lick your lips and look up at him with tired, reddened eyes.

“They’re not enough.” A pause. “The paintings, I mean. No one will buy them.” You drop the rest of your cigarette in the ashtray on your night stand. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

You do know, though. Your paintings aren’t interesting enough anymore. What little buzz you’d generated in your first break onto the scene from your fantastical horror work had long since faded, as had your inspiration for such pieces. 

It wasn’t enough to play with color and light, to perfectly capture the sun through an opaque curtain playing on Mahito’s hair while black flies buzzed onto overripe fruit. Of course not. People wanted more. You just weren’t more, now. If you were ever that. 

Mahito crawls onto your bed, languid; it’s not the first time he’s been so close, so intimate, but it gives you goosebumps nonetheless. He curls himself behind your back and runs a finger down your arm. 

“They like your older work,” he muses. You’ve ranted about this, and he apparently listened, which makes you feel at least a little least sour. “So why don’t you paint like that again?”

So much for feeling a little less sour. You curl inwards, eyes fixated on the dimming red glow of your cigarette in its tray. 

Mahito pokes your shoulder. Impatience. You can feel it building in him, in the way his arm muscles tense, just a little. When he gets bored, he sometimes leaves. 

You don’t want him to leave, so you force the words out, although you’d rather keep them private. Your mouth feels sticky when you talk, but you press on. 

“My old stuff was before…” You know he knows, but you’ve never pinned down a single way to explain it to him. “Before I figured myself out. Before a lot of things, I guess.” Mahito’s hand wraps itself around your stomach, and you reach out to intertwine your fingers. To keep him with you, if such a thing were possible.

“I haven’t had the same type of inspiration in a long time,” you admit. “So I don’t know how to just…” Flashes of your old canvases come to mind. Demons and ghosts and landscapes of terrible beauty. “Get back into that head space.”

There is a stretch of silence that begins to worry you. Maybe you are too boring, maybe you’re whining, maybe whatever this is has run its course and he’ll leave and you’ll have nothing to your name but this empty apartment and your empty life.

But then Mahito grips your shoulder and pushes you firmly, swiftly, onto your back. There’s a dull ache where he touches you and you stare up into his eyes, wide and bright even in the darkness. He’s grinning. He’s grinning, and it’s beautiful and ugly--

And on his side, arms sprout out; some with mouths sporting their own grins. Behind him, arms upon arms,  hands upon hands. A grotesque vision come to life in your dim apartment bedroom. You can see it now, on canvas. A creature with greedy hands outstretched to the world, taking what it wants, when it wants. 

You can see Mahito, posting, while you furiously work at the easel. You know you’ll work until your hands cramp, desperate enough to capture every microexpression in pencil before it fades. 

Mahito, the muse, painted again and again. Until your hands cramp, until your eyes are red and burning. 

“Does this inspire you?” he says, a bright giddiness in his tone fading into something lower and warmer as he leans down to capture your lips.

You’re not certain which of you tastes the most of ashes.

--

The paintings are perfectly grotesque. Inspirational. Disturbing.

“And yet,” the director continues, tapping his pen against his chin, “so life-like. You can hardly tell where the real model ends and your imagination begins.” 

Because, of course, humans cannot sprout extra limbs from their sides. Humans cannot stretch their tongues to wrap around their body like a rope. Humans cannot pull open the flesh of their stomachs to reveal what’s inside.

Not without dying, anyway. 

You’d almost asked Mahito if that was what curses looked like on the inside--if they had organs, like stomachs and lungs--but thought better of it. Knowing would be worse than pretending. 

When you pretend, you can ignore the growing sickness in your stomach as the paintings become worse--and better. As Mahito pushes you farther and farther, and you’re not sure if you want to turn back. 

When you pretend, life with Mahito doesn’t seem very fucked up at all. 

“Keep it up,” the director tells you, thumbing through the wad of ghastly cash he hands over for your latest piece. It’s enough to pay off your rent and bills and cover cigarettes and booze and some new books for Mahito, though you’re sure he just steals them when he’s not with you. 

And you do--keep it up.

Because Mahito wants to, and because despite all the disturbing dreams you begin to have after sessions of drawing and painting, your new works really are better. More visceral and alive; galleries want them. 

They want you.

You feel seen, finally, for who you are and what your hands can do--

How could you turn that away?

--

“I don’t know,” you say, slowly, watching the thing Mahito brought with him writhe on the table. 

It was soft and gelatinous, like a blob of moving goo. At first, that’s what you thought it was: something he scooped out of a container at a toy store that sold novelty slimes. 

But this wasn’t some gob of bright orange or neon blue with a telltale sticky sheen that told parents that yes, mom and dad, this was going to wind up sticking to the carpet by the end of the day.

This was light beige, with two big black spots that looked a bit like eyes. It was larger than you think a toy slime would have been and it--well it moved. Really moved. Not just from a slight breeze drifting in through the window or due to its own gelatinous nature.

It was--whatever it was--alive. 

It had eyes, and perhaps that bit of discolored beige was hair, and that was it. Two eyes, slick, shiny skin, and no mouth at all. 

“It’s a statement piece,” Mahito says simply, even happily, as he adjusts the blob to his liking on the table. He tries out a series of poses that you direct with hesitation--looking down at it with his chin resting in his elbow, holding it in his arms like some sort of stuffed bear, endless, restless poses, all punctuated by the strange writhing of the thing.

The two of you finally settle for Mahito looking one way, and the blob--were those its eyes?--face another. A contrast between colors and shapes and Mahito’s lithe form and the writhing blob. But while there is a dim satisfaction in putting Mahito onto the canvas, a sense of self-worth and pride that grows with every stroke, you put off working on the blob until the last possible minute. Your body seems to know why, even if your mind doesn’t. 

At the end of the night, you start to ask a question that’s been on your mind the entire evening--

“Mahito?” 

But when he turns, a small smile on his face, blob in hand, the words die in your throat.

You say nothing as he leaves. You work a little more on the painting, avoiding half the canvas, not wanting to think about what it was that Mahito brought and why he brought it.

That night, you dream about a garden of squirming, writhing blobs.

--

Today, Mahito has no mouth. 

And today, you’ve decided, that this will be your last Mahito piece. No more. Not a single one. The singular lack of a mouth is not even as horrific as some of the other ways Mahito has posed for you, but somehow, it’s the one that terrifies you the most. 

Mahito has no mouth, and you can’t even ask him why.

Mahito has no mouth, 

Mahito has no mouth, and he wants you to paint him.

He tells you this, in gestures. Maybe if he was over the top about it--if he was wildly waving his hands, if he made a game of it--then it wouldn’t make you feel so wrong. But he’s slow, methodical. Serious.

It makes your stomach clench on nothing but whisky and overcooked eggs. 

But you let him bring out one of your mirrors and set it up in front of a stool so you can paint him, looking at himself in the glass. There’s nothing else you can do but this, you realize; that’s what your life has come to. You are mingling with a curse and he could kill you in a moment if he wanted to--but right now, he wants you to draw him and paint him and put something monumentally distressing on the canvas. And you want to do these things--because he wants you to? Because you know the gallery owner is going to take one look at this last piece and ask you to open your own show? Love or ego or something awful and in-between?

You sketch quickly. It’s the final layers of painting that will take days, you think, if you want this to turn out right. Right now you’re worried about two things: capturing the tones while the light is just right, and how Mahito will react when you tell him you’re done after this.

It’s not like you can tell him now. He can’t even talk. 

What is it like, without a mouth? You bring cigarettes to your lips and wonder if he feels jealous of it. Would he get mad, if you told him you needed a drink? A snack? Eating and drinking--curses can do these things, and you’ve seen Mahito do them, but you don’t know how much of it is a want or a need. It’s hard enough to tell the difference with a human. 

If you had no mouth, what would you be? Your thoughts flit, briefly and then away again, to the blob. To its eyes. To the way it couldn’t stop moving and Mahito held it like a toy. 

You don’t want to think about that. 

It would feel wrong to talk while you work on this piece, you decide. Better to save it for when it’s finished. A few days, at most, with Mahito holed up in your bedroom--and no mouth at all. 

In these few days, you want to kiss him more than ever. Want to capture the memory of his lips, because surely, he’ll want to leave if you’re done painting him. Done being entertaining. 

The thought of kissing the awful, empty space where his mouth should be keeps you from even thinking about it.

--

It’s your masterpiece. You know this from the moment the last stroke is complete. You’ll never top this work, and some prideful part of you demands that you try, anyway. 

Mahito still has no mouth. Even as you pull the drape off the canvas, as he gets close to inspect it. 

“Mahito,” you say, suddenly. He doesn’t look at you. That’s better, you think. Makes it easier to stomach what will come next; the inevitable moment where Mahito drops you like an old toy. Usually it’s the other way around, an artist getting bored of its muse and flinging them aside. 

But you’re not bored of Mahito. You’re afraid of him. You want him here--but you don’t. It’s a big jumbled mess and maybe it would have been easier if he never showed up on your back porch, if you never saw him at all, if he hadn’t opened up some wound inside you that only he can stitch up. 

“Mahito,” you repeat. “I don’t think I can paint you anymore.” Stupid, weasel words. You cringe. “I mean. I don’t want to paint you anymore--after this one.”

Mahito tilts his head, and finally turns his eyes towards you--but still, there’s no mouth, no mouth, no mouth.

After a moment, you continue, mouth dry and sticking. “Did you hear me, I said I--”

Mahito’s hand slaps against your own, hushing you.

“Have you been wondering what it feels like?” It takes a few blearly, confusing moments for you to realize that Mahito is talking not with lips on his face, but on the hand that’s pressed over hours. “To be unable to speak?”

The awful thought hits you. Is your mouth even still there, under Mahito’s hand? 

Mahito leans in, and pulls his hand away. Slowly, like he’s revealing a prize .

“I want to paint you now,” he murmurs. He might even be cooing, eyes alight at what he sees as he lifts his hand. 

You want to answer him--you want to scream.

But you can’t say a word. 

#yandere mahito #mahito x reader #yandere jjk #yandere #afterwitch writes #was the titanic reference necessary? yes. yes it was.

[onlykats]

road trip ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ -tom kaulitz smut ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ synopsis: when you and tom are on a long and boring road trip, you get the perfect idea to pass the time.

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ warnings: smut, or@l (m!receiving)

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ a/n: hey my loves! i know i was gone for a while but i’m back writing again!! ahhh!! my info page will be up soon, and my requests are open! as always, i hope you enjoy! mwah!

“how long untill we’re there?”

-you groaned, your elbow rested on the ledge of the passenger seat window holding your head in your hands as you looked over at tom.-

“another few hours yet, leibe.”

-he laughed, placing a hand on your thigh to comfort you, squeezing it softly as he continued to drive down the highway.-

“jesus christ, where are we even going?”

-you complained, sitting up in your seat and running a hand over your face in frustration as you sighed heavily.-

“it’s a surprise! you know that.”

-he winked at you, flashing you an ear to ear smile. tom had insisted on taking you someplace nice for your birthday, picking the worst possible date to take you since there were no flights meaning you were in for one long ass road trip.-

“okay, okay i’m sorry. thank you.”

-you said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek as he smiled at you sweetly. you crossed your legs, letting a large huff escape your lips as you tapped your hands on your thighs impatiently.-

-as you continued to look around, a wicked smile appeared on your face, getting an idea of what could help pass the time of this dragging road trip.-

-you moved yourself so your back was against the passenger seat door, and your legs stretched out over his lap, crossed at the ankles. tom looked over at you and placed his hands over your legs, rubbing his thumb back and forth caressing the small area of skin.-

“what you doing, baby?”

-tom chuckled as you moved your feet back and forth over his crotch.-

“fuck.. seriously? right now?”

-he asked as you nodded your head, your bottom lip finding its way between your teeth as you chewed down onto it softly. you moved your feet from off of it lap, noticing the tent formed in his jeans.-

“you want me to suck you off while driving?”

-you asked boldly, raising an eyebrow at him and sitting back down normally in the carseat with your knees facing towards him.-

-he leant his head back into his seat, pushing his hips forward letting a huff of air escape his lips as he tilted his head down towards his crotch, signalling a yes.

-you quickly positioned your hands over his crotch, palming him through the fabric of his jeans and playing with the button and zipper that he was practically begging you to undo.-

“fuck- don’t tease.”

-and with that, you tugged down at the fabric of his jeans, revealing his black boxer shorts and the outline of his aching length showing through as a wet patch had formed at the tip.-

-you smiled as you saw him twitching through the fabric, slowly pulling it down to tease him even more.-

“fuck.. baby.”

-he groaned, his hand finding it’s way into your hair as you bent down to kitten lick the tip of his length, flicking your wrist back and forth at the base of his cock, making him buck his hips in instinct.-

“open up, leibe.”

-tom said lowly as he looked down at you, grabbing a fist full of hair and pushing you down onto his entire length, causing you to gag at the sensation.-

-he groaned as you deep throated his cock, keeping his hand in your hair tugging on roughly, your puffy lips sliding up and down on him.-

“jesus- fuck. you’re doing so well f’me.”

-he sighed out, his breath shaky and low as he removed his hand from your hair, placing it on the steering wheel, gripping it so hard his knuckled turned white.-

-you removed your mouth from his length with a slight pop noise, using your hand to jerk him off quickly as your tongue swirled around his swollen, red tip.-

“m’so close baby, don’t fucking stop.”

-he growled out as his cock started to twitch in your hand, his hips bucking slightly as he shot his sticky seed into your mouth, the substance dripping down your lips and chin.-

“fuck, you’re so good f‘me. my good girl.”

-he said as he gently stroked your hair, moving his hand down to the side of your face and caressing it gently with the pad of his thumb.-

-you smiled at him, cleaning you both up with your mouth, making him twitch even more with overstimulation.

-you sat up to kiss him on the cheek, putting his pants back on for him as you sat back in your seat, crossing your legs and smiling to yourself.-

“what?”

-you laughed as you caught tom staring at you, his gaze burning into you as he smirked.-

“want me to touch you while driving?”

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ a/n: hey everyone! hope you enjoyed!!

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ info page , master list (coming soon!)

#tokiohotel #tom kaulitz #tokio hotel #bill kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #fanfic #smut #tom kaulitz smut #fluff #tom kaulitz fluff #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz fluff #bill kaulitz fanfic #tom kaulitz fanfic

[sl0t4matt]

smut w marc guiu where some boy is trying to talk to the reader in a party and marc gets jealous and then reader and marc end up doing things in his car please🤭

m. guiu | jealous looks good on you

warnings: smut

marc annoyed the shit out of you today. he’s been such a bitch, fighting and complaining about any minor thing you did wrong. you know your boyfriend can be sassy at times, but today he’s been extra.

you’re supposed to be the girl in the relationship not him and he’s the one acting bitchier than you. today you got especially tired of it, so you called your friends and brought them to the club, bringing you to now, sitting on a chair beside the bar, waiting for your friends to come back from dancing.

you didn’t join them because your legs gave up on you a few minutes ago when you were dancing, like your life depended on it.

you decide to get on your phone, check a few messages, before they get back, so you get on instagram, immediately noticing that hector posted a story.

you click on it seeing a booth of the club you are exactly in. you keep watching the video scoffing at seeing marc in the corner of it, he’s not alone though. a girl is sat beside him, talking to him. a little too close for any girlfriends liking.

“what the fuck.” you mutter, huffing at him finding a new girl exactly after you fought. pathetic really. she’s not even close to your level.

“hi, i’m diego. i saw you dancing a few minutes ago, you looked stunning, could i buy you a drink?” an attractive man sits down beside you. he looks like he’s in his 19s or maybe 20s, with dark skin and dreadlocks.

if marc can talk to other women, what should stop you to? maybe you could even get him jealous and make him see how much he actually needs you. “yes i would love that, actually.” you smile at him.

“perfect, what would you like?” he grins back, his pearly white teeth peeking through his lips. “i’ll take a negroni, thank you.”

“a negroni for the pretty woman beside me, please.” he winks at you. you innerly cringe at his words but don’t let it show. you get the drink in a heartbeat since it only had three ingredients. you smile at the bartender, taking the drink.

“so, are you new in barcelona?” he asks, leaning closer to you. “i moved here a few years ago, for uni.” you answer, sipping on your drink. “nice, what university do you go to? i go to esade.” your eyes widen. esade is one of of barcelonas elite, also super hard. “you study law? that’s like suicide.”

he laughs at your reference. “yeah, it’s a lot.” he nods, agreeing with you. “oh sorry. i go to the university of barcelona.” you answer his previous question.

“you’re good. did you come alone or with friends?” you look around trying to find your girlfriends, but failing immediately, the crowd in the dance floor being way too big to see them. the nightlife of barcelona really is something else.

“i came with my friends, i can’t find them right now, though. they’re probably dancing.” you answer, giving him a tight lipped smile.

you keep looking for them, when you suddenly meet eyes with a certain brown eyed boy, you call your boyfriend. his brows are furrowed and eyes piercing on the guy beside you. if looks could kill, alejandro would be five feet under for sure.

he gets up from the spot in between hector and the girl on the video and walks towards you. “oh fuck.” you mutter. alejandro glances at you. “what’s wrong?” he asks, but marc is already in front of you. alejandro furrows when he sees him.

“hermano, can i help you?” alejandro asks him. “yeah, you can get the fuck out of my face.” marc spats, turning to look at him. “who the hell are you?!” alejandro gets up pushing marc’s chest slightly, you still sitting dumbfound beside the bar.

“i’m her boyfriend, you dumbass.” marc isn’t the one to act nice. you know he could throw a whole fit in here as well as seriously hurt the guy if he really wanted to, so you get up, getting in between both of the boys.

maybe project making marc jealous wasn’t such a good idea, since you know exactly how mad marc can get when jealous.

“marc lets go.” you pull on his hand, making him look down on you, with gritted teeth. he scoffs, taking your hand and dragging you to the exit of the club.

you see hector on the way out, him laughing at marc’s outburst.

he takes his car key out of his pocket, opening it. “get in.” he demands, after opening the door to the passenger seat. you scoff, getting into his car. he turns around to get into the driver seat, walking like a mad kid you think.

“did you want to make me jealous, is that it?” he huffs. you turn to look at him, rolling your eyes. “did you? with that blonde girl?” you ask him back. “what the hell are you talking about?”

“oh please. so you’re telling me you weren’t all up on that girl beside you, taking to her.” you scoff. he can’t deny the fact that she was eye fucking him the entire time.

“fucking hell, i wasn’t all up on her, she was the one flirting with me and i literally told her i have a girlfriend.” you roll your eyes. “she was the one? because i’m sure, i literally saw that you were laughing with her on hectors story.” he scoffs.

“see! you always fucking do that shit. you don’t trust me.” you laugh, sarcastically. wow this just is really hilarious. “oh my god! i don’t trust you? you literally dragged me out of there because i was talking to a guy.” you yell at him, finding it rich coming from him.

his hand makes its way to his forehead, massaging it. “because if i didn’t, you would’ve ended up in that guys bed.” he reasons, shaking his head. “are you even hearing yourself? what the hell are you saying? bro just shut the fuck up, honestly.” you scoff, also shaking your head.

“fuck you.” he spats. “fuck you!” you yell back, turning to look at him, meeting his eyes. his eyes move from yours down to your lips, licking his own. “i hate you.” you mumble, as the both of you lean into each other, meeting your lips in a heated and aggressive kiss, taking out your madness on each other in a kiss.

his hand moves to his thigh, squeezing it. his other grips your neck, clutching around it and pulling you even closer if thats possible. your hand slips into his pants, finding his already hard cock. “fuck.” he moans into your mouth.

you start to jerking him off, collecting his pre cum with your thumb, making him tense at the sudden touch.

he pulls his seat back, mentioning you to straddle him. so you do so, each of your legs in between his lap as you feel his already throbbing cock in between your legs, begging for release. he winces, as you grind on him, while you lock lips again, feeling his stubble slightly tickle your chin.

his hand glides in between your legs, pulling your panties down. you’re already soaking and you’re sure he’s very aware of it, your juices already rolling down onto his pants.

you attempt to open his belt with a rush but fail miserably. he helps you, opening up his belt, following with sliding his pants down his hips. he hurries with taking off your top, his hands instantly gripping your tits.

you hoover over his tip, biting your lip when you feel his tip slightly touching your soaked hole. he rocks his hips upward, making his dick stretch out your cunt. you snake your hand around his neck, clutching onto his sweaty hair.

you whine, when you feel him fully inside of you, collecting all of your juices. “you’re so tight, ma.” he groans, as he takes ahold of your waist, squeezing it.

your lips hoover over his as you roll your hips back onto his, feeling his dick pulsing around you, your breasts bouncing up and down. he groans at the stimulation, panting heavily.

you quicken your movements, thrusting into him more laboriously. “marc.” you breathlessly moan his name, arching your back at the feeling, feeling closer to the edge.

you tremble from above him, clutching onto his shoulders, your nails digging deep into his skin, forming cat like scratches. “fuck. gonna come.“ he groans before filling you up with his warm sperm.

your legs shake around his cock before you come onto him, drenching his thighs in your come.

your head leans onto his shoulder, tiredly. a smirk forms onto his smug face, as he sees your juices all over him. “not a word.” you speak, knowing he was going to make a smart ass mark.

“for a person you hate, i can make you come quite alright, don’t you think?” he winks. “oh my god.” you shake your head.

“what did you say the last time? jealous looks good on me?” he chuckles. you hit his chest before getting back into the passenger seat. it does look good on him. you can’t lie.

#fc barcelona #barca #pablo gavi #hector fort #joao felix #marc guiu #fermin lopez

[heavyhitterheaux]

Riders Up

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

Synopsis: It's the 150th Kentucky Derby, and knowing how important this event is to Jack, you make a point to make it extra special for him.

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

The week leading up to the Kentucky Derby which is the first installment of the Triple Crown and the actual Derby day was always hectic in the Harlow household. This year was no different.

Jack had changed his outfit at least four times when you finally made an executive decision for him otherwise, the two of you would have missed the derby all together. Because of you having to help him, it now put you behind in doing your make-up and hair. Your dress was red this year and you and Taylor had decided to wear similar dresses. 

This was the first year that the triplets would be going with you and Jack and you were definitely nervous to have them around that many people. They were only ten months old and were now to the phase of getting into anything that they could get their tiny hands on. At first, you and Jack had decided not to bring them, but when Maggie and Brian volunteered to go to watch them specifically, you both quickly agreed. Jack bought out a suite that was near the finish line that's exclusive to family and friends and that made you a little less worried.

Since moving to Louisville at the age of fourteen, you hadn't missed one yet, but this year was going to be extra special. This had actually been in the works close to three years and you couldn’t wait to tell Jack when all of you got to Churchill Downs. It had been hard keeping a secret from him since you literally told him everything, but you knew that the look on his face was going to be worth it. 

You combined your love of animals with Jack's love of going to the Kentucky Derby and purchased a horse who had been training to compete in The Triple Crown races. It was an expensive and lengthy process, and you were hoping all the time and effort put into it would pay off later in the day once the finish line was crossed. And of course since racehorses have very unique names, there was only one that came to mind that made the most sense.

Private Garden.

Your thoughts were then interrupted by Jack for the millionth time that morning, although you didn’t mind. 

“Baby! Does this look okay?” Jack asked as he slipped on his suit jacket and walked over towards you. This had been going on for the last hour and a half as you were currently sitting in your robe at your vanity while finishing up your makeup.

“Why do you keep asking me if you look okay? Are you meeting up with a girl I don't know about? Who are you trying to impress? At this rate, we'll be late because of you and not me with all these outfit changes. I didn't realize that we were at a fashion show.” You playfully asked and all he did was frown before sucking his teeth.

“Stop playing!”

“I was just asking!” You said while holding up your hands in defense. Jack was still pouting so you stood up and made a motion for him to bend down.

You softly kissed him and as you pulled away, you smiled at him before pinching his cheek. 

“My man looks so good that if we didn't have anywhere to be right now, we would be working on baby number four.” You whispered against his lips as you kissed him again.

“I mean, we have time….”

“No, Jackman. I still need to get dressed myself so cut it out.”

“I did get a private suite with a private bathroom.”

All you did was stare at him before rolling your eyes and then untying your robe and dropping it in front of him.

“Are you SERIOUS right now? You tell me no and then take off your robe in front of me?”

“I have to get dressed.” You shrugged before going to the hanger and taking off the red dress that you specifically got for today.

“You owe me later.”

“Hmm, we'll see who owes who. Now go downstairs and wait for me because you cannot be trusted.”

“Just let me put the tip in.”

“NO, JACKMAN.”

Maggie and Brian had gotten the triplets last night so the two of you didn't have to worry about getting them ready as well. Axel would have on an outfit similar to Jack’s since he had packed multiple not knowing which one that he was going to end up choosing while Ivy and Autumn would both be wearing red like you were. When Jack was satisfied with his outfit, he sent a pic to Maggie to let her know which one to pick out for Axel. 

Jack would have taken up too much time anyway if you had to get the triplets ready too with his four outfit changes and everyone would have been late.

When the two of you had finally arrived at Churchill Downs, pictures were taken along the red carpet before Jack had led both of you to the suite that he had purchased to meet up with everyone else. The triplets of course were being passed around and Autumn was loving the attention while Ivy was in her own little world and Axel looked completely over it and was soon reaching out his chubby hands towards Jack who quickly took him from Shloob. 

“Your twin definitely missed you.” You said towards Jack as you pinched Axel’s cheek and he smiled at you before laying his head down on Jack’s shoulder.

“Only because he got to him first.”

“Clay! Don’t start!” Jack replied as he rolled his eyes at Clay who was sipping on a mint julep.

“I didn’t say anything but the truth.”

“The two of you don’t even let up during Derby week, my goodness.” You quietly said as you rubbed your temples while listening to the both of them. 

They continued to go back and forth while you went to sit next to Taylor and Maggie who also had mint juleps in their hands.

“Mama Maggie, are you sure that you don’t want your oldest back?” You asked while glancing over at him and Clay.

“Oh, I’m sure. 100% sure actually. He’s all yours now even though I know it probably feels like you have four children instead of three.”

“MOM! I HEARD THAT!” Jack exclaimed while looking over at the three of you as she held up her hands in defense.

“You’re the reason why I started drinking.”

“I thought that was Clay.” Jack said while pointing at him and Clay immediately rolled his eyes.

“Babe, I highly doubt that it was Clay, you did nothing but stress her out for eighteen years.”

“Oh, he still does at 26. Absolutely nothing has changed and I highly doubt that it ever will.”

“Now, when you asked me to babysit did you mean the triplets or Jack and Urban?” Taylor asked and all Jack did was look at her in disbelief as Urban was stuffing his face and coming over towards all of you.

Urban noticed all of you staring at him and instantly got a confused look on his face.

“Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.”

“I was definitely talking about the two of them.”

Time was winding down and it would soon be time for the race to start. You felt it was the perfect time to tell Jack about his surprise. 

“Baby, come here for a second.” You said as you tugged on Jack’s hand and he began to follow you.

“Everything okay?” He asked while looking at you concerned.

“Yes, I just have something to show you.”

The two of you arrived at the stables and Jack looked around confused.

“Baby, we are not buying another horse so don't get any ideas.”

“Now, why is that the first idea that pops in your head!?” You exclaimed while turning up your nose at him. 

“Because I know you! And your track record for spending money on animals speaks for itself. We already have too many that we know what to do with”

You rolled your eyes before going up to pet Private Garden and waved Jack over to do the same.

“Isn't she pretty?” You asked him, but he was still eyeing you.

“Y/N, what did you do? Bet all of our life savings on a horse?” He asked before beginning to pet her. 

“No, only some of it.”

“WHAT? WHAT DO YOU MEAN ONLY SOME OF IT?”

“So, I did a thing.”

“Oh goodness. Nothing good comes out of your mouth after you say that.” Jack responded as he shook his head.

“You are so dramatic. This is your horse.”

“Huh?”

“This is Private Garden and I bought her and had her work with some of the best trainers in the world so that she could compete in The Triple Crown. So, surprise baby! Happy Derby Day! Riders Up!”

“I have something you can ride, but, wait, seriously? Are you serious right now?!”

“I’m ignoring that first part. Yes, silly! I know how important this is for you and I figured that I could start something in the hopes that the triplets continue it one day. That’s why I stopped you earlier from betting on any horses and I thought it was funny that no one else said anything to me either about her name.”

“I can’t believe that you did this for me.”

“Baby, I would do anything for you. You already know that.” You answered as you reached up to kiss him.

“Wait a minute, you bought ANOTHER horse? We have two already!”

“You’re missing the point here. OUR horse is running in the Kentucky Derby so you need to change that attitude.”

“HOW MUCH DID YOU SPEND?”

“Um, enough…..”

“BABY!”

“Welp, I think I heard Taylor calling me. Gotta go see what she might need.” You said before starting to make your way back to the suite, but you knew you couldn’t run in your heels and decided on a brisk walk.

“NO, GET BACK HERE!”

Liked by y/ninsta, urbanwyatt, claybornharlow, quiiso, 2forwoyne, privategarden, and 1,284,903 others

jackharlow: my wife is full of surprises. I got the ultimate Derby gift when she told me about our newest horse (y/ninsta NO MORE ANIMALS) named Private Garden who was going to compete in The Triple Crown and sure enough she got first place. Definitely something that I'll never forget. Riders UP! Next stop is Preakness. 🌹🌹🌹

y/ninsta: love you long time!! happy you loved your gift! and we can never have too many pets!

urbanwyatt: WE IN THEREEEEEE

claybornharlow: having 3 horses is crazy lol

quiiso: The best horse definitely won today! She's sweeping all 3 races!

taylorrooks: let me know if you need a babysitter for preakness lmao

y/ninsta: I'll pay you double for Jack and Urban

jackharlow: 🙄🙄🙄

urbandjack26: y/n loves this man bad 🥺

allthingsy/n: and wife of the year goes to y/ninsta!!

#jack harlow #jack harlow fic #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow instagram au #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow fanfiction

[authormars]

Headcanon dumb bc why not?

We'll do one per character since I don't do that very often

Lucifer showers in the morning and night every day and, if he can, will brush his teeth three times a day (once in the morning, once after lunch, once at night)

Mammon sleeps in nothing normally, but if MC asks him to be in their room, is sleeping in his room, or he's sleeping over at someone's house, he has the decency to put sweatpants on (unless MC doesn't want him to 👀)

Levi is amazing at art and regularly does commissions for people. In Satan's room, above all the shelves, he has posters made by Levi for his favorite shows and books.

Satan goes to varsity Fangol practice, not because he's on the team, but because he likes watching the cheerleaders practice (and he has a crush or has had a crush on half of them)

Asmo regularly takes selfcare days, which almost always include shopping and treating himself in the morning at various stores and spending the afternoon (and sometimes night) at Purgatory Hall with Solomon.

Beel will often take food from anyone, but if he notices a particular person giving him their food a lot of the time (looking at you Asmo, Luci, and MCs with an ED) he will stop accepting it to make sure they're eating.

Belphie almost never sleeps in his own bed. Beel's is warmer, much more comfortable, and it has something to cuddle that occasionally bites his shoulder as he sleeps.

Diavolo has a shower that's enchanted by Barbatos to always spit out healing water, which is part of the reason bruises never last long (the other reason is that Diavolo has a crazy good immune system and it's hard to bruise him anyways.

Barbatos fell in love with Diavolo's mother and father and they were together until Diavolo's mother died. After that, since Diavolo's father was broken-hearted, Barbatos swore off love

Mephisto has a cane because of an accident when he was younger. He rode horses for sport and during one of the races (that little Diavolo was allowed to go to, I might add) another jockey purposely knocked him off his horse, leading to a permanent injury in his leg so he limps all the time and it causes lots of pain

Solomon has lived through three different earths. The first earth, where he was a peasant. This earth was wiped out because the ecosystem was falling apart (not the human's fault, for once) but the humans were allowed to go to the next earth as the first humans. The second earth was wiped out while he was in Devildom, so he wasn't wiped out with it. The second earth was wiped out due to Lilith and Belphie. The third earth is what we know today.

Simeon can actually use his phone a lot better than he lets on. He just absolutely adores the look on Luke's face when he helps him fix something.

Luke cannot seem to get any Devildom pastry right. It's always slightly off. He knows this because Barbatos always smiles sadly at him when they do their taste tests. For the life of him, he cannot figure out what it is

Thirteen was once a human who lived in the first earth with Solomon (she hated him there too) When she died, her sins and virtues were exactly equal, so the father and mother (God and Devil herself) decided to make her a reaper, a being to watch over the newly created life candles that hindered a being's lifespan.

Raphael isn't actually indifferent to most things. As an angel, he was taught not to show his emotions and be a perfect guard for Michael (pretty sure thats what he is) so he never learned how to properly express emotions (and he's a lil autistic)

I struggled with some of these, sorry if they're bad or inaccurate. I haven't met Mephi, Thirteen, or Raphael yet

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me headcanons #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me mammon #obey me mephistopheles #obey me leviathan #obey me luke #obey me asmodeus #obey me barbatos #obey me belphegor #obey me boys #obey me dateables #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me thirteen #obey me raphael

[hellvcifer]

CARING FOR YOU WHEN YOU'RE SICK— ଘ drabbles ┆part 1

ft. pairings :: blitzø, stolas, poly!fizz/ozzie, poly!moxxie/millie // gn!reader wc :: 4.3k note :: i am still trying to flush out this sickness! it's awful but here's some more drabbles. ozzie and fizzy's is so long omg i have fizzmodeus brain rot and got carried away !! warnings :: canon typical language, pet names used instead of y/n (darling, dear, honey, bunny, babe, baby, pumpkin, sweetie), reader throws up, descriptions of throwing up, blitzø using insults as pet names, a little suggestive (blitzø and fizzmodeus)

꒰ BLITZØ ꒱

Moxxie held the phone away from his ear as he heard you trail into another coughing fit. “Can you please just tell him I can’t make it in today?” 

“You should really call him yourself.” He paced, worry etched into his brow. Millie glanced at him in concern. “If I tell him you’re sick–”

“Dont!” Your plugged nose filtered your voice. “Don’t tell him I’m sick…”

“What, why?” Moxxie paused, thinking about his boss and what exactly could happen if he were to say something. “Nevermind.” He shook his head. “What exactly am I supposed to tell him?”

“Tell who, what?” 

“Gyah!” Moxxie jolted, phone flying out of his hand as he zipped to turn and face his boss. Blitzø entered, eyes scanning the room. “Uh, nothing, Sir!”

“As much as I would love to tear you a new hole and fuck it, Mox, I have more important matters. Like finding out where the fuck my assistant is.” He frowned, realizing you hadn’t shown up yet. 

“Oh, uh, right!” Moxxie glanced at Millie, searching for some sort of answer.

“Out!” She spoke up, hands slamming on the table as she stood from her seat. “Told us to let you know! Something about picking up a recent order made for an upcoming client.”

“Fuck yeah!” Blitzø grinned before glaring, “See Mox, that’s how you get shit done. Instead of sitting here on your ass, jerking off.” 

“What? But Sir–”

“Anyways!” He strutted past the two and waltzed into his office. “Don’t bother me, I’ve got important shit I’m doing in here!” His words were followed by the slam of the door. Moxxie and Millie shared eye contact before releasing a relieved sigh.

Blitzø immediately walked over to his desk, lounging back in his chair and kicking his feet up. The place felt a bit off without you around. Typically, you two would sneak off into his office to hang out or mess around when you didn’t have any client work. 

He opened the drawers and saw the makeshift mini-figures he created of Millie, Moxxie, and you. A huge grin appeared on his lips, tongue sticking out happily. He knows exactly how to pass the time until you get back in the office. 

Except, you hadn’t come into the office for the rest of the day. Which okay, sure, you’re probably busy. But, eventually the one day turned into two; and then three; and now four. He stared down at his phone, seeing the last text you sent him five days ago. He really meant to send something, to check up on you. But would you even care if you hadn’t reached out to him first?

His eyes widened, jaw falling slack at the thought. That is until he heard Millie call out your name in an excited tone. He smiled instantly and jumped his desk, nearly ripping the door to his office off the hinges. 

“Fucking finally you show up!” He leaned against the frame, a smirk appearing on his face with his brow raised. Until he couldn’t find you. “What the–”

Millie was huddled over Moxxie’s shoulder, looking down at her phone in his hands. Loona was chilling at her desk watching videos on her own phone. “Oh, sorry, Sir. We just got a text… That’s all.”

They got a text? And not him? He gritted his teeth. “Okay, what the fuck do you– I mean. I’m the boss so– Fuck! You know what! They’re fired! See how they get by without a job, that Ass fucker.” 

“Uh, Blitzø?” Millie tried to calm him down. “You’re not actually gonna fire–”

“Oh don’t you worry your little head about it, Millie!” He stomped into a pace in front of the white board. “I’ll find out wherever the fuck they’ve been hiding and make sure–”

Loona’s phone went off, interrupting Blitzø’s rampage. Everyone stopped to look at her when she picked it up. “Hey… Yeah… You need more? Already? Yeah that’s fine… I’ll see you soon.” She hung up. The silence in the room caused her eyes to slide over to the others. They all blinked at her. 

“Oh no! You’re not going to see anyone missy!” Blitzø wagged his finger at her. She stood up, weight shifting to one side as she jutted her hip out. “Not until we find out where my shit face assistant is hiding!” 

“Are you serious?” Loona frowned at him. “They’re at their apartment.” 

“What.”

“I’ve been dropping stuff off these past few days while–”

“Oh that sexy dick sucker is gonna fucking pay!” He stormed out, not even hearing the rest of what Loona was going to say. She huffed.

“I’m not dealing with that.” She sat down in her chair again and went back to her phone. As much as she didn’t mind helping you while you recovered, she wasn’t going to try to interfere with the relationship you had with her dad. 

You felt your body tense at the loud noise heard from beyond your bedroom. Someone had knocked on your front door. You churned it up to one of your neighbors or someone with the wrong address and slowly closed your eyes once more.

The incessant banging prevented you from falling back to sleep. Now, a familiar voice had tacked on to the noise and caused you to let out a groan.

“Alright Dipshit, I know you’re in there! Open up the fuck up!” 

Knowing he’d eventually bust the door off the hinges or break the window, you arose from your sickened bedding and shuffled towards the front door with your blanket. “Go away!” You shouted, followed by a few short coughs. That stopped his thumping. 

“Gross, why the fuck do you sound like that?” 

“Oh fuck you, Blitzø!” You really had zero patience. The past few days your flu has only been getting worse. Loona tried to help out with the few things she brought over but whatever sickness you had was stubborn as hell. 

It was quiet… You encircled your blanket tighter around you as you got closer to the door, looking through the peephole and seeing that he was no longer there. Damn. Guess that worked. Which was odd knowing Blitzø.

“What the shit is this?!” Shouting came from your bedroom, followed by shuffling feet and your door slamming open to reveal the person you thought had left. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Oh my Satan.” You rolled your eyes and walked over to your couch, feeling yourself become overly hot. “You can’t just break in when I don’t open the door!” You relinquished your blanket while sitting down. “I told you to leave!” 

“Yeah right!” He strutted over. “Just tell me the real reason you’re avoiding me!” Your eyes widened.

“What?”

“You may think your sorry ass was gonna get away with this,” He began pacing in front of your couch. “But I’ve got you all figured out.” He gestured wildly with his words.

“Blitzø.”

 “Texting with M&M… having my own Loonie visit you… not talking with me at all!”

“Blitzø!”

 “You really think it could go on without me–”

“I’m sick you dumbass!” You shouted and spurred a few coughs from you. He paused, slowly turning towards you. He finally took a real good look at your form. Runny nose that was rubbed to dry, bleary eyes, sunken cheeks. 

His eyes widened. “You mean… You didn’t just play hooky to avoid me?”

“No!” You shook your head. “Satan no, I would love to be at work right now.”

Blitzø sighed and glanced at your bedroom, seeing the trail of snotty tissues he pushed through to get to your living room. “Well that explains those.” 

You tried to smile, though it came off wearily. “Not to mention, I’ve thrown up twice already.” He glanced back at you. “And that’s just today!” It was quiet as he peered at the floor. 

He walked over, sitting next to you. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Your eyes met his, seeing them drill into your own with a hidden desire of curiosity and… hurt.

“Because…” You glanced away. “Clients have been slow… And, when I saw the rush of appointments we had this week, I didn’t want anything to mess it up or… Be in the way.” You squeezed your hands around your arms.

You felt something gently encircling your waist before yanking you closer to Blitzø. You peered down to see the tip of his tail. He rested his head against your own, sighing. “Fucking idiot.” He whispered. And although it was an insult, you know that it was from a place of endearment.

You scoffed a laugh before poking him in the chest. “You’ll get sick.”  You tried to push him away. He merely brushed your hands away and pulled you closer to him. 

“Fuck it, a few days off of work doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Except I’ll be the one that has to take care of your whiny ass when you do get sick.” 

He glanced at you. “Damn… your raspy voice is making my dick so hard right now.” He wiggled his eyebrows a few times. “Wanna fuck?” He smirked.

Leaning in, you feel a flutter within your stomach.“Oh~ Blitzø.” You whined, eyes half-lidded. Your cheeks filled with liquid before releasing the contents of your soup from earlier. Chunks flew onto his lap and all over the couch. The horrid taste coated your tongue as leftover bile leaked down your chin.

Blitzø sighed, slowly pushing your heaving face away from his dick. “Yeah I probably deserved that.”

꒰ STOLAS ꒱

The bird prince had just finished preparing himself, placing his crown on and taking one last glance in the mirror. He would be meeting you soon and wanted to look his best considering you both would be spending the whole day together. His phone buzzed and he chirped with excitement. He made quick steps over to his phone with a smile. That is, until he saw your text.

Stolas honey, I can’t make it. I’m so sorry.  I think I’ve caught some kind of flu. Can we reschedule?

He felt his brows crease immediately, frown sinking its way onto his lips. “Flu?” He questioned. Well this wasn’t good at all. His fingers immediately began typing.

Hello darling, I’m so sorry to hear that… Perhaps we could be together even while you're sick. A little company while feeling ill always seems to help me.  Would you like it if I came over? I could help take care of you while you recover. I don’t mind really, I just want to make sure you have everything you need to feel better. Of course, we don’t have to if you don’t want to

He anxiously awaited a reply, pacing across his room in front of his vanity. Did he come off too needy? Maybe he should have just wished you to feel better and be on his way. But how could he when his loved one is feeling sick? He saw that you read the messages and were currently typing. The bubbles went away a few times and with each passing second, he felt his stomach twist with nerves.

I really want to see you…  But I would hate for you to get sick :(

His response back was almost immediate.

No problem at all darling, I promise. A little sickness won’t harm me. I’ll see you in a few <3

After reading his text back, you wearily smiled. As much as you wanted to tell him not to come, in fear of him catching whatever bug you had, you were desperately hoping to see him today. Things had been hectic in both of your schedules so it had been awhile since you two had seen each other. Let alone have time to go out and do activities together. 

And of course, Satan was a bitch and chose today of all days to curse you. Or should you say, this entire week he’s been testing your limit. It started out as a small cough and runny nose. It might have gone away faster if you weren’t so stubborn, but that little bit turned into a full blown, body ache and fever. 

You laid back down in your bed, placing your phone on your bedside table and sighing. It will be nice to see Stolas, that’s for sure. Having been away from him for so long was taking its toll on you. He really did recharge your draining battery. You closed your eyes, thinking about his caring nature and loving words. Oh to see him will possibly end this sickness instantly.

Stolas pulled his phone out and texted that he had arrived. He grabbed the bags from his car and waved his chauffeur away. The car drove off as he walked up to your door. He knocked a few times, hoping it wouldn’t be much trouble for you to answer. “Darling?” He called out but received no answer. The prince called your cell but again, no answer. He huffed, wondering if you decided on not wanting to see him. Or what if… You were really sick. So sick that you were dying! 

Stolas broke in immediately, feet trailing through your place as if he lived there. He found his way into your bedroom, opening the door and seeing you in bed. A long breath escaped his worried lungs, feeling relief when he saw your chest moving in a deep sleep as he walked over.

“Oh, my dear.” He placed a hand on his chest, kneeling down to the side of your bed. Stolas felt an ache grow within his heart as he gazed at your form. Sweaty, shaking, breathless. You appeared tired even as you slept. “My darling, why would you push yourself like this.” He could simply tell that you didn’t get sick today alone, but were most likely not taking care of yourself as you should have been.

His hand reached out, caressing your overly warm forehead before raking his fingers lightly along your scalp. The motion slowly brought you awake, eyes fluttering open to see your lover aside your bed. 

“Stolas.” You smiled dreamily before realizing he had arrived. You pushed yourself up. “Oh my goodness, I feel asleep!” Your eyes were wide as your outburst shocked him. Sitting up so quickly, you felt pressure bloom in your head and held it. “Ow…”

“Careful, dear.” He placed a hand on your leg, circling it to soothe you with some comfort. “I’m here now. You don’t have to worry your sick–” He booped your nose. “–little head about anything.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’ll always be here to take care of you.”

꒰ ASMODEUS & FIZZAROLLI ꒱

“Hm?” You felt your blurred vision focus on the jester in front of you, headache making itself even more prominent the more you tried to will it away. 

“Agree with my choice for dinner after the show tonight!” He bounced in place, arms motivating his movements. 

“Oh, uh… Yeah sure.” You stood up and quickly walked over to your vanity, a shaky hand reaching out for the edge as you sat. Asmodeus and Fizz watched as your behavior was completely different from how you typically were before a night at Ozzie’s.

“Oh Honey~” Oz's sultry voice dug into your skull. “Something the matter?” He asked, cautious of your emotions. You shook your head, a strained smile appearing on your lips. 

“Not at all!” Heat rushed over your face, a sweat now brewing from an oncoming fever. “Just nervous for tonight. The new routine and all.” You glanced away.

“Aw, our little Bunny is all shakin’ up?” Ozzie walked over, his finger caressing your chin and tilting your face to look up at him. “That don’t sound right at all~” He smirked, though you could see the underlying worry in his eyes as they dipped at the corners.

Sleek metal arms squeezed around you and brought you into a tight hug. “Don’t worry, Babe! If you forget a step or two, just look at me and I’ll help you out.” He wagged his eyebrows at you, tongue sticking out of his upturned lips.

You let out a nervous laugh, feeling the sweat begin to build up on your forehead. “Yeah, thanks, Fizzy.” He leaned in, cheeks squishing together as you both glanced at yourselves in the mirror. The clammy coating on your skin dug into your mind. You worried he might feel just how warm you were becoming due to your fever. You recoiled quickly. “Uh, I think it’s time!” You grabbed your matching cap n’ bells and placed it on your head.

Fizz was saddened at your reaction, peaking at Oz to see if he felt the weird tension coming off of you. As much as he wanted to push for more, he worried that he would upset you. But he couldn’t just let you go without doing something. “Hey.” Fizz grabbed your shoulders, turning you towards him oh so gently, his voice softening. “Are you really okay?” His eyes dewed as his lips pulled into pout. 

Your head tilted to the side, bells jingling as you did. “Yes, yes! Of course!” You released a heavy breath, stomach churning. “I’m fine! Totally fine!” Your voice cracked at the end of your words. You stepped closer to the door, escaping your dear Fizzy’s hold. “I’ll get into position now!” You opened the door, beginning to wave at them with your fingers. “Bruise some knees and make them cum, my lustful babes!” 

Finally you were free from the room, air so heavy you felt as if it weighed you down. Breathe. Just breathe. You began climbing the ladder to the catwalk to get into position for the opening act that was supposed to start shortly. Your stomach rolled a few more times with the movement, causing you to clasp a hand around your mouth. You felt the bile raise into your throat with a burp but swallowed it back down. The taste barely coating your tongue. 

Don’t. Puke. Just put on the show and everything will be fine. You grasped the stripper pole in front of you, hearing the introductions begin. Your platform would be lowered down anytime now. Your knuckles tightened around the metal. Breathe. You closed your eyes. 

A jolt sent a shake through your legs as you felt yourself beginning to descend. Slowly, the glowing eyes of the audience came into view, spotlights on you as the music blared loudly. 

“The one! The only!” Fizz spoke into the mic, arm outstretched in your direction. Breathe. Smile. Show time. He screamed your name, you flashed a strained grin and began your routine, singing your solo part. 

It was going fine for the first few minutes. Your duet with Fizz and the routine felt as if it was muscle memory. Until he grabbed your hand and began to spin you, a few times too many than what you had practiced. When he had finished, he sprung onto the opposite side of the stage and continued his performance. But you, on the other hand, were left in a dizzying mess.

You stumbled, trying to hold your bearings as much as possible. The flashing spotlights made things worse the more you tried to focus on not throwing up. Unfortunately, that made everything more difficult. The lights centered on you, awaiting your final high-note. Ozzie watched your hunched over form, his faces frowning in concern.

Fizz peered at you, his smile faltering when he noticed your hand clasped over your mouth and the pained expression you displayed. He took a few steps closer but you bolted off stage, exiting fast behind the curtain. The two remaining snapped to look at each other before Asmodeus flashed away in a heartbeat. 

Fizzy glanced at the crowd, his worrisome face disappeared to the silly grin he always held. He addressed the situation and transitioned to the next act seamlessly, covering for you as if that whole mishap was supposed to happen. He left the stage quickly while the next performance took over. Making his way in the direction you ran off in, he was able to locate you and Ozzie in the bathroom next to the dressing room. Concern etched onto his face as he saw you.

Oz had shifted to his smaller form, hand caressing your back as your head hovered the toilet bowl. “Ahw, it's okay baby. Let it out.” Sweet velvet tones caressed you in comfort as tears streaked down your face. Fizz’s heels clicked over before he sat down on the other side of you. His metal limbs cool against your heated skin. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I wanted too–” You hiccuped. 

“Hey, hey, calm down, babe.” Fizz spoke gently, petting your head as you leaned into him. “You should have told us you weren’t feeling well.”

“Froggy’s right.” Oz added. “The show means nothing if your health is at risk.” He tilted your face to look at him. “You mean everything to us. You come first.” Your eyes watered at his words, lip quivering. 

“I-I wanna go home.” You sputtered, a hand reaching out to each of them and squeezing tightly. Fizz leaned his head against yours, tail pulling you closer to him.

“I’ll nurse you better, Baby.” He smiled. 

“Sounds like,” You hiccuped, followed by a sniffle. “A fun new roleplay we can try.” You quipped with a smirk.

“And we can wear cute nurse outfits!” Fizzy kicked his feet, tongue blepped at the thought. 

Ozzie stood, shifting to his larger form and grabbing you both in his arms, lifting you. “After Bunny is feeling better, okay you two?”  He shook his head, though an endearing smile remained as he ducked through the door, ready to take his lovers home and get you on your way to recovery. 

꒰ MOXXIE & MILLIE ꒱

“Uh… Babe?”

“Yeah?” Moxxie called from the bathroom, his mouth garbled with the spit from foamy toothpaste.

Millie felt your forehead with the back of her hand, noticing your abnormal body temperature almost immediately. “Our little Pumpkin is burning up right now.”

“What?” He spat the extra fluoride into the sink and ran out into the bedroom. He saw you still in bed, body curled up and face scrunched in pain. “Oh, crumbs.” He quickly got closer, sitting on the mattress and copying his wife’s actions. His brows dipped in concern as he stared down at you, his other hand going to your shoulder and rubbing softly. 

“We’ll have to call in.” Millie bit her lip, brows furrowing. “We can’t go to work and leave ‘em here alone.”

“You’re right, Sweetie.” He stood back up. “I’ll call and look for some ibuprofen to help with the fever.”

“I’ll fix up some tea.” Millie leaned over, her lips gently placing a kiss on your clammy forehead before she walked away into the kitchen.

“Wait!” You tried sitting up even though there was an immense amount of pressure in your head. They both looked at you worriedly. “Don’t stay home…” Millie came and sat next to you, her hand rubbing your back as you held your head in discomfort. “I can take care of myself, okay?” You looked at her. “I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, honey.” Her eyes stared at you, taking in every bit of your face. “We know that. And before you were with us, that may have been what you’re used to. But ‘round here we take care of each other.” She leaned in, forehead kissing yours as you both closed your eyes at the contact. Moxxie sighed at the scene, his hands hovering his heart. 

He walked closer. “And we’ll always be here.” He kneeled on the bed, scooting closer before kissing your cheek. “We’re taking the day off. No matter what you try to say to convince us not to.” He smiled gently before grabbing his cell and returning to his task from before. 

You melted at both of their actions, the care and comfort they offered so endlessly being a new feeling to you. Typically, you’d get sick and fight through it on your own. Sleeping in bed and rotting until it finally flushed itself from your system. But this was a completely different feeling, one that you’re slowly getting used to and relishing in the affection.

Moxxie called your boss and through a shit ton of convincing, he was finally able to get Blitzø to agree and let the three of you have the day off. It was basically the entire staff for I.M.P. that wasn’t going to show up for the day, so obviously he was pissed.

Millie walked in and handed you some tea while Moxxie came over with some medication in his hand. “This should help with your fever.” You were able to take them easily and sipped your tea. 

“Need anything else right now, Sweetie?” Millie asked. You shook your head, slowly handing the tea back.

“I kinda wanna just sleep right now.” You muttered, glancing at the covers over your legs.

“Mind if we join you?” She smiled softly, her voice quiet to not make things any worse. “A little cuddle session always makes you and Moxxie feel better.”

“I don’t want you two getting sick.” You glanced between them. “As much as I would love to.”

“Well, technically we already slept together last night.” Moxxie began before crawling under the covers and getting situated on his side of the bed. 

“That’s right!” Millie followed his actions, scooting you over so you were in between them. “If we get sick, then we’ll be sick together.” She snuggled right into your side, her tail looping around you and Mox and squeezing tightly. You felt another warm sensation crawl across your skin though this time, it wasn’t due to your fever. You sighed, eyes fluttering shut, feeling your lovers’ arms circle around you.

An odd sound was heard from the ceiling before a hefty lump landed onto the bed. Everyone's eyes shot open to see a familiar person.

“Sir!?” Moxxie called out, voice raised. 

“Fuck this shit!” Blitzø got up and stormed out of the bedroom. “I thought yall would be porking it up in a sexy threeway!”

likes and reblogs appreciated !! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ

#helluva boss x reader #helluva boss x you #blitzø x reader #blitz x reader #blitzo x reader #stolas x reader #fizzmodeus x reader #fizzarolli x reader #asmodeus x reader #fizz x reader #moxxie and millie x reader #moxxie x reader x millie #moxxie x reader #millie x reader #helluva boss x gn!reader #fizz x reader x ozzie

[aleenuhs]

Arthur with someone who's unconventional attractive, like they don't fit the beauty standard but are pretty in their pwn way, Arthur loves the way they look, for the reader sometimes think they are ugly because no one else thinks they are pretty

In His Eyes

thank u anon <3

warnings: insecure reader, crying, lil bit of angst, comfort, fluff

word count: 652

You always had felt like you weren't as pretty, and on top of that nobody ever told you if you were, it never repaired how you saw yourself. So you avoided mirrors and things that would show your reflection, avoided them like the plague.

You didn't wear what most people wore in your time, just some regular old pants and shirts. Arthur never understood what you felt, he always thought of you as the prettiest person he'd ever seen, and cannot fathom how you treat yourself because of your skewed idea on your own self image.

He noticed the extra precautions you took to avoid showing yourself to anyone, including him.

You looked into the mirror that he had for his shaving kit and sighed.

You walked over to the cot, sitting down and just thinking, you groaned and scooted further onto the cot, holding yourself.

The thought of being ugly haunted you, it wasn't what you wanted, for it wasn't anywhere near what you wanted. All you needed was to be pretty, to feel safe in your skin, to not be afraid. So when Arthur came around telling you how good looking you were, it felt as if you were a fraud, living some kind of lie, or that he was lying to you.

Arthur never lied about it.

Your eyes started to tear up and your face went emotionless, you wanted to hide away. You could feel your lip trembling and your breath hitch at a specific thought.

Oh, but the way Arthur looked at you, like he loved you so much, so easily, yet it took you everything to even love yourself. Maybe you don't deserve him, you kept thinking. The thought of it made your heart physically hurt. You broke and let out a silent sob.

Arthur was walking past his tent when he saw you on the cot, hiding your face. "Hey, hey now... what's wrong?" He immediately walked over to you and sat down next to you. You jumped at the sound of his voice, and his hands on you, you felt so lost looking into his eyes. And he wondered why you were crying.

"M'fine, Arthur." You quickly wiped away your tears and tried to force a smile, but your eyes avoided his gaze. His blueish green eyes looking right into yours. He gritted his teeth upon hearing you try and excuse it. He shook his head.

"No, you're not okay." When he said this, you cried. He hugged you and kept you close. He just let you cry in his arms.

"How can you even love me?" You cried out and he shook his head.

"'Cause who wouldn't, darlin'?" He said softly, "Why wouldn't I?"

"Have you seen me?" You struggled to say as you cried. He nods.

"Yes, I have, and you're beautiful."

It was some time until you stopped, and let the all consuming feeling of his touch consume you.

You sniffled a bit, and he hummed.

"You're everything in my eyes, nothing will ever change that. I want you to know that." He spoke quietly, carefully. "I hate the way you think you're not good enough, 'cause for me, you are everything."

His words soothed you, the way you knew he meant it, his eyes followed his emotions and his emotions followed his words.

He made you feel so much better. "Thank you, for that..." You hardly knew what to say, it was alleviating, the way he took care of you in every problem you had. It made it all fade away slowly, making you feel so much better. You kissed him, and he kissed you back. When you smile, he chuckled.

"There's the smile." He smiled back at you. Oh man, he made you a better person, he made you want to love yourself even with the imperfections that you were so hung up on.

He made it all better.

#red dead redemption 2 #fluff #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption #rdr2 #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fluff #rdr2 fluff

[roomsofangel]

IN THE ABSENCE OF EVERYTHING, I PROMISE TO KEEP YOU WARM . . jeong yunho

synopsis ateez are on a much needed break after their recent comeback — traveling overseas for a short-term vacation, yunho desires nothing more than just to ease himself and let go of worries.

but with a run in with someone he deems an angel in human skin, yunho learns she doesn’t know who he is and pretends to be someone else.

filled with secrets and a burning romance, yunho learns that no matter what you do or how hard you try, life just isn’t fair.

and he only had himself to blame.

wc 775

chapter warnings none that i can think of!

if you’d like to be added to the taglist please either send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist! reblogs and comments are also very appreciated! ♥️

yunho swore if someone asked him, he could describe the day you two encountered again down to every little detail there was, something that deeply burned into his memory and left a permanent scar. this was something perfectly handcrafted and molded into your shape. a personal shrine for you in his mind.

but time was never on yunho’s side, his slender fingers messing with the year old receipts he was dreading to throw away, the list of charges lining up before he shoved them back into the shoebox, a huff of air leaving his lungs as he closed his eyes, your silhouette on display. he swears he can reach you if he just shuts them tighter. with a sigh, he grabbed the shoebox cover and closed the lid, heart faltering for a second each time he read the handwriting

yunho and y/n’s memories

i’ll love you forever, yuyu! - yn

but time was never on yunho’s side, and he only had himself to blame for always being five seconds too late.

yunho remembers the first time he asked you out, the same day you two reconnected and you swore he was following you for a moment and he had let out a belly laugh — but now when he recalls the memory, it tastes bittersweet and he wants to purge it out like bad liquor. his regrets stain it all, knowing that was the day he chose not to tell you the truth.

“i’m just coming to pick up something from a friend,” he had voiced and you scoffed at first, not believing him until his manager had came with a few documents shoved into an envelope, resting in a tote bag that yunho accepted happily, “see? my good friend,” he teased

and technically he wasn’t lying about the friend, his manager was a decent guy who he got along with, maybe he wouldn’t go out for drinks and sunday brunch with the guy but he liked to think that they were decent enough — professionalism was a line he didn’t cross however, his manager was his manager.

but that day, he wasn’t.

that day, yunho was someone else. someone that he wished he could be again, and he knew that was selfish.

it wasn’t fair on you that you fell in love with someone you were now convinced you didn’t know at at all

but yunho doesn’t blame you, he never really knew himself either.

“do you wanna go to this cat cafe?” yunho asked you, the first place he ever took you to and you were hesitant at first — an intrigued expression, but tone laced with venom when you had eventually spoke

you hummed, not bothering to lift your head to meet his gaze or act as if you were genuinely acknowledging him, hell, you could have convinced yunho you didn’t even hear a thing he said, but you stopped flipping through the magazine you were assessing before your answer followed, “a cat cafe?” you parroted back to him, finally meeting his gaze with brows lifting in question, “why would i go with you?”

yunho shrugged, “so i can apologize better,” he responded to your glare with a smile, showing a bit of teeth and he felt accomplished watching the red run across your cheeks more and more, you rolled your eyes but yunho saw the smile you were fighting back

“just do it here.” you motioned to the building the two of you were in and he shook his head

“no, i wanna be surrounded by cute cats and hot chocolate,” wiggling his eyebrows to tease you, he let out another laugh when you playfully shoved his shoulder, your expression not matching but with the way your eyes glistened when they met his, even you couldn’t stop the small smile from forming

your eyes flickered to the clock then back towards the taller male in front of you who fixed the strap of the bag on his shoulder, “do you mind waiting a bit? my shift ends in ten minutes, i just have to sort out these,” your hand lifted the magazine you were going through earlier to shimmy it a little, and yunho smiled wide

“i don’t mind!” he beamed, walking towards one of the sofas that were in the lobby the two of you resided in, plopping himself down and getting comfortable, “i’ll be here.”

if only the two of you had known what was going to be awaiting you, because maybe it would have hurt less — but time was never on yunho’s side

no matter how desperately he wanted it to be now that you were gone.

masterlist . . next

#. . 🗒️ 𓈒 ׂ ☀️ 𖥔 in the absence of everything #ateez fic #jeong yunho fic #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez writing #ateez au #ateez ff #jeong yunho writing #jeong yungo smut #jeong yunho angst #jeong yunho fluff #jeong yunho au #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho fanfic #jeong yunho ateez #jeong yunho #ateez yunho #yunho #yunho x reader

[endwersed]

WIP Whenever

Tagged by the lovelies that are @dear-massacre & @violetfairydust 💘

Here's a little snippet from my main WIP: an ABO humans-as-second-class-citizens AU 😊

-

“Um, yeah,” Stiles stutters out, trying not to cringe at the strength of Talia's grip. “That’s... hi. It’s nice to, uh – to be here, too.”

Her painted mouth is pursed as she releases his hand, and he quickly tucks it behind his back, flexing his sore fingers out of sight from her appraising stare. There is an almost regal posture to her as she stands, her shoulders drawn back and her torso stretched out, her hands clasped together in front of her stomach. It makes him want to shrink a little, to be honest, but he fights that instinct back down.

“Yes, I can imagine,” she says primly, before letting her gaze drift to his side, where it lands heavily on her eldest daughter. “And has my Laura been behaving herself?”

Not really, he thinks.

“Yeah, absolutely,” he says out loud, smiling briefly at Laura with a tip of his head. “She’s been nice enough to start showing me around the place.”

Laura smirks back at him. “I’m a regular one-woman welcoming committee.”

Talia hums, narrowing her gaze towards Laura for a moment.

“Yes. Quite.” The corners of her eyes crinkle as she pulls her focus back to him. It should be a kind expression, of laughter lines and etchings of joy, but instead of any of that, it just seems disingenuous. “So, Mr Stilinski. You graduated high school last month, is that correct?”

He nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And you’ll be starting college after your time with us here?” she presses.

“Nursing school,” he corrects carefully. “I have a place locally back in Beacon Hills.”

Talia’s smile, perfectly perfunctory at best up until this point, suddenly shifts into something actually like real. Her teeth flash, and there is a certain sharkish quality to it that makes his heart want to miss a beat in his chest, because it’s nothing like Laura’s specific brand of vibrant cheekiness.

No. With Talia, it’s almost… malevolent.

Huh, he thinks. He’s never noticed that before, when he’s seen her photographs in the papers.

“My son is due to begin medical school in the fall,” she announces proudly, and he doesn’t miss the way that Cora rolls her eyes down at the floor, just behind her mother's vision. “My boy, Derek. I imagine you’ve heard of him.”

Oh – Stiles has heard of him, all right. Being the only son and the only alpha, and with his dashing good looks and notoriously bad attitude, Derek Hale is by far the most well-known of all of the Hale children. And that – that is saying something, considering how much press time Laura and Cora get.

For sure, Stiles knows precisely who he is.

Also, he may or may not have jerked off to a shirtless picture or two (or twenty) that the paparazzi managed to snap of the guy at a private beach about a year back, too.

Obviously, he does not say this part out loud to the guy's mother.

“Yep,” he says instead, nodding slightly. “That’s, uh… great. For him.”

“Yes, it is.” There is a sharpness to her tone that implies she is not at all impressed with Stiles’ underwhelming levels of enthusiasm. He ducks his head and shuffles under the discomfort. “Well. I should let you and dear Laura get back to your tour. I do hope you enjoy your stay with us here, Mr Stilinski.”

“Thank you,” he hastens to reply. “I – I’m sure I will.”

-

No pressure at all tags! @aurevell @crownofstardustandbone @hedwig221b @lucky-bishop @thotpuppy

#sterek #my fic #talia is the bad guy in this one so apols to any fans #i just really enjoy exploring the idea that derek being a mama's boy is actually a Bad Thing

[dominimoonbeam]

😁 Oh, my lovely, wonderful Domini

I have a dream… of using the combined prompts,

“Well, someone’s cranky today.” and “Well, someone needs to shut the fuck up.” combined with *kissing to annoy a third party*, involving David & Darlin snarking at each other, and upon realizing Quinn is watching, choosing to kiss each other to piss him off 😈 Bonus points if they quickly forget the point of the kiss is to annoy Quinn 🤣 💋

CHAR!! I love it. Thank you so much for this ask!!

I might flesh this one out more before I post it to ao3... We'll see.

David/Darlin

tags: first kiss, idiots in love, drinking, bar fight

MY WHAT BIG TEETH YOU HAVE

David nursed his beer at the bar, making sure to take it slow because Asher was hellbent on dragging him to the dance floor when he was done with this one.

Fuck that.

Darlin leaned against the bar beside him, turned the other way to face the room, their arms pressing back to settle elbows on the surface. “At this rate we’re going to need to carry him home,” the remarked.

David turned enough to look back over his shoulder at the floor and Asher. He bit the inside of his lip to hide a smile. Ash and about half the pack were dominating the dancefloor—not pushing anyone else out but definitely a presence. It was impossible not to be. A fire elemental stepped closer to Asher and even from across the room David caught that look, the curious one asking to get even closer to Asher. He only watched long enough to see the grin on his best friend’s face before looking away again, taking a deep drink off his beer because he would not need to worry about Asher coming back to bother him tonight.

“Doesn’t look like we’ll be the ones carrying him.”

Darlin laughed and then snagged his beer.

“Get your own,” he griped but rolled his eyes when the finished it.

“We’re sharing!”

“The fuck we are!”

Darlin pouted. “Well, someone’s cranky today…”

“Well, someone needs to shut the fuck up,” he countered, but flagged the bartender for another, signaling for a second bottle for the shifter next to him.

Someone else came up to them… or rather, came up to Darlin.

David glanced over his shoulder at the vampire looking Darlin over from head to toe, lingering on their neck.

Darlin, for their part, stared back, mostly bored.

“I heard you’re into biting,” the vampire said, not having to raise their voice to have it slithering in their ears.

David swiveled to the side, more than ready to show this biter just how fast a shifter could move.

But Darlin grinned. “I am. But you can go back and tell him that his little teeth don’t do it for me anymore.”

David raised an eyebrow, not sure what they meant until the vampire hissed and bolted back into the crowd. It was fast enough that he barely clocked them until they reappeared on the other side of the club, at a cluster of couches and next to another vampire.

Quinn.

David turned forward before he could show that he even noticed him, picking up a beer and taking the first drink. He knew Darlin was staring back at their ex from across the room. He’d been a nightmare and the breakup had been violent and ugly, but that was a few years ago now. Darlin was back with the pack, safe and happy, just like he’d always hoped they would be.

David passed them the beer in his hand and they took it like that was always the plan. “Little teeth, huh?”

Darlin sipped and shrugged, turning their head to look back at him. “I know it’s petty but if he’s going to send his creeps to try to make me uncomfortable I figure it’s fair to try to piss him off…”

David shook his head. “It’s not petty.”

Darlin took another swig and then passed the bottle back to him. “He’s always thought you and me had a thing.”

David looked at them again. The idea sent a jolt through him, maybe because he’d always had a soft spot for Darlin. Maybe Quinn wasn’t quite as stupid as David always thought… “Do you want to really piss him off?”

Darlin blinked at him, trying to play it cool, but their gaze flicked to his mouth for a second and then back his eyes. “What?”

David shrugged.

Darlin smiled slowly. “Seriously?”

David shrugged again.

Darlin flashed teeth, tempted. “He might lose it…”

“He already lost it,” David reminded, waiting. And let that biter make a move. David wasn’t worried.

Darlin slid their back along the bar, into his space, and he lifted his arm from the surface to give them that real estate in front of him, his hand settling on their hip.

Darlin curled an arm around the back of his shoulders. “You drunk?” they asked, checking.

He laughed before he could catch it. The idea of them checking to make sure they weren’t taking advantage of him was too funny.

“Shut up,” Darlin laughed while scolding.

He leaned down and kissed them, soft and short first, their lips still close and their bodies practically pressed together.

Darlin blinked, stunned, and then kissed him harder, pulling themself flush against him.

David wound his arm around their back, devouring that kiss like it might be his only.

Later that morning, he’d know that he forgot the kiss was to piss off Quinn the second they slid in front of him, and so had they.

But it had still worked.

Later that morning, he’d hear from Milo how Quinn shot across the room like a missile, fangs out.

He hadn’t known then only because Quinn never made it close enough for it to matter. Asher caught him halfway across the club, shifting into a wolf and closing teeth around his ribcage before he made it.

The whole empowered club erupted into a bar fight that somehow devolved into a flashy show of powers once the vampires were tossed out. The Department arrived late enough to frown in confusion, scold the lot of them, and write citations for risking covert with indoor storms, fireworks, and earthquakes set to the beat of music.

#redactedverse #fanfic #prompt fic #first kiss prompt #<3 #david/darlin #davlin #dominimoonbeam #romance #a doMINIfic

[desceros]

For infinite singularity, I was wondering, after Donnie takes reader out of the office through the portal…

What happens to the..crime scene and our psycho coworker? Especially what did the rest of the brothers do?

(Btw love ur work, ur a total inspiration! ✨💞drink water, steal sum sustenance, take care of yourself 💗)

As soon as you and Donnie are through the portal, Leo gets to work. 

Mikey’s in charge of keeping your coworker from doing anything stupid. A task he enjoys greatly, as it means he gets to sit and giggle on the guy’s chest and pretend he can’t hear him wheezing for breath where Donnie nearly choked him. Meanwhile, Raph is sent off to take care of getting the power back on. He’s no Donnie with tech and never will be, but he’s getting decent at stuff like this. They don’t need it, but it’ll make it easier when the cops finally show up to wipe up the mess.

“So, what exactly was the plan here, huh?” Leo asks your coworker. “You get kicks out of roughing up pretty girls?”

“She’s not some random girl. She’s my soulmate,” your coworker spits, vile descriptions of the things he planned on doing to you cut off when Leo gets a foot on the clown’s broken forearm. 

“Wow, that’s so weird. Here I thought she was my brother’s soulmate,” Leo says, waving his hand in the air and watching the rage purple your coworker’s face. “What with the whole can’t stand to be apart and gazing sappily into each other’s eyes thing they have going on.”

“My pure little dove wouldn’t fuck a monster. He’s forcing her.”

“Buddy, I can promise you, first hand account, she did. Also, kind of ironic considering I’m pretty sure you got caught with your hand in one hell of a cookie jar, don’t you think?”

Raph comes back. “Power’s on,” he says, his word the only indication that’s the case since he left the lights off. Better for them, just in case. 

“Good job. One last thing,” Leo says, putting more of his weight on your coworker’s arm and feeling the bones splinter beneath his heel. “What’s TCRI doing sending out hit squads? Last I checked, business wasn’t supposed to be this cut-throat.”

Between heaving breaths of agony, your coworker groans in wretched agony before he just starts to laugh and laugh and laugh. “You’re a funny guy.”

“Right? Everyone keeps saying it’s my brother, but man, I’m telling you, my lines are killer,” Leo says, a grin that’s all teeth slashing onto his face as he grinds his heel into shattered bone. 

“He ain’t gonna talk,” Raph says after a minute more of your coworker just laughing each time he stops gritting his teeth in pain. 

“I can make him do it,” Mikey says cheerfully, a smile that doesn’t match his eyes pulling into place. 

“…Raph’s right. We’re not going to get anything out of him,” Leo says, pulling his foot off your coworker’s arm. “Knock him out and call it in.”

“I’ll find her again,” your coworker grits through his teeth. “She’ll never be able to hide from me. I’ll haunt her forever. Even if it’s like this, it’ll only ever be me she thinks about. Forever and ever and—”

“Ohh, my god, shut up,” Mikey groans, and with a thwack, your coworker goes silent. He then looks up at Leo, tilting his head. “…I didn’t know you believed in soulmates, too, Leo!”

“…Of course I don’t,” Leo brushes off, turning to inspect the security camera, putting his shell to his brother’s gaze.

“Cops’re on the way,” Raph says, and the two watch as Mikey gets your coworker trussed like a turkey. 

“We’ll have Donnie send them the security footage. Doesn’t look like he tampered with the cameras,” Leo says. Cutting a portal, he jerks his head. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Reappearing in the lair, Leo pulls up his phone.

neon leon (6:11 p.m.) hey hermano. everything okay over there? how she doing

neon leon (6:12 p.m.) bud? you good?

neon leon (6:15 p.m.) nerd says whaaaat

Narrowing his eyes, Leo starts to tap out the next message—dude if you don’t answer in two minutes i’m coming over and—before he freezes in place, thinks for a moment, then groans in disgust. 

“Did you get a hold of Donnie?” Raph asks, tilting his head in confusion when Leo brushes past with a wrinkled beak.

“Let’s give ‘em an hour then try again. Fuckin’ rabbits.”

“…Rabbits?”

Mikey pets Raph’s shell consolingly. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Wh—B—I’m the oldest?!”

#BECAUSE 66K WASN'T ENOUGH I GUESS #ask tag #tmnt #rise #day job au #fragment tag