#The ground is soft and I'm ready to dig

[obnoxiousselfdiagnosedneurosis]

Alright, Uchiha Clan oppression longpost

This is the unavoidable, and often central, topic people tend to surround their Naruto politics takes on, and is as a result a big, ugly discourse-generator. It's also a subject I'm definitely always thinking about when it comes to Naruto as a noted Sasuke stan, and my thoughts on it have changed gradually over the years. I'm making this post to share what my current interpretation on "how and why the Uchiha Clan were oppressed" is.

Before I do that though, notice on what this post is not:

I'm not writing a "discourse ender", a take meant to be spread around with the claim of being the only correct interpretation of events. This is a post I wrote to share the exact way I rotate an aspect of the manga in my mind, and to convince people that looking at it from this angle is interesting. Basically: it's not that serious, I think about this because it's fun.

This isn't a "character-bashing" post or whatever either, so like if you agree with what you read here, I suppose I can't stop you from using those infamous "anti-[X]" tags, it's just that making a post that warrants them has never been my intention.

Along with that, I do want to address the by now very well established fact that Naruto the series is Not Very Good, and has glaring inconsistencies in its writing. The Uchiha Clan drama is definitely not exempt from this, and in its case the failures in Kishimoto's writing usually show in inconsistent power-scaling, in which we're made to accept weird leaps in logic (how does a 13 year old get rid of what we're told is one of the most powerful and feared clans internationally?) That being said, those particular inconsistencies are kind of irrelevant to this particular post, and don't much change the fact that the Uchiha Clan Massacre did happen. I'll be taking it as a given that if you're reading this, you're accepting to suspend your disbelief of those events on a technical level, and are more interested in how I make sense of it all more on the diegetic social/political level.

With that settled, we can get to the important part now:

The most popular take (as far as I've personally seen) on the events that led to the Uchiha Clan's downfall is the one that takes Madara at his word: the Senju have been oppressing the Uchiha since Konoha's conception, and Tobirama becoming the 2nd Hokage gave him the opportunity to put the Uchiha in a more socially disadvantaged position (police force), gradually earning them the villagers' ire, which was the catalyst for their eventual genocide.

This interpretation works if the end goal of your analysis is to say "Tobirama really fucking sucks". I don't think this conclusion is an unreasonable one, since Tobirama's hostility towards the Uchiha is great enough that he can callously tell a 16 year old genocide survivor that if his clan "self-destructed for the sake of the village, so be it". However, to me, the circumstances surrounding the Uchiha Clan are much wider-encompassing and more fascinating than narrowing their fate to a single man in fan meta written to convince you to hate him, so it goes without saying that I don't think "this is all Tobirama's fault" is a very interesting lens to look at this from.

I also don't buy the argument that making the Uchiha cops was (originally) to their detriment. We'll get back to that in a bit. I suppose this depends on how you look at Tobirama's character, but I think that when he said he made the police force as a sign of trust and to give the clan something useful to do in Konoha, he was being genuine. Arguing the opposite requires you to either believe that a law enforcement order could ever be in an oppressed position by default, or that Tobirama created a fundamentally useless new institution because he just hated the Uchiha that much. I think the former is a weird thing to argue if you're trying to be Leftist about all this, and the latter is a very ungenerous interpretation of Tobirama's character in which his own "racism"/pettiness overshadows his more utilitarian instincts to ensure that the village his brother built was safe and functioning. Obviously you could interpret that, but that leads us back to the "everything is Tobirama's fault" take, that I already mentioned I find lame as hell.

So then, how do I think the Uchiha Clan was oppressed? Because I think they indisputably were, or I wouldn't be making this post. Well, I think it was less "The Senju/Tobirama have always wanted to lord over them and wanted them dead", and more: they became gradually more socially disadvantaged during the era of Hidden Villages, with the consecutive world wars creating a souring global opinion on kekkei genkai clans.

(I'm gonna base my arguments primarily on what we see happen in the manga, and I'll add in some information from the fanbooks/databooks that weren't contradicted by what we see happen in Kishimoto's canon)

Let's start with what we know, definitely, that canon tells us:

Kekkei genkai clans are discriminated against to a very high extent, leading to things such as their mass slaughter (eg, the Uchiha Clan obviously, but also kekkei genkai clans like Haku's clan in the Land of Mist), and a vulnerability which puts them in positions where they're likelier to be targeted and kidnapped (eg, Hinata, but also Orochimaru having a whole criminal entreprise built on kidnapping and experimenting on people possessing kekkei genkai).

The trend for their discrimination is in being scapegoated. When Haku talks about the genocides in the Land of Mist (I refuse to call it the Land of Water sorry it sounds so stupid), this is how he describes them:

(chapter 59)

basically, it's not shinobi as a whole who are badly seen even though all sorts of them were likely participating in those wars: it's kekkei genkai clans in particular. Compare this to the Uchiha Clan being blamed for the Nine Tails attack (I mean one of them certainly was responsible, but was entirely unaffiliated with the rest of the clan) and being roped off to the edge of the village as a result.

Kekkei genkai clans are also frequently described by characters as being a bit "wilder" and more violent than usual shinobi. Tobirama calling the Uchiha "cursed", Kushina describing the Uzumaki as being "a bit savage", and Kakashi introducing us to the concept of kekkei genkai initially with these fun visuals:

(chapter 25)

The thing that's interesting about all this is the context in which it exists: the shinobi villages aren't technically "nations", but I think it would be accurate to liken their possessiveness of their secrets and paranoia regarding outside intrusion + conception of themselves as unified cultural entities + incredibly harsh treatment of dissidents (becoming a rogue is essentially a death sentence) to nationalism. There's an intentse "in-group vs out-group" feeling here.

Not to mention that canonically that shinobi have always been tools of imperialism for greater powers. While Hashirama's initial dream was to put an end to that, it eventually became corrupted; there was already discontent regarding land and resource allocations during his tenure as Hokage, and while we have no idea why the 1st War started, we know that by the time we're on the 2nd one, Konoha had become a tool for the Land of Fire's imperialist expansion (and was apparently was expanding its influence as a military village, too).

(chapter 436)

Basically, the "in-group vs out-group" conception that had once solely been clan-centric widened, and became this new concept of shinobi villages.

This is important because nationalistic sentiment inevitably rises during war; as a result, there's be a sharper eye for who'd turn traitor, who wasn't supporting the military effort, who would endanger their nation/village, etc. With this, there would be greater suspicion directed towards kekkei genkai clans, because they're more "genetically predisposed" to being unpredictable, because they would appear more loyal to their own than to the whole of the village, because they were the likeliest to turn traitor, and so on.

This would be a gradual process going on since the 1st War, but I believe that the 2nd War was where this kickstarted into becoming so much worse, because that one saw the destruction of Uzushio. It was a village composed entirely of a single clan, didn't bend to any of the big 5, and the Uzumaki were "savage" and had abilities that were greatly feared. It would be interesting to consider the idea that their associations with Konoha would have done them more harm than good here, too, given that Konoha was the Big Bad in the 2nd War and an alliance with them would not have been viewed positively.

It's thinking about all this in context, where nationalism was at its peak, where there's an idea that genetic chakra abilities impair swathes of people from being regular functioning shinobi like everyone else, is how we can imagine the Uchiha were discriminated against. They had another disadvantage to them as well, given that one of the first deadly attacks committed on Konoha was done by one of them. If we want to go back to the police force argument, it would be interesting to consider the idea that while it had been a good position for them at first, the utility and influence of the institution gradually eroded over time, and by the time the era where the massacre happened came along it became nearly meaningless since most of its original functions had been assigned elsewhere; as the kekkei genkai clan discrimination rose, the Uchiha also fell victim to it and their influence within the village significantly reduced out of fear of them.

The surveillance and the sequestering of the Uchiha Clan came after two important events; the first being the 3rd Great Shinobi War, and the second being the Nine Tails' attack on Konoha which happened barely a year post-armistice. Konoha was barely recovering from global armed conflict when half of it was destroyed in that attack; tensions are high, the Hokage is dead, and so the village saw an incredibly convenient scapegoat in the Uchiha clan.

So... yeah, that's how I see it! I find this a more fun interpretation than just pointing fingers at individual characters, because it allows me to consider the wider worldbuilding of the Naruto world, and also doesn't assume the Uchiha's position was especially unique and the end-be-all of all the problems with Naruto's politics. It's certainly important, but it's part of a greater network of problems too!

#send post #The ground is soft and I'm ready to dig #Uchiha #this is somehow both longer and shorter than I expected it to be #Anyways feel free to discuss and ask for clarification on some points if they seem confusing!

[apollo-cackling]

tbh I already like frozen 2 as it is (if mostly bc I love elsa lol) but it's frustrating how close it is to being objectively better than average this is definitely from me thinking about I Seek the Truth too much

like the "I need to know who you were / to know who I am meant to be" in I Seek the Truth with the "You are the one you've been waiting for / all of my life" it would've been so good if the movie zeroed in on that made the person elsa's chasing specifically trails her mother left her instead of just some generic Voice make the movie specifically about overcoming parental neglect and the need to base your life around your parents

and then strengthen the generational trauma bit by showing runeard's effects on agnarr (bc really aside from the magic bit he really seems the "spare the rod and spoil the chlid" type) and the war's and how her isolation from her own culture in an environment that hates who she is if she lets it show's effects on iduna and suddenly the story's directly about how generational trauma affects people and elsa and anna freeing themselves of those shackles instead of some Disney Generic believe in yourself

into the unknown's a powerhouse song but thematically I seek the truth is so much better and agh

#the colonialism bit would still be a bit weak I think but yk. #I should write that fanfic #I haven't watched aaaaany of the recent disney movies at all so if generational trauma is a trend among them I didn't know that lol #this is heavily influenced by the way crypid by spookyscaryskeletons characterises them lol #I'm not saying the story's *not* already about generational trauma I just wish it zeroed in on it lol #it's not that deep / no but the ground is soft and I'm ready to dig etc etc #or maybe in this case the ground isn't soft but I have enough nostalgia that I'm willing to dig #my rambles #frozen

[takumishu]

Initially I was like "Tbh I don't care to dig too deep into making headcanons for MVK's backstory" but now I've tricked myself into doing so because I don't care what nationalities the localization makes these characters, I refuse to depict them as white

#send post #c: MVK #Having to pretend they're American because I don't speak a lick of Japanese and simply don't have the time nor ressources to play AA in its #original language is already bad enough like I cannot in good conscience White Europeanify Franziska she deserves better than that 💔 #Also I think it gives an interesting dimension to the VKs attachment to old European aesthetics + Franziska's growing up alienated and #lonely and how she's perceived in court but these thoughts are not fully developped yet I need more Time #Anyways the point being MVK's mixed descended one one side from an old wealthy Japanese family that moved to Germany and on the other from #noble German family they married into #The specifics of this will require further research but for MVK himself he married a Japanese woman he met in law school bc smth smth #alienation within a racist white society and they had something in common for a bit something something #Gives a fun texture to the guy choosing to prosecute primarily in America actually. Feelings of rootlesness -> fiercely clinging to the one #stable identity/title of belonging (and power) he has: Family Name #Franziska herself is in a weird position of connecting a lot more to her nationality than her father does but experiences a weird consisten #feeling of being disconnected from others due compounding factors of her heritage and racialization + her wealth + her upbringing #Something something the ground is soft and I'm ready to dig #Holding this thought.

[monster-disaster]

[incubus] Darian

incubus!Darian x human!Reader Good to know: ass play, oral (f receiving)

Summary: You go to Darian for a massage session.

You can feel the warmth of the ground even through your flip-flops. The bright rays of the sun burn the back of your neck, caressing down on the soft line of your shoulders. The thin layer of sweat on your heated skin shines under the hot globe at the top of the clear blue sky. Even the thin towel around your body seems too much in this weather. Your fingers tighten on the soft fabric to keep it in place while you wait for the door in front of you to open.

Your gaze turns from the small hut to the pools nearby. The gentle ripples of the water glint as the humans and monsters move around in it. You can hear the splashes and laughs.

The plants and exotic, colorful flowers bloom in the heat all over the resort. Their scent mixes with the dryness of the desert. The dunes stand tall in the distance.

Your attention snaps back to the door when you hear it open. The creak is quiet and light. Your gaze meets with a bare chest first before dragging your eyes up to a smiling face. It's mischievous and dangerous. His dark blue lips seem soft around the pearly whites of his teeth. His tongue peaks up for a second as he licks one of his canines. They are pointed but not like the vampires'.

"Hello," you break the silence when you find your voice. His dark eyes crinkle with amusement at the hoarseness of your voice. "Hey," he greets you, stepping back from the door to give you enough space to enter. "You are Amanda, I believe?" "Oh," you gasp, reaching out your hand. "I'm Amanda. It's nice to meet you." "Darian at your service," he says, holding your hand in his much larger one. His touch is warm and firm. His lips are soft as he leans down and kisses the back of your hand.

You thought the small hut would give you protection from the heat, and even though the air is much better here, the presence of the incubus makes it hard for you to breathe. His tall form hovers above you, and your gaze drops on his nipples every now and again. They are pierced. The small silvery bars glint under the dim lights.

"Are you ready then?" He asks, and when you nod, he continues. "You can get comfortable."

He turns his back to you, busying himself with something to give you a moment to relax and settle on the massage table.

You take a deep breath from the air that smells like oils and candles as you drop the towel onto a chair nearby. You are bare and flustered. This is your first time being here, wanting a massage that can escalate quickly. The male hasn't even touched you yet, and you are already moist between your legs.

You lay down on the comfortable but firm table. Your chest presses against the leather, and your arms rest next to you. Your face is in the hole on the headrest.

"Just relax," Darian says after a few seconds. You see his legs when he moves closer. His feet are bare. "And tell me if something hurts or you want to stop." "Okay," you reply, forcing your body to relax.

He starts slowly. His hands are large and clever. He draws small circles on the back of your neck, going down to your shoulders and shoulder blades. His fingers dig into your skin, massaging your muscles and working through your body. Darian traces the line of your spine with his thumb, watching your every reaction.

"Is it good?" He asks even though he already knows your answer. The scent of your arousal is potent in the air. "Yes," you reply, groaning when he reaches a spot.

He isn't in a hurry. By the time he reaches your lower body, you are already relaxed and putty under his hands. You melt into the mattress, enjoying his long fingers gliding over your bare skin. He goes to your legs, working himself up on you from your toes and claves. He massages your muscles, drawing circles and long lines with his fingers. The incubus's palms are warm on your thighs. His thumbs go up on your inner thighs once, twice, three times.

You are excited, and you know he knows. You fidget every now and again, wanting more but not being brave enough to ask for it. The male smiles at your struggle. He can almost feel your pleasure on the tip of his tongue. You are sweet and needy.

"What do you want, Amanda?" He asks, smirking. His hands grope your ass cheeks, almost pulling them apart to see you better. "From the front," he continues, letting his thumb slip over your wet slit. "Or from the back."

A gasp leaves your lips when you feel his finger around your other hole. He draws small circles around it while he waits for your reply. Your legs pull apart automatically to give him more space.

"From the back," you reply breathlessly. Heat burns your cheeks at your answer, but Darian isn't shocked or repulsed by your wants. His eyes are on your hole, licking his lips.

"Good," he hums. "Very good."

He continues to massage you, teasing but never really reaching where you want him most. Long minutes pass by like this while your breathing gets heavier. The incubus feeds on your every moan and groan. He sees the small movements of your hips as you try to stay in place and not push your bottom up to him to take.

"Demanding little thing, aren't you?" He jokes. "Don't hold back, Amanda. Give me everything you can." "Please, Darian," you gasp out. "What do you want?" He asks, his voice coming from much closer than before. His breath is hot on the side of your neck. Goosebumps run through your skin that shines with a thin layer of oil under the dim, relaxing lights when he licks your pulse. His tongue is warm and wet. You can feel the tingling his saliva gives you immediately. It goes straight to your core. The table is probably already messy under you. "I want you to…" you gasp. He starts to go lower on your body. He kisses and licks your back, letting his saliva relax you even more. You tremble and fidget. You want to know how his tongue feels in your holes. "Yes?" He hums. "Do you want me to eat this ass?" He grips your asscheeks, squeezing and jiggling it. "Yes," you gasp. "Please." "I will devour you, do not worry," he promises, moving back to the end of the table to grab your hips and pull you up. Your bottom is in the air while your face is still on the bed. You can smell yourself on the fabric. Your pussy pulses at the familiar scent. "So pretty," he hums, opening up your lips to see your pussy better. You soak the tip of his fingers within a few seconds. "So warm and delicious." "Oh, god," you groan at his words, wiggling in his hold with anticipation. The vulnerability of your position does nothing but spike your arousal higher. You are open and ready in front of his eyes. The thick globes of your bottom shine with the oil he used on you, and your cunt drips, making a mess between your thighs.

You moan when his thumb grazes your puckered hole in circles, groping your cheeks with his other hand. He pulls on the flesh, opening up you more. Your whole body trembles under his touch. His hot breath fans over your pussy, making you pulse and flutter around nothing.

A muffled squeal escapes your tightened throat when you feel his lips closing around your clit. His plump lips are hot and firm around the small bundle of nerves as the male sucks on it. Every nerve in your body focuses on that small spot that makes you go crazy. He flicks his tongue against it, licking up on your slit and gathering your juices on his tongue. "Oh, fuck," you groan when he barely pushes inside your cunt and continues his way up between your cheeks. His fingers dig into your flesh for better access to your asshole. He is warm and wet on your skin. The male soaks you in his saliva until you can feel your tight muscles relax and his tongue dart inside your hole. Your eyes fall shut at the tingling feeling on your pussy and asshole. Just the effect of his saliva would be enough to make you cum, but the incubus demands more from you and your delirious body. He fucks his tongue into your hole, darting in and out until your muscles lose enough under his assault. "You are delicious," Darian groans, intoxicated by the energy that radiates from you in thick, heavy waves. His cock is hard in his white, loose pants. With every moan and scream that leaves your lips, his shaft jerks, leaking precum. "Fuck," you breathe out, panting. "I never want you to stop." Your words are followed by a deep, satisfied chuckle. "You are so sensitive," Darian hums. "Responsive," he adds, pressing his thumb into your hole. Even after his saliva-soaked rimming, you are still tight around his finger. You moan at the feeling of him filling you up. He pushes in and out of you a few times before changing his fingers to reach deeper inside you. You drip onto the bed, your cunt and ass flutter with pleasure. At this point, the sounds leaving your chest are constant noises in the small hut that smells like desire and sex. "The others probably can hear you outside," the male smirks down at you, watching you drooling onto the table. "They can hear you scream as I finger that sweet ass." "Darian!" You scream, shaking. When you almost reach your orgasm, he stops, and you fall back from the edge with a pained cry. "Not yet," he says. "I want to taste your cunt again." Your pussy clenches at his words. "Ohgodyes," you groan. "Please!"

The male's free hand that isn't busy with your asshole finds the wet slit of your cunt. He grazes your sensitive flesh lazily, feeling your plump pussy under his touch. Your clit throbs and aches with need. "So wet," he says. "I just want to drink you up. Slurp up every drop you can give me until I'm full and satisfied." "Ohplease," you gasp, gripping the edges of the table to keep your balance as you push your bottom back to him.

Your hoarse begging is the sweetest sound for his ears as he leans down and shoves his tongue into your pussy immediately. The world spins around you at the overwhelming feeling under Darian's pushes and licks. He fucks your pussy with his tongue, drawing small circles on your clit and still pushing inside your asshole. Your sweat mixes with the oil that you can't smell anymore under the thick scent of your arousal.

Darian devours your pussy while fingering your ass. You open up for him obediently, letting him explore your depths with two thick fingers.

"Don'tstopdon'tstop," you chant desperately, feeling the familiar spasm jerk your body and curling your belly into a tight knot. You shake and twitch as your climax blinds you for long seconds. Your asshole squeezes around his fingers, not wanting to let him go while your pussy gushes into his hungry mouth. Your heart beats in your ears, and your lungs burn for air. Sparks of pleasure burn your whole body as you come down from your high. Darian has to help you to lay back down on the table, still on your stomach.

"Can I write you up for another session?" He asks knowingly. His long fingers trace slow patterns on the back of your head, playing with the sweaty strands of your hair. "Please."

- Masterlist Mirage Resort Masterlist Patreon

#monster smut #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster fucker #monster lover #incubus smut #incubus x human #incubus x reader #mirage resort #monster x reader #monster x human

[chaoticmunsons]

mornings with mike

pairing: mike schmidt x afab!reader

warnings: smut !! DNI if you're under 18 !! ageless/blank blogs will be blocked !! includes daddy kink, pervy!dom mike, watersports (spit/piss kink), heavy emphasis on the piss kink bc it's not for everybody, light impact play (just some light slapping), throat fucking, breeding kink

authors note: this is the first smut i've written in MONTHS and it's messy and nasty so i hope yall like it. also i couldn't think of a good title

word count: 2123

You could sense his exhausted presence entering the house before you heard a long heavy sigh and the slamming of the front door.

"Rough night?" you look up from the laundry you were folding and give him a sympathetic look. He tosses his jacket on the nearby chair and looks at you through lidded eyes. The dark circles under his eyes are getting worse, you notice.

“Did Abby eat?”

“What do you think?”

He rolls his eyes before heading down the hallway to check on Abby. You watch as he opens her door slowly, entering as he uses his soft gentle voice to wake her up for school.

You continue folding the laundry as you hear Abby start to wake up and immediately start to fight with Mike about going to school.

“I said I'm not going today,” Abby whines.

“Abs, we’re not doing this today. you’ve missed too many days, come on, get up.” You could tell in Mike's voice that he was trying desperately to keep his composure.

“No, I'm staying here with you and y/n today.” Abby digs her heels in and stands her ground.

“Abby, get up. Now." Mike's composure doesn't last long as he pulls out his stern voice.

You notice your stomach flutter, but attempt to ignore it as Abby reluctantly gets up and starts getting ready for school.

“And you-,” you were too lost in thought to notice Mike exiting Abby's bedroom until he was right in front of you.

“Me? What did I do?” you ask.

“I know you’ve been up all night waiting for me.” His voice remains stern.

“How can you tell?” Damn, you think to yourself, didn't even try to deny it. Mike's face softens as he places his hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb along your own dark circles.

“I just- well I can see how tired you are in your eyes, sweetheart. I know what tired looks like, trust me.” he smiles softly at you. “Now go get some rest,” his stern voice returns.

“Yes sir,” you say playfully as you roll your eyes at him, heading for yours and Mike's bedroom. As you drift to sleep, you faintly hear Mike attempting to get Abby to eat breakfast.

***

You’re woken up a few hours later by Mike sweetly kissing the top of your head.

“Did you get any sleep?” you ask him as you take a sip from the water glass he just handed you.

He sits on the edge of the bed next to you and puts a strong hand on your hip. “Uhm, yeah,” he sighs. “I napped a little after I put Abby on the bus.”

“Mike, I'm worried about you, you look like shit.”

“Yeah, well, so do you. I'm tired of you waiting up all night for me and not taking care of yourself.” There goes the stern dad voice again.

Yeah well, the call is coming from inside the house pal, you think as you roll your eyes.

Without warning, Mike's hand shoots up and places an iron grip on your jaw, forcing you to make direct eye contact with him.

“You really think I'm gonna put up with that kinda crap right now?”

You feel that familiar flutter in your stomach again. You love when he gets so pent up to the point where he can't help but get demanding with you. He's always so tired of Abby not listening to him and he refuses to have you not listen as well.

“I- I’m sorry,” you muttered.

His grip tightens. “I'm sorry, what?”

You hesitate, feeling butterflies in places other than your stomach. “I'm sorry, Daddy,” you whimper meekly.

“Atta girl.” He smiles sweetly, moving his hand to place it back on your hip. “Shirt off, now.”

You're quick to sit up from your spot in bed and lift your shirt above your head, revealing the absence of a bra. You hear Mike groan slightly as you toss your shirt to the side.

“Good. Stick your tongue out for me, baby. The way I like it, you know,” he commands, a devilish smirk wiped across his face.

You do as he asks with no hesitation, sticking your tongue out and pairing it with your puppy dog eyes. Within a few seconds, a string of saliva is dripping from your tongue and onto your bare chest.

“Fuck- good girl,” he growls before swiftly grabbing your jaw again as he sucks your tongue into his mouth, encapturing you in a sloppy kiss. He loves how messy you're willing to be for him at the drop of a hat.

Your hand reaches over to feel his hard cock under his pants and you hear him whimper into your mouth slightly before pulling away and returning to his demanding demeanor.

“Shit- baby, you know how much I love when you touch my dick, but I'm here to tire you out, okay?”

You smile and nod as he goes to slide your pants, along with your underwear, ever so slowly down your legs. Without any hesitation, he splits your legs open for you and aggressively spits directly onto your already dripping cunt. He wastes no time prying your hole open with two fingers, smearing his spit all over.

“My messy, messy girl. So fucking pretty.” His groans come out so deep and gravely, his eyes blackened with lust.

As he pushes his fingers in and out, he relishes in the squelching sounds you make for him, letting out breathy chuckles and moans at every single sound. Your whines ring in his ears, causing him to be just as blissed out as you are, drunk on you and the way your sloppy pussy clenches around his fingers.

“You wanna cum, huh?” He chuckles as his fingers pick up speed and you nod your head rapidly.

“Yes, yes, Daddy, please!”

“Mm, whiny little pup, go ahead.” He watches your face contort with pleasure as you reach your first orgasm of the night, or so you thought.

Mike pulls his fingers from your dripping cunt as you cum, letting you clench and convulse around nothing while he sucks his fingers clean. He relishes in your cries, loving the look on your desperate little face.

His hands grip your hips tight, holding you against the bed to ground you as you come down from your ruined orgasm. Your breathing slows and he reaches over to grab the glass of water he brought you earlier.

“Here you go, drink up, angel.” He uses one hand to tilt your chin up slightly while he uses the other to pour the water down your throat. He makes you swallow all of it and if you weren’t so fuzzy-headed, you might have been able to guess where this was going.

He sets the empty glass down on the nightstand before standing and stripping himself completely, and he motions for you to come to the edge of the bed.

“Lay down on your back, head hanging off the edge, got it?” he demands and you nod happily. Before you comply, he gives you another sloppy kiss, your tongues mashing together.

Mike’s thick cock hangs above your face as you lay yourself down. You stick your tongue out to lick the precum from his tip, but he stops you, grabbing your throat and putting slight pressure on the sides.

“C’mon, be patient baby.” You whimper and squirm under his grip, your brain empty and filled with only thoughts of his cock inside you. Finally, his grip tightens slightly as he slowly slides his cock past your lips. You can feel your mouth stretch as you adjust to his size. He’s always been average in length, but his thickness is what always ruins you.

“Fffuck- god this tight throat, you’re so good for me, letting me do this to you,” he’s babbling now, going absolutely delirious with the way your mouth feels around his cock, his strong hand clenching around your throat, holding you steady as he fucks it like he would your pussy. “What a good slut, so so pretty, takes this cock so well, god.”

Your hands fly to his hips urging him to go deeper even as you gag on his cock, the tip of your nose making contact with his pelvis. Saliva pools in your mouth and despite his already tight grip on your neck, your throat gets even tighter from the lack of air as you breathe solely through your nose.

“You like when Daddy takes allll his stress out on you? Being Daddy’s little toy? Fuck- I love it.” You make an attempt to respond to him but anything you try to say just comes out muffled. “God, as much as I wanna cum right down your throat, I wanna save it all for that pretty cunt, what do you think, baby?”

He pulls out of your mouth in one swift movement and you gasp and sputter for air. You sit up and face him, salvia all down your chin and mascara running.

He smiles at you adoringly before reaching out to smear your spit all over your face and giving your cheek a nice slap, gentle but firm enough that you felt a slight sting. “What a pretty girl, huh? You ready to take Daddy’s cock?”

“Um, I have to pee first, Daddy,” you mumble, about to head to the bathroom.

“That’s okay, darling, don’t worry about it.” He smirks before climbing on top of you, forcing you down under him. You’re too braindead to understand what he means and a puzzled look comes across your face, but before you can protest, he’s stuffing his cock into your soaking cunt.

“Oh my god, baby, fuck- this pussy feels good,” he groans obscenely.

You put your hands on his chest. “But- Daddy, please, I really gotta go!” you beg.

“Go then,” he huffs. “You’re my messy little baby, aren’t you? W-want you to piss and squirt all over me, mkay?” His voice wavers slightly as he pounds into you, feeling himself get a little lost in how good you feel once again.

You whimper as you nod slightly, the pressure building in your stomach as well as your orgasm. He places a hand on your lower abdomen and presses down, silently encouraging you to let it out. You’re absolutely embarrassed at the thought of pissing all over him, but you know he likes you a sloppy mess for him, and you want nothing more than to give this man what he wants.

You hold it until you physically can’t anymore, your orgasm hitting you as you release all over his cock. The sounds were absolutely obscene, skin sloppily hitting skin, slamming into your cunt as you splash everywhere.

“Holy shit, angel, so fucking wet, god I love it,” he moans. “It’s my turn now, right baby? You want me to piss inside this soaked cunt? God, please.”

You could barely respond with your orgasm still running through you. You attempted to say yes, but you’re not really sure what came out of your mouth, probably just more incoherent moans.

Before you could even process, you could feel the warmth of his piss spreading inside your stomach. You could feel it dripping out of you as he stilled inside you. It felt so good on top of your continuous orgasm and you loved every second of it. You could see the blissed out joy across Mike’s face and you could tell he loved it too.

After a few seconds, he picked up his pace again, to your surprise.

“Daddy, please, I-I can’t ta- no more, please!” you whined, breathlessly. Every single nerve ending of yours was shot, way too overstimulated to continue.

“C’mon, just one more baby, gimme one more, Daddy just need to breed this little cunt and then we can be done okay?” He reassures you as he pounded into you mercilessly.

In almost no time at all, you felt another orgasm build in your gut, and you squirted any fluids you had left onto his stomach.

“Good girl, baby.” He smirks before moving his hands back to your hips to hold you down. “Just need to- fuck, oh my god, I’m gonna cum, gonna put a fucking baby in you, shhhit-” The warmth spread through you again as you feel him pump you full with his cum.

You’re both breathing heavy as his dick twitches inside you, his head hanging over yours and him smiling down at you.

“You did so good, baby.” He slowly pulls out of you and you whine at the empty feeling in your cunt. “Took everything I gave you so well, let’s get you cleaned up, alright?”

#mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf movie #fnaf smut #mike schmidt fnaf

[eoieopda]

sweatshirt season | ksy

your fuck buddy is good at a lot of things. taking hints isn’t one of them.

pairing: kwon soonyoung x reader type: one-shot / fluff + smut rating: 18+ (minors do not have my consent to interact) au: one-night-stand to fuck buddies to ? wc: 4.5k cw: gn! and afab!reader (no pronouns used); time skips; protected penetrative sex (p in v); hoshi is kinda a himbo, lmao; ft. cameo by minghao and roomate!gn!sibling OC; reference to the movie they're watching, which is hereditary (brief mention of decapitation + demonic possession); barely proofread, sorry! a/n: this is based on a headcanon i did a while ago! i've been in such a horrible rut re: writing for the past month and a half, so it was a major struggle to write this because i feel like i don't know how to do that anymore 😵‍💫 i'm hoping that himbo hoshi can save me from this hell. also, this is told in vignettes!

[APRIL]

“Babe?”

The voice from nowhere is barely loud enough to drag you from sleep, but the effect it has on you is far from soft. Those consonants dig in where your dehydrated brain shrinks away from your skull, pressing in so hard that they throb. 

Bleary-eyed, you blink as rapidly as you can to adjust to the bright, white light beaming in through your open shades. The sound that escapes you is something akin to a hiss; it gets the point across, nonetheless. You sit up just enough to see the figure standing in front of your window, looming overhead with crossed arms, laughing. 

Clearly, your roommate doesn’t give a shit or a fuck about your hangover.

“What’s the deal with the stray you brought home last night?” Mei asks, the corners of their mouth tilting wickedly. 

You don’t have the brain power for this conversation, so you respond with a groan and bury your face back in the pillow from whence it came. Never one to give up, Mei drops down on top of you so that the full weight of their body rests against yours.

“C’mon,” they urge. “Spill your guts, chingu.”

Funnily enough, if they don’t get off your guts, you might do exactly that.

Your reply comes in the form of a croak, some pathetic little sound that reads as lifeless as you feel. “Why do you care?”

There isn’t a single reason you can think of for their sudden interest in your bad decisions. You’ve been making them left and right for the past few months without much more than a concerned glance, and until now, you didn’t realize that you’d taken the lack of follow-up questions for granted. 

What a fucking travesty it is to be perceived.

“Your business is your business.” Mei shrugs. You quirk an eyebrow, ready to jump in and point out their lapse in logic, but then that smirk comes back. “But your business is currently burning eggs in our kitchen, which makes it my business, too.”

Sitting up quickly, the force of your sudden moves nearly knock Mei to the ground. Beyond horrified, you squeak, “He’s still here?”

Faster than you’ve ever moved before, you clamber out from underneath your roommate and crawl to the edge of your bed, kicking wildly at your blankets until your legs are free. 

You’re already up and swaying on your feet, panting from the effort,  when you finally think to look down and assess the state of yourself. Thankfully, you’d remembered to dress yourself before falling asleep. You glance upward and salute whatever deity was looking out for you, ignore the look on Mei’s face entirely, and dash out of your bedroom.

As soon as you reach the kitchen, you skid to a stop, socks sliding across the hardwood until your hip bone collides with the corner of the kitchen island. You hiss again, far louder than the last time. The shape standing at your stove turns around wide-eyed; his mouth is frozen in the shape of an “o”.

Just as quick, recognition flashes, and the shock wears off.

“Good morning,” he chirps, and he’s all fucking sunshine.

You blink back at him without a single idea of where to start  — with the fact that he’s still here after you could’ve sworn he left, that he’s wearing your apron but has no clear grasp on the simple act of frying eggs, or that you cannot for the life of you remember his name.

Fuck.

You should really start keeping a guest book.

Whatever his name is, he’s witnessing you at your worst — certifiably crusty with your standard bad attitude — and that alone makes you want to wither and die, right on the spot. Unbothered by your ghoulish appearance, he gestures to the kitchen island you just collided with, pointing to a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin.

Items he would’ve had to open two (2) separate cabinets to find. 

In the kitchen he shouldn’t even be in.

You open your mouth, primed to explode all over him, but the way he’s looking at you disarms you immediately. His expression is so chipper — so friendly and childlike in its innocence — that you swallow down the shit you’d readily hurl at anyone else. You gulp, and without saying a word in acknowledgement, you grab what he’s laid out for you.

He smiles when you choke down the aspirin, then turns back around to pull the scrambled, half-burnt mess off the burner. 

“You must have a pretty low alcohol tolerance if you’re this hungover after three drinks,” he muses.

It’s an accurate observation — a harmless one, too — but you did not ask. Once again, he shoots you a smile that prevents you from snapping at him. Instead, you set the now-empty glass back down on the island and stare vacantly over at him.

Seonghwa? 

“You’re still here,” you say flatly. You may be stating the obvious, but that fact speaks for itself. “You’re still here, and you’re also in my kitchen.”

Seokjin, maybe?

He smiles at this, either unaware that he’s violated the unwritten one-night-stand code of conduct or unfazed by his own rule breaking. Rubbing the back of his neck, he laughs awkwardly, “It was the least I could do, you know? After all you —”

What the fuck is your name?

“Sungwoo!” You cut him off with a gasp and a palm raised, all but begging him not to recount what he’s grateful for within earshot of your roommate. “Really, you don’t need to do this. Any of this.”

He corrects you gently, “It’s Soonyoung.” 

Then, without even a hint of offense taken, he nods his head towards one of the stools tucked under the counter of the island. Your eyes flit between his hopeful face and the seat, frozen solid with indecision.

You see two options, and both feel like a trap:

Holding the line risks squashing this clueless boy’s marshmallow heart; and you don’t want to be the gash that ruins his day at the very outset. If you feed the stray — rather, if you let the stray feed you — then you’re an enabler, contracting a residency when the show was supposed to be one-night-only.

More perceptive than you’ve given him credit for so far, he senses the conflict inside your skull and attempts to tip the scale with a bread-cheeked smile and a shoulder wiggle. “Your breakfast is getting cold,” he nudges in a soft, sing-song tone. 

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Begrudgingly, you dump yourself onto a stool without a word. With your elbows now propped up on the countertop, you drop your chin down to rest on the heels of your hands. More than anything, you try like hell to ignore the way it all makes his face light up.

“I don’t understand how you went from demonically hot to…” Your voice trails off as you try to find a word for whatever this is. A beat passes before you give up, waving dismissively. “Domesticated, or whatever.”

And his cheeks go pink.

“You think I’m hot?” He all but gasps, like this is brand new information to him. 

Like you would’ve brought him home from the club if he wasn’t — and goddamn, was he ever. Carrying himself with the kind of confidence that made your knees wobble; saying all the right things in a low, smoky tone with his lips at your ear; moving his body in ways that still fluster you to think about.

And yet, here he is.

Adorable, if not completely obtuse.

After grabbing plates from a nearby cabinet, he snags two pairs of chopsticks out of the drawer to the left of the sink. It takes all you’ve got not to roll your eyes. He shouldn’t know where either of those things are, but he does.

A satisfied sigh slips out of his mouth when he takes the seat next to yours and scoots a plate full of eggs and kimchi in front of you.

“Here you go,” he sings as he holds out a pair of your own chopsticks to you. 

He’s beaming when you accept them into your hand, and it leaves you with no choice but to take a bite of the food in front of you. Intently and chronically hopeful, he watches you pluck a piece of scrambled egg from the plate, like the trajectory of his life hinges on your approval. There’s no turning back now. Reluctantly, you pop it into your mouth.

While you chew, he leans in a bit closer. From this distance, you can see your own reflection in his irises; there are tiny flecks of honey brown amidst the dark, you realize. Little details you didn’t notice last night when he was much, much closer — like the heart-shaped curve his upper lip takes when he smiles as big as he is now.

“How is it?” He asks, walking the borderline between eager and unbearably shy.

You swallow hard as you snap back to attention. If letting him stay for breakfast was a bad call, getting caught gawking at him is a flagrant foul. Somehow, you need to get the point across without being too cruel; to remind him that you signed up for the night and not the morning.

“Um. Well,” you start with a grimace, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “Are eggs supposed to… crunch?”

[JUNE]

“Oh, fuck, just like that —”

Your back arches off the bed as you grip uselessly at sweat-drenched sheets. Between your spread thighs, Soonyoung and the punishing pace he’s set make quick work of pulling you apart, again. His right arm loops under your left leg to anchor you to him while his left palm presses down on your lower abdomen, making damn sure that every thrust drags over your g-spot.

This — this right here — is why you keep calling him back. He may overstay his welcome, but that’s an occupational hazard. His perpetual presence is a risk you’re willing to take, so long as he fucks you like this.

“Shit. You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?”

He’s panting as he says it, which surprises the hell out of you. His stamina is unearthly, and when you manage to keep your eyes open long enough to look up at him, you don’t see any hint of effort. It's just the ragged sound of his breathing, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“I think this might be a new personal record.” 

Unfortunately, his little announcement is genuine. He’s merely stating a fact, not trying to tease you, because his only concern outside of making you cum is outdoing himself.

To Soonyoung, sex is a performance he’s trying to perfect. He approaches it like an Olympian — an athlete or a god? — and the bar he sets for himself raises every time you see him.

You find it the tiniest bit endearing how focused he is on self-improvement.

Kind of. 

That doesn’t stop you from rolling your eyes, though.

“Not if you keep —” A moan that you didn’t mean to let out cuts your sentence in half. “— talking.”

Your head crashes back against the pillows, which only spurs him on. Deeper, more deliberate strokes leave you writhing underneath him, babbling like a fool. He grins so wide that his eyes almost disappear.

“I’m just saying…” Another thrust, a thousand more stars dotting the periphery of your vision. “If you hit five, you owe me dinner.”

There it is, right on cue: another piece of evidence to prove that Soonyoung still doesn’t know what he signed up for.

It’s a conversation you’ve had more than once — never because you want to have it; and never because he seems to be consciously seeking something more than what you have. 

At some point over the past few months of scattered nights with you, a seed seems to have taken root in the back of his brain. A zombie parasite, more likely; one that’s overridden the controls and completely undermined his understanding of the situation.

Whether he means it or not, these throw-away comments make you wonder if, deep down, he’s not wired to fuck without feelings.

Not like you, anyway.

Your self-preservation instincts don’t let you get that far. Risk-averse to your core, you don’t see the point of gambling when the stakes are that high. And even if you weren’t wary of getting yourself hurt, it wouldn’t change the fundamental truth that you enjoy your own company enough not to need anyone else’s.

The way you see it, Soonyoung can have a cameo in your weekends, but the plot of your life right now doesn’t need anything more than that. Changing the lineup now could fuck your whole season. So, why try?

To his credit, he seems to get that there are currently more pressing matters at hand than the same old conversation. He pats your hip and says, “Let’s switch it up.”

You’re as grateful for the subject change as you are for the hand he extends to help your boneless body sit up again. Thankfully, the one lesson he has learned is that no one can compete with his perpetually full battery. If he’s going to change positions as often as he wants to, he has to be the one to position you.

This time, you wind up with your back flush against his chest, skin slick against yours. To keep him close, you reach back until your hand finds the nape of his neck. After weaving your fingers through the damp hair at the base of his head, you tug slightly, pulling a low groan out of him.

“Fuck, yeah,” he grunts breathlessly. “Pull my hair.”

You do as he says, albeit a bit harder than you meant to; you can’t help it. That’s the exact moment he chooses to grab your hips and slam your ass back against his pelvis, perfectly in time with his forward snap. He’s in your guts now, there’s no doubt about it, and you’re falling to pieces.

Wailing, you have to squeeze your eyes shut to survive the surge of pleasure coursing through you. “Oh, my god,” you choke out.

The only way you manage to stay upright through your orgasm is with Soonyoung’s arms caging you in. Without him, you’d be a trembling fucking mess, collapsing face-down onto your bed in a useless heap. He keeps holding you even when he lets himself go soon after, spilling into the condom with a moan you feel as it leaves his chest.

“Goddamn,” he sighs, voice rough. The heat of his breath on your neck almost makes you want to cling to him, curl up and let your eyes flutter shut. “Every time I fuck you, I feel like I should thank you.”

That flicker of affection goes out in a flash as the memory of consequences comes back around. You snort. “Please don’t cook for me again.”

You leave it at that, and so does he. When he finally pulls out of you, you give into the safer urge; the one that can’t possible give him the wrong impression. Slumping forward, you hit the mattress so hard that you practically bounce, like the dead weight you are.

Soonyoung misses that spectacle, thankfully. He’s already on his feet, tying off the condom before dropping it into the wastebasket on the other side of the room. You hear it drop against the plastic bag, then the soft pad of his footsteps as he makes his way back to you. You unbury your face from the pillows and crane your neck to look over at him.

In a rare display, he looks exhausted. Moments like this might be the only time he ever finds himself depleted, and you figure he’s earned that right. Part of you wants to let him lay here with you — maybe even let him sleep it off — but you can’t let him get tangled in the strings you refuse to attach.

He’s halfway to you when he finally looks up at you and catches you watching him. You’re not sure what he sees in your expression; you’d bet it’s as confusing on the outside as it feels on the inside. Whatever he finds there, it makes him pause. There's a quick nod, like he’s reacting to something neither one of you has said out loud, then he changes course.

“You have to be up early,” he says, like he’s finally learned the script. “I’m gonna head out.”

You nod but say nothing else. You just watch as Soonyoung grabs the clothes you’d tugged off of him earlier, piece by piece, and puts everything back to the way it was before.

The way you want it.

Once he’s fully clothed, he shoots you a smile that only uses half of his mouth. Neither of you offers a word as he walks over to the door, although you can tell he’s moving more slowly than usual. Hoping you’ll stop him, maybe.

You don’t.

It’s not until he pulls it open that he looks back over his shoulder at you; and this time, when he smiles, it looks like he means it.

“Sleep well, yeah?”

[OCTOBER]

“I’m just saying that if her shithead brother bothered to include her in his night, maybe she wouldn’t have been decapitated."

You tear your eyes off the television screen in time to see Minghao’s eyes roll all the way back into his head. Across the coffee table from where you sit, he and Mei occupy the couch; his head crashes against the back of it with a muffled thump while his younger sibling continues their rant.

“I’m being for real,” Mei urges, jabbing their finger emphatically through the air in his direction. “If you ever bail on me like that, and my head ends up falling off, you deserve whatever consequences come next.”

You snort. “Up to and including… what, demonic possession?”

“Absolutely,” Mei sniffs.

Minghao sits upright again slowly. He chews thoughtfully on his lower lip, leaving you and your roommate in suspense. Knowing him, he’ll lecture you both on karmic energy and how Mei shouldn’t fuck around with it. To both of your surprise, he frowns. “Is it bad that I kind of want cake now?”

You and Mei respond at the same time, although your responses are nothing alike:

“I think we have some left over.”

“Yes, you’re a monster.”

Despite what they just called him, Mei is nothing if not a good host. With a beleaguered huff, they push themselves off the couch, step carefully over the legs Minghao doesn’t move out of their path, and stalks off towards the kitchen to forage for food.

Left alone in the living room, you and Minghao fall into an easy silence, eyes glued once again to the screen. It’s always been easier to get through a movie without Mei’s commentary; this one would’ve been finished an hour ago if they hadn’t kept pausing it to ramble. You’re so immersed in it that you hardly hear the way they’re tearing through the kitchen like a cyclone. You almost miss the soft knock at the door, too.

Immediately, your optimistic eyes flick over to Minghao. He’s closer to the door, and if you stare at him long enough, he might let you stay in the armchair you’ve all but fused to. 

“Nope,” he says coolly, without even looking.

Whining, you peel off the blanket you’ve wrapped yourself in and unfurl your knotted legs. You shiver when your bare feet touch the cold wood below, but bravely, you don’t retreat. You push forward on tiptoe and skip across the living room until you reach the front door.

Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead when you open it to find Soonyoung standing there for the first time in several weeks. While overstaying his welcome is his signature, showing up uninvited never has been. That’s apparently one line in the sand he won’t stumble over.

“Hey,” you peep.

For reasons unknown, you have to pause to let your gaze sweep over him, like something might’ve drastically changed about him since you saw him last. There’s a tiny flutter in the center of your chest that begs you to greet him more emphatically than that, but you ignore it.

Soonyoung looks more apologetic than you’ve ever seen him, which makes your pulse quicken even more.

“I’m really sorry to bother you,” he swears. “I think I left my headphones here last time. I’ve looked everywhere, I promise, but they’re just — gone.”

Your first instinct is to ask why he brought headphones to a dick appointment in the first place, but you talk yourself out of it. The next is to find out why he came all the way over here on a hunch, rather than simply texting you; he hasn’t in a while, not that you’ve taken it to heart. But you don’t do that, either, which strikes you as odd.

Instead, you step back and push the door open wider, once again letting the stray inside. “No worries,” you breeze.

Since when?

As it turns out, letting him in doesn’t bring the sky crashing down around you. Taking a single brick out of the wall you’ve fastidiously built doesn’t bring about the end of days. It just brings a shy bow and a quiet “thank you” while he toes off his shoes.

He turns to head toward your bedroom with you following behind him, but he stops short after a few steps. Crashing into his back — god, he’s broader than he looks — you grab his biceps to keep from bowling him over entirely.

“Shit — I’m so sorry.” He wheels around, failing to realize that you’re as close as you are. You can see panic light up his eyes, now mere centimeters from yours. “I didn’t realize you had somebody over.”

What is that scribbled all over his face?

It’s not anger, you know that much. Nothing about the way he’s looking at you reads like jealousy, either. If anything, he seems genuinely torn-up over what he assumes is date-crashing. Guilty, maybe.

So, why do you feel bad?

“Mei’s brother,” you explain quickly, as if he’s owed one. “Our annual horror movie marathon. We — all of us — do it every October.”

Why did you add that qualifier in there?

Soonyoung’s face brightens immediately, and you feel the tiniest bit warmer now that the corners of his mouth aren’t curved downward anymore. You wish that surprised you, but it doesn’t.

Why should it? You’ve given into him more often than not, haven’t you?

All he says is, “Oh,” in the tiniest voice you’ve ever heard, like he’s embarrassed himself for the first time in his life.

It grows quiet while the two of you continue to stand there in the half-light. If you discount the screaming, the flickering colors coming from the television screen make it feel almost — cozy?

But you’ve been gazing up at him for far too long, so you clear your throat. “Your — umm — your headphones. Do you remember where you left them?”

You nudge him slightly to get him moving, which he does without complaint.

“I think they jumped out of my pocket when you…” Soonyoung’s voice trails off. As you pass by, he glances over at Minghao, who either can’t hear your conversation or doesn’t give a shit about it.

With that indifference confirmed, Soonyoung looks back at you with a smirk. “You broke my zipper, you know. I had to take those jeans to a tailor to fix it.”

Immediately, your cheeks start burning.

Resident fuck monster, reporting for duty! Here to rip clothes to shreds and — 

He touches your wrist, just for a second. “It’s cute,” he assures you, even though you haven’t said a word.

And it doesn’t do a damn thing to keep that heat from rising up your face.

You step into your bedroom before you can think of what to say in response, so you let the moment pass and flick on the light. Just as soon as he joins you inside, Soonyoung lays eyes on what he came for — which is a miracle. That thin, white cord is practically invisible under your dresser.

“Ah!” He chirps, bending down to grab it.

Looking triumphant as hell, he tucks it into the pocket of his joggers and shoots you a grin. Suddenly, you find it hard to mimic his smile, although you don’t know why. 

He got what he came for, didn’t he? He’ll be out of your hair in a matter of moments, which is exactly what you’ve been demanding of him for months. You had to train him to get in and get out, and when he eventually learned, the relief was immediate.

So, why don’t you feel relieved now?

Soonyoung must hear your trains of thought derailing because he comes in hot with a distraction. As usual, it’s out of left field, just like the soft brush of his fingers on your bare arm.

“You’re cold.”

It’s not a question. 

There aren’t even goosebumps on your arm; and there’s no reason why he should know by looking at you that you are, in fact, freezing. But he does, and before you can ask how the fuck that’s possible, he spins around to the dresser nearby and grabs the handle jutting out of the bottom-left drawer.

How does he —?

You open your mouth to speak. The words disappear when he stands upright again, now holding out a sweatshirt from the drawer you keep them in. He’s only seen you open it once before, and the fact that he remembers is making you dizzy.

Soonyoung’s expectant eyes lock on your face, looking at you the same way he did when he handed you those burnt fucking eggs. This time, though, you don’t hesitate to accept what he’s giving you. You tug that sweatshirt over your head without missing a beat, instantly learning that it’s much bigger on you than you remember.

Stunned, you blink back at him from underneath the hood, which obscures most of your forehead. “Is this —?” 

You grab the fabric from the front of it in your hands as you look down. At first glance, it looks like the million other white sweatshirts tucked into your drawer, but — 

“This isn’t mine.”

Your eyes flick back up to Soonyoung, who’s fighting for his life to bite back a smile.

Six months ago, you might’ve knocked him on his ass for this, but now, you can’t keep it together, either. You crack wide open, laughing so hard that your eyes almost disappear.

“When the hell did you sneak that in there?” You wheeze, wiping tears as they spill over your lash line. The smack you land against his arm is cloaked in a sweater paw, dealing no damage except to crack him open, too. “God, I was never going to get rid of you, was I?”

Beaming, he slips his hands into the kangaroo pocket on the front and tugs you closer; you let him. “It was just in case I get cold, I swear.”

“Is that it?” You narrow your eyes playfully. “Are you sure?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, although you don’t believe him for a second. “It does look good on you, though. Maybe you should hang on to it.”

“To the sweatshirt?”

Watching him blush like that may never get old. Still, he maintains his bluff and nods. 

“Yeah. I mean, why not? Right? It’s comfortable.” He shrugs, not even the slightest bit casually. “A cotton blend, I think. Pre-shrunk, so… It’ll — uh, never be your size, I guess. That’s — um — that’s kind of a bummer, but…”

“Soonyoung!” You cut him off with a breathless laugh, prompting him to shut his rambling mouth.

The rare use of his name seems to startle him. His eyes go wide with that typical, hopeful anticipation that he never seems to leave home without. That look hasn’t disappeared after six months of getting shot down on a weekly basis, and neither has the way he hangs onto every word you say. 

This time, it might actually be what he’s been waiting to hear.

“Do you….?”

It might be a new personal record, you caving like this after holding someone at arm’s length for so long. The relief is automatic, spreading through muscle that you didn’t even realize had been aching.

“If you’re not busy, do you want to stay?”

#svt #hoshi #kwon soonyoung #hoshi x reader #soonyoung x reader #hoshi smut #soonyoung smut #hoshi fluff #soonyoung fluff #svt fic #svt smut #svt fluff #jade writes #re: sweatshirt season #ksy #kvanity

[m-ayo-o]

megumi and prompt 9.. 😵‍💫😵‍💫

y e s emoji event : 💞💜 AMAB READER!!! x 21+ megumi 18+ just megumi being possessive xx m x m oral "pretty boy"

Feeling utterly bored at some stupid college house party, Megumi tries to catch up with his social butterfly boyfriend. He pulls you aside, giving you a soft kiss and a whisper, "Baby..." he doesn't have to say anything. You know he's done. He wanted to go home as soon as you arrived.

But you're not ready to leave yet, so you put your foot down for once.

Megumi is pleasantly surprised. You usually give in to his demands quite easily, but he's happy to work a little harder.

He nibbles at your ear lobe, completely distracting you from your conversation now.

You stammer and apologise, feeling your boyfriend pull you away from your friends.

"Megumi..." you groan, feeling him start to suck on your neck. You know he's not great with pda... he must be quite desperate for your attention.

"Megumi, I'm not going home yet."

He stops and stands up straight again, resuming his position above you, looking down into your eyes. You're trying so hard to hold your ground against the stoic man. You forget how intimidating he can be sometimes.

"Okay," his eyes soften as he leans into your ear again, "if you won't come home, just let me have you to myself for a while."

His deep voice has got your stomach in a frenzy... and before you realise what's happening he's dragging you upstairs into a spare bedroom, pushing you up against the closed door.

He starts with his lips over yours, then works his way down to your chest, unbuttoning your shirt with haste. He presses you harder against the wood and dips lower, kissing your stomach, then tugging at your belt.

"Megumi..." you didn't realise this is quite what he wanted.

He looks up at you from his position, kneeling on the carpet.

"You wanna do it at home instead?"

You see the mischievous glint in his deep blue eyes.

He's going to get what he wants. He always does.

You shake your head, your boyfriend taking that as a sign for him to continue.

He tugs your cock free, smirking that you're already semi hard. And it only takes a lick of his tongue and a few pumps till you're full and nudging at his lips.

He pins you against the door and works you with his hands first, loving the way you're squirming and fucking his fist already. And when he can't resist the drop of precum forming on your tip any longer, he closes his lips over you and you swear... he's going to finish you in seconds.

"Mmh- M-Megumi... s-slow down-" you cry, holding onto the door frame for support.

"Hm," he chuckles and pulls away, "I'll go as fast as I want, pretty boy."

He gets you weak in the knees, just how he wants you, sucking you so eagerly while your fingers thread through his black locks.

He's got you close, and you're starting to lose yourself, moaning and grabbing him harder, until there's a sudden tap tap tap on the door.

"Hey are you guys in there??" A voice calls from outside. It's your friend, wondering where you've gone.

Megumi just continues deepthroating you like nothing is happening.

"W-wait-" you reply in a shaky voice.

"Can we please have him back now?" Your friends continue, starting to hammer on the door in their drunken stupor.

"Yeah, Gumiii give him back!!! We're booored"

Megumi groans and digs his fingers into your hips, pulling you closer and swallowing you up.

"M- m coming!!"

You moan, informing your boyfriend he's about to get your cum down his throat while incidentally replying to your friends.

"Ahh hahh oh- my god-" you breathe in a hushed whisper, with your friends right outside telling you to hurry up.

"They're starting... to piss me off y/n..."

Your dark haired boyfriend mutters, sucking and cleaning you up. You take a breather, collapsing on the bed with a dramatic sigh while Megumi opens the door.

You watch him step outside.

Shit. What's he gonna say this time.

"Can a man not suck his boyfriend's dick in peace?"

He earns a round of giggles.

"You guys are fucking insufferable," he snaps, stepping back inside and slamming the door.

If they're going to be like that, he's just going to have to keep you to himself all night...

megumi | m.list

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #18+ content #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi x male reader #male reader x male character #male sub #amab reader #male reader #megumi smut #mxm #mxm smut #emoji event #500 followers event #magic.events⋆⁺ #💞💜

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Flowers From One Bitch to Another (2.5)

Part 1 | part 2

I'm working on another serious part of my Hyena!Danny AU but @basementqueercock suggested Harley thanking Danny for killing the Joker so while this AU is eating my brain have a little one off.

No warnings apply to this one besides a mention of sex

--------

All of Gotham was celebrating Joker's death, Red Hood and Hyena organized a street fair in Crime Alley, and Jason had never seen the place, His People, so happy. Hyena was by his side, pressing against him and purring up a storm as they enjoyed the celebration. They knew it was going on all across Gotham too, Jason was having fun imagining the ulcers Bruce was probably developing realizing he was the Only one who thought this was a tragedy. 

Jason has asked about the purring and Danny had admitted to not being entirely human but they hadn't gone into it more then that. There were tons of inhuman things, he could be part demon, or alien, or spirit, or god, or a dozen other things and he would talk about it when he was ready. Jason trusted Danny implicitly at this point, he had earned it, and they loved each other. Danny didn't have to tell him Everything, Jason didn't either, he wasn't ready to talk about the League of Shadows for instance. 

They had been enjoying the festival as well, dancing some to the live music, and constantly having food pushed onto them by just about ever vendor since it was known Danny was the one who killed the Joker. He had brought a bag with him and by the end it was full of trinkets and treats, and there were slightly wilted red flowers in his hair a child had given him. He looked incredibly happy, and Jason couldn't pull his gaze away from Danny.

Danny caught Jason looking at him and, impossibly, brightened even more, snuggling back against him. "Lets go find a place away from cameras and prying eyes to try some of these snacks hm?" Danny suggested, looking up at Jason, who chuckled softly and nodded. One thing he had learned well about Danny in the time they'd been together was the boy could Eat! He was always hungry.

The two of them extricated themselves from the celebrations, saying goodbyes and artfully dodging people who tried to draw them into conversation. They managed to escape and grappled up onto a nearby rooftop, putting a little distance between the festivities and themselves, though not so far they couldn't still hear the music and laughter.

Danny sat down on the ground and leaned against the outer wall so no one could see him and took off his muzzle, he took a deep breath of fresh air and tilted his head up towards the sun. Jason sat down next to him and took his own helmet off and took a deep breath as well. He reached out and cupped Danny's chin, turning his face back towards Jason so could lean in and kiss him. As always Danny submitted, plaint and willing in Jason's hands and under his lips, Danny closed his eyes and gave a soft sound of happiness and pleasure as they shared a long, lingering kiss.

When Jason pulled back Danny still seemed a little vague and blissed out, smiling stupidly at him. Jason chuckled and shook his head at Danny before pulling the bag from Danny's shoulder and digging around for the food in various take out boxes. He found a few beaded necklaces as well and draped them around Danny's neck making him snap out of his daze with a laugh. Jason grinned and used the necklaces to pull Danny in for another kiss.

Danny smiled at him and pulled gently at the white streak in Jason's bangs before beginning to help him set out the food on a blanket Danny must have brought with him. He must have planned this little picnic, he was always pretty far ahead on these things. Jason appreciated that about him, always looking out for people. People seemed to be looking out for them too as Jason looked at the veritable feast people had gifted them. Maybe he should have been more suspicious that it was poisoned but he didn't think any of their people would have, and Danny wouldn't have accepted food from anyone suspicious though, just in case...

"Would you heal from poison the way that you do from physical injuries?" He asked looking over at Danny who cocked his head with a crooked little smile, eyeing Jason.

"I'm immune to most poisons," He said with a little shrug. "But I can taste them. I'll be your taste tester, though I doubt anyone would poison us," He said, picking up some sort of meet kabab and nibbled it considerately, meanwhile Jason found a packaged snack without any signs of tampering and opened that. 

Danny tried a bunch of the prepared foods first and seemed to delight in feeding Jason by hand once he'd determined things were safe. Every now and then Jason took the chance to nibble or lick the tips of Danny's fingers making him giggle and blush. Food quickly became foreplay, feeding each other and occasionally tasting things on each other's lips, especially when they got in to the deserts. With sticky fingers and sugar on their lips it turned into making out, Danny laying on the hard roof and Jason over top of him, feeling the delightful rumbling of Danny's purr as he arched up against Jason. Fucking him while he purred was an experience.

A thump on the rooftop across from them had Jason pushing himself away from Danny and drawing his gun in one smooth motion, pointing it towards the noise while cursing himself for letting his guard down while they were in the open like this! He hesitated when he saw who it was though.

"Harley?" Danny asked worriedly, having scrambled to grab his muzzle and only looking up once it was back on.

"Hey there Sugar," She said giving Danny a tremulous smile, and ignoring Jason entirely. Harley was dressed in a bomber jacket and shorts, because weather didn't matter, she had a messenger bag over her shoulder and kept messing with the strap nervously. Still she looked better the way she had basically ever since calling it quits with the Joker for good. "I hear through the grapevine you were the one that killed the Joker."

"I did, because he hurt my Boo," Danny confirmed, shifting a little closer to Jason. They were both still wary, Harley was unpredictable and she had loved the Joker for a long time. Even if she didn't love him anymore there was a chance there was still some misplaced loyalty lingering in there somewhere.

"Ya, he hurt a lotta people, my Puddin," She said with a little laugh. "Hurt me too, a lot. I've been having a lot of big feelings since he died. I've been pretty damn sad, but I'm also pretty damn relieved. And Pam is thrilled, and that she's happy makes me happy. I brought you some stuff," She said slinging the bag off her shoulder and glanced up at them again, seeing them still tense and wary she rolled her eyes. "Yeesh I'm not gonna hurt you two! You did all of Gotham a favour, and he was never gonna change, I know that."

Danny nodded and wandered over to her, of course she couldn't actually hurt Danny, though they were still trying to keep his abilities under wraps. Jason stayed back with his hand on his gun just in case, though he wasn't pointing it at anyone anymore. "I brought you some flowers, though it looks like someone's already got that covered," She said gesturing to the ones wilting in Danny's hair, making him cackle. She pulled out what looked like more then a dozen roses in different colours and held them out to Danny. "They're from Ivy, they won't wilt, just get them in some water when you get home, if they start to look wilty add a bit of blood to the water. You two still kill enough for that huh?" She laughed too.

"No tricks? No poison?" Jason asked a little warily even as Danny reached for the flowers.

Harley glanced at him and shook her head; "Nope! None of that!" She promised with a cheeky little smile. "I don't think you two need any cuddle pollen either, the way ya were all over each other when I showed up."

Jason didn't have his helmet to hide his blush this time, but at least he wasn't alone, Danny's ears were turning pink as well as Harley cackled at them. "I brought some other stuff too," Harley told them, this time just handing the bag over to Danny. "Since you two seem to be jacking me 'n Puddin's old style. You don' have to keep any of it, throw out anything you don't want but hey, maybe there's a trophy in there, or something that would look good on you," She said elbowing Danny. "You're not that much bigger then me, think your man would like to see you in a corset?" She teased and Danny cackled his Hyena laugh snatching the bag.

"Thanks Harley, maybe we can go to Penguin's club to have a proper celebration some time soon," Red Hood said, finally holstering his gun and moving to wrap an arm around Danny's shoulders. "We can make it a double date."

"Is he even old enough to drink," Harley joked, gesturing to Danny who cackled.

Really neither he Nor Jason were technically old enough to drink, but who gave a shit about that with all the other stuff they'd done?

Part 3

Masterpost

#Hyena!Danny AU #Hood and Hyena #danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp #fanfiction #jason todd #dead on main #harley quinn #Hyena!danny

[void-wolfie]

Paper Rings

summary: you take jenna on a surprise date.

pairing: jenna ortega x gn!r

tw: extra fluffy super romance-y

words: 1.1k

a/n: i had an idea and went with it lol, i have requests i'm working on but progress is slow, i'm still around if anyone wants to chat though

"Just a few more steps," you held on to your girlfriend’s hands, watching the little furrow of her eyebrows as she kept her eyes closed.

"I'm starting to wonder if you're just leading me out to the middle of nowhere to kill me,"

You scoffed, glad she couldn't see the embarrassingly big smile spread across your face, "I couldn't kill you, you are way too cute,"

"Alright, just one more-" You took another step only to lose your footing. You fell backward, your back slamming into the ground harshly. Jenna, who was holding your hands to keep steady, tumbled forward with you. She fell on top of you, the impact knocking all the wind from your lungs. You heard a noise akin to a groan or a yelp, but you couldn’t tell if it was you or Jenna through the commotion.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" she quickly pushed herself up, straddling your waist as she checked you over for any injuries.

"Fine," you groaned out, your chest aching from the fall, "surpriseee..."

Her head tilted as she looked at you confused, wondering if maybe you hit your head on the way down.

You pointed behind you and her eyes followed. The white sheet laid out across the sand, the candles lit in the center, the little picnic basket at the edge. The ocean sat just in front of you, not even twenty feet out. It was cliche, but romantic nonetheless.

"You did all this?" you nodded, not lost on how she was still straddling you, her thumbs lightly brushing beneath your shirt and sending electricity through your nerves.

"It's amazing, I love it," she kissed you, making sure to pour all her emotions into the action.

You never knew a kiss could be so soft and sweet, and at the same time take your breath away and leave your head spinning.

"Wow…" it was all you could think to say as Jenna pulled away.

She giggled, loving the dumbstruck smile that overtook your features, "Come on, Romeo,"

She helped you up off the ground, pulling you towards the picnic blanket.

The sun had just set, hues of red and orange faded into pinks and purples as night crept over the beach. You and Jenna were still cuddled on the sheet you had laid out, a spare blanket was wrapped around the two of you. Soft music played in the background as you both watched waves roll in and out.

Jenna moved to snuggle deeper into your lap, wiggling back and forth in your arms before suddenly stopping. A confused expression made its way across her face.

"Babe?"

"Yeah?" You looked at her sitting in your arms, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What's in your pocket?"

You thought about it, your pocket? You didn't have anything in your- oh-

Then you felt it, digging into the side of your hip. How could you forget?

"Oh, that," now she seemed curious, "I got you something, close your eyes for me?"

She spun around in your lap to face you, giving you her full attention and closing her eyes like you asked.

You pulled the little ring box out from your pocket, opening it to make sure it still looked perfect for her. It brought a smile to your face, newfound excitement coursing through your veins like lightning in a bottle. You took a second to compose yourself, trading in that toothy grin for a softer smile instead. You closed the little box and held it out towards Jenna, who still had her eyes closed as patiently as ever.

"Ready?" you asked, doing your best to sit still despite your excitement and nerves.

"Open!" You couldn't wait for an answer, you were too excited.

Jenna opened her eyes, the gaze immediately landing on the box in your hands. Her eyes shot back up to yours, her brown eyes filled with curiosity and excitement lit up by the faint glow of sunset.

"Baby-" she took the small box from your hands not yet opening it but examining it with curiosity.

You started to get nervous, she didn't think you were proposing right? It was still way too early for that...

…right?

"Open it,"

She looked up at you excitedly before gently opening the box in her hands. You watched her jaw drop, staring down at the little ring inside.

You started to get nervous, what if this was a bad idea? what if she didn't like it? was it too much? too little? maybe this whole thing was just a stupid idea-

"Oh my god... It's amazing baby!" her face lit up, and she went from shock to amazement. One of the happiest looks you'd ever seen on her face.

Inside the box was a little silver ring, made to look like the origami rings you made her. You had it custom-made just for her, and by custom you mean you made it for her yourself. Your friend taught you how to cut metal and use a welder just so you could make it for her. It was far from perfect, but you thought that that's what made it special.

You and Jenna had a tradition. Every time you went out, you gave her a paper ring. It started as just a way to keep busy at restaurants, giving you something to fidget with to help hide your nerves, but over time it grew into something more. Now whenever you and Jenna go on a date, you have an origami ring waiting for her. Except now, she could take one with her wherever she goes, and this one would last much longer than the paper ones.

Jenna slid the ring onto her finger, admiring the way it looked on her hand. Her eyes held more adoration than you'd ever seen before. You wanted to kiss her right then and there and never let go. And as if the universe were listening, you got your wish.

Jenna grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you in for a kiss. You were caught off guard, but that didn’t matter when all you could focus on was Jenna's lips on yours and the taste of her strawberry chapstick.

She wrapped her arms around you and pulled you in tight. Any tighter and she might as well have been suffocating you, not that you would've minded. You wrapped your arms back around her and buried your face into her neck, the smell of vanilla and oak overwhelming your senses.

You didn't really care what the future held as long as you had Jenna there beside you.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x gn!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #void-wolfie

[festive]

✿ - bad habit

I know I’ll be in your heart til the end.

✿ - your boyfriend agrees to letting you cockwarm while you work on your research papers, unbeknownst to you —- you’re driving him insane.

✿ - cw: cynoxfem!reader, cockwarming, vaginal penetration, cervix fucking, breeding, biting, size kink.

✿ - a/n: still trying to figure out how I wanna write him, but anyways thank you to my beta readers @bubble4u @rczc & @kazuwhora

Cyno's will is strong, stronger than any impregnable defense — damn near unbreakable even, although.. with each clench of your cunt, Cyno can feel his resolve slowly starting to deteriorate.

He closes his eyes tightly, brows furrowing in annoyance. He's thanking the gods that luck is on his side today — it's almost unbearable how good you feel around him, your welcoming heat squeezing around his cock involuntarily as you continue jotting down your thesis statement for your research, the sounds of your pen dragging across the papers was causing him to lose more of his sanity.

He mumbles a curse in his native tongue underneath his breath. What makes this worse is that every time you scoot your body closer to the desk, you unintentionally grind yourself against his lap, causing more of him to sink inside you.

He grunts, hands registering on your hips as his fingers dig into the softness of your flesh, holding you firmly in place. His action nearly startles you — causing you to look up from work to stare at him. "Is there a problem?"

".. no," he mumbles, crimson eyes meeting your gaze. To most, the young, general mahamatra was hard to read, although, to be fair —- it's hard to read someone when they have a scepter pointed at your neck ready to strike you down at any given moment. But, thankfully, you're not most, having gotten past his more rigid exterior and becoming his lover.

You decide to humor him, cocking your head to the side in a cute display, a teasing smile tugging at your lips when you hear him groan. "Oh, is that true?"

He doesn't reply; instead, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, deciding not to fall victim to another one of your baits. You sigh, looking back at your papers. "I'm almost done. Give me a few more minutes,"

Time felt like it was dragging on forever. Occasionally, cyno would look over your shoulder, carefully reading over your sentences to catch any mistake you might've made while you effortlessly wrote away. As bright as you were, it wasn't uncommon for you to make minor mistakes, and you were silently grateful that you had a lover that cared so much for you that he was willing to help.

"You misspelled that," Cyno gestures towards the sentence with his finger.

"Oh, yeah, I did. Thanks!"

Cyno hums in response as you give him a quick kiss on his cheek. "Almost done,"

If it weren't for the warmth and the occasional feeling of your walls clenching around him. Cyno might've even forgotten the predicament he was in. He inhaled, taking in your scent — the smell of the rainforest wafting from your body, the scent of sumeru roses and padisarah's were overpowering but pleasant. (although, he preferred when you smelled of red crests and ajilenakh nut. The scent is reminiscent of the sands you grew up in.)

His ears perk up when he hears the sound of you slamming down your pencil. "I'm finally done," you muse, almost excusing yourself from your lover's lap. Until you have the wind knocked out of you when he stands up and knocks you over —- cock sliding out of you in the process.

Strong arms wasted no time bending you over your desk — your pencils and papers falling onto the ground carelessly as Cyno pins your body beneath his. You can feel his lean muscles flex against your back while his hands rest on either side of your waist.

"Cyno," You gasp, squirming underneath him, although to no avail. The hold he has on you makes it hard to move too much.

"Can I," he asks through gritted teeth and you nod as his cock rubs against your ass. He presses a quick kiss against your temple, and although fleeting — you could still feel his warm lips lingering on your skin.

Moving his hand, he gives himself a few strokes — your essence from earlier still coating his shaft, causing a Schlick sound to be heard with each pump. He uses his free hand to spread the globes of your ass to get a better view of your cunt — the sight of your drippy pussy causes his cock to throb in his palm.

Finally, he aligns himself with your awaiting hole, forcing apart your walls as he sheathes himself inside.

"F—fuck," you hiss, the burning sensation from the stretch felt amazing — wriggling your hips a little, you try to get whatever friction you can, that is, until you're stopped in your tracks, Cyno's hands gripping onto you as he forces your body into the desk, rutting into at an insatiable pace.

"S—so good, please," You cry out, nearly screaming as he thrusts into that particular spot that has you seeing white, your hands clawing at the surface beneath you — trying to steady yourself.

Cyno lowers his head into the crook of your neck — sharp fangs nipping at your flesh, causing you to shriek before placing his lips flat against you. You groan, feeling him smirk against your neck. "Please what," he asks — and you know all too well what games he's playing.

"I asked you something," He whispers into your ear — his warm breath ghosting over the shell. You refuse to make eye contact. However, he brings a hand around to cup your chin, forcing you to look at him. Carnal desire was ever so apparent in his red eyes — looking at you as if you were prey, you almost felt small underneath his gaze. "Answer me, my dove,"

Like an arrow to the heart — that nickname gets you every time. You sigh, caving in and feeding Cyno ego even more. "Please, more," your voice is small. However, he doesn't push you to be any louder. "As you wish,"

You nearly choke on a sob as Cyno maneuvers your body. Finally, he repositions you enough for him to angle his hips. Ramming into you with better precision — the tip of his cock bullying your poor cervix with each thrust almost unbearably. Though the pleasure of being fucked thoroughly was enough to override your pain, causing your walls to tighten around him, making it harder for him to drag his cock through. "Sh—-shit," he hisses, his voice cracking as he hunches over you.

"Lighten up," He pants, his balls slapping against you with each thrust. He snakes an arm around you, pressing it flat against your lower belly before inching its way closer to your swollen clit that ached for attention. You could no longer contain your moans — feeling him thumb at your bundle of nerves.

"Cyno, Cyno," you moan, his name falling off your lips like a prayer — filling his chest with pride. "Mm s'close," you slur, and honestly, you didn't even need to say anything for your lover to know, considering how your body spasmed around his cock.

You close your eyes, biting at your lips as you focus on the coil in your tummy that's growing tighter and tighter. "So, so… so close," all it took was one final thrust that had you seeing stars and nearly falling onto the desk — although, Cyno was fast to catch you. Supporting your body as he rocks into you, chasing his own end.

You can feel his cock twitch and pulsate inside of you as thick ribbons of cum paint your insides white. You're exhausted, and you're struggling to catch your breath.

You let out a breathless laugh, making a joke about how much of a mess you must look. Cyno doesn't laugh — eyes scanning over your form, even with your hair disheveled and sweat coating your skin, he could never deny how beautiful you were.

"Let's get you cleaned up," Was all he said before gathering your limp body in his arms and carrying you across the room. You laugh, and he looks at you curiously while you struggle to contain yourself. "What,"

"You look worse than I do," A smile spread across your face as you pointed out his messy white locks and the hood that was falling off his head. A soft laugh escapes Cyno's lips.

"Shut up,"

#genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact drabbles #cyno x y/n #cyno x you #cyno x reader smut #cyno x reader

[luveline]

you're writing for bradley!! i am so so excited!! could i request just some domestic fluff with shy!reader and bradley? maybe her coming home from a long day and he's just the perfect boyfriend with a glass of wine and a hug ready for her? love u gorgeous 💗

thank you for requesting, babe, I absolutely adored writing this and him, let me known if you have any more!! —bradley helps you feel better after a bad, long day with wine and a multitude of hugs. fem!reader 1k

You push into your apartment, a ground floor slotting of sandblown terracotta tiles and wooden shutters weakened by termites, and pause. There's something wrong, a humming sound. 

You take a step back toward the door and slide your phone from your pocket. 

Hi Bradley, where are you? I think somebody has been in my apartment. Should I worry? you text him. You've continued a streak of politeness with him even now, too shy to dip into the familiarity you feel when he's holding you close over the phone. You follow it up quickly. Don't worry, I'm sure it's okay. Do you know what time you'll be coming over? Any time is OK.

"It's me!" Bradley calls with an easy chuckle. Couch springs creak as he jumps up, and a second later he appears in the living room doorway with a frankly breathtaking grin, shoving his cell into his pocket. "I'm coming over right now. Holy shit, would you look at you?" 

You hold your bag closer to your side, hair not nearly as neat as it started that morning, the day's chaos etched into the small wrinkles either side of your eyes. "Me?" 

When he smiles, it's all white top teeth and joy. For someone who's been through so much, and who works so hard, he's a shaken bottle of fizzy happiness whenever the moment allows —you barely have time to put your bag next to the rack of shoes (and there, his shoes you must've missed toed off and perfectly aligned with your sandy flip flops) when he's crossing the hall in quick strides and pulling you into an ecstatic embrace. 

"Hey," he says, kissing your cheek, moustache not scratchy but far from soft. It rubs a wonky trail as he kisses without goal. Kiss on your nose, your cheek, close enough to your eye to make you cringe and back away. 

"Hi, Brad," you say breathlessly. 

You need time to prepare yourself for seeing him usually, his sudden closeness catching you off guard. You struggle to make any sense of how much he likes you, but you've given up denying his attention. You want it too badly. 

He doesn't stall at your obvious (embarrassing) flustering; he doubles down. His arms like steel cords behind your shoulders, Bradley noses at the side of your face, his breath warm on your cheek as he says, "Sorry, I thought surprising you might be nice, but I didn't think about your nerves." 

"My nerves," you say. 

"Your bad nerves. You're flighty." He gives it another press, the straight line of his nose digging into your cheek before he pulls away. 

Bradley doesn't give you time to miss his arms around you. He makes for the kitchen, notices you aren't following, and grabs your hand. Tugging, he takes you into the kitchen and elbows open your refrigerator, revealing a better sight than what you'd seen this morning. 

"I had to go out again when I saw your fridge," he says, ducking down to push aside what looks like the makings of your favourite meal to unearth a pretty bottle of red. "Sweetheart, when you said you had a shitty breakfast, I was picturing, like, half a grapefruit. Did you eat anything?" 

He only knows what you'd texted him, shitty breakfast code for the found half of a cereal bar in your jacket. 

You don't like to text Bradley too much in case you put him off, but today was bad, and you know he doesn't mind. He'd told you so only a few days ago. His hand full of your stomach, hot under the collar, you can't remember what you'd been talking about initially, your memory intricately busy remembering the planes of his tightly muscled torso and the feeling of his weight atop you, but suddenly he'd been leaning down, brown eyes pleading. "You can talk to me," he'd said. "About anything. I want to hear it. You know that, right?"

So you texted him somewhere around lunch time and had been delighted to find him puttering around doing a whole lot of nothing. He's been keeping himself busy on leave, staying fit, helping your elderly upstairs neighbour put together her new chest of drawers between half marathons and surfing, regular dreamboat stuff. 

I think I'm having a bad day, you'd said. What are you up to, Brad? Can I still see you tonight? 

Why do you act like I'm not obsessed with you? he'd text back immediately. Kidding. Kind of. What's wrong? Can I bring you lunch? 

Raincheck on lunch? I don't think I'll have time. I'll explain later if that's OK. Miss you. 

Miss you too, baby. I wanna hear all about it tonight.

You blink up from his hands to find him staring at you worriedly. You're in your own head, exhausted and a little muddled after such a long day, and he clearly doesn't like it. 

"Is wine gonna make you feel worse?" he asks, tapping your thigh with his knuckles. 

"Definitely not," you say.

"Before dinner?" 

Your smile turns sheepish. You want the wine much more than the dinner, but if you get both, you won't complain. 

He leans back against the fridge, arms crossed, the neck of the wine bottle held precariously in a confident hand. "Sure you're okay?" he asks. 

"I will be." You take a brave step forward and look up into his face. It's difficult to grasp what it is he sees in you when he's like something out of a movie, all brains, brawn, and bleeding heart. You don't get it, but he wants you, and he's here. "Thanks for coming over, Bradley." 

"This shtick again?" he asks, raising his brows. 

"This shtick again," you repeat, grinning at the implication. 

He hooks your ankle with his. "Thanking me for coming over is like thanking a fish for swimming. Couldn't stop myself if I wanted to." 

Your laugh is a wheeze. Brad does you the generosity of pretending you've made a more intelligible sound and pulls you in for a one-armed hug, rubbing a rough up and down into your side. It's such a nice feeling to be tucked up under his arm that you can almost forget how badly you want a glass of wine. 

"Want the big glasses from the top shelf?" Bradley asks knowingly. 

"Yes. Please." 

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x fem!reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw fanfic #bradley bradshaw oneshot #bradley bradshaw scenario #bradley bradshaw drabble #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick x reader #rooster x reader #top gun rooster

[obnoxiousselfdiagnosedneurosis]

Going off of this theory post. can anyone who speaks Japanese or knows enough of it tell me if there are specific indicators to know whether when someone says they have siblings, they're referring to a group of siblings with gender unspecified or if they just have several brothers? When I looked it up, the word for "brothers" and "siblings" (兄弟 kyōdai) is the same.

Also because in some translations (the official VIZ one in particular) Madara never really specifies he had all brothers, just that they used to be five

And idk if the subs for the episodes I found on 9anime are official or fan-made or not, but they do the same

Which means there are different translations going around saying he either outright said he had 4 other brothers, or just says they used to be 5 in the family without specifying everyone's genders

which is why I'm a bit confused. Also the original japanese version does have the actual number 5 written when he says this

Which gets me thinking the "there are 5 of us" is probably the more accurate one?

ALL this to say that I need a concrete answer for my question so as to not entirely dismiss the possibility that Madara might've had sisters.

#send post #the language barrier is kicking my ass 😔 #Knowing that Madara could've had siblings changes nothing btw only that I can be happy imagining he has some #mostly to like. add more Uchiha women skfhdkfhskhds #the ground is soft and I'm ready to dig

[r0-boat]

Blade f*cking your throat

As the title says; God has abandoned us

Cw: degrading Bladie is not nice, oral (giving), throat pie, (backound Kafka x reader, dubcon/noncon.

Gn!reader x Blade

The burn of his hand tightly around your hair made you wince. You looked up at him only to be greeted with a smirk on his face. He keeps you firm on your knees and ready as his hand fumbles with his pants; Blade is already rigid, the tip of his member drooling precum he purred, smearing himself all over your face.

" I hope Kafka properly trained you for your sake of course."

He Yanks your hair down making you look upward the head of his cock brushing against your lips.

"now open." He demanded do, fiery eyes glaring down at you, the smirk on his face widening as you stuck out your tongue, opening wide for him to shove himself with little warning down your throat.

Your fingernails digging into his hips, I just try so desperately to swallow all of him, coughing and gagging on his thick length only spurred him on. The tightness of your throat and the way your tongue glided across the shaft. Seeing your throat bob up and down with every thrust. was too good to stop, even if you were losing air while he was thrusting down your throat.

" cum hungry slut, this is all you're good for." Blade moans, his fingers threading through his pitch-black hair; he couldn't keep his eyes off you the way your eyes rolled back into your head as if The taste and scent of his dick were all you lived for. The sight of you on your knees with his balls slapping against your face with every thrust of his hips. Blade couldn't help but notice how your hand slipped between your legs.

" are you getting off to this? You really are disgusting, arent you?"

His words made you shutter, whimpering around his cock, which made him twitch. You are so hot like this; he couldn't help but speed up his movements. He felt himself getting closer to his limit but didn't want to stop; he wanted to fuck your throat till it was raw. But sadly, he knew he couldn't give you very you wanted in fear of spoiling you even if all you wanted to do was serve him and make him feel good.

But at least you deserve a mouthful of his warm cum.

"Are you hungry? I'm close. Do you want my cum?"

Those cute watering eyes of yours looked back up at him pitifully; the sight alone and almost made him explode on the spot. You try to nod with a mouth full of cock, your soft lips wrapped around his shaft.

"Beg," he spat, pulling his cock out of your mouth so that he could hear your sweet begging. A hand wrapped around his shaft, trying to keep himself close by pumping his hard cock.

"Please Blade I want to feel your cock fill my tight throat with your warm tasty cum-!

That did it. Before you could say anymore, he forced your mouth open with his fingers, immediately shoving his cock back inside, pounding your poor face till his hips ultimately still burying your nose into his pubic hair. Well, he gives you every last drop of his salty seed.

As soon as he was done, he ripped himself away from you, throwing you to the ground. You cough and gag, trying to catch your breath blade gets on the floor to your level, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling you in for a kiss, slamming his lips against yours. His tongue violates your mouth, tasting his own cum on your tongue.

Blade did not stay for long. He had work to do after all though he would return for seconds. Maybe he'll even let you cum on his cock.

#smut #honkai x reader #blade x reader #blade honkai #hsr blade #honkai star rail x reader #blade smut #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail #gn!reader

[moonlight-prose]

✧ SWEETENED BREATH AND TONGUE SO MEAN✧

a/n: this has got to be in the top three of my favorite kinktober fics i've written. i don't know what it is about hozier and the early hours of the day, but that shit is godlike. i'm drinking it down like my favorite fucking wine and getting tipsy. joel and religious trauma go hand in hand if you ask me. and that's what this. filthy ass religious trauma from yours truly. enjoy.

day twenty-five: oral fixation | kinktober 2023

summary: "joel couldn’t fathom what you saw in him. a man bloodied with the ravages of life. he’d taken life, killed to survive, and there were times he even fucking enjoyed it. but you were soft. you were the good that remained. the light he shouldn’t be allowed to tarnish."

word count: 1.5k+

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, oral fixation, gratuitous prose of giving joel head, oral (m receiving), spit play, throat bulge, dirty talk, cum play, cum eating, joel has a filthy fucking mouth, religious trauma metaphors courtesy of an english lit degree i've got to use somehow.

He loved your mouth.

The soft supple feel of your lips, the taste of your favorite watermelon gum on your tongue. The heat that seemed to seep directly into him when you kissed him. Shit he even liked the sticky gloss you smeared on every day—the sweetness of it a tang he could never get enough of. He loved how it stuck to his lips. How even after you were gone he still had the feel of it burned into him.

Joel licked at his own lips when you pulled away, chest heaving as you slid to the ground. Your fingers worked the buckle of his belt, teeth digging into your shiny bottom lip and Joel felt the breath in his lungs vanish. Before he could even ask how your day was you’d perched yourself on his lap all pretty and ravishing. Hell before he could even take a breath, your lips had found his. A saccharine moan being pressed into his mouth.

You pulled him free, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of his cock swollen and dripping for you. Always for you. And it made his eyes drag down to your lips. How they were parted as you took in another deep breath. How they practically begged to wrap around his throbbing cock.

“‘S that what you need?” he asked roughly, pinching your chin to tilt your eyes back to his.

A shaky breath left you, eyes sliding shut as his thumb ran across your bottom lip. You were quick to take it into your mouth. Suck on it like that alone was his cock. Like you’d never get the chance to have him in your mouth again.

“Yeah that’s what you need.” He groaned, feeling the wet heat of you pull him in. You were a fucking siren and he had no choice but to answer your call. “Just need somethin’ to fill that pretty mouth of yours.”

You whined, fluttering your lashes at him. Joel couldn’t think straight. The sight of you kneeling before him, desperate for him. It rocked him to his core every time you reminded him how much you desired him—how much you’d do anything for him.

“Fuck darlin’.” He felt his body jolt when your teeth scraped the skin of his thumb—your lips tugging into a small grin. A sight that had him ready to be the one on his knees.

“I like the taste of you,” you mumbled.

He huffed. “Addicted to it aren’t ya.”

You nodded, hand finally wrapping around his cock. The pure bliss was nearly too much—like a shot of adrenaline through his heart. He hissed through his teeth, thumb hooking into your mouth and opening it wide—showing the spit that was ready to spill free. Joel liked you like this. Messy. Ready to do what he asked of you because for some reason unknown to him…it made you happy.

“Well go on then,” he said softly, letting you go and sliding his wet thumb along your cheek. “Taste me.”

A moan broke free from your lips as you shuffled closer, hand gripping him just the way he’d do it himself. He barely had time to gather himself before your lips were wrapping around his head. Tongue sliding through his slit, gathering the shiny precum that beaded up at the top—ready to drip down if you waited any longer.

He went lax on the couch, head falling back into the cushion, a deep groan reverberating from low in his chest.

God, he loved your mouth.

You were gentle with it at first. Delicately kissing down his length as if he was something to worship. As if getting on your knees for him was your own form of religion. Joel couldn’t fathom what you saw in him. A man bloodied with the ravages of life. He’d taken life, killed to survive, and there were times he even fucking enjoyed it. But you were soft. You were the good that remained. The light he shouldn’t be allowed to tarnish.

Yet even that he enjoyed. The thought of staining you with his darkness—of being the mark on your soul you’d keep forever.

At least then he’d know what the word permanent meant to him again.

You took him further, the wet heat of your mouth causing his mind to go fucking numb. He felt his body shudder, fingers digging into the back of your neck to keep himself grounded. A stunted moan dragged itself up from his chest, mouth dropping open to suck in a deep breath as the head of his cock hit the back of your throat. You gagged prettily, spit trailing down to the coarse hair at the base of him, and Joel felt like he was in heaven.

“That’s it, sugar,” he said drunkenly. “You can take all of it can’t you?”

Your nails scratching along his denim clad thighs, throat expanding to let more of him in. Joel gasped, his stomach clenching at the sensation. It sent heat shooting up his spine, an aching bliss that was desperate to spill free. You were so fucking good. So beautiful with your mouth stretched wide, tears trailing down your cheeks as you fought to keep yourself still.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he spit, his whole body going stiff.

He slid his hand down, feeling the bulge in your throat and he had to fight back the wave of heat that threatened to drown him. Pulling off you gasped in a breath, hand pumping him quickly, spreading your spit right down to his balls.

“I should take a picture.” Your eyes met his, the glazed fucked out look stealing whatever breath remained in his lungs. “Keep it in my wallet. Right at the front.”

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip, a hoarse moan echoing up to his ears.

“Yeah you’d like that darlin’. I’ll let everyone see it. Let em know you’re all fucking mine.”

Your chest heaved, lips parting to take him back in your mouth and Joel could feel the last strands of his control strip away. Sliding back in felt like a home he didn’t know he could have again, a reminder that he was still wanted. You moaned around his length, thighs pressing together, and Joel felt himself give over to the pleasure.

“Shit,” he gritted, digging his fingers into the back of your neck as he spilled right down your throat. A broken shout ripping from his throat.

“Fuckin’ take all of it darlin’.” His hips thrust up into your mouth, causing you to splutter, his cum spilling out slightly and down your throat. “My messy fuckin’ girl. Can’t even handle all my cum. ‘S okay I’ll feed it to you. Make sure you take every drop.”

Letting him go, you watched as the last of his release spilled onto your hand that continued to pump him. Wringing every last bit of pleasure from his body. He arched off the couch slightly, a fractured sound filling the room. It sunk into you like a poison. Delved between your nerves and dragged the need you tried to tamp down up your throat. It clawed at you and you had no choice but to heed to its call.

“Joel,” you whimpered, voice cracked and low.

But just the sound of it grabbed his attention as he came back down. His cum now tracking along your throat. A shiny mess that had his cock twitching in desire. He grinned, eyes glazed over with lust, and dragged his fingers through the mess you made. Until they pressed against your lips.

You took them happily. A soft moan breaking free.

“That mouth,” he mumbled in awe. Your tongue swirled around the digits, the tang of him permanently etched on your tongue.

Every drop that landed on your tastebuds only made your need grow and Joel could see it etched on your face. The desire clear in your body language. You were standing on a thin line, your control nearing its very end. Which is why he pulled his fingers free. A small grin formed on his face when you chased them slightly, eyes fluttering open.

“Don’t worry darlin’.” He cupped your face, smiling softly at your needy expression. “You’ll get em back. Just wanna make you feel good.”

You sighed, breath stuttering. That feeling dug into your chest, screaming for more and Joel was more than happy to give into its wants. He had stained you with his cum, with the destruction he caused. The pain that devoured him whole. Yet now it was your turn to do the same. To fill him with that sweetness that had become his life line.

His reason for being.

“You gonna let me?” he asked softly, drawing you up until those lips that haunted his fucking dreams were mere inches away from his own. He could feel your breath wash across his face, filling him with vitality.

You grinned, fingers clutching at his shirt as you took your rightful place on his lap. A goddess perched on her throne.

“Yes.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller #joel miller smut #the last of us fic #my writing #kinktober 2023 #pedrostories

[wri0thesley]

cw: fantasising, reader is afab, non-consensual . . . drawing??? haz said to me 'do you think welt would draw you if he had a crush on you? draw hentai of you?' and, alas. this occurred.

"Mr Yang?" Your voice is a soft little thing; Welt barely hears it over the sound of his pencil scratching on the paper. Eyes focused on the lines as they take shape. You pause after calling, and timidly knock twice on the door of the cabin. "May I open the door?"

"Mm?" He calls, still not moving his eyes from the paper before him. "Is something wrong?" He's so close to finishing this one; just a few more lines, a little shading here, a shine to the strings of arousal dripping down your thighs from where you're being stretched open on his cock--

You take that as assent. His door creaks open slowly - and there you are, in the flesh.

It's then that he realises exactly what he's doing, and panics.

His sketch is right there, on his desk - you, in all of your beautiful glory, lovingly rendered down to the last detail. That wouldn't be so bad, he supposes, if it were just a portrait; a snatched moment of one of your smiles. Heaven knows you've seen him draw the others - both seriously, for practise, and in little caricatures that make you laugh and shift closer to him until he can smell your perfume sticking to your skin and his cock twitches in his trousers in interest.

He tries to shove it to one side as you walk towards him, unsure if he heard you the first time. You're saying something about Himeko and the Express's next stop.

Welt's movements are too clumsy. Beneath this sketch are others of you - ones he would never work on in common areas. You, mouth open, tears beading in your eyes as your mouth struggles to hold his length. Him, you in his lap, hands running all over you - some dialogue or other about 'being happy to instruct', you calling him 'Mr Yang' . . .

He never wanted to be caught like this. He hadn't meant to! But every image of you that he conjured was so delicious, his imagination overactive, and before he'd even realised it he'd amassed a portfolio of . . . He doesn't even know what to call it. Hentai? Erotica? Self-indulgent fantasy art?

He sweeps most of it into a pile as you stop by his desk and give him a smile so sweet that it makes his teeth ache - but the final sketch, the one he's been working on today, doesn't quite make it. It floats down to the ground as Welt's heart plummets into his chest, and you - lovely you, so helpful, so eager to win Welt's favour (that eagerness has been displayed time and time again in his art) - bend down to retrieve it.

You sneak a glance at what he's been working on, expecting to see some fun robot design (you know he likes robot characters), perhaps a sketch from life of the other passengers, a few simplified Pom Poms like Welt has been character designing for a children's cartoon.

A part of you hopes you see a sketch of yourself. Every time Welt draws you with a smile on his face and his voice soft, you melt inside - and seeing the way Welt sees you, sometimes you even feel beautiful.

You have your mouth all open ready to give a heartfelt compliment when you notice what it is on the paper, and your mouth goes dry.

This is certainly a drawing of you.

This is a drawing of you utterly bare save for a pair of thigh high stockings digging in to your legs, being vigorously and thoroughly fucked by a man who is just out of frame.

"I . . ." You don't know what to do, your hand still holding the sketch. You're trembling, but your mouth has opened just a little, your pupils blown wide. He can see your pulse point fluttering wildly in your throat, and not for the first time he thinks about his lips brushing over it. Teeth worrying into the soft skin of your neck. Biting you, kissing you, sucking his marks into you-- "Do you want me to c-come back later? I'm sure Himeko wouldn't mind postponing the meeting, if you're busy--"

Your voice cracks on the words, your eyes once more flickering down to the sketch. Every curve of you has been drawn with such precision. The curve of your bare ass, the way that the hand of the out of view man sinks into the plush curve of your hip, lines denoting the way your skin indents under the fingertips.

How long has Welt looked at you, to be able to recreate you from memory so easily? He's wrong about how you keep yourself down there, missed out a few markings of your inner thighs and chest that he's never had reason to see . . . but everything else?

Welt looks at you; eyes behind his glasses flashing. You've always thought him handsome. He looks at you now and notices the way you tremble on the edge of not quite knowing what to do, at war with your own desires. The stars outside the cabin play prettily on your face, reflected in your eyes - and oh, it is hard for him not to think of how you'd look on his bed, face turned towards the great expanse of space. Stars in your eyes and his cock inside of you and your body trembling and shaking under his ministrations.

You notice something else in the sketch; the other hand, on your head to pull you back and onto the man's cock . . . gloved. Much like Welt's own.

"I-is this supposed to be . . ." Your words shake and shudder, not only from nervousness but from a sudden bolt of arousal that makes your knees feel weak. "Me?"

Us?, goes the unvoiced second question.

"Close the door," he says, his voice somehow managing to be even. "I'm sorry, my dear. This was . . . horribly inappropriate of me. I'll be out in a moment."

He wonders if you'll ask Himeko to let you off at the Express's next stop, not wanting to be alone with him - or if you'll give in to the feelings warring within you. Your eyes flash. Teeth bite into your bottom lip.

"Is this what you think I'd look like?" You ask him, eventually, in no more than a whisper. You're still looking down at the sketch.

The longer you look at it, the more you can see the passion that he's put into it. The lines denoting the movement of his hips - the peek of his shirt cuffs at the wrist, his cane half-in frame. The puff of breath coming from where you can just see the silhouette of his mouth.

The meticulous attention to detail in your face - your mouth perfectly shaped, your hair exact. Every mole and every freckle and every scar visible in your everyday clothes has a match on the you that Welt has so lovingly rendered. This is a man who has studied you. Learnt you by heart.

"No," Welt says. "I think you'd be prettier."

You swallow. You look up from the sketch.

". . . Do you want to see for real?"

#writing #drabble #welt yang x reader #welt yang smut #hsr x reader #hsr smut #nat.txt #not sfw text

[ddejavvu]

(How's this?)

"Sit," Hotch demanded, surprising you with how different he sounded.

"Sit," Hotch demanded, surprising you with how different he sounded. You're used to hearing him talk as Agent Hotchner, not Aaron. You feel his hand on your shoulder and it guides you into the chair in front of his desk. You sink into its plush cushions with a weary sigh, head still spinning.

"Are you alright?" He sits behind his desk, hands folded over the wood. You nod without looking at him, eyes droopy.

"That was quite a fall." He continues, as if you've somehow forgotten your near-faint. You were just lucky Aaron had the reflexes to sling an arm around your stomach and yank you backwards into his chest, or you'd have hit the ground.

All you can do is nod, and you hear him sigh almost inaudibly.

"Are you sick? Low iron? Bad lunch? I need to know what we're working with here."

"Low iron." You confirm, "It just happens sometimes when I stand up.

Your eyes are so heavy that they feel itchy, and you rub at them with an angry fist. The pressure against your eyes hurts, but it's better than the itch.

You feel a warm, soft hand on yours, gently pulling your hand away from your eyes. When you peek them open, your vision is sticky and hazy, but you see Aaron's kind smile from over the desk.

"Do you take supplements?"

"I forgot mine this morning," You mumble, but he doesn't take his hand away from your wrist, so you don't pull it back. He lowers his hand to the desk, and it holds your wrist in a soft, reassuring grip.

"You don't live far, do you? How about you drive back and grab them? We're not busy today, you can leave the office."

"I can't drive," You shake your head, still groggy, "I take the subway. It'll take too long, and I might pass out on the train."

"I'll drive you."

He only breaks away from your skin-to-skin contact to dig through his pockets for his keys, rising from his seat. You blink bewilderedly up at him, mouth falling open slightly, "What?"

"We can stop by your apartment and you can take your pills," He explains, as if you wanted clarification on the process and not his logic, "I finished a report just an hour or two ago, my desk is clear."

"It's okay," You protest weakly, feeling an ache in your chest that bottoms out into your stomach, "You said it yourself, it's not busy today, so I can just wait. I'll take it easy at my desk and hopefully I'll be subway-ready afterwards."

"Y/N," Aaron stops by the door of his office, hand already twisting the knob, "You need your medicine. Let's go."

You feel strange as you scramble to obey his authoritative tone, and when you rise to your feet you grip the back of the chair for balance. In seconds his hand is off of the door and under your arm, lifting it so that you stay upright.

"I'm parked in the garage," He informs you, "Too long of a walk for you. Sit with Prentiss, she's closest, and I'll pull the car around, 'come get you."

"Hotch, really, it's alright, I can walk. You're offering me a free ride," You try ignoring the pounding in your head, "The least I can do is make it to the car."

"Sit with Prentiss." He blinks unamused at you, "That's an order."

The aforementioned agent welcomes you to her desk with a sympathetic smile, her hand replacing Hotch's under your arm. She slips it down to your side as you lower yourself into her chair, and you bid Hotch a goodbye that he doesn't see as his back is turned.

"Feeling better, honey?"

"I will once I get my meds." You assure her, "Thanks, Emily."

"Anytime." She rubs a soft hand over your back, "Hotch is driving you?"

"I told him he didn't have to."

She lets out a snort, but you don't see the accompanying smirk from where you're holding your head in your hands.

"I bet he threw a fit."

"Hm?"

"When you told him not to take you home. Hey, Morgan!" She snaps once to get the man's attention, who looks up from his desk with a raised eyebrow.

"Do you think he's gonna stand in front of her and watch her take the pills?"

"Like I do with my mom," Reid snickers, pink lips twisted into a barely-withheld grin.

"Well she can't take 'em on an empty stomach, maybe he'll buy her dinner and chew her food for her."

There's a round of 'ohhh's, and 'eeewww's from your fellow profilers but you're having trouble keeping up with the conversation. Their voices mellow out into a dull whine in your head, the last word you hear something about kissing. You're too spacey to evaluate it in context.

The next thing you know, there's a hand around your jaw.

"Hey," a voice speaks, low and soothing, "Y/N?"

Your eyes blink open, weary, "Yeah?"

"Time to go," It's Aaron, and the rare smile on his face gives you enough peace of mind to follow him. You don't remember where he's taking you, or where you are now, but you know it's safe, and you let him tug you up out of the chair.

Your head falls against his shoulder and he lets it rest there, keys in his hand as he keeps an arm around your back. He leads you out of the office, but you don't react when your team members bid you goodbye, too groggy to register them.

What you do register is the soft hum of Aaron's voice, moreso when it's in your face than above your head. He helps you into his car and leans in to buckle your seatbelt, leaving his hand on your thigh, close to your knee, as he catches your attention.

"You can have the rest of the day off, alright? You're almost home, you can get in bed and rest for the day."

"I can work," You drawl, voice not all there, "I'll be better later."

"It's okay," He assures you, squeezing your leg, "Just sleep, okay?"

You don't mean to take his order so literally. But he doesn't wake you up, and when your eyes do flutter open you find yourself in your bed, blankets tucked carefully around you.

You spot the pills on your side table as soon as you turn, bright orange and chalky. They sit beside a full glass of water, and a note.

I picked up a bottle of your supplements to keep in the bureau's kitchen, it reads, Sleep well, Y/N.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction