#Anyways that's why he's so sleep and touch deprived

[goldemas1244]

Kaloshta (Father) - A Mobile Legends Fanfic

Necessary content warnings:

Contains mentions and themes of:

(Blood, injury, death, gore, passing out, Asian parenting / tough love (which may include themes similar to but may or may not be: physical abuse, mental abuse, emotional abuse, degradation, abandonment, trauma, yelling, not knowing whether the question is literal or rhetorical, hurting for the sake of love and survivability, etc.), depression, graphic depictions of inner monologues, loss of self-worth, freezing to death, bleeding to death, character death in general, resurrection, and anything you'd expect from a 50/50 stereotypical Asian household)

Bonus note: NOT ALL OF OUR FAMILIES TREAT OUR KIDS THIS WAY. MINE DOES THOUGH. My dad has yet to rip out my antennae but that's because I don't have any-. He doesn't like my sitting position and my incompetence though.

Necessary writer's note:

{FINALLY we've gotten the tags out of the way.

So to clarify this was made on a whim. I obviously do not condone any of the content in this and urge you to raise your offspring like you mean it. This is but a reflection of the (50/50 stereotypical) Asian household. Not all of us treat our kids this way. Not all of us believe that tough love is required for better young. But hey, it's culture.

But it's mostly a reflection of my life so far. Hey, you make a few mistakes and suddenly you're very numb in the cheek and probably concussed. And you get very weird kinks. Most of the stuff in this is just stuff I've actually experienced. And of course I turn it into gut-wrenching angst.

Note: I am fine. I am alright. I am not hurt (yet). My father DOES scare me still but I blame it on the telly. He watches too much Netflix. He humours me on my monster/alienfucking expeditions. He shows me Transformers clips because he knows I find robot aliens hot as fuck.

Note 2: Understandably, this is a very sensitive topic to write about. Forgive me if you feel offended or uncomfortable reading this. Just know that I do not write for content, rather I write to satiate my inner desire to write. And sometimes that means refractions.

Having said that, enjoy the read!}

%%%

Blood. Short for haemolymph actually. In a blizzard and the icy snow.

He had just barely made it out alive. He had run away, clinging onto the last few breaths he had. So far he could hope nothing was chasing him. If there was, it would catch him soon.

His claws plunged through deep snow and he felt himself falling. Yet he stood back up, and reached out to thin air, desperately trying to pull himself further away. Further away from where, he couldn't say. All that remained of his thoughts had slipped away. Only instinct remained.

And it told him to keep going.

Footfalls scarred through the blizzard as the burning ache in his body began to throb. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't remember how to. All he could do was escape.

Only but a few minutes ago, he was in his element. A battle was raging, his nightmaric spawns were decimating, and his aim was steady. Before him were two lovers, and they were both primed to strike.

He had taken them down, but not with minor losses.

Soon there was nothing left on the battlefield save the husks of two colliding armies. Brave souls giving up their lives for a cause. One to protect, one to survive.

And the three of them were still left. Zhask, Aurora, and Tobias.

Tobias was on his knees. Zhask had done enough to him. His last breaths were well-spent, but not to Zhask. No, to Aurora.

He'd told her they'd attack together. He burst through whatever remained of the swarm Zhask could summon. He made sure Aurora could reach the source-

And the pain....

The sharp shooting pain coursed through his chest into his brain. It felt as if all his blood had been frozen, yet it drained from him in thick amounts, warmer than ever.

He took a few steps back. Aurora had pierced him in a critical spot with her own arm, frozen into the shape of a sword. It had severed itself from her body, leaving a gaping wound where it once was and a bloodied trail leading back to its socket. Jagged spikes of ice ripped through the soft flesh inside of him, tearing him apart from within.

It was cold, far too cold.

As the blizzard swooped all around them, he took one last glance at them. Tobias was dead. Aurora was in agony, but still alive. And Zhask himself was losing his energy all too fast. His swarm was rapidly dying out and the weather was against him.

So he went against the weather.

Zhask ran away. As he always did. As he never should have done.

And now here he was, miles away from any civilization, acres away from salvation, and half buried in snow and ice.

His legs shook. The pain was unbearable.

He reached for the frozen sword and arm of Aurora. No blood leaked from the severed limb now, rather it had become one with the ice. He grasped it tightly with his free hand, and with a hiss, pulled it sharply and threw it aside to be consumed by the storm.

Rookie mistake.

If it was unbearable then, then it was deathly now. Haemolymph flowed out in bursts from the open gash, half-frozen. The jagged edges of the sword had sliced through tender muscle tissue on its way out, more than it initially had prior. His frozen claws clutched at the wound and he chittered in utter agony, doubling over as they instinctively curled around it as one does to their chest during a heart attack.

He couldn't let go. Despite all his conscious thoughts and efforts he just couldn't let go. All his muscles were telling him to stop the bleeding no matter how.

But no matter how hard his instincts betrayed him, he couldn't cover the thick shell good enough. His magic was useless. He was weak and so was it. Domorey was exhausted herself. There was no way to heal.

He couldn't stop it. He couldn't stop the numbing pain. He couldn't stop the thick blood pouring out in waves. He couldn't stop the racing thoughts in his mind.

He couldn't.

He just couldn't.

His muscles tensed and he fell to his knees. Domorey fell with as he used her to brace himself. His eyes watered dryly as the pain only doubled from the momentum. He wanted to vomit, but all that came out was more blood.

The blizzard stung him where he hadn't been stung before and he lowered his head in defeat. So this is how Zhask dies for the upteenth time. Alone, in a temperature he never could fathom, with a wound he couldn't close. With no magic, buried in the cold embrace of despair.

He wasn't ready to accept that. Not his soul. Not with what's coming for him. But his body begged to differ.

"Sh-... Shaloshta...."

With one last attempt to stand and walk onwards, Zhask fell back onto the cold hard snow. His ears rang. His vision began to blur, his hands were losing their grip. He couldn't breathe anymore. He couldn't even muster enough energy to keep his heart pumping. And within a moment, all was black.

%%%

He awoke to white noise and darkness. He could see himself clearly however, clean yet scarred fresh. Domorey was gone. Balling his hands into fists he began to push himself up.

There was still some pain but it was numbed by some otherworldly force. He brought his hand to where the stab wound was and found out that it had somewhat healed.

Here in the void. Again.

"Disappointing!"

His eyes widened and his head jerked up violently. He'd know that voice from anywhere.

"Ka... Kaloshta?" he silently whimpered, yet much to his dismay he'd forgotten how acute his father's hearing was compared to his.

Heavy steps sounded themselves and Zhask desperately tried to crawl backwards, inching away, retreating as best as he could. But to no avail. His back hit an invisible wall violently and his antennae raised themselves up to protest.

"I told you not to use those with me."

Zhask screamed as he felt all four of them being pushed violently upwards against the wall. It felt as if they were going to break off from him at any moment, much so with the force of gravity pulling his body downwards. He struggled against the chokehold, gasping, desperate to escape the grasp but it raised him up higher, earning him a grinding noise as they were pushed harder against the wall like nails on a chalkboard.

It wasn't long before his eyes could finally focus on his own flesh and blood, yet only stared forwards as the familiar figure came into view.

"Zhask!"

A green husk hunched over him, eyes glowing brightly in the faux blackness of their surroundings. They burned into the air like sulphur. A ferocity bloomed in them like none other.

"You dare disobey your Kaloshta?"

A large clawed hand, larger than Zhask's own face, cupped his chin and forced his head violently upwards. Zhask could see his antennae clearly now, held up by his father's other hand. The horns on his head scraped against the wall. One of them even broke off at the tip.

To a vertebrate, it would've snapped their neck. But for Zhask, this was a familiar feeling.

It felt like home, it felt like family, it felt... painful.

"Your antennae show off too much emotion," his father growled. "It's one of the things I hate about you." He lifted his claws off of his son's chin and grabbed his shoulder. "It shows how afraid you are."

Held in place by some mental force, Zhask couldn't move his head nor his arms and legs which dangled like a stringless puppet. All he could do was freeze himself. Take it all in like how he used to. Not that he was used to it as much as the occasional slap, but he was used to it. Every time he'd failed practice he'd get himself hurt. His fault of course. As always.

He missed his father. He loved him, he genuinely did. But this? He didn't miss this. Not for his entire life.

"Please, Kaloshta I'm sorry!" he begged as his voice cracked with pain and his body curled up into itself despite the... gravity of the situation. "I'm sorry! I won't use them ever again just please Kaloshta let me go!"

"You disgust me. How dare you talk back to me!" With one harsh pull, his father tore shell from membrane, muscle from vessel. Zhask's eyes widened and he could only gasp as he was thrown to the ground now with nothing on his back.

He felt so ashamed of himself, didn't he? Oh yes, the price for disobedience and stupidity. You lose what you love. And what Zhask loved was his antennae. It made him comfortable, it helped him regulate his body temperature, it helped him smell, it helped him sense, it helped him to express his emotions, and it helped out with so many more things. Not to mention his father too. Oh, but now-

Now they're gone. Replaced only by a stuffy feeling and his haemolymph flowing out of his back. At least he couldn't smell the blood now.

"Always wanted to do that," mumbled his father as Zhask desperately tried to stifle his tears and stand up again. "But your mother, she coddled you. I'd always believed she was too soft, but I couldn't do a thing about it." His steps began again, and Zhask could hear a clinking sound as those vital parts of his body were oh so carelessly thrown away.

His father loves him. He really does. Zhask remembers how he used to take him outside and play with him when he was younger. How he'd begrudgingly read him bedtime stories. How he'd rarely but truly said sorry, how he'd always hugged him, how he'd never once forgotten how much he loved his son.

But when DID that all change, really? When did this start happening to Zhask, Prince of the Kastiyans? When did his father become a monster? What happened? Was it because the prince grew up? Was it because he was immature? Because he was older, that he didn't deserve as much love as he used to?

He remembered when his toys were broken all because he wanted to play with them while another foreign prince wanted to intervene and he didn't want to share because he knew they'd ruin it. He remembered getting whipped because he was weak in his test scores. He remembered the sorries his father gave, he remembered the silence. The silence meant he wouldn't forgive him. And then, over tea, they'd get back together because he was the only son.

Hugs became fewer and farther between through the years, and so did the kisses. But despite his father's complaining Zhask knew he secretly enjoyed it. Annoying his father was a favourite pastime of his whenever he was available and was in a pleasurable mood.

He knows his father was trying his best. His best to protect Zhask, his best to ensure he survived throughout the conquests, his best to ensure he managed to live on to rule Kastiya. His slaps were a lesson to learn, his whips a delicate cruelty, all so he would act better in future. Even if they scarred him. Even if they gave him permanent damage.

But sometimes, as implied, his best hurt and he was a monster.

His mother was softer but she could be as harsh as he was. Not that it mattered to Zhask, she was always busy so it made sense if she never came to be well-moody. Yet she feared her husband for the obvious reason as well.

Zhask could never stifle his tears, even from youth. Usually when this happened he'd walk off to his room, pretending to yawn and rub his eyes as if he was tired. Then he'd go into the shower or wrap himself up in his bed. He never locked his door either because his father would break it down so his butler was always there to check on him. Not that he'd ever wanted him to. And if he did Prince Zhask would have to put on a genuine emotional mask in fear that his butler would slip the metaphorical beans.

But of course in these events there was no room to pace to.

The footsteps stopped. Silenced. And so was Zhask. Though one out of anger, and the other out of terror. Zhask desperately tried to hide his tears away but the pain was intense and he just couldn't help it.

Like with the bleeding....

"Your Shaloshta isn't here," his father quipped and Zhask could hear his armoured plates creaking with age as he knelt. "Neither is your Heria. So I'll tell you this right here."

"Look at me."

Zhask turned to face him. Proportionally, so did his father's backhand and he fell back on his elbows.

"You are the reason Kastiya is lost!"

There it was. The guilt-tripping.

"Look at me!" Zhask hesitated, and had his horns pulled up so he could face his father. "Because of your recklessness, The Astrowardens have DESTROYED Kastiya! One of them is hunting you down, and here you are, dead as a star because of your own foolish mistakes! What have I raised you for?!"

Zhask only could stare. Was it a rhetorical question? But it sounded so genuine he should-

"ANSWER ME."

Genuine it is then.

"You... you raised me to lead Kastiya," Zhask began, stutteringly repeating the words his father used to swear. "You raised me so I could protect Kastiya, to keep its glory. You raised me so Kastiya could prosper. So that we could rule supreme. You raised me so... I'd have a home?"

"TALKING BACK TO YOUR ELDERS," he yelled out, despite having asked the question initially. "You are a disappointment. You have disappointed me, you have disappointed Kastiya, you have disappointed your subjects. As if there are any because they're all dead! And I should know because that's your doing too!"

He released his grip on Zhask. Zhask could only stare into space, fixed in the position. He didn't even turn to look at his father, now retreating back into the darkness.

"You are the reason I died, Zhask. Remember that. You are nothing. A pig-child. Wasted filth."

Footsteps receding.

"You are not my son."

Pain slowly enveloped Zhask's body once more. Not the pain of what had happened to him, but the pain of coming back.

Good. He never wanted to stay anyway.

%%%

"Ow...."

Zhask awakens once more, this time back in the snow. He instantly shoots up, but winces at the pain. His chest is still bloodied and he still has scars, but they seems to have healed slightly. The short death-rest has given Domorey enough mana to regenerate himself, thankfully.

He hears a little chirp infront of him. Before him is his passive spawn, the backup guard for his body. It moves towards him, albeit a little shakily from the cold. It nuzzles him and Zhask can feel its warm laser heating up.

He looks around him. Behind Domorey, there is a calm, serene white. The blizzard has stopped. He looks back and sees that his antennae are still there. They're only frozen from the exposure. He sighs in thankfulness.

The little spawn hops onto Zhask's arm, latching onto it. It camouflages itself on his glove. He pets its little head and grabs Domorey.

He is capable of standing on his own two feet. And so he does, leaning onto Domorey for balance. He tests his footing on the icy floor beneath him and realises it's created a nice little step-path. His feet don't sink in, rather the snow has solidified enough to stand on.

Slowly but surely, Zhask begins to walk forwards, limping through the snow. He remembers his past, he acknowledges the present, and he looks out for the future.

But his heart sinks.

He will never forget what his Kaloshta had done to him. He's still shaken by that death-dream he had, the only flaw to his immortality. He's depressed but he brushes it off.

They love each other, don't they? This is what your parents do to help you grow stronger, right? He deserves it for his failure, doesn't he?

Zhask's first death was to save him and his revival was met with a slight scolding and a warm hug. The rest were merely trivial, but he got scolded more and more often as time went on and the hugs became less and less often. In the end, it's all just a forgettable memory when he wakes up. This wasn't even the worst he's had. The worst was that one time he drank himself to death over a lost love. He got a real beating for that.

But he WILL prove he can live up to his father's wishes. That he's not what his father claims him to be. That he can still feel his father embrace him lovingly again, even for just a few short moments. That he's not a failure, nor a pig-child, nor whatever else he says.

And maybe this time, he'll try not to die again.

Or even sleep for that matter. Just in case.

[noxtivagus]

thinking abt lucilius n belial hdfkajsdlkfd

[kitten4sannie]

trendsetter

reach for my goals, hit it dead center

pairing: idol ex! mingi x fem! reader

genre: an actual idol au omg, smut

summary: mingi reminds you why he was so hard to leave in the first place, well, the first few times, anyway.

w.c: 3.3k

bc i’m bigger, better

warnings: brief weed use/shotgunning (mingi’s a plug in another life btw <3), mingi’s kinda a dickhead and a master manipulator (damn double homicide), dom! mingi, subby! reader, mingi’s got a big cawk, glove ? kink? idk bro, exhibitionism, teasing, praise/degradation, pet names galore/name calling, tit play, spit, fingering, finger sucking (leads to some gagging), oral (giving), deep-throating, cum eating, grinding, kissing, size kink, breeding kink, mingi fucks reader raw on the hood of her own car hallelujahhhh

a/n: don’t blame me for this btw,, blame mingi mango and the things he’s been posting on ig 😮‍💨 this man makes me delirious istg. also i wrote this while incredibly sleep deprived just so yk !! there might be some grammar and spelling errors (as well as a general sense of lunacy ✨) regardless i hope you enjoy and please do let me know if you liked it bc feedback is like a treat for me and im a treat hungry lil goblin uwu <3

song recs: so damn into you by vlad holiday - come 2 me by johnny goth - liquid by boston manor

Mingi barely made it two steps past one of the various emergency exit doors of the booming, hectic arena, dropping his lighter on the ground when his favorite ex suddenly came waltzing back into his life again after just swiftly exiting it for the nth time.

“Where are my car keys? I know you have them,” you abruptly confronted him, snatching the lighter from the ground before he could grab it and sliding it inside your tank top, right in between your tits.

“Why would I have your car keys, sugar?” Mingi sighed exasperatedly, walking in your direction until he towered over you, gently clasping his calloused hands around your upper arms so he could rub them up and down in an effort to calm you, gently turning you around until your back pressed into the cool metal of the emergency door. “Can you use that pretty little head of yours for me, Y/N? I just performed right now. I was busy rehearsing before that. Do you really think I would take your keys from you just to keep you from leaving?”

“Yes, I do. You always do some fuck shit like this when I try to leave. Every time, Mingi.” Despite the furrow of your brow and the contempt present within your words, you couldn’t help but watch as Mingi’s thumbs began to press into the sides of your tits. When you didn’t say anything, he began to press the rest of his gloved fingers into the softness of your chest.

“Some fuck shit like this?” Mingi asked under his breath, studying your flushed face to gauge your reaction as he squeezed your tits against the palms of his rough hands, rubbing his thumbs teasingly against the thin material of your sports bra until he felt your nipples harden. “You aren’t tell me to stop, baby. Cat got your tongue?”

“I hate you…” you whispered softly, not understanding why you never had the strength to deny him, even in a public, though empty alleyway, even after you just broke up with him only a little while ago.

“You don’t seem to hate this…Your body’s responding to me…” Mingi suddenly pinched your nipples through your sports bra, chuckling at the gasp you let out. He leaned down, bringing his lips to your ear to whisper, “I bet you don’t hate how wet I’m making you right now, either. Is your cunt throbbing for me already, Y/N?”

“N-no…” You bit into your bottom lip when your ex let out a disapproving ‘uh-uh’ as you turned your head to look away from him, squeezing your thighs together, hoping your arousal wouldn’t drip past your short skirt.

With one hand still clasped around your tit to play with it, Mingi brought the other up to grasp your chin, making you face him again, so close that you were breathing in each other’s air, your parted lips almost touching. “You’ll let me check to see if you’re lying, won’t you, sugar? Can I see how many fingers I can fit inside your tight little cunt?”

You hated how much your body and soul still burned for your lecherous ex, hated how desperate you suddenly were for him to have his way with you, but what you hated most of all was the way you whimpered out, “Please, Minnie.”

Mingi groaned softly at the use of his pet name, feeling most of his blood began to head below the belt, letting go of your chin, the both of you watching as his hand disappeared underneath your skirt. He instantly slipped two thick fingers inside you up to the knuckles, despite wearing a pair of thick leather gloves, the both of you moaning at the squelching sound your bare, wet cunt made. “That’s my girl. You wore this slutty little skirt and no panties just for me, didn’t you? You don’t even care about getting out of here with your keys. You just wanted me to put my hands all over you one last time, yeah?”

Just as you were about to respond, Mingi suddenly stuffed his leather-bound fingers into your mouth, making you taste your own warm wetness. “A-aaahn,” you moaned around his moving digits, feeling them slip along your hot tongue, looking up at your ex’s intensely dark gaze.

“Suck,” he simply requested, smiling fondly at the sight of your plush lips closing around his fingers, pushing them further and further back until he made you gag around them, his cock throbbing at the sight of your teary doe eyes. “Oh, baby, if you’re going to be looking at me like that and making those pretty noises, I’m gonna lose it…but, you can take it, right? My fingers in your throat?”

You whined softly, trying your best not to gag more around his moving fingers, relaxing your throat enough so that the only sound that could be heard was your moans and the abundance of saliva in your mouth.

“Good girl.” Mingi slipped his fingers out of your mouth and pressed his lips onto your cheek, whispering, “Can you take my cock down your throat next, pretty girl? I worked so hard to perform tonight, you know. Don’t you think I deserve head from my favorite ex?”

“Uh-huh,” you found yourself agreeing, your head still fuzzy from having his fingers inside your mouth, desperate to have something else warm and thick on your tongue, thankful for the heavy hand that began to push your head down until your bare knees were resting against the cold concrete below.

“Say ‘aaah’,” Mingi cooed darkly from above, expertly undoing his thick belt buckle and lowering his pants until his stiff, reddened cock smacked up into his abdomen. It was then that his hands were drawn to either side of your head, barely giving you enough time to open your mouth before he thrusted forward, the tip of his cock instantly hitting the back of your throat. “Fuckkkk, that’s a good slut. You don’t have to be my girlfriend to be my fuck toy, huh, baby?”

Your moans of approval were instantly muffled by the massive cock that was being stuffed inside your throat by your eager ex, as you reached up to grasp at his hips, the shiny lighter that was still sitting in between your tits starting to jostle around due to Mingi’s rough movements.

Suddenly reminded of his post-concert ritual, Mingi reached into his back pocket and placed a joint between his lips, then fished the lighter out from between your tits, but not before he squished one of them for the hell of it. He rolled the dial on the lighter a few times before a flame sparked, bringing it up and lighting the tip of his joint.

The strong aroma of Mingi’s flower reached you in an instant, having to blink your many tears away to watch him take a deep puff of it and blow it out into your face. Your lips tingling from the immense stretch, you sputtered around his pulsing cock, suddenly pulling away, letting your spit laced lips rest against his leaking tip, weakly licking at the pre-cum that spilled from it. “M-minnie…”

“Why’d you stop?” Mingi grunted, biting on the tip of the joint to keep it from falling from his lips, looking down at you with his sharp, slightly red eyes. Using his free hand to jerk himself off with his cockhead pressed to your lips and smearing his pre-cum over them just for his own enjoyment, he slowly realized what was up. “Oh, you want a hit? Aren’t you precious? Come here.”

Mingi slowly lowered himself down into a crouching position, letting go of his cock to grab your chin with his arousal coated fingers, taking in a deeper inhale, the majority of the joint turning to ash, just as he flicked it away into the gutter. He pressed his lips onto yours in an open-mouthed kiss, neither of you bothering to close your eyes as he slowly filled your lungs with smoke.

Just as you began to choke while trying to exhale all the smoke, Mingi dragged his tongue across your own and over your top set of teeth just because he felt like it, before standing back up. “I bet you’re feeling real good now, baby. That was top shelf.” He spat into the palm of his hand and lubed up his cock, before patting your cheek and sliding himself back into the hot haven that was your throat, not wasting a single second to begin pumping himself inside it again, almost like he had never stopped.

Now that both your body and brain were delightfully clouded with a heavy, lustful high, you felt like you could cum just from getting ruthlessly throat-fucked alone, your nails digging into Mingi’s bare hips, more and more tears and saliva dripping along your flushed skin the longer he abused your tiny throat with his oversized length.

“Fuck, I can’t handle it when you cry and drool like that just from sucking my cock, baby. I’m gonna fucking cum,” Mingi groaned deeply from above you, rested his forearms against the emergency door, thrusting sloppily into your mouth. He let out a few short, whiny moans once he began to shudder, plunging his throbbing cock deep inside your throat and staying still. “Oh, shit, I’m cumming. Take my load, princess, ohh my god, that’s it.”

You swallowed the warm, salty liquid as it shot down your throat, only to open your mouth and present your tongue when Mingi pulled out and began to slowly milk his cock, taking the rest of his load on your tongue, not swallowing and simply letting it drip down, a few drops spilling down your chin and getting onto your tits.

“Mm, that’s my messy girl. You’re waiting for me to feed it to you, huh?” Mingi licked at his plush lips from witnessing your obedient nod, pushing his soft cock back into his pants and waiting for you to stand up so that he could collect some of the cum that had escaped your mouth and pushed it back into your mouth. “That’s right, babygirl, clean it all up for me. Mm-hmm, just like that.”

Once you slurped the rest of his load off of his fingers, you wrapped your arms around Mingi’s neck, pressing your heated body into his. “Mingiiii, please fuck me, I can’t take it,” you begged him underneath your breath, pressing your lips onto his neck up to his tense jawline.

“Oh, yeah? You can’t live without this dick, can you?” he questioned you huskily, bringing his wrists up to his mouth one by one to pull his gloves off with his teeth, before reaching past your waist to roughly squeeze his warm hands into your ass. When you grimaced up at him, he tugged your skirt up and spread your ass open to run his fingers down your wet slit from behind, making you whimper. “Admit it, and i’ll fuck you stupid, princess.”

Swallowing down any remaining dignity you had along with the remnants of your ex’s load, you lifted one leg up to hook it around his slim waist, allowing him easier access to you wet cunt, shuddering at the sensation of him shallowly slipping his fingers into and out of you just to tease you. “I can’t live without your cock, Mingi, okay? No one fucks me like you do, so please, make me yours.”

Mingi rubbed the abundant wetness around your cunt, licking his lips hungrily, staring down at you past his dark shades. “Right here? Right now?”

“Yes.”

“What if someone sees, princess?”

“I don’t give a fuck if someone sees, just fuck me, please!”

Mingi grinned crookedly, finding deep amusement in your desperation, considering how you were acting just a little while ago. “Where’s your car, baby?”

You pointed down the dark alleyway. “It’s just around the corner over there.”

Mingi looked over his shoulder, then picked you up from the ground, hooking both of your thighs around his waist and carrying you over to your car, massaging his hands into your thighs on the way. “I don’t have any condoms, you know.”

When Mingi laid you down on the hood of your car, the cool metal sending goosebumps up and down your exposed, heated skin, you shook your head and smiled softly. “When has that ever stopped you?”

“Don’t act like you don’t love when I fuck you raw, and leave you stuffed full of my cum…” Still in between your legs, Mingi bent down to leave kisses, licks, and bites along your neck and collarbone, lowering his pants down just enough to free his length, his slick cock growing hard and heavy against your bare cunt. “Fuck, and when I use my fingers to shove my nut back inside your cunt after…mm, I’m honestly surprised you’re not knocked up for me already…”

“Mingi,” you whined disapprovingly, despite the fresh wave of slick coating your ex’s cock as it repeatedly rubbed back and forth along your cunt.

“What, I thought you liked being my cumslut…my little breeding bitch…my pump n’ dump princess…” Mingi recited playfully, teasing your fluttering hole with the tip of his cockhead, just about driving you to the brink of insanity withi his teasing.

“Shut up, Min, oh my god…”

“Why don’t you shut me up then?” he suggested, hovering close enough to your face for you to pull him in for a desperate kiss that consisted mainly of tongue and teeth, your mouths occasionally making contact in between tongue swipes and lip bites, the both of you panting all the while.

Growing impatient, you slipped your fingers into his choppy hair, tugging his head back until your lips parted, a few strands of saliva still connecting them. “If you don’t put your cock inside me in the next two seconds, I’m going to bite it off. You hear me, Song Mingi?”

Groaning breathily when you tugged at his hair again, Mingi let out a few soft chuckles, taking his shades off and setting them down on the corner of the hood. “Using my government name like that….I must’ve teased you too much. My poor angel, so desperate for cock. I’ll fuck you good, baby. I’ll make it up to you,” he sighed, as he wrapped his fingers around his length, guiding the tip to your entrance and sliding all the way in with ease, the both of you letting out obscene moans. Without any hesitation, Mingi began to buck his hips wildly, his metal belt banging against the hood of your car with each thrust. “Oh, fuck. You feel that? Is it good for you?”

“Yes…!” you cried out, barely about to speak, let alone function, now that your beloved ex was rearranging your guts with his colossal cock.

Huffing, Mingi threw your legs up over his shoulders and laid his body weight on you, essentially folding you in half. He ran his tongue along your jaw, before nipping at it, whispering, “God, you’re always so fucking tight, princess. Gonna milk me for all I’ve got, huh? Cuz’ you’re my good little slut, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh, just for you, Minnie…”

“Mm-hmm, that’s why you’re still here even after you broke up with me earlier, baby…why you’re taking my cock on the hood of your car where anyone can see you…” Mingi continued, squeezing his hands into the plumpness of your thighs, getting a good grip on them, so that he could drive himself into you as hard as he possibly could, punching short, breathy moans out of you. “You sound so pretty for me, baby, and fuck, you’re so wet right now….You’re gonna cream all over my cock, aren’t you?”

As soon as it felt like Mingi’s oversized cock had slammed directly into your cervix, you let out an abrupt yell, an overwhelming amount of pleasure suddenly shooting through your body like lightning. “Fuck…! I’m cumming, Minnie, it’s so– oh my god.” You were gonna start whimpering and crying when Mingi gently placed his warm hand over your mouth, watching him nod his head knowingly at you, his suddenly softened gaze never leaving yours.

“That’s a good girl, such a good girl for me, Y/N,” Mingi sighed against your ear, the hot, wet sounds of your bodies colliding together and the ringing inside your ears almost too loud for you to hear him properly. Feeling your wetness pour out onto his cock, Mingi let go of your mouth and cradled your face instead, pressing slow, meaningful kisses onto your lips, a few drops of sweat dripping along the shaved sections of his hair just as your trembling fingers drifted along it. “Want it inside, yeah?”

“Yeah…” you whispered against his moving lips, not even realizing when you were clutching him impossibly close to you.

“That’s my baby…” Mingi pulled all the way out, your mixed arousal forming a milky foam around the base of his cock, before he slowly pushed all the way back in, just in time for him to paint your insides white with his seemingly endless load. He hugged you close to him all the while, pressing kiss and kiss onto your lips, face, and neck, knowing that your turbulent time together was about to come to an end, and wishing he could turn the clock back to spend another second with you.

Once your highs began to fade, you cleared your throat and slowly sat up, the both of you silently fixing your disheveled clothes and hair in a poor attempt to look presentable in the case of a random passerby.

“So…since you don’t have my keys, I’m not sure how I’m gonna get out of here,” you sighed, about to push yourself off of the hood of your car when Mingi helped you off instead, annoyed that he was suddenly acting gentlemanly when he had shown you nothing of the sort beforehand.

Smiling apologetically, Mingi fished around in one of his pockets and held your keys up to you. “I took them out of your purse before the show started.” Seeing the anger blossom on your pretty, flushed face, he continued, “Listen, I just wanted you to hear me out before you left and never came back to me, baby. I love you.”

You snatched the keys out of his hand and crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back to sit on the hood of your car, keeping your thighs pressed together to keep everything from leaking out of you. “You don’t get to say that after you just made me your ‘pump n’ dump princess’, you idiot.”

“But I didn’t dump you, Y/N. You’re the one who dumped me!” Mingi whined, his lower lip jutting out in a pout, his brown eyes growing wide and puppy-like.

You couldn’t help but begin to laugh, not only at the ludicrous situation you were both in, but at the truth of his statement. Wiping a tear from your eye, you clicked your keys to unlock your car and walked around to the driver’s side.

“Where are you going? Are you leaving me?”

“No, we’re going to the store to get Plan B, dummy. I’m not about to let Mingi Jr. run around and terrorize the city,” you replied, gazing at your ex, the sight of his childlike amusement making you feel a bit soft towards him.

“I call shotgun!” Mingi called, eagerly heading to the passenger door, practically bouncing on his heels.

“There’s only two of us,” you giggled, sitting down in the car with him.

“For now.” Mingi wiggled his eyebrows at you.

You turned the ignition on, shaking your head, the corners of your lips hurting from how long you had been smiling. “Never say that shit again.”

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[railingsofsorrow]

we'll be alright

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: the one where it's the team's night out after a few long weeks of work and you're finally relaxing... not really. because you have a secret that's brewing your insides out.

pairing: s.reid x f!reader

w.c: 2.4K

warnings/content: mentions of pregnancy symptoms; sleep deprivation; alcohol; jj being a good friend; discussion about choices; fearing one's reaction; yk spencer reid the best (only) man on earth.

A/N: I planned this to be a small drabble... anyways, enjoy this blurb while I finish up a few requests.

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

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“what are you doing?”

“chill, jj. I'm not drinking.”

you roll your eyes at the blonde casting you a suspicious look when she walks over. you don't know why she did it, to be honest. everyone seemed to be having fun over at the table, you just felt too uncomfortable and had to take a breath of fresh air outside. when you came back, you sat down by the counter, the bartender placed a red drink in front of you claiming it was from a guy across the bar. you didn't look, you didn't care. you push it aside with an eye roll and stick to the glass of soda you had previously ordered.

“are you okay?” her sympathetic voice is too much for you to bear right now, so you inhale sharply, actually thinking about downing that whole red drink in a go but you're one hundred percent sure certain jj would knock it off before it reaches your mouth. “sorry. I won't ask.”

“i'm just... confused.” you shrug, playing with the hem of the glass, tongue traveling over your lips. they are pretty dry, you can't remember the last time you drank water. “you don't have to keep an eye on me, jj. seriously, I'll be back in a second. I'm just... thinking.”

“have you told him?”

“no.”

her brows pull together. and before she can offer you her unwanted advice, you cut her off.

“don't tell me he has the right to know or anything like that. I know, okay? I know what I have to do, I know what I need to do. but I have a right to process everything on my own as well and I'm doing just fine doing that. for now.” you don't mean to snap, acknowledging the fact that jj means well, but you're tired of hearing obvious things about the situation and none of them did anything to help easing your nerves.

seems like people cared more about spencer's opinion on the matter rather than your own, when it is, in fact, a matter that you are carrying.

“i was gonna say take your time. you don't need to have it all figured out right this second.” you glance up at her, doubtful. jj gives your shoulder a squeeze and casts you a reassuring smile that almost sends you to jump in her arms to be coddled. “you're not on your own. I know it can be overwhelming, trust me, but you can talk to me anytime you want, okay? when you're ready.”

you smile for what felt like the first time in the night. relief swallowing down a bit of the nervousness rumbling through your chest.

“thanks, jayge,” you say.

jj gives you a wink. she leaves you alone after that and you enjoy a few minutes on your own when a familiar and welcoming touch trails down your back.

“you're quiet.” spencer eyes something above your head with hard eyes and his gaze immediately melts when it falls upon you.

“marking territory, doctor reid?” you tease, noticing the jealousy by his tells. his tries at being inconspicuous are foolish, but you like it.

he flushes red, clearing his throat and mumbling I don't know what you're talking about under his breath.

you hum, resting your chin against your palm as you look up at him. “i'm always quiet.”

“not like that.” spencer points out, tilting his head as his lips stretch into a soft smile. his gaze says I know you. you can't fool me. and he's 100% right, you can't. “is everything okay?” he questions, fingers grazing your upper arm in a way that it almost causes you close your eyes and give in to sleep right there. the truth is that you haven't been sleeping for three whole days. tossing and turning and feeding the nightmare in your head that all would go to shit. your relationship, you mean. the most solid thing you have going on for you, you'd screw that up. personally, you're a fan of facing the problem right away so you could get rid of it quickly. but this is neither a problem — not for you — nor you could fix it.

“i have something to tell you.” you swallow with difficulty. “but I- I don't know how.”

“okay.” he caresses your arm, brows knitting together in slight concern. “do you want to go home? is that okay for you?”

you sigh, hand traveling cross your face. “i don't want you to stop having fun because—”

“i wasn't having fun.” spencer is quick to cut you off albeit gently like he always is. “i was basically begging for you to call it a night so we could leave.”

a surprise laugh escapes out of you. you believe that.

“okay.” you nod, convinced. and a little less anxious to be honest. it's not like you'd say what you want to say in the middle of a crowded bar filled with drunk people. “yeah, we can, we can go home.”

“great.” he kisses your temple and waits for you to accompany him to your friend's table so you can bid your goodbyes. the first indication that something is off was your withdraw nature throughout the entire day. not that you weren't doing your job perfectly fine, you were. but your mind seemed to be elsewhere from the moment you stepped into the FBI headquarters to this very moment now. the second indication was when you said you'd get a drink and never came back. he found you by the bar with, in deed, a drink before you. then, he knew he had to say something.

“where are your keys?” spencer asks, adjusting the leather strap on his shoulder as you stride out of the pub. you lift the car keys between your fingers and he outreaches a hand towards it to which your eyebrows pull together in confusion. “you drank, didn't you?”

your face smoothes out in understanding, “no.” he regards you with uncertainty. “i didn't,” you repeat with an eyeroll. “i can't. I ordered that one but I didn't touch it. if you wanna drive though, be my guest.” he takes the keys in the first chance and you just chuckle softly, walking to the opposite side and entering the car. when you finally adjust yourself in the seat, you let out a long breath in relief. your feet are killing you as well as your head. not to mention the dizziness coming back and forth.

you don't open you eyes when something presses against your torso, you know it's spencer buckling up your seatbelt that you had forgotten.

“what did you mean by you can't drink?” the peaceful silence is broken by spencer's gentle tone. he'd look over at you every few minutes, trying to point out if the cause for your pale cheeks is the faint light of the car or something else. your eyes are shut but he knows you are not sleeping by the constant shifting in your seat.

“what?” you stumble on an answer and that's the best you are able to come up with.

“you said I can't.”

“you're correcting my misspellings now?”

spencer's eyes widen slightly. when the traffic light turns red, he quickly turns to you ready to apologise. but he sees your smirk and backs down, letting out a sigh.

“no,” he says, rolling his eyes. there is still something unsettling about your behavior, he can't point out what. sometimes it just happened, that feeling. he knew something was off without a single glance your way. the red light turned green before he can carry on speaking.

he does it anyway, though his eyes are stuck to the avenue and not on you as he plans to.

“are you okay?”

silence. and then,

“why do you ask?” your voice is soft, almost uncertain. you are hesitant and holding back. something is definitely wrong.

“you're withdrawal. you look tired and you didn't sleep well last night. I'm fairly sure you're a bit pale since this morning.” you're groaning beside him and spencer frowns. you finally arrive at your apartment and he takes a while to park before he turns the engine off. “are you sick? do you have the flu? migraines? cause we could have gone straight home tonight, you know that right? do you have a fev—”

“stop, spencer.” you mumble before his hands reach your forehead to check your temperature. you hate that he notices so much so fast. even though he's quiet about it, spencer is always paying attention. always. “it's not— I'm not sick. don't worry.”

“i'm still worrying.” he replies matter-of-fact, earning a scowl from you. he isn't phased. “should we go to the hospital?”

you huff like a five year old. “i just told you I'm not sick.”

“and I don't believe you.”

somehow, you wish he noticed more so you didn't had to say the truth out loud.

“i'm not sick.” your tone was sharp though you avoid it, it was just how it came out. you were sick of that subject.

spencer frowns. he stops himself before he could ask if you were sure of that statement.

“but I might get sick.” you utter under your breath, unsure about saying it out loud but you already did it. spencer turns to you after he takes off his shoes, a pet peeve of yours is that you hate dirty shoes around the apartment. there's always a few pairs of flipflops by the doorstep in case you have visitors. or they can just walk around in their socks, you had no problem with that, which is what spencer did. “... once in a while.”

“what is going on?” spencer approaches you slowly, his concern starting to create a thousand of theories inside his head. “really, I'm worried—”

“i'm pregnant.” you let out and release the breath you've been holding for what felt like hours. there. it's done. when you open your eyes, you don't look at him but walk straight in the direction of your room. spencer is hot on your heels. you just wanted to shower.

“what— you're— what do you mean?” his frantic voice almost makes you laugh if you weren't so tired with a headache brewing.

“i really need to take a long shower, spencer.”

“I—” he blinks, studying you for a moment before he swallows all of his questions and he sees. he sees what's going on and why your behaviour has been off these days. spencer's very observant, but sometimes he can let one or two hints wander off his radar. “okay.” he wants to hold you but he stays in his spot. if you want space, that's what he will give you. “do you need me to prepare you a bath?” he prays you say yes but you shake your head, entering the bathroom and shutting the door.

he lowers himself down on the edge of bed and stares at nothing as his thoughts swirls around the signs being thrown at his face the whole week. the morning sickness. not being able to stand the smell of any perfume. a sudden dizziness... fuck. how could he have been so clueless?

spencer admits he's always beeng good at physics and chemistry and statistics and he's constantly praised for picking up certain behaviours in his line of work, but he sucks at social cues and most of the times he misses the joke in a room or your sarcasm — though he's infinitely better at detecting that.

he takes pride in knowing you. your little quirks such as the way you press your lips together when you're uncomfortable or when you pick at your cuticles when something is on your mind during a case. he doesn't know how he didn't notice that. really, you spent most of your time together, both at work and outside of work. hell, spencer knows your period cycle. he makes sure to fill his pantry with your favourites sweet and sour snacks for that time of the month. it truly makes no sense how be could be so oblivious.

he knocks twice on the bedroom door, apprehensive and extremely careful. he's afraid by your latest reaction that you don't want him around.

it's actually the opposite.

“come in.” you're finishing getting dressed for the night. one of his old Caltech shirts slipping through your frame as he walks in slowly. you raise a brow in his direction, eyeing his figure standing by the doorway.

“i made you some peppermint tea. it's good for, hm, nausea.”

letting out a sigh at his hesitation, you lift a hand, silently asking him to come closer. “i'm not mad at you.” you clarify, breathing into his neck as he gently pulls you into his arms. “i was frustrated and tired and sore and sleepy. 'm sorry I was rude.” then, you chuckle awkwardly. “and sorry I dropped that bomb on you without a notice.”

he squeezes you, running a hand through your back. “don't be sorry. I understand.”

“are you mad?”

he pulls back a little, stunned that you even asked that. “what? why would I be mad?”

you shrug, meddling with the collar of his work attire he still hasn't taken off. “we didn't plan it. it's not ideal.”

spencer shakes his head, lifting your chin slightly to meet his gaze. “i don't care. I'm here for whatever you decide to do. there's no such thing as ideal.”

your mouth quirks up in the corners and you brush a honey brown curl behind his ear, fingertips trailing down his jaw.

“what?” he nudges your nose with his.

“i love you.” his grin is contagious and you can't help the laugh that bubbles out of you. you love him so much.

“and i love you.” you let out a shriek as he pulled you up in his arms, your feet being suspended from the ground. “hey,” he cups your cheeks lovingly. “we'll figure it out. together. alright?”

you nod, warmth flooding through your chest as you close your eyes and lean into his touch. “yeah, yeah, we will.” you mumble in the croak of your boyfriend's neck. “I love you.” you repeat just because you felt like it.

spencer mutters the same three words softly into the crown of your head. and you know everything will be alright.

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taglist: @lilyviolets ; @whore-for-spencer-reid ; @yeonalie ; @ninkieminjaj

[celenawrites]

Why do I wanna write roommate Simon/Ghost??

Roommate Simon who's gone for months at time, but always brings you sweets and trinkets from wherever he's been stationed while he's deployed. He looks at little souvenirs or remembers the dishes he's tried and he takes a mental note to get you something similar before he boards the plane to go back.

Roommate Simon who barely keeps in touch but is worried sick about you. Did you eat? Are you sleeping okay? Does your car need fixing again? Are you safe? Are you still getting nightmares? God, he wishes he was there to hold you while he eases you back into sleeping again.

Roommate Simon who encourages you to text him anyway, despite being busy on the job and unable to text/call you back. But the moment he's on leave, he takes his sweet time scrolling down his phone. You tell him about your day, you text him about your hardass professor, send him videos of you being horrendous at darts at the bar you and him usually go to whenever he's back from duty, show him pictures of all the cute puppies and kittens you find while you're out on a walk and beg him if he'd be amenable to getting a furry friend for the both of you. (Truth be told, if it's you who's asking, he'd pretty much lay down the entire world at your feet.)

Roommate Simon who comes back home to the smell of good food being cooked and you running up to him but stopping short a few feet away from him - hesitant to touch him, only for him to engulf you in a bone-crushing hug as he breathes you in. You smell safe. You smell clean.

You smell like home. Maybe you are his home.

He doesn't have a penchant for physical touch - recoils from anything that intimate faster than the guns he uses on the battlefield, but god forbid, he deprives himself from holding you. For this instant, when you're alive and safe (and still so lovely), and you breathe enough life in him for him to feel like Simon again and not just Ghost, he'd like to hold you in his arms for now.

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | mature | 1.5k | tags: friends with benefits, Eddie Munson is bad at feelings, but Steve makes him talk about them anyway, at least in metaphors, emotional hurt/comfort | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is letting yourself be loved by @quinns-shadowy-arts | AO3)

"Mm, where you goin'?”

Eddie winces at the sound of Steve's groggy voice calling to him from where he's still buried under sheets that smell of them. Of what they did between them just a few hours ago.

He didn't mean to fall asleep, but it was impossible not to with the comforting weight of Steve on top of him, wrapped in soft blankets and Steve's warmth and musky smell.

"Home. Go back to sleep." Eddie whispers softly, as if Steve will forget he's here if he's just quiet enough.

No such luck, for Steve Harrington is nothing if not persistent.

Strong hands that Eddie had just felt on his body earlier that night, their shape as familiar to him as his own, lift the blanket to reveal Steve's naked body. "Come back to bed, Eddie."

They don't do this.

Well, Eddie doesn't.

He's not the type to overstay his welcome, he'd rather leave by choice than be asked to.

Steve never asked him to leave, but he doesn't ask Eddie to stay either. At least not as bluntly as now. He usually approaches Eddie cautiously, like a feral dog you find chained to a fence. Feeding it scraps so it won't bite when you get close.

Steve has been feeding him scraps of warmth, of gentle touch and tenderness, of affection, for months.

And like a dog chained to a fence, Eddie is helpless but to take them. He's starving for it, deprived for so long that the mere promise makes him salivate. Willing to take whatever morsels of love and care Steve is willing to offer him, but never asking for more. Never trusting for more.

Never inviting Steve closer for fear that one day he'll bite. Not because he wants to, but because that's all he's learned.

Because it's the only way he's learned to survive.

"Steve," he begins, not knowing what to say next. Don't ask me that. Don't want me to stay. Don't want me.

Don't love me.

The room is dark because Eddie didn't turn on the light when he slid out of bed looking for his clothes. The only light is the moon shining through Steve's window, but it's enough to illuminate Steve's face.

He doesn't look dejected at Eddie's rejection, doesn't look angry or sad or irritated.

The look on his face is painfully soft, not pity, but understanding and sorrow.

Steve throws the blanket completely off his body and climbs out of bed as well, his movements slow but determined. Eddie could just turn and walk away and Steve would let him. Probably would not even mention it again.

He never does. He never asks Eddie why he always leaves right after, the sweat on their bodies still warm on their heated skin and the marks of eager hands and mouths still to be seen.

Eddie doesn't know why, but today is different. Maybe it is because they fell asleep together for the first time, Steve's face buried in his neck and his soft hair tickling Eddie's nose. Their limbs intertwined, their skin fused by sweat and cum and a magnetic pull Eddie doesn't want to name.

A warm hand reaches for his own, cold from standing naked in Steve's room in the middle of the night. Steve reaches for his other hand, too, and warms it between his, like when they were out at the quarry and Eddie forgot his jacket again.

"Why do you keep running away from me?" Steve asks, his voice as soft as his face. Eddie knows Steve isn't asking to hurt him.

It still hurts. It reminds him that he's a coward who keeps running away. Steve may have been changed by all that Upside Down crap, but not Eddie, oh no.

Eddie Munson was still a coward. Running away and hurting anyone who dared care about him, just like his father.

Searching for words, but for once at a loss for them, he looks at Steve helplessly. A pit forms in his stomach, telling him that if he doesn't get this right, he might lose Steve. At least the Steve who kisses him softly and holds him like he's precious while he falls apart in his arms, gasping and moaning and shaking because nothing can feel this good and yet it does. Every. Single. Time.

He can't even fathom the thought, the idea of a life without Steve in it.

"'m sorry," he mutters, defeated.

He's pulled in by Steve's hands until they're so close their chests almost touch, Steve's face inches from his. So close, he can see the moonlight in his eyes and the hickey Eddie carelessly left on his neck, right above his favorite twin moles.

"Don't be. Just... tell me what you're so afraid of? Because every time I think... every time I let myself think that maybe you want this, too, you pull away. Even further away than you were before. I feel like if I let you walk out that door right now, I won't see you for a week, won't be able to touch you the way I want to, need to, for a month."

It's hard to hold Steve's gaze, but Eddie thinks he wouldn't be able to look away if a portal to the Upside Down opened right next to them.

"If you don't want me, or if you," a deep breath, as if the next part is going to hurt, "if you can't love me, then that's okay. It's okay, Eddie, I promise. You can tell me."

The way Steve's voice wavers at those words tells a different story, but he holds Eddie's gaze with the same kind of stubborn bravery with which he faced down monsters.

And that's the last straw for Eddie. To know that Steve thinks he's the problem. Acting like not loving him was ever an option for Eddie.

"Ever hear of the butterfly effect?"

Steve shakes his head, his eyebrows knitted together in an adorable expression of confusion.

"It basically says that something as small as the flap of a butterfly's wings can potentially set off a chain of events that could lead to a major change in the weather and create a hurricane, for example."

When Steve still looks like he has no idea why Eddie is telling him this, Eddie takes Steve's face in his hands and with the same courage he used to face a swarm of demonic bats, Eddie tells him, "When you came into my life, that was my butterfly effect. It changed everything. For the better. You are my butterfly, Steve Harrington, the flap of your wings changed the trajectory of my life."

"But why -"

"You're my butterfly, but I'm afraid I'm your hurricane."

The words are between them now, out in the open, his mouth giving birth to his fears.

Steve keeps looking at him, though, his expression thoughtful, processing everything Eddie just said. It's fascinating to watch a myriad of emotions wash over his beautiful face until, after a long moment, it settles on a smile that looks dangerously like hope.

"Me being in your life means that much to you?" Steve asks and Eddie decides that Steve deserves to know without the slightest doubt.

"It means everything."

"But you're afraid that... if you let me in, you'll hurt me?"

"That's what I do."

Steve hums as he processes this.

"Have you ever thought that maybe the butterfly needs the hurricane to fly because it needs the wind under its wings?"

He beams at Eddie after saying this, as if he has cracked the case, and his hands settle over Eddie's, still cupping his face. Eddie wants to argue with him, but the more he thinks about it, the more he starts to think that Steve is right.

"You changed my life too. Without you, I might never have kissed a boy. Without you, I might be working meaningless jobs until I retire instead of finally doing what I wanted to do in life and applying to community college to become a teacher. Without you, I might still be living under my parents' thumb, never standing up for myself."

"They kicked you out, you had to couch hop for months," Eddie argues, but it only makes Steve smile brighter, his thumbs rubbing soothingly along the back of Eddie's hand.

"Yes, I have, but Eddie, don't you see? You help me fly! You make it easy to fly because your wind carries me."

And Eddie never looked at it that way. Maybe he has to start.

He'll have to think about it without Steve's beautiful face in front of him and his warm, tempting body inches from his own. But he already feels something loosening in his chest, his heart lighter than before.

Kissing Steve gently, as gently as a summer breeze, he links their hands and pulls Steve back to the bed. They slide under the covers, the hurricane enveloping the butterfly in it's warm embrace.

Maybe the hurricane can be loved by the butterfly, Eddie thinks as he drifts off, wrapped around Steve.

Stranger things have happened.

[hotnbloodied]

Yan!Loser X Reader

!Warning! This post contains yandere themes and topics that may be uncomfortable to people who are sensitive to the topic, read at your own discretion.

TW: kidnapping, drugging, non-con kissing and touching, stalking, mentions of axe body spray.

!!READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!! MINORS DNI!!

Pt. 2

It was around lunch time and you were on your way to your university’s canteen. You normally had lunch a little later to avoid the crowds but today you couldn’t hold your hunger in at all and you needed to get something to eat. In doing so the canteen was packed and by the time you had gotten some food all the tables seemed full. You scanned around for a little bit before noticing a small table that only had one person sitting at it. A guy with a small frame and black baggy clothes with messy unkempt hair. Without thinking too much about it you walked over. “Hey sorry to bother, would you mind if I could just sit here and eat?” You asked.

He looked like he jolted a little and looked at you like he'd seen a ghost. “Y-yeah…” Not much of a response, but that didn’t stop you from going ahead and sitting down to start devouring your food. After you were finally satiated you looked over cause you felt like someone was watching you and needless to say, his eyes were glued on you.

“Uh, do I have something on my face?” You asked him. His face whipped away. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.” You laughed and told him it wasn’t a big deal. “What’s your name anyway? I’m (y/n), majoring in (major).” He raised his head to look at you again. “I’m Lester, I’m a biology major…” “That’s awesome!” You look at the time. “I should probably head out, my next class starts soon. See you around though!” Little did you know that your small act of kindness would come back to haunt you.

A couple of weeks pass and you seem to be seeing Lester more and more around campus. (Totally not because he’s trying to learn your schedule at all.) You don’t pay too much mind to it though considering a new friend is always nice. (As if he’d allow you to just be friends with him.) The two of you exchanged social messaging information which turned into an easy way for Lester to keep tabs on you. (You really should be careful about how you share your information.) You didn’t notice the increase of interaction from Lester, you were too sleep deprived and worried about school to notice which he’s grateful for since it’ll make it easier to make plans. Lester was a patient man, he knows how to make a pay off extra sweet.

You learn a bit more about Lester, even though he has a messy appearance he actually is a relatively neat person. He seemed to shower regularly and his clothes weren’t being reworn, but he only chooses to use axe body spray at his age for some reason. He doesn’t seem to have many friends cause, shocker, he’s an extreme introvert; Which makes you pity him which he fully knows and uses to play into to get your trust. With that trust he invites you over to his house, apparently his parents are in the science field as well and as long as Lester keeps his grades up they’d let him do whatever. The two of you would hang out and study at his place.

Six months had passed in a blink of an eye and the two of you were watching a movie together, it wasn’t that late but you felt extremely sleepy for some reason. The two of you just ate dinner that Lester cooked. “Hm? What’s wrong (y/n)? Are you tired?” “Haha, yeah I don’t know why. Maybe I was more tuckered out with finals than I thought.” “Why don’t you stay over? You’re more than welcome to spend the night.” You didn’t reply to Lester, it was because the sleeping pills he slipped into your drink worked like wonders and you were out like a light. Lester slowly dragged your body to his room and laid you on his bed. Chains were ready for you as he securely bound you to them. He loomed over your sleeping body in his bed, he couldn’t keep the excitement in his pants at bay. He took advantage of your lips and dry humped your leg, imagining what it would be like to finally be able to become one with you. Oh if only you knew how love sickness ran in his family. How that’s how his mom ensnared his dad and how having his ground and alibi covered was a learned family skill. No one will find you and you two will live happily together, forever. <3

Pt. 2

Lester <3

[hanbinniesmango]

First Kiss with Nct Dream (hyung line)

kyy note//: im like sleep deprived rn, but let’s not stop the grind🤭💗 anyways hope ya like ittt

mark: you guys are watching a movie after a long day out, you guys been laughing at scenes, cringing, and almost crying, and when talking about crying, it’s mostly you. the movies been going on for a while now, you both have ate your snacks and are now practically cuddling up near each other with the soft blankets lay atop both of you. the movie isn’t rated r at all, it’s rather more on the emotional side. you guys are watching it happily until a kissing scene comes up. the kissing on the screen is pretty intimate. it’s not marks fault that thoughts of you and him recreating that scene bubble up in his little head. he shifts in his seat and blush starts to dust his cheeks, he starts biting his lip contemplating if he should ask you. he’s watching you watch the movie happily. it’s almost like he’s studying you. studying the way you also blush, the way you did your hair today, the way smile slightly at the certain parts, the way you turn to to look at him when you see him staring at you. snap out of it mark! ask her! “can i..” he glances down to your lips, you looking at his and back at his eyes. “can i kiss you?…please?” he finally says with an exhale. “i would really like that now.” you say with a smile before he dives into your lips, kissing them gently. then your arms are around his neck, and his caressing your face lovingly. something’s telling you both this won’t be only a one time thing.

renjun: you somehow end up asleep on his lap, your phone by your side and his in his hand. he’s now pausing the video he was on to look down at you. he’s smiling at the comfortable state you’re in, your soft breathing, your placid face, not to admit the way you hug up to him, the fact that you even feel comfortable doing stuff like this with him! he’s just renjun, just plain old renjun. wait. why is he thinking about this, you’re his best friend, why is he staring at you with such intent?? he tries to catch himself, but you seem to have other plans. “renjun?…” you open your eyes and say, eyes darting up to the ones staring back above you. you see the way he’s looking at you, it isn’t just aimless, it’s full of something, and you’re sure you’re starting to feel it too. you both look each other in the eyes, he gets closer to your face. should he do it? what if— you lean up and connect your lips with his. he pulls away. he then goes back in for another, then another, then— now you guys are making out. woohoo!

jeno: you guys are a new couple and have been dating for at least 2-3 weeks now, but you’ve wanted to take it slow and be careful with it. you didn’t want to move too fast and mess something up so that’s how it’s been for the past weeks. you guys are out on a date at the park, somewhere with a beautiful outside exterior. the sun is shining on you, the flowers are bloomed fully, the birds are singing out, and there are kids laughing and playing around in the distance. you both are sitting on a park bench watching some kids play tag in the area, before he gets up. he walks off and crouches down in front of a flower bed. you tilt your head at him, wondering what he could be possibly doing. “what are you doin, nono?” you say with a hint of confusion. he pulls something up and then comes back over to you with a sweet smile. he holds a colorful flower near your face, it’s so beautiful. “i wonder who the real flower is?” he says. you giggle, finding his cheesy line funny. he then puts the flower behind your ear and caresses your cheek gently whilst staring at you lovingly. you look back up at him, leaning into his touch. he smiles wide before swiping his thumb over your bottom lip. “you’re so beautiful, sweets.” he mumbles out. “thanks ba—“ he leans down to kiss you, you freezing but then you start moving your lips with him. both of your lips moving slowly together. what a beautiful day.

haechan: he’s over at your place and you both are just chatting it out as usual. just one of those hours of the day where you both gossip, rant, talk about old times, shows, humor it out. it started out with you both talking about some old memories that happened at your younger ages, that one time when you fell of your bike and cried until you felt like you couldn’t cry anymore. you actually don’t know why you cried, either because you scuffed your knee or because you failed at riding and haven’t touched a bike since then. don’t know though! he laughs with you, agreeing with your stories, maybe disagreeing because he feels as if you’re making fun of him at certain parts. such a baby. he starts telling the dumbest jokes, even worse, they’re dad jokes. you groan out at most of them, sometimes cringing, then also laughing because you find his corny little jokes humorous. you guys then start talking about your love life in the past and nowadays. you tell him about how you haven’t found your special person yet and you’re just waiting for them to fall out the sky. ‘what if your special person was right in front of you this whole time? what if you didn’t have to wait?’ he thought all of a sudden. his eyes start trailing down to your lips, him watching your plush lips move, imagining how it would feel on his. while he’s zoned out on your lips you start to notice he’s not paying attention to you talking. you’re about to clear your throat to gain back attention, but then you see what all his attention is going to. your lips. was he watching you talk, just to see the way your lips were moving? affirmative! “haechan?” you speak out, snapping him out of his trance. he sends you multiple apologies trying to cover up until you ask him, “do you wanna kiss me channie?” and suddenly it’s quiet. that doesn’t stop him from nodding his head though. with a smile and some pink, dusted cheeks you both kiss and to you guys surprise, you both like it. it won’t hurt to steal another right?

[lksvi]

solar flares & soft lips

𝆹⭒ re4r!leon kennedy x gn!reader

⏜ ‎ ◯𝆹⭒ synopsis — teaching leon how to apply skincare before he leaves for a mission is a domestic setting you both need. when he comes home, he finds he missed it more than he thought.

𝆹⭒◯ ⏜ content — fluff, i wrote this very very sleep deprived, post and pre re4r, no uses of [name], tried a different writing style i think, this is just really soft, leon is a rich man

⏜ ‎ ◯𝆹⭒ word count — 1.4k

𝆹⭒◯ ⏜ note — i love leon kennedy so much :( literally so so in love with him. this was so soft i love it

𝆹⭒ masterlist

When Leon first saw you doing your skincare routine, he found it unneccessary. Luxuries, even ones as simple as skincare items, were scarce in his house. Despite him owning a mansion, the inside was bare. It only looked decorated from the outside— A husk.

Leon was on the move most of the time. Settling down was an odd feeling. Adrenaline pricking his skin, waiting for the next time he'd have to move. Especially on missions. He's accustomed to carrying around only what was necessary. He discarded what wasn't, leaving him with few items. 

This translated over into his personal life, too. He keeps only what he deems necessary, having very few items that are for his own enjoyment. Sometimes, he'll splurge on a new cologne or a jacket for himself, but it isn't often.

But he doesn't mind spoling you.

Leon has more than he knows what to do with. Anything he sees you looking at, he's not hesitating to buy it. A new skincare set had been a recent buy. He had bought you all new products after you told him yours were running low. You protested at first, but Leon is tenacious.

He sees how excited you are to use it, anyway. He thinks he's more excited to see you excited. Leon's always thought you were cute whenever you show off the new items he bought you. A ghost of a smile curls on his lips as he nods, soaking in every word. Listening to you talk is something he could do all day, every day.

What he doesn't expect is for you to ask to try the new skincare products out on him. He's taken aback, a furrow in his eyebrows. Nude-colored lips part, eyes narrow. "Me?" He asks, as if he didn't hear you right. A roll of your eyes accompanies a brush of blond hair out of his eyes. "Yes, you, silly." You grin up at him.

Leon shakes his head, a huff of a laugh escaping him. "Why not on yourself?" He asks. Your bottom lip juts out in a pout, one that he isn't immune to. "I want to see how well they'd work on your skin," You answer. A narrow of your eyes at his smooth flesh has the corner of his lip twitching up in a smile. "Even if it is perfect."

He huffs out another laugh. Perfect skin had always come natural Leon, much to your chagrin. "Alright," He agrees. As if he was ever going to disagree. Your exclamation of a cheer has him rolling his eyes in affection.

You guide him to sit on the edge of the bathtub, pulling out a headband. He quirks a brow, looks between it and you, and sighs. Rejection doesn't come as you thought it would. Slipping the headband over his neck, you tug it to pull his hair back. The sight causes a giggle to spill from your lips. Colbat eyes shoot you a playful glare.

"Is this necessary?" Leon asks, glancing up at the headband and then back towards you. You roll your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips, and nod your head. "Of course it is, Leon," You answer, attempting to keep a serious tone. Your poor attempt at stifling a giggle doesn't go unnoticed by Leon. "Don't wanna get any product in your hair, right?"

He grunts, the only answer you get, before you're opening the moisturizer. You dollop small dots onto his cheeks, his chin, the edge of his nose, and then his forehead. You rub it into his skin, making sure to be gentle. You know Leon could handle rough touches, but you don't want to hurt him. Even if he can take it.

Leon can't deny how calm this feels. The gentle domesticity of it all, of you putting moisturizer on him; the moisturizer he bought you. He leans into your touch, chasing it when you pull away. He stays still, doesn't speak. Instead, he observes.

You've always been gentle. He thinks it's a trait you were born with. Leon can't imagine you as anything but gentle. Even when you're teasing him, playful banter you two shoot back and forth, you're gentle. You never say anything that would set him off. You're careful with what you say, avoiding words you know will upset him.

Born and raised as careful, delicate.

You're the polar opposite of Leon.

He was not brought up delicate. Rough enviorments have been normal to him since childhood. In fact, if his enviorment isn't rocky in some way, he's skeptical. It's one of the reasons he was hesitant to go further with you in your relationship. Scared that it'd be rocky like everything else in his life.

Like you'd leave him as everyone else has.

He's taken out of his thoughts at a cold serum on his face. It drips down his cheek, pursuit cut short as you wipe it with your thumb. You massage the serum into his face, smooth skin easy to maneuver under your hands. A gentle sigh leaves Leon's lips. When you pull away, he's in an almost daze.

"I could get used to this," He muttered. The confession has a grin curling on your lips, a mischevious twinkle in your eyes. "Oh, yeah?" You ask. His slight nod is all the confirmation you need, pressing a thumb against his jaw, gentle. "If you were home more often, we could be doing this every day."

You knew he was busy, though. You didn't know the true nature of his job, much less what he did while he was away. Leon was only allowed to tell you so much. But you took it in stride. Missing Leon had become a feeling you'd grown accustomed to. An ache in your heart soothed by the sight of Leon at your front porch.

Before he left, you were always trying to spend as much time with him as you could. Cleaning with him, cooking, washing the dishes. Any task to get you a little extra time. Each morning before his departure, you cuddle in his arms, get yourself as close as you can. You try to remember his heart beat, the pattern of his breathing, the river of veins flowing along his skin.

The last time he left, you had bought him a gift of your own. Mini travel-sized bottles of your skin-care, all fitting in a small bag. "Something to remember me by," You said, smile on your lips. Leon, ever so grateful, smiled. His thumb brushed across your knuckles.

"How could I forget you?"

You didn't expect Leon to continue the small routine without you. Being away for missions, ones he couldn't tell you about, gave you an idea that he had little to no free time. Still, he does try. He uses it late at night when he can't sleep. He knows it won't fall asleep, but he misses you, and this is the closest he can get for now.

He tries to mimic your fingers, calloused pads massaging his skin the way he remembers you doing it. His don't feel as good, though. Your hands are more gentle than his are, not rough from years of work experience. His hands have rough callouses, despite his use of gloves.

Still, you're happy to smell your products on his face when he gets home. Your small laugh is a welcomed reprieve from his thoughts of the mission. "You're wearing my skincare," You muse, eyes trailing over his skin. There was no difference, but the light smell was there, and the knowledge that he had used it.

"Of course I am," Leon replied, as if it was obvious. Intertwining a hand with yours, he brings it to his mouth. Faint stubble scratches against the back of your hand. The smile on his face is clear, and despite having seen it many times, you'll never get over it. He kisses each knuckles of yours, chapped lips pressed against the flesh. He's missed this. Missed you and your touch.

Spain was difficult. It had been long and treacherous, testing his commitment (as if there was anything to test) to his country. He can't tell you what happened, but none of it matters now. Not when he's holding you in his arms, faint smell of moisturizer linging on your cheek.

He'll never get tired of this. Coming home to you, holding you. Loving you.

If there's one thing Leon is more sure about than anything in his life, it's his heart that beats for you. His soul that has pieces of yours in the sound of your laugher and the feeling of your hands.

His heart beats to the rhythm of your laugher. Loving you is muscle memory. He doesn't think about it. He doesn't question it.

Leon Kennedy loves you, and he will love you for the rest of his life.

[star-writez]

Jax x depressed gn angst to fluff

(This oneshot was requested by a user on wattpad so if you want to let yourself be known)

(Anyways enjoy!)

~2nd person pov~

Jax has always had a crush on you and it was quite obvious to everyone

Well...Accept you of course

You were the only person he was actually somewhat nice to you

Yes he still teased you a little here but he was still super friendly to you

You two were best friends and you two were basically inseparable

But lately it's been different

You started staying in your room more and you started acting more hopeless and empty on the inside

Which was weird cause you always were full of happiness and hope for life even when it got rough

Jax was quite cornered by this point

It's already been a week since you started acting like this

So jax decided to finally do something about this

Jax was walking down the hallway looking for your room

He had only been to your room a few times but he couldn't really remember that much about it

Jax continued to walk picking up his pace getting more worried

It was weird for jax to act like this most of the time jax acted like a jerk but he was actually...acting sort of nice?

After he finally found your door he pulled out a key

He had keys to everyones rooms which was actually a good thing in this instance

Jax finally unlocked your door quickly running into your room

"Hey y/n are you in here?" jax asked quickly looking around trying to find you

Starting to get a little cornered again

But after a few seconds you came out from under your blanket

"Hey...." you said looking very miserable and a total mess

"Oh my god y/n you look like a total mess!" jax exclaimed still seeming very cornered "are you actually concerned about me?" you asked seeming a tiny bit shocked that jax could actually act nice "of course I am you're my friend!" jax said crossing his arms getting a little annoyed you thougt he didn't care about you "I know...I know...." you said yawning and rubbing your eyes looking very sleep deprived "are you ok y/n?....you look absolutely miserable?" jax asked putting one of his gloved hand on your cheek making you look at him "just...a little bit tired and depressed..." you said sighing again blushing a tiny bit at the physical touch "why didn't you tell me?!" jax asked getting annoyed again not wanting you to suffer in silence "well I didn't want to bother you..." you said sounding very guilty trying to look away but jax had a tight grip on your cheek "you never annoy me y/n...I want to tell me if you are ever struggling with anything...I'm here for you...." jax said his words sounding very genuine like he REALLY cared for you "ok...." you said still blushing a little feeling a tiny bit better now that jax was here "this may sound a bit weird but um...can I give you some cuddles?" jax asked becoming a bit awkward realizing that maybe he shouldn't have said anything "....that actually sounds very nice....sure" you said starting to smile softly

Jax started to get a tiny bit excited then he scooped you up in his arms carrying you over to your messy bed sitting you down then he sat down rapping his arms around you keeping you close to him

"I hate it here....I wish I could leave" you said pausing for a moment as you looked at him directly in the eyes "but... being with you makes me actually feel slightly happiness..." you said starting to smile again but then jax became a dark shade of crimson becoming very flustered at your words but he didn't look away he just stared back at you

There was a awkward silence for a minute or two but then jax spoke up finally

"Do you uh...um.......love me?" jax asked becoming very flustered and awkward again "yes....yes I do..." you said starting to blush s lot again being overwhelmed by emotions

"Do you love me?" you asked your eyes starting to sparkle a little as you continued to blush your heart pounding quickly

"I love you a lot..." jax muttered not used to loving someone or even being loved his ears trying to cover his face seeming slightly embarrassed then you grabbed his face giving him a quick but loving kiss which made jax's heart melt (not literally don't worry)

"So does this mean we're like officially together?" jax asked seeming a little confused not really knowing how relationships really work

"Yes does does mean we're together..." you said holding jax close to you hurrying your face in his chest which made him wrap,his arms around you trying to keep you as close as possible

After a few minutes you finally fell asleep getting the sleep you obviously needed

Jax sighed looking down at you smiling softly

"Sleep well darling...."

[freakspectors]

HELUVAKINKTOBER: DAY 3 - BUKAKKE.

A Chuuya Nakahara | BSD x Female Reader Smut Fanfic.

warnings ; smut , bukakke , sex toys , mutual masturbation , degradation , praise if you squint , overstim if you get a magnifying glass , dazai mention (you can't escape him) , minor crack , nowhere near proofread , it's 1 AM on a school night please don't mind errors.. , etc .

author's note ; girl i feel so dumb. like mid fic writing i re-looked up bukakke and found out it was MULTIPLE MEN cumming on someone's face when i couldve sworn it was just one person. IM SO EMBARRASSED. but anyways.. i'm half awake, if this is horribly written, i'm sorry, and if you find it funny, thank you. i'm funniest when I'm sleep deprived.

heluvakinktober 2023 m.list .

“Fuck yeah, Doll. Touch yourself just like that..”

Chuuya moaned, leaning back into the cool leather of his office chair. You continued to ride the Dildo under his desk, rubbing tight circles on your puffy clit as the Executive before you stroked his length right before your eyes. His strokes were languid, almost teasing. You felt your mouth and pussy moisten at the sight of pre-cum coating the tip of Chuuya’s penis, the warm lighting of his small lamp making it shine beautifully.

He taps his cock on your right cheek, chuckling as a sticky ‘plap’ sound is heard in the obnoxiously silent room. You were fighting your thoughts — the urge to wipe the wet feeling off your cheek and lick it up, finally getting a taste of the redhead on your tongue. Chuuya interrupted your thoughts immediately, as if he were an empath.

“If you move your hands anywhere other than that pretty pussy of yours, there will be some punishments; and I don’t think you want that. Do ya, love?” Chuuya asked. His tone was insincere, shamelessly mocking you with a wide smile plastered on his annoying face. You wanted to retort, but god, were his reprimands attractive. You whine out a defeated ‘No’, sighing as a boisterous laugh rang in your ears. “Good girl. Now ‌keep bouncing f’me.”

Jackass. There was absolutely no wonder why that Dazai fucker hated his guts; who would like this son of a bitch?

That’s what your mind said. Your body, however, quaked for him. Your pussy pleaded for Chuuya’s dick, fingers, tongue, anything other than the cheap plastic he had made you ride. It was pathetically obvious, too, the once pristine tiled floors now coated in a pool of your slick. You wished for Chuuya's sick and twisted game to end, for him to fold you in half and have sex with you until you were senseless—

You hadn’t noticed how sensitive you made yourself while you were fantasizing about Chuuya like a schoolgirl, your clit raw and cunt mush from how hard you pleased yourself. You could’ve cummed just now and you wouldn’t be aware of it. But you couldn’t stop. Your body wouldn’t let you, not after the gorgeous sight before your very eyes.

Chuuya looked disheveled. He leaned all the way back in his chair, his hands tangling in his copper locks as his chest heaved while staring down at you. His moans got louder, louder, and louder, sure to worry anyone that so passed by the Executive’s office. Your gut was put on a spin cycle, the tight feeling in your abdomen returning for the umpteenth time that evening. You flicked, spun, and rubbed your clit as quickly as you could without it hurting, until his left, gloved hand gripped you by the hair and pulled your hair back.

“Open your fucking mouth, baby. I’m gonna glaze you so goddamn much you’d qualify as a fuckin’ donut — Oh, fuck..” the Executive groans. His words were so quick, you could barely understand his sentences. But words hadn’t been the reason for your nearing climax, no. How he handled you so roughly, the way he spoke to your quivering body. It was all too much to handle and process; soon enough, you’d reach the peak of your arousal.

It did. It hit you like a bullet train.

Thick, creamy white globs gushed around the dildo as you clenched around it, moaning out Chuuya’s name as if it was he you were riding like Paul-fucking-Revere. The redhead curses your name, visibly close to his own arrival. You could count how many times his cock twitched before he came; it was almost like everything was in slow motion.

One.

“FUCK.. Take it all, bitch, I want every drop of my cum on your face..”

Two.

“You’re gonna look like such a slut after all this.. I’ll take so many pictures of you just like this and — Shit!”

Three.

And your vision goes black. Well, white.

@ HELUVAKU 2023 . do not share or repost .

[sluttywonwoo]

In the mood to be ravaged by Minsung 😩😩

um. idk where this came from. goodnight.

word count: 1.2k

details: smut (mdni), threesome, oral, degradation, frat!au, toxic behavior

“hold her down,” minho sneers at his best friend, watching you with his arms crossed over his chest.

jisung mutters something under his breath but complies anyway, straddling your hips and pinning your wrists above your head on the mattress.

minho seems satisfied enough with that and squats down next to the bed so that he’s at eye level with you. you refuse to look at him, knowing your bratty behavior won’t get you anywhere, but you’re too proud to give him what he wants.

you’ve been fucking minho for, oh, a couple of months now. on and off. he’s good in bed but doesn’t want to be tied down, etc. etc. like every other frat guy you’ve ever met. except for jisung. unlike minho, jisung actually did seem to want to get to know you. he took you out on dates. he texted you goodnight. he didn’t have a snapchat account.

“i didn’t know he was your best friend,” you insist bitterly, glaring at jisung.

the only person who could’ve known and likely knew you were sleeping with both men was jisung. you’re trying to get a read on him, which is why you’re staring him down, but he maintains eye contact and stays stoic, not giving any indication as to whether or not your suspicion is correct.

minho snorts. “i don’t believe you.”

“he’s way too nice for anyone to assume he’s associated with you.” well, the position he had you in now wasn’t very nice but it was turning you on.

minho full-on laughs this time which gets you to finally turn your head in his direction. “nice? han jisung?”

“is that his last name?” you ask, looking back to the man in question who nods in affirmation. “then yes. he’s perfectly nice.”

“would someone perfectly nice fuck you behind their best friend’s back?”

“sure,” you say, shrugging to the best of your abilities with jisung on top of you. “i’m not anyone to you. we’re not exclusive, we’re not even a ‘we’. you text me when you’re horny, sometimes i respond. and vice versa. how could jisung have known we were sleeping together unless you told him? and even then, how could he have known how weird you’d get over it?”

“she ever talk back to you like that?” minho asks jisung, completely ignoring your little monologue.

for the first time, jisung looks nervous. he opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off before he does. “he likes it,” you say.

jisung’s cheeks flush even pinker and he averts his eyes from his best friend’s, all but confirming what you’ve just claimed.

“he likes being bossed around,” you continue, as if the poor man’s grave hasn’t been dug deep enough. “why do you think he spends so much time with you?”

minho makes a sound in the back of his throat, annoyed. “so you like having it both ways? being used like a slut and having one of your own?”

“see, you get it.”

“oh, i get it, alright,” he spits, standing back up. “ji, take your pants off.”

“wha- right now?”

“unless you don’t want to fuck her?”

“no i do, i do…”

he scrambles up and starts unbuckling his belt, fumbling with the clasp. you reach out to for him, your hands now free, and touch him gently.

“don’t feel pressured to do anything, baby. we can do this later, just us if you’d rather.”

jisung lifts his head to meet your gaze, smirking. his eyes, usually so bright and sparkly, have gone completely dark. it catches you off guard. “and let him have you all to himself? yeah right.”

you shake your head adamantly. “that’s not- i was just-”

“undress her,” minho interrupts, his voice echoing out from the corner of the room.

jisung finishes getting his own jeans off before moving on to you. you make it easier for him by lifting your hips so he can pull your pants off and then do the same with your arms for your shirt.

minho undresses himself, depriving you of the sight as he does it while you’re distracted by his best friend.

“min…” jisung murmurs when joins you both on the bed.

“hm?”

“can i… taste her?”

minho smirks and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. of course he was loving this. sure, doing this with jisung meant he had to share you, but it also meant he had another person to dominate. figures the power would go straight to his dick head as soon as he learned jisung would listen to his commands.

minho cocks his head to the side, pretending to think about it. “how badly do you want it?”

jisung gulps before answering, eyes falling between your thighs. “so bad.”

“fine, you can.”

“thank-”

“but only over her panties.”

jisung’s eyes go wide. “but-”

“take it or leave it.”

jisung whines, barely audible, but doesn’t protest further.

“sorry, baby,” he says to you, pouting as he parts your legs and lowers his head between them.

your hands fly to his hair the instant you feel his tongue on you, pushing his face further into your pussy. jisung moans against you which makes you moan in turn.

you don’t remember closing your eyes but when you open them, minho’s got his cock in his hand, squeezing it gently as he watches the two of you. he notices you looking at him and grins lazily.

“feel good?”

“uh huh…”

“jisung’s good at that, isn’t he?”

“mhm…”

“better than me?”

you blink at minho and frown. “i don’t—”

“i mean, he doesn’t seem to be making you scream right now so i can draw my own conclusions.”

“you’re an asshole,” you scoff.

he shrugs. “an asshole that can make you cum really, really hard.”

you want to point out that he’s purposely put jisung at a disadvantage by making him eat you out through your underwear but you don’t. instead, you focus the feeling of jisung workig you closer and closer to the edge with his tongue.

“don’t let her cum, ji.”

you both groan at that.

“no, no, no i’m so close. please don’t stop,” you plead, trying to trap him in place with your thighs around his head.

jisung freezes, unsure of who to listen to.

“please, baby, i’m right there,” you try again.

timidly, jisung nudges your clit with his tongue a couple more times, just enough to send you over. but minho yanks his best friend away as it washes over you, effectively ruining the orgasm and making you cry out in frustration as you clench around nothing.

“‘m sorry,” jisung mumbles.

“save it. get her on all fours.”

“i can do it myself,” you say defensively, pushing yourself up onto your elbows just for you to immediately lose your balance and fall back into the pillows.

minho doesn’t so much as blink at you. “like i said.”

jisung does end up helping you. he even holds you upright with his hands on your hips as he positions himself behind you. minho opted for the front, citing something about being the only one who could shut you up properly.

“ready?” he asks jisung as he taps his cock against your lips.

jisung nods, presumably, because you can feel the head of his cock push in just slightly.

“this time, don’t let her cum for real.”

“and if i do?”

minho just scoffs and shakes his head, muttering brat under his breath. “then we’ll just have to edge you as many times as we edge her.”

[shitouttabuck]

i'm a thigh girlie but i'm also a squishy kind of guy so if either 18 or 52 take your fancy for the prompts 👉👈

some sleepy stuff <3

touch prompts: 18 squishing the others cheek + 52 gripping thigh

might as well be drunk in love

Buck might be the most responsible Maid of Honour to have ever existed in the history of Maids of Honour. He told himself that half an hour ago when Ravi crowed FOMO, motherfucker at him post-Chim and Maddie’s rehearsal dinner, after Buck had sensibly and maturely taken his leave from the wedding party’s continued celebrations to get in a solid seven hours of shuteye—he’s the only one who has to be up at basically the crack of dawn to start getting things in order for the actual wedding at noon.

He tells himself that now as he pulls the thick comforter up to his neck, stretching his toes against the footboard and sighing. The empty double bed across from his own just seems to mock him, though, a reminder that Eddie’s probably knocking back the white wine Karen’s got him enjoying lately, almost certainly pink-cheeked and loose-hipped and laughing prettier than any music, only three floors below Buck right this very minute. FOMO, motherfucker indeed.

It's fine, Buck reasons, only somewhat grumpily. He’d be much more upset with himself for being too tired to be on top of things for Maddie’s big day tomorrow than he is for missing out on drinking with his friends and staring moonily at his best friend as covertly as alcohol will allow. Besides, he’s going to do just that tomorrow night anyway, with the added bonus of no pre-wedding stress. This was a good decision, the right decision, Buck is rational and correct and will have no sympathy for anyone nursing hangovers and sleep deprivation when they’re supposed to be setting out chairs and place cards at the reception tomorrow.

Somewhere between one grumbled thought and the next, he must fall asleep. It’s only a while later that the creak of the hotel room door cuts through his fuzzy dreamscape. He stays half-submerged, but Eddie trips over something and swears under his breath, and Buck swims groggily to the surface of consciousness.

He doesn’t bother cracking open an eye, listening instead to the gentle thumps and bumps of Eddie getting undressed and ready for bed. He’s almost lulled back to sleep by the sounds of it: the quiet snick of the toothpaste cap opened and shut, the whoosh of the tap running, the click as Eddie switches off the bathroom light, the rustle of sheets as he climbs into—Buck’s bed?

Buck forces one eye open then, but it’s moot since yes, Eddie does seem to be getting into Buck’s bed, except from behind Buck, so all that Buck is aware of is the sudden gust of cool air against the backs of his calves as Eddie lifts the duvet, and then the mattress is dipping and Buck’s warm again, because—because Eddie’s plastered along his back.

It’s not an accidental mix-up of beds either, because Eddie wastes no time slinging an arm around Buck’s waist, his hold loose but—there. Very much there.

“Uh. Eddie?” Buck whispers, voice rough from sleep. He clears his throat gently, pausing and straining to listen when Eddie mumbles something unintelligible. How drunk is he? Does he think Buck’s someone else? That’s—if that’s true… He broke up with Ana nearly two years ago, and there hasn’t been anyone serious since, not the scattered dates here and there, so—if it’s any of them Eddie thinks he’s getting into bed with? That would… suck.

But then Eddie says, “What, Buck,” muffled and sleepy into Buck’s shoulder.

The warmth that instantly blooms in his chest takes Buck by surprise, a little, and he feels his body automatically relax against Eddie, unaware he’d been holding it tight in the first place. Still, the confusion lingers.

“Oh. You’re—uh.” Should he—say something? Why would he say something, though. Just because this isn’t something they do… Eddie’s clearly fine with this, initiating this, and Buck—there’s never a time Buck doesn’t want this, want this bad. So why would he say you have a bed right there and come off as a dick when they’re both perfectly fine with this.

Or, worse in ways that are both hysterical and heartbreaking, come off as vaguely homophobic or make Eddie uncomfortable about the way he’s currently spooning Buck like he’s been doing it all his life.

He settles for a lighthearted, “Are you drunk?”

Eddie sighs sleepily, breath tickling Buck’s neck. “Yeah. Kinda.”

Okay. That’s fine. Their friendship is no stranger to physical touch, casual shoulder bumps and easy hip checks and full-body hugs. Eddie doesn’t need a reason to be looser with his affection, obviously, especially not where Buck is concerned, but if he did? What better combination than too many drinks and being at a wedding for their friends and family? Buck’s all too familiar with the love having to go somewhere, and if this is where Eddie wants to put it tonight? Buck’ll take it gladly and be a little moonier about it than planned tomorrow.

Eddie worms a hand under Buck’s sleep shirt, tracing his abdomen with his fingertips. Buck shivers. Okay, so not entirely platonic, but Eddie’s drunk. That blurs the lines of a good cuddle. Buck will resign his sorry ass to a night of his best friend being lovingly handsy in the spirit of friendship and lovesickness.

Eddie’s palm moves higher, ghosting across Buck’s sternum. His thumb catches against Buck’s nipple, and they both still for a second, Buck holding his breath. Then Eddie does it again, a lazy rub against it that has Buck swallowing and shifting his hips. Entirely not platonic, actually, any way you look at it.

Then, as sudden as his treacle-slow movements can be, Eddie’s hand ceases its exploratory tracing and taps once, twice, over Buck’s heart as he presses himself more firmly against Buck’s back, a lazy, languid stretch.

“Eddie,” Buck says. “What’s—are you—I’m—”

There’s a pause, and then Eddie relaxes his body away from Buck. “Hey,” he mumbles. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Buck replies without thinking, immediately reaching back for Eddie, hand stretched to pull him back close. “But—what’s—why right now?”

“Why not right now,” Eddie grumbles, sinking back into his place along Buck’s body with an ease that makes Buck screw his eyes shut tight again for a second. “Should’ve been right now many nows ago.”

“What?” Buck asks, genuinely a little lost as he throttles the rising bubble of hope inside him, squeezing just enough to still it without popping.

Eddie exhales heavily and with feeling, making sure Buck hears the exact amount of put out he is to be having this conversation when they could be sleeping, and Buck loves every disgruntled cell in his body.

“Your maid-of-honour speech,” Eddie yawns. “You said—you said you once had a conversation wi’ Maddie about—about love. About how it should be—you’re at your worst and they are too and still—you don’t give up. On each other. On… what you have. You try again.”

Buck hums. “Think they’ve had more worsts than a lot of people. Love that you fight for in the face of all that—or helps you through the face of all that? That’s. Yeah.”

“Chim showed me his vows. About—how he wishes there wasn’t hurt behind th’ reason f’r it, but he loved getting t’ be Maddie’s friend first, you know?” Eddie’s voice is a sleepy slur, murmured almost directly into Buck’s ear with the way he’s holding him. “Even when he wasn’t sure they were ever gonna be anything but. Someth’n—something about trust like that—I dunno. It’s easier when you’re friends.”

“Eddie—”

“My worst, Buck. And you walk right through the door and stay. And, and friends do that, but—I’m not imaginin’ this. Karen told me I’m not and she’s wise. She’s a lesbian. And a rocket scientist. In that order.”

The hope-bubble slips out of the grasp he has on it with a cheerful blown-raspberry sound, rising and rising inside him. Eddie’s hand is hot against his bare chest, and Eddie is comparing Chimney’s wedding vows to how he sees Buck in his own life, and Eddie’s drunk but Buck doesn’t think there’s much room for misinterpretation.

Buck’s not said anything, and before he can speak to assuage any presumably already-minimal doubts Eddie has, Eddie sighs loudly.

“Okay, this is not working. Turn over.” He tugs on Buck’s arm as he rolls over himself.

Buck shifts onto his other side slowly, carefully, a crescent around Eddie’s curled body. Close, but not touching.

“Buck,” Eddie huffs, flailing a hand back to grab his thigh, fingers digging into the meat of it. He yanks it forward, hitching it over his own hip so Buck’s flush against him from the ass-upwards.

When Buck doesn’t automatically hold him, Eddie twists his head to glare blearily over his shoulder. It’s the first time they’ve made eye contact since he entered the room, and his eyes are glassy when they meet Buck’s.

“Hello,” he says. “What’s a guy gotta do to get some cuddling around here.”

Buck laughs, surprised, and Eddie smiles, smug as he turns away and settles in again, like that was his only intention. And Buck gets it, he desperately wants this to just be—to just be it, you know, to have this be the way it happens, to wrap his arms around Eddie and wake up tangled together, to not second guess anymore, but it’s late and Eddie’s been drinking and they’re at a wedding with all the wedding emotions in the air—

His leg hiked over Eddie’s means his crotch is mashed into Eddie’s ass, and Eddie’s wriggling back in an attempt to snuggle into him and—

“Eddie,” he says. “Maybe this isn’t—”

“Ugh,” Eddie says. He turns around to grab Buck’s cheek, squeezing gently. Buck winces, all for show, before his face goes completely slack because Eddie’s planting a sloppy kiss that really only lands on forty percent of Buck’s mouth, hot and minty and lifechanging.

“Right,” Buck says, strained. He takes a deep breath, eyes squeezed shut, before opening them and placing a soft kiss on Eddie’s forehead, brushing his hairline. “It’s just—you’re drunk—I don’t want you to—”

He’s cut off by Eddie rolling his eyes and flipping back around into little spoon position.

“Yeah, well, that’s kind of the thing, Buck,” he sighs, grunting as he shifts to get comfortable. He manoeuvres Buck’s arm around his waist, pulls it up against his own chest, grip firm but still with a relaxed certainty to it. “I loved you this morning when I was undercaffeinated and being bullied into redoing flower arrangements, and I loved you this evening when I thought I had indigestion from those cheese puffs, and I love you right now when I’m drunk, and I’ll love you tomorrow when I’m hungover and miserable about it. I’m in the prime of my life, I shouldn’t be facing these kinda drinkin’ consequences at thirty-three, Jesus.”

Buck shelves the kneejerk comment about Jesus probably being the biggest advocate for getting wine-drunk in your early thirties even though focusing on any of the other words Eddie’s just said might result in his own spontaneous combustion and instead says, “Oh.”

“’Oh’,” Eddie mimics, half-asleep but no less bitchy for it. “Yeah, oh. I’ll do the—the sobriety test for you in the morning if you still want, but can we go to sleep now?”

They can, and they do, and when Buck’s alarm goes off at six am, they blink awake with Eddie curled against Buck’s chest, hand once again stuck up his shirt.

“Mmmh,” he insists, bearing down when he feels Buck try to get up.

“Eddie, I gotta go set up.”

“Gotta—no, thanks,” Eddie replies, clinging harder.

Buck huffs a laugh, any trepidation he had about Eddie’s wants upon waking easing away. “Maid-of-honour duties wait for no one.”

“Maid-of-honour, schmaid-of-honour,” Eddie tells him, muffled into his chest. “What about your loving me duties. It’s a full-time job, you know.”

“Can do that with my eyes closed,” Buck says, “and I’m great at multi-tasking this maid-of-honour stuff, but I need my eyes open for the rest of it.”

Eddie ducks his head, as if to hide his smile, but Buck feels it where it’s pressed into his chest anyway. “Fine.”

There’s a beat, and then he’s propping his chin up to peer at Buck. “Also—for sobriety test’s sake. Hi. Also, I didn’t really let you get a word in last night…”

He doesn’t look nervous or unsure, just kind of sheepish. His hair is sticking up in fluffy clumps and there’s a crease along his right cheek and Buck can love him with his eyes closed but he’s so very glad they’re open, because this is a million times better.

“You really didn’t, huh. How the tables turn—ow, Eddie,” he breaks off as Eddie digs his fingers into his ribs. “For sobriety’s sake—” He hauls Eddie up, and Eddie goes with an oof that’s sighed right into Buck’s mouth. His lips are soft and chapped against Buck’s, much more coordinated but just as purposeful as they were last night when they move against him.

The kissing is lazy, early morning stuff, gentle and easy. When Eddie yawns into it, Buck pulls away, running his hands down Eddie’s sides.

“I really gotta go,” Buck tells him, trying to extricate himself. “Go back to sleep.”

“Yes boss,” Eddie finally allows, rolling over to mash his face into a pillow.

He finds Buck setting out the flower arrangements only an hour later, though, and he’s got with him a kiss and a coffee and, true to his word, a love that persists through hangovers and weddings and drunkenness that’s not his own. Through every wildly outrageous and terribly boring moment of the rest of their lives, actually; the best and the worst and everything in between. A love that stays, and stays, and stays.

(read on ao3)

[railingsofsorrow]

we should just kiss, like real people do

[emily prentiss x reader]

summary: in which there was only one bed. . . pairing(s): emily prentiss x f!bau!reader w.c: 1.6K warnings/content: rivals to lovers; mostly fluff; understanding feelings; angst (if you notice); language; suggestive content near the end and cursing (making out) so I'm classifying this 15+ 

A/N: can you believe I have never written for the only one-bed trope? crazy. but anyway, this is my entry for @reiderwriter writing challenge "daydreams and shooting stars" (love this theme btw), and congrats on the 5k followers!! I chose the prompts "only one bed" and "enemies to lovers" with emily prentiss.

navi

masterpost 

cm masterlist 

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"Oh, you gotta be kidding me."

You frown, feet halting at the entrance of the room because your roommate can't move so you can enter and finally get some rest. You hated Derek. He usually pairs up with you whenever you need to share a room during a case but today Penelope has come along and you already knew you had lost your usual roommate for the night. You don't blame him, really. Or Penelope, they just have their... thing. 

But you do blame him for leaving you with the personification of annoyance: Emily Prentiss.

It's not that you hate her, you just don't really get along and you don't have to. You have to be coworkers and civil towards each other, which you do. But sleeping in the same room for an entire night? - Maybe more, because this case is proving to be very difficult to be wrapped up in just one day - That you’re not sure you can do without jumping out of a freaking window.

"Prentiss." You hiss, behind her in the hallway. "Can you move? I need a shower."

Emily steps away and when you enter, you understand why she had frozen by the door. You imagined it was a spider or any kind of bug but that's worse. Way worse. 

"You have to be kidding me. There's only one bed?"

Emily throws her go-bag on top of the mattress, already moving around the room as if she has decided her fate. 

"What are you doing?" You ask, eyes narrowed as she takes some clothes off her bag.

"Taking a shower?"

"No, you're not. I'm going first."

Emily shrugs, throwing a towel on her shoulder. "You're taking too long." 

"You're not taking the bed."

She offers you a menacing smile. "Yes, I am. I touched it first."

Your eyes widen in disbelief and you're one step away from throwing her out the window. "You touched it f- What are you, five?"

"The floor looks pretty comfortable."

Letting out a scoff you place your own go-bag on top of the bed. 

"Then you sleep on it."

Emily shots her a look and you hold her gaze in defiance. She looks away first and your lips stretch into a satisfied smile as she walks inside the bathroom. You contemplate going downstairs to ask for another room available, but you're curious to what her next step will be. 

Let's see who's sleeping on the floor tonight. I know it won't be me.

Your logic proves to be flawed when Emily has her limbs splattered out on the middle of the mattress, fingers typing away something on her phone distractedly. Your go-bag is on the floor beside hers and you raise a single brow in her direction, even if you're not sure she's aware you left the bathroom yet. 

"Prentiss."

She says your name in a hum, attention locked on her phone. 

You throw your wet towel in her direction, it lands right in her face. A laugh escapes you as she yelps, sitting up in surprise and yanking the wet towel from her face. 

Her dark eyes send you a glare that you're not affected by in the slightest. Except for the fact that she looks good with an annoyed face on- What? 

Oh, your brain is most definitely sleep deprived.

"Bed is mine. Move." You order, biting your lip to stop yourself from laughing again as she throws your towel back at you. 

"Nope." Emily lays back down, earning a groan from you and you actually consider sleeping on the floor so you can pull her feet at night so hard that she falls out of bed. Then, she says something that has you rolling your eyes. "There's plenty of space here though."

"Great, more for me."

"I am not sleeping on the floor," Emily repeats, calmly, supporting herself on her elbows to have a better look at you. "So it's your call."

“You serious?” There's annoyance in your tone and a little bit of exhaustion. You're not in the mood to play games, you'd definitely entertain her if you weren't so tired. “Fine. You win.” Her brows shot up to her hairline. “Well? Scoot over.”

Her eyes are scrutinizing you and you give her a glare as you adjust on the bed, pulling the blanket over your legs. 

“Lost something?”

She shrugs. “Just thought you'd be one of those who can't bear the idea of sleeping in the same bed with someone else.” 

Your forehead creases as you lay down, lifting the blanket as you do it. “Why?”

“I don't know.” She shrugs again, but now you see a little smile on her lips. You feel yourself trying to stop your own lips from imitating hers. “You just give me the vibes.”

“The vibes?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Something about the way she keeps analysing you when you look away makes you feel self-conscious. 

“Do you hate me?” 

From how fast you turn your neck, you feel it snap as you twist, causing you to wince and sit down. 

“What? No!”

She smiles a little but it's contained. 

"Could have fooled me."

"Prentiss." You say with a look. "I don't hate you."

"Right," she hums, resting back down on the pillow, her dark strands spreading out around her head. "You just don't particularly like me?"

A sigh escapes your lips and you shift on your side of the bed. Why is she bringing this up now? Couldn't it be some other moment where the two of you aren't sharing a bed, extremely close to each other?

"You don't particularly like me either," you shot back, shrugging, pretending to be unbothered.

"That's not true." She says it fast, not thinking twice, a tinge of indignation in her tone that gets you almost laughing. "What? I don't!"

"Could have fooled me."

Emily's eyes narrow at you which earns you a little satisfaction at using her words against hers. When you turn to offer her a joke about how you've been treating each other over the past years you catch her staring at you, that same stare from before. You have no ideia what it means.

"What?" You ask in a whisper to not disturb the silence that has installed into the room. It is almost... peaceful. Which is an adjective that does not match when it's you and Emily in the same room.

“You're beautiful. Kind of.” 

And now you're sure you're leep deprived because why on earth would Emily Prentiss ever call you beautiful? She finds you annoying and boring and—

“You okay?” You're surprise to notice you're the one asking that. 

Emily lets out a scoff. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“You just called me beautiful and you hate me.”

“I do not hate you. You hate me.”

You nudge her with a playful shove, she's near the edge of the bed so the way your shove causes her body to waver, almost making her fall off the bed gets your eyes widening before you grip her elbow to pull her back. Emily ends up colliding with you with a yelp. Then, the most surprising — but weirdly endearing? — thing happens: she starts laughing. 

And her head falls on your shoulder while you're frozen trying not to move. You don't know why but your brain shortcuts at your proximity and the way the sound of her laughter enters your head like an enchanted melody.

Emily leans back slightly, her breath tickling your cheek as she speaks. Her tone sounds shaky but you can't be sure, you're trying too hard not to stare at her lips. “If you drop me off the bed,” she begins. “I'll take you with me.” 

Now she's the one staring down at your lips and you swallow hard nervously. 

“Then we'll both... uh.” Words. Use your words, do you know how to speak or the fact that a beautiful woman is staring at your lips makes it hard? “... we'll both fall off the bed. But you'll still fall first because... I'll be pushing you?” You don't why it gets out as a question. 

Emily's gaze locks into yours and your body shivers from head to toe.

“What would you hate me more if I kissed you right now?”

“Oh, for fuck's sake just do it.” 

That's the cue for her to press her lips against yours. Soft, gentle and warm. Your hands have a mind of her own as one of them grips the back of her neck to deepen the kiss, the result of years of yearning for a coworker you had convinced yourself hated you and that you hated too.

“I've wanted...” Emily drawls out, kissing down your jaw. “...to do that...” back to your lips “... for so long.” 

You hum into her mouth, smiling as she loops a hand around your waist. 

“I think we— we may have had a little bit of... miscommunication.”

She leans back to give you a look and you take advantage of the quick break to stare at her swollen lips. Courtesy of you. 

“You think?” Emily tease, thump running across your lower lip. “Will you stop calling me Prentiss now?”

“Isn’t that your name?” You chuckle at her scowl. 

It's safe to say she shuts you up with a kiss. 

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taglist: @ninkieminjaj

[hype-blue-fixation]

SFW Alastor Tickle/Fluster Spot Headcannons

Ignore the photos I put them in here while I was sleep deprived and can't convince myself to get rid of them

I was also really proud of the bonus spots at the end ehehehe :>

Rough Tickle Spots

He loves getting a good, genuine laugh and being tickled breathless. It lets him blow off steam and laugh as hard as he can RIGHT in his ler's face. It's a power move, really.

Ribs - He has 13 pairs, like a deer. And every one of them will get him laughing. The harder you dig and faster you vibrate, the better. Tenderize him.

Crook of Neck - Dig in with your fingertips. He will scrunch up and howl with laughter. The more surface area, the less ticklish it is, so make sure you use the very tips!

Belly - The entire belly is a death spot, but the closer you get to his button, the worse it gets. Dig right in and vibrate for best results.

Knees/Behind Knees - Pinch and squeeze playfully. If done correctly, you will earn yourself a whole army of kicks and giggles.

Not Ticklish Spots

If you go for these places, he will look at you like you're the whole circus.

Thighs/Calves - He's a deer. A prey animal. His one line of defense (running away) must be somewhat protected.

Hips - He will still laugh in a moment of tickle fever, but the tickle itself is very dull.

Butt - Why are you trying to tickle that anyways?

Light Tickle Spots

Light tickles are by far his favorite for relaxing and bonding with others. If played just right, they can send him into lovey-dovey euphoria. Every place is vulnerable, but especially:

Neck - He always covers his neck. The lightest touch (even his own hair brushing against it) can be unbearably ticklish.

Ears/Tail - The softer the touch, the more he shivers and melts. Loves the feeling of them being gently rubbed, twirled, or fiddled with. Crooning or feeling breath on his ears will turn him into warm butter.

Arms/Hands - This is super relaxing for him and reminds him of little sensory games his mama played with him as a boy. It puts him into a lovie, sentimental headspace.

Underarms/Hooves - Since these places are very sensitive and highly guarded, soft touch drives him into euphoric insanity. If done correctly, it can be extremely pleasurable and get overwhelming very quickly.

Belly - Especially with nibbles and licks, he gets flustered beyond belief. His belly button is an absolutely horrendous melt spot that will have him losing all connection to reality the more tender you treat it.

Bonus spots!

Unconventional, but effective!

Tentacles - His tentacles are an extension of himself. When they feel pain, so does he. And if you gently scratch or touch them, he can feel it too. Since they are detached, he can't feel it in any specific place...it's sort of a strange full body experience. It can be very overwhelming, too.

VooDoo Doll - He keeps a Voodoo doll of himself and Rosie has one too. Using a feather or a brush is most effective. Enjoy watching him go into hysteria and grab at intangible forces. He's nothing but a tickle doll in your hand...literally.

Voice/ASMR - Being a Radio Demon, his main sensory is his hearing, and he has a VIVID imagination connected to what he hears. Sometimes just hearing someone's voice (cough cough Rosie) spouting teases, telling him exactly how they want to wreck him, and making tickly promises is enough to make him physically experience everything they're saying. Blindfolding him makes this even more intense.

[arminaneka]

Nanami x fem reader

Note: GUYS IM BACK FOR NOWW IT HAS BEEN SO LONG😭 (I’ll probably disappear again after this post)

——————————————————————————

You were currently 5 months pregnant waiting on Nanami to get home, he hasn’t been home for 2 days straight because of some unfinished work.

You guys have been together for 2 years and engaged for 4 months, you made one of his favorite dishes for dinner and put it in the toaster oven to keep warm hoping he’d come home to it still warm. You were so excited for him to come home you felt like you were going to burst.

You sat on the sofa watching Tv while waiting, after a while you got a text from nanami, your face lit up unfortunately it was just filled with sad new. The text stated that he wouldn’t be coming home until the next morning. You felt so devastated but you knew that it was your hormones making you feel this way because usually you’d understand when he has to work late.

You’ve been touch deprived for 2 days and you thought tonight you’d finally feel better but you were wrong. Before you knew it you started crying. You felt so selfish for crying over something so dumb and foolish.

You decided to go to bed since he wasn’t coming home for the night. You went into the bedroom and went into the bed, you covered yourself and drifted off to sleep.

3:26 am

You were awoken by the sound of movement in the room. You knew exactly who it was judging by the smell, it was nanami..

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you” he mumbled. “I thought you weren’t gonna be home till 7?” You got up and turned on the light. “It’s okay I wasn’t really sleeping anyways” you laughed. Looking at his face you saw that he was injured and he also had a stab wound. “Before you worry yourself and the baby I’m fine. Just a little scratch” he told you.

Not in the mood to argue with him you pulled him into the bathroom and took out the first aid kit. “I said I was fine honey” you ignored him and cleaned his stabbed wound and wrapped it up. You then proceed to clean the bruises on his face and put a plaster on them. “Why were you crying?” He lifted up your chin to see your red eyes.

“It was nothing just my hormones” you tired to laugh it off feeling way too embarrassed to tell him why you were actually crying.

“You never cry over something dumb I know you, tell me what’s wrong baby” he placed you on the bathroom counter. “I just missed you that’s all… and your touch and your voice and everything about you” feeling a little embarrassed that those words left your mouth. “You missed me huh?” He smirked. You nodded and put your hands around his neck. “Good thing I’ll be home tomorrow” he whispered in your ears as he took you back into the bedroom.

Sorry for the mistakes 😔