#I wish dogs could tell us what was wrong

[satans-knitwear]

Back to the vets today, emergency appointment, she had a horrible night 😢😭

[2kiran]

FRANCIS MOSSES 交易 ── `` DARK CONTENT﹕monsterfucking. top amab reader. doppelgänger francis. handjob. no protection + preparation. overstimulation. ✶ IN WHICH you unknowingly let the wrong francis inside.

the prospect of you being fired—or worse, being put in a cell—was incredibly likely. enthusiasm of the milkman’s arrival being your final entry request for the day lead to your upcoming demise.

it shouldn’t be on you, both the blame and responsibility. the given identity document had indistinguishable information, merely an artist’s mistake as you finally realize that his eyebrows were just a tad thicker. his eyes were a bit too lively for the real francis.

realization dawned on you a second too late as you feel cold, but strangely simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar hands grab you from behind. before you could reach the rotary phone to contact the D.D.D., he grabbed your wrist and spun your chair around to face him.

francis, or so you thought, had a gentle smile plastered on his face but you knew better to tell that his intentions were far from truly kind. “don’t tell me you were actually going to let them kill me,” your jaw tightened, gaze hardening into a glare. he chuckled, hands landing on the armrests, so dangerously close to yours that were balled in fists to prevent yourself from punching his face.

when you didn’t respond, he continued. leaning in as he shook his head with a scoff, “aw, c’mon. . .we both know that you’re too much of a good sweetheart, yeah? please don’t try that again.” his saccharine voice was improbable, a subtle take of a threat behind his tone.

“you’re gullible enough to think i’d do that for you.” the tension between you was palpable, a thin thread that threatened to break at the tip of his finger. his lips pouted, sadness in his untrue eyes. “me? but you’re the one who let me in here,” he laughed, tone rather arrogant, “and i should thank you for that.”

if he were the real francis, you probably would have been making out with him by now. this doppelgänger was awfully confident, you wish you could break him. see tears fall down to his round cheeks, lips trembling as pleas tumbled out of his pretty lips.

these thoughts were idiotic. but fuck, he was near enough to the milkman, the clueless neighbor who could care less about it all. “want me to spare you? or—” you cut him off, lips connecting with his. francis was surprised, but welcomed it nonetheless. his hand came up to your neck, sliding towards your hair. groaning as he gently, almost experimentally, tugged at it. tongue met tongue, a clash of saliva and mess. you bit onto his bottom lip, eliciting a soft moan.

“mmph, and here i thought you hated me.” he grinned, panting, “what gave you that idea?” you place a kiss on his chin, “because you tried to get rid of me, and the fact that. . .i’m not him.” grabbing his hips, he let out a yelp. he scrambled to hold onto your shoulders for dear life, gasping when he felt your teeth graze against his neck. “seems like i’ve struck a nerve, hu—haah, fuck!”

a lewd moan had escaped him, your teeth sinking into his flesh. it was far from gentle, biting him like you wanted to see him bleed. he was simply a doppelgänger that you stupidly let in, after all.

the pink muscle settled in your mouth lapped at the bite, cueing francis to whimper at the sensation. he moved closer on your lap, grinding against your crotch. the action could’ve been mistaken for something relating to a dog; for he seemed like a bitch in heat. quite uncharacteristic for his kind. “you’re pathetic, mosses.”

francis, beyond belief, was affected by the use of the stolen surname more than you anticipated. his hips trembled, “that’s, haah, not my fault. you made me like this. fucking a– ah! doppelgänger, really? they’d surely co– come for you next.” his cock twitched, spilling pre-cum that formed a wet patch on his boxers. you were a lowly human, another one to get rid of, so why does he feel this way?

silence was met with his words. not until you pull down his pants, taking off what was left until his lower half was bare to you. “oh yeah? you’re letting me fuck you,” your fingers wrapped around the base of his dick, giving a single stroke, “you’re not even trying to fight back against me, honey.”

he whined, beginning to selfishly rut into your palm. “what were you going to say?” francis doesn’t respond and you twist your wrist, a cry slipping from him. you asked on a whim, wishing to hear what he planned besides allowing you to carry on with your life. “i-i don’t know!” your thumb presses down on his slit, causing him to wrack his brain to remember. “ah, ah, i meant to ask if you wa- want me to kill you right he— hmmng!” his voice wobbled as if he was fearful, tears in his eyes and he’s suddenly ethereal.

“do you still want to do that? to end my life?”

“no, no, please, i didn’t mean it.”

you tease the vein that ran on his shaft, never failing to witness the face he makes when he’s within the depths of pleasure; of that high he never dared to reach. oh, if only if it was francis mosses. the real one, the one you’re so curious about, the one who your eyes like to linger on a bit too long for comfort. your pace picks up, palm slick with his pre-cum and the room’s sinful with his sobs and arousal.

francis moans under his breath, “i’m cumming-!” he warns a second too late, hips bucking as the familiar fluid splatters across your fingers. the doppelgänger was your very own legendary mona lisa with how his face is painted with all shades of red.

when you swipe your thumb over his tip, he swore he had a glimpse of the deity he didn’t have the conscience to worship.

beliefs were foolish; it was his opinion. with that, he thought you were the one insane. doppelgängers aren’t flawed with such imperfections like humans are. he didn’t need to be prepared for situations similar to this, and you used his inhumanity for your pleasure.

“ughm, agh!” you had wordlessly given your cock a few pumps, no more than that before slipping inside of his tight hole. the tiniest beginning of guilt threatened to engulf you with shame, but why should you allow it? his mere purpose and intention was to murder.

his hole spasmed around you, freely welcoming the intrusion. maybe they were quite useful after all. he whined, his insides tingling with the stretch. the doppelgänger has never felt so full, or genuinely anything, for that matter. “please—fuck, move already, damnit.” he, himself, was breathless.

how could you deny him?

your hands grasped his hips tightly, like you wanted to indent a marking into his flesh. cold emanated from your palms, contrasting to the heat licking at his cheeks. he’s lighter than you’d expect, hole gripping you as if he was a fleshlight. lifting him up, your tip was held onto. heavenly; as the way he wrapped around you was undeniably heavenly.

sensing his apparent impatience, you let him crash down on you. a broken gasp-of-a-moan occupied the air, globs of pre-cum building on his slit. “yeah, fuck me like that,” he breathed, instructions hazily clear to your sex-deprived brain. his ass slapped, slapped, slapped against you. shit, the D.D.D. surely ought to give you a punishment worse than death for this.

he clung onto you, both with his arms and entrance. you don’t think you could really get enough—as vague as this memory could get. your tip brushes against his prostate with each harsh thrust, slick sounds adding onto the cotton pressed into his little head, forming static and nothing else to focus on besides your cock pounding into him. “you’re liking this- ahngm! right? like how good i feel? haa, needed your dick in me s’ bad. . .”

he pushed his hips forward, grinding on your cock as he purposely clenched. “thaaaat’s it, sweetheart. think ‘m gonna keep you.”

yeah, let’s hope your neighbors forgive you for indulging in him.

masterlist﹒divider﹒artist kaworinx

[the-californicationist]

Please! I need the part 2 of “Captain Price opens a package, thinking it’s intel, but it’s a sex pollen.“ I'm on my kneesss pleaseee it was so good! 😭♥️

Anyways, I'm your new follower 😍, and some of the stories you write is just so damn good😍 (Sorry for bad grammar's, English isn't really my first language, uwu)

im sorry but idk what a part two even looks like. i know a lot of people have asked for it but its... just some couch sex?? idk i'll try.

Laswell clicked the door shut behind her, and part of you wished she had locked it. Gaz was sure to tell the rest of the team, but you could do without an audience. What would they even see if they barged in here?

The captain had let his cock loose from the confines of his pants, and they were sliding down his thick, muscular ass with every selfish thrust. He was rubbing himself like a naughty dog against your clothed pussy, begging for entrance with every forward movement. Your shirt was pulled down, revealing your breasts, and now they were covered in pink marks from the roughness of his beard as he moved his mouth across you.

Feeling him take each nipple and suck it so gently into his mouth, pulling it in like delicious nectar through a straw, drinking you although you were dry, tasting you even though you had no flavor. It was too much, but he couldn't stop.

You felt a little wrong to be enjoying your commanding officer so much. His humping was making your body respond even as it waited for your guilty conscience to catch up.

"Cap... oh, my fucking God... No, Captain. We shouldn't..." you tried to protest on his behalf, knowing he was being controlled by the powder.

"Corporal," he spoke with his mouth full of your flesh, "I can stop... now. It'll give you... enough time... to run..."

His bright pink eyes flashed up at you in warning and he used both his arms to pin you on either side of your head, forcing you to look at him, the intensity of which went right to your rapidly-melting core.

Suddenly, in a moment of lucidity, he looked you right in your eyes and finished his sentence,

"But that will not be bloody true for long."

As if warning you, he rubbed his hardness up and over your belly, letting it ruck up your shirt, and you felt its incredible heat. It was like a long, steel brand. His skin was smooth, but it was scalding and swollen with his blood. The huge tip left a wet trail of desire wherever it went.

"It's okay, Captain. You can have me if you --"

There mere suggestion of your consent was all he needed to let the dam burst and the river run free. His need crashed from him with an explosive force. He all but ripped your clothes from you, nearly hurting you in the process, making your ankles ache from the sudden pressure as he shucked your pants and boots away in one go.

Your panties were torn from you, sturdy though they were. The fabric made a whining, popping noise as the elastic split. Air rushed across uncovered skin, and your body doubled down on its plans to produce as much natural lubrication as possible. It seemed to know you'd need it.

He didn't touch you. Not with his hands. There was no preparation of any kind. Price fed himself into you like a hand into a glove, a body part in need of sudden and immediate warmth. He took control of your head again, pinning you in that same furious way, and you had a singular view of his face, twisted in a sort of sublime agony as he sank himself into you for the first time.

The pressure was almost unimaginable. Your body was making a lurid, wet, slicking noise as his cock forced you in half. You tried to allow him in, tried to relax, but there was little you could do. He was immense and heavy. It felt like a fist on a strong arm, like a forge hammer, hot and searing. The only thing more tormenting was his voice purring darkly in your ear.

"Fuck, you're warm..."

He pulled himself out of you inch by inch, leaving a terrible hollow where you were once whole.

"Wet for me. So wet. How?"

Back in. And in. And in. It seemed to go forever in and it made you wonder how deep you were.

"It feels so good to have you 'round me, love..."

When the rosy head of him found the end of your wet hole, it sort of... settled there. Locked in, like a key into a tumbler, and each fold of you a lifted pin, fitting him as if you were crafted for it.

"Thought 'bout how you'd feel. Sometimes... dreamt it."

You felt your body give away your surprise. He was too gone to notice it, but not you. You would have been able to feel the planets shift an inch to the left if they dared. You could feel everything. Each and every pore and hair and breath was awake and alive and living in the rawest possible way. Could he have really been thinking of you like you were thinking of him?

"Bloody fuckin' hell. So tight. Too tight."

He was right. It was too tight. He was squeezing himself in with each of these aching, crazed thrusts, shoving himself inside of you hungrily, all the way up to your pounding heart, it seemed. You felt yourself slipping around him like hot oil, running down his shaft and matting the coarse, dark hair that cradled his root.

"John..."

You used his name in place of his title, and he noticed. Noticed it like a hawk notices a hare. Right in your ear, up against your cheek, he responded, too quickly, too much teeth,

"Yes, love. Yes. Yes? Tell me."

He was grunting now, clearly on the edge of his pleasure. You aimed to take him over it, to plunge him into blinding darkness. You whispered, and each word hit its mark like the straight shaft of an arrow, striking into the target one after the other, tearing through the bullseyes like they were nothing but air.

"You're gonna make me come, John."

Again, that unearthly snarl came from his chest, the one you'd never heard before come from the mouth of a man. It was a cry and a scream and a prayer and a plea and had he not been pinning you down prone with his own prostrated body, he would have been growling it from his knees. He commanded you as he worshiped you,

"Give it to me. Give it to me. Give. It. To. Me."

Your body listened before you could even register his words.

From the bones in your hips, you felt your muscles tighten along his iron rod like a fist, closing in on him knuckle by knuckle, and each closure brought you closer to that brink where the darkness turned to blinding white light. You could feel the sparkle of it, that peppery gunpowder flash and then...

"Holy fuck, love..." He stared at you as if you were the sun lighting up his whole life. Like he'd seen you before, all sherbet pink and blazing orange, in the dawn, in the mornings, cutting over the horizon.

Price had come in you. You felt it. It slid along the cleft of your ass and soaked into the fabric of the couch. He didn't mind it. You couldn't. His body was still thrusting as hard and as heavy as before, fucking up into you as if he hadn't just filled you with his thick, hot cream.

"I can't... " he gasped, wrenching his eyes shut, "I can't stop..."

"It's okay, John..."

"I can't bloody stop, love. I'm... fuck, I'm sorry..."

"I'm okay. It's okay," you whispered to him, trying to soothe him.

You pet the hair back over his brow and he leaned into your touch like a cat, purring for more of it. You laced your fingers through his hair and held him tight at his scalp, turning his head so that you could talk to him right into his ear,

"Fuck me how you need to, Captain."

Did you enjoy this tale or maybe some other work by me? Consider buying me a coffee, if you have the means. Kudos, likes, reblogs, and feral comments also work as well ^_^ Thanks!

AO3 Link

[sincerelyneo]

hiii can you repost hello angel? as a jaemin girl it was one of my favorite fics everrrr i read it everyday fr😭❤️

hey angel | n.jm

“i come alive when i hear your voice, it’s a beautiful sound”

💿now playing: hey angel by one direction

❯ summary: You're Jaemin's best friend - so of course he loves to call you up late at night and hear your voice. He's definitely not calling because the sound of your voice turns him on - yeah definitely not that.

❯ pairings: jaemin x fem!reader

❯ genre: friends to lovers, smut, fluff.

❯ words: 3.7k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation, slight possessiveness?, begging, praise, heavy use of nicknames, reader uses she/her pronouns, just pure filth tbh, jaemin has a voice kink??

It was late and you were already in bed, snuggled deep and cozy in the sea of your blankets, when your best friend Jaemin called. He’s your closest friend and the person you were more than a little bit in love with — but you’d never risk telling him for fear of it ruining your friendship.

So even though it was late, and you were sleepy, you answered his call. To be fair, he’d answered plenty of your late-night phone calls over the years.

“Hey angel,” Jaemin greets in an eager tone.

You can hear the alcohol in his voice — that and Jaemin only ever used that nickname for you when he’d been drinking. Still, it never fails to send warmth curling through your heart. It felt like it was his way of wrapping you up in his strong arms whilst he wasn’t with you. 

“Annngelll,” your best friend continues in singsong, making you giggle softly. 

Jaemin’s voice sounds rough and gravelly, like he’d been shouting over a crowded bar all night. Which wasn't a surprise since it was his friend Jeno’s birthday tonight. And you knew your charming and extroverted best friend would never pass up the chance of a good time. 

Before you could respond to his greetings, Jaemin’s tone suddenly turned serious. “I missed you tonight.”

“Na Jaemin,” you try to match his quick change of mood, attempting a serious tone. But it was a losing battle as you tried to fight against the smile threatening to let loose at his statement. “You’re drunk—I bet you barely noticed I wasn’t there tonight.”

He grumbles and you hear fabric rustle like he was flopping back on his bed. You can’t help but imagine what he currently looked like: his body probably sprawled out on top of his comforter, the strands of his hair falling into his face as his head propped up on his pillows. He probably had one hand behind his head, his bicep bulging while his other hand held the phone to his ear.

You know it’s wrong, but your mind wonders if he was still in his clothes from the night or if he’d stripped down—knowing the fact that your best friend liked to sleep in his boxers.

But you were also familiar with intoxicated Jaemin, he likely hadn’t changed out of his clothes yet, too drunk, and tired to care. Still, that didn’t stop you from thinking about your best friend laying in his bed shirtless while he talked to you. 

“I may have had a couple drinks,” he admits grudgingly. “But of course, I missed my angel. I swear—cross my heart and hope to die—I was a good boy tonight,” he says with enough conviction that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“You’re silly, Jaem.” There’s a warmth in your voice, and you have no hope of wiping the smile from your face even if you tried. 

Pulling the phone away from your ear to check the time, you felt bad and ask, “Why are you calling?”

A long, loud sigh came through the phone from your best friend. “I wanted to hear your voice,” he explains after a silent moment.

It was a cute sentiment, making you feel warm all over, and you wished you could talk to him longer. “Jaem,” you start, gentling your voice. “It’s late and you know I have to get up early. So, if that’s all, I’m going to hang up.”

“But I can’t sleep,” he whines, and you could hear the pout in his voice. Without even seeing his face, you knew he was deploying his puppy dog eyes. “Just talk to me for a few minutes, angel, please?”

“Fine,” you say with another sigh, folding instantly at the thought of imagining his gentle expression asking you. He’d learned long ago it was a sure way to make you give in. You’d fallen sucker to Jaemin’s big brown eyes, and he knew exactly how to use them. 

Resigning yourself to being tired at work the next day, you settled deeper into your pillows. Your voice gentle as you got comfortable. “But you can’t hold it against me if I fall asleep,” you warn.

“Deal.” His smugness at getting you to agree so easily was loud and clear through the phone even if you couldn’t see his self-satisfied smile. “How was your day, angel?” he asks as his bed sheets rustled again and you presumed he was settling in too.

Tired, but always happy to talk to your best friend, you told him about your day and complained about why you had to get up early the next morning. Your voice turns softer and sweeter as you get more and more tired. Jaemin’s does the same, getting even deeper and more husky as he told you about his day. Eventually, there was a lull in the conversation, and you were about to tell him good night when he said something that surprised you enough to drag you away from the edge of sleep.

“Have I ever told you how hard your sleepy little voice makes me?” he asks, making a sound like he was biting back a groan. “I love calling you before you fall asleep, but I always gotta rub one out after.”

“Jaemin,” you say, voice going for stern, but not quite hitting the mark since it was still laced with sleepiness. “That is not true.”

“It is!” he insists, sounding more awake by the minute—and you were right there with him. “I’m hard right now.” He makes a soft sound, like a grunt.

Before you could stop yourself, you imagined him— still sprawled out on his bed — but this time he had a bulge in his jeans. In your mind’s eye, Jaemin grips his hard length through his jeans, stroking himself roughly. The thought makes you gasp softly, and you clench your thighs together against a sudden pulse in your core.

Jaemin must’ve heard the sound because you could hear the grin in his voice when he speaks again. “Tell me, angel, are you wearing one of my shirts tonight?” he asks gruffly.

You swallow heavily, trying to buy yourself some time. It felt like crossing a line to admit that you were wearing one of his shirts, but when Jaemim didn’t take the question back, you realise you’d had to answer. 

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“Which one?” His voice is rough now, like sandpaper, but oh so eager.

“One of your varsity shirts from college—the one that says ‘Jaemin’ on the back,” you answer, unable to lie to your best friend even if you were a little shy to admit you still sleep in his shirts. You knew you didn’t need to be, since he clearly knew you slept in them. 

“I love it when you wear my shirts, angel,” Jaemin confesses. His tone now warm, like he was grinning and happy. It makes the last of your shyness disappear to hear him say that. 

“It lets everyone know you’re mine.”

“I’m not yours, Jaemin,” you protest half-heartedly. 

You weren’t, even if you desperately wanted to be his in every sense of the word.

“You’re my best friend,” he says, like there was no argument you could come up with to change his mind. “My best girl—that makes you mine.”

“Jaemin,” you exhale. 

You knew he was just talking about friendship, but you wished his words meant something different. You wished he felt the same way for you as you did for him.

“Fuck, say my name like that again,” he begs in a gruff voice. “Makin’ me so damn hard.”

You feel the blush rise to your cheeks and you go flustered, unsure what to do as Jaemin easily crosses lines you’d avoided delicately for years. But you didn’t want him to stop. The sound of his voice saying those things had wetness pooling between your thighs. So, you gave him what he wanted.

“Jaemin,” you repeat his name, voice breathier with your arousal, and he let out a happy hum.

“That’s my girl,” he says followed by a groan that is so low and husky, sending tingles racing through your entire body. “Fuck, I’m so hard,” he moans, a slight strain in his voice. “Do you mind, angel?”

It took a moment for your hazy mind to figure out what he was asking. Then, another to process that he was asking if you were okay with him stroking himself while he was on the phone with you. Your breath caught from a sudden surge of excitement. The voice that typically stops you from crossing the line with your best friend was conveniently quiet and all that was left was your need for him.

“I-I don’t mind, Jaem,” you answer softly, trying not to sound too eager.

The sound of him pulling down the zipper of his jeans was loud enough that you could hear it through the phone — and that alone sent a shiver down your spine. It was nothing, though, in comparison to the rough groan he makes as he grips his cock in his hand. 

“Fuck,” he curses.

You could feel yourself getting slicker from the sounds of him stroking himself. Distantly, you knew you were crossing a line by listening to him, by getting off on hearing your best friend pleasure himself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Instead, you found yourself holding your breath as you strained to hear him.

“What else are you wearing besides my shirt, angel?” his voice octaves lower than normal. The sound of it makes you squirm, your thighs clenching together harder. 

Biting your lip, you debated for a second whether to answer truthfully. You didn’t want to lie to your best friend and, you rationalise, you’d already crossed the line, hadn’t you?

“Just panties,” you whisper. 

You trail your hand down your chest over his shirt to toy with the hem where it had ridden up around your hips. Your fingers were dangerously close to slipping under the waistband your best friend had become oh so curious about.

“Just panties? Fucking hell, angel. What colour are they, huh?” He questions in his deep, rough voice.

You swallow thickly, wondering if he could hear how hot and bothered he was making you. You wonder if he knew you were so close to playing with yourself by the way your breath was getting faster. But you couldn’t stop yourself from answering. 

“They’re pink,” you say softly. 

“Angel,” Jaemin groans, thickened with need. “Fuck, I wanna bury my head between your thighs and kiss every single inch of you until you’re writhing under me, begging me to tear those panties off you.”

It was your turn to groan, and when you say, “Jaemin,” on a sharp exhale, you sound even more needy than anything else. Your fingers brushing over the hem of your panties, teasing yourself with whether or not you should dip beneath the fabric and touch yourself.

“You like that idea, angel?” He asks, a grin in his voice. “Like thinking about my mouth so close to your pussy.”

At his words, you couldn’t help but picture the scene. His head navigating between your legs, his strong arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you open so he could follow through on his promise. It was all too easy to imagine the way he’d look at you, mischief sparkling in his brown eyes as he slowly, teasingly kissed your mound over your panties, tongue sneaking out to lick the pink material. The picture he painted had you squirming in your bed. 

You couldn’t take it anymore, your fingers finally sliding into your panties, finding your pussy wet and swollen and needy.

When you don’t respond except with a sharp gasp, Jaemin asks, “Are you touching yourself?” 

His voice turns seductive. “You have to tell me if you are, angel—best friends tell each other this sort of thing. I have to know when you’re fingering your needy little cunt.”

“Oh god, Jaemin,” you cry softly, your breaths coming harsher. But you don’t for a second consider hiding what you were doing from your best friend. “Yes, I’m t-touching myself.”

“Good girl,” he praises, making warm pride curl through your chest as more wetness flooded your core. “Touch that pretty pussy for me.”

“H-how would you know it’s pretty?” you ask on a gasp, forcing the question out between hitching breaths as you slowly trace a finger around your dripping hole, teasing yourself and making you wetter.

“Because everything about you is pretty, angel. The way you laugh at me when I’m drunk, the way you bite your lip when you’re unsure, the way you look at me… fuck, you’re so fucking pretty.”

Your finger pauses and you suck in a deep breath, thoughts running chaotically. Jaemin had never complimented you like this before, and you couldn’t help yourself from asking a question you desperately wanted an answer to. 

“How do I look at you, Jaemin?” you ask in a small voice, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in the expression he’d just mentioned.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” he teases. “You look up at me, giving me the dirtiest fuck me eyes possible. Fluttering your pretty eyelashes like you’re begging me to bend you over every surface and stuff you full of my cock.” 

“Jaemin,” you cry out in a little sob, emotions and arousal swirling through your body completely overwhelming you for a moment. 

“I know angel,” Jaemin’s voice is soothing and deep. “I know you give those eyes to me.” 

He paused for a moment and all you could hear was his deep, steady breathing. 

“Because you’re mine, yeah?” There was a thread of uncertainty in his question, and it made your heart thump in response.

“Yeah,” you agree without hesitation, without protest. “I’m yours, Jaemin.” 

“Good,” he declares. Without giving you time to fully process what had just transpired between the two of you, Jaemin continues speaking, his voice diving an octave lower and growing rough. “Now slide one of your fingers into that pretty pussy of yours.” 

It was so easy to listen to him, to give yourself over to his command. Letting his deep voice reverberate in your head, heat curling all through your body down to the tips of your toes, as you press one of your fingers into your wet hole. A soft moan tumbles from your lips and you knew Jaemin heard it from the way he sucks in a breath.

“That’s it, angel, being so good for me,” his breaths coming harsher down the phone line. “Tell me how it feels.”

You sink into the sensations and the sound of his voice, letting your eyes fall closed. You feel like you’re floating in the soft sea of your bed as you pull your finger out and thrust it back inside your pussy. 

“Feels so good,” you answer in another moan.

Jaemin responds with a groan of his own. “Bet you’re fucking tight,” he says, breath heavy and raw. “Bet you’re clenching down on your little finger, aren’t you?”

Like your body was trained to respond to his voice, your pussy clenches around your finger at his words and you let out a hitching moan. But Jaemin doesn’t stop talking. His deep, hoarse voice fills your ears and makes you hotter and hotter.

“Fuck, angel, keep going—keep fingering that wet pussy for me while I stroke my dick to those sweet little sounds you make,” he urges, as he bit back his groans. You moan and gasp in response to his filthy words. “Fuckin’ hell, I wish it was your warm cunt gripping me right now, clenching hard around my thick cock while I fuck you.”

“Please,” you beg, not sure what exactly you were asking for but knowing you didn’t want him to stop talking. You add another finger to your dripping hole, crying out at the slight stretch.

“Would you like that, angel?” he asks, managing to fill his tone with teasing even as his heavy breaths gave away how turned on, he was. “Tell me—fucking tell me,” he prompts when you don’t respond, too busy fucking yourself with your fingers to the sound of his voice.

A whine forces itself out of your lungs, the simple command sounding so filthy from your best friend’s mouth. “Yes, Jaem,” you whimper an answer between your gasping breaths. “Want you to fuck me.”

“Fuck—fuck,” he groans almost painful. “The next time I see you, that pussy is mine. Gonna bury my face between your thighs and make you come on my tongue,” he promises. “Then I’m gonna shove my cock deep in your cunt and fuck you stupid.”

“Jaemin,” you sob out his name, fucking yourself harder as you picture your best friend hovering over you while you lay in his bed. You imagine how his body would start fucking you into the mattress, his cock buried deep in your pussy, your arms and legs wrapped around him — anything to be close to him. 

Through the phone, you hear the soft sound of Jaemin fucking himself into his own fist, the strain in his voice every time he spoke. 

Imagining your best friend sprawled on his bed, jeans open just enough for him to have his cock out, gripping and pumping his length roughly with his eyes squeezed shut. Thinking about him like that makes you whimper.

“Fuck—I can’t stop thinking about how pretty you’d look while I fuck you, angel,” he murmurs. “Wanna see my cock stretch you while I pound into you, wanna see your pretty lips swollen from my kisses as you moan for me, wanna see your eyes go all hazy as you get stupid on my cock.”

As he speaks, your thumb circles your clit and you moan loudly into the phone. Your best friend’s filthy words make your pussy clench down hard on your fingers as you get closer and closer to your release. 

“Don’t stop, Jaem, please don’t stop,” you beg breathlessly. Jaemin lets loose a deep groan in response to your desperate plea, the sound making your thighs clamp down hard around your hand. You wish your legs were wrapped around his waist instead of your wrist.

“Fuck your pussy, angel, nice and hard.”

You cry out as you force a third finger, making yourself stretch to take the intrusion. 

“That’s it, that’s my good girl, fuck yourself stupid to the sound of my voice,” he encourages. 

Even with how far gone you are, you can hear the cocky grin in his tone, but your body just flushes and clenches tight in response. Desperately, you fuck yourself harder, hips rocking into your hand, mind drowning in lust as you gasp and moan into the phone. Knowing he can hear you only urges you not to hold back. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jaemin groans loudly, his breath coming in sharp pants. “Keep making those cute little sounds for me, my cock is aching for you—fuck!” The cockiness in his tone fades into desperation. 

“Jaemin,” his name tumbles past your lips. 

You’d said your best friend’s name countless times over the years, but never like this—never with your fingers buried deep in your cunt wishing it was his thick cock.

“Jaem, I need…” you trail off, not even knowing what you need, just knowing he was the only one who could give it to you.

“You need my cock, don’t you?” You can hear the way his grin curls at the edges of his mouth. “Need my cock just like I need your pussy.” He bit off the end of his sentence with a groan. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come,” he moans. “Gonna come so hard to your sweet little moans, angel.”

You gasp and your back arches off your bed when you rub your thumb roughly over your clit. You moan so shamelessly for your best friend. “So close.” 

“When I fuck you,” he starts, cutting himself off abruptly as he groans again. “When I fuck you, angel, I’m gonna make you come so hard on my cock,” he promises, voice rough and deep you swear you can feel the pleasure from the sound shooting from your ear directly to your clit. “And while you’re screaming my name and coming all over my dick, I’m gonna bury myself in that sweet pussy and pump you full of my load—you want my come, angel?”

“Yes, Jaemin, please come inside me, fill me up,” you babble, so close to your own release you barely know what you’re saying. 

“That’s it. That’s my slutty little angel, begging for my come.” He groans, stroking himself faster. “Come for me, come for your best friend,” he commands, pausing to moan lowly. “Tell me who you belong to.” 

“I’m yours, Jaemin, all yours,” you cry out. With one more deep thrust of your fingers, the heel of your hand grinding against your clit, you come apart. 

You moan loudly as waves of pleasure surged through you, consuming you. Your limbs shaking as you wrench every ounce of pleasure from your release, fucking yourself through it as you breathe fast and harsh.

“That’s my good girl. Coming so sweetly for me, so perfect.” He grunts. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! You made me come so fucking hard, angel,” he mumbles, a little breathless.

Since you hadn’t fully regained control over your body, you just hummed in delight. You were still riding the aftershocks of your orgasm, your lips turned in a smile while you listened to Jaemin catching his breath.

“Like hearing me come apart for you?” He teases the question. “Wish you were here to clean up the mess you made.” 

“Jaem,” you try to put some reproach into your voice but fail miserably as you giggle. 

“Don’t worry, you can help the next time I see you.”

The line goes quiet for a moment, the two of you gathering yourselves together. “You’re still my best girl, right?” he finally asks, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “I’m your girl.”

“That’s good to hear,” he murmurs, sighing contentedly, and you can tell he was starting to drift off. “Because all of me is yours, angel. And I plan on showing you that when I’m back.”

[fangirl-dot-com]

🤩Track 8 - Gorgeous

*I am alive!! I apologize for taking so long. I had to finish my internship before I could really start to get back into the groove. so here we go, almost 4k words just for you! lemme know if y'all like the redemption arc!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Logan was on cloud-9 right now. 

Sure, the only person who could rival his good mood was probably Charles, who had just won his home race. But with Logan, he had you in his arms and another trophy to take back to Italy. 

The only issue was that he could feel eyes on him. He had felt it since he shared the podium with the McLaren driver hours before. The sad puppy dog eyes that used to have Logan on beck and call for the boy. The ones that belonged to the person he used to call his best friend. 

Oscar was a mystery that the American couldn’t figure out. 

How much of their childhood was a lie? How much of their “supposed friendship” was all fake? In his heart, Logan still wished that it was all true. That maybe, he could go back in time and live in his F3 era, where he knew that Oscar would always be there for him. 

But, if he did that, then you wouldn’t be in his arms, in the back of Jimmyz after Charles won the 2024 Monaco grand prix. 

As if you could tell something was wrong, you tilted your head to look at Logan, who had a sad look in his eyes. 

“Everything ok Log?” you questioned. 

The blond gave a slight nod before digging his head into your shoulder. You knew that Logan could be a different type of drunk every time the two of you partied. You guessed that Monaco was a sad-drunk Logan, which also meant a very lovey-dovey Logan. 

Your hand reached up and scratched his head, making him lean into your palm. You knew that Oscar was watching, he always was. His eyes were on the two of you like glue ever since the club mishap after the opening race back in January. 

You and Logan wouldn’t admit it, but the months in between the argument and Imola were some of the worst months for the both of you. If you thought being in Indy was isolating, you couldn’t compare the weeks of silence. Then again, it was mainly silence from you and Logan. But you two had been hurt and it was easier to build up walls again then let people in. 

Now, it was better. You and Logan made use of the on-team therapists that the team provided. They helped you get through things that you didn’t even know were problems until you talked about it. 

And a few of those discussions were about Oscar.  

A part of you wanted to push Logan in the Aussie’s arms and make sure that they apologized to each other. You could tell that Oscar wasn’t having the best season. His Monaco placing of P3 was the highest he had reached. Imola before that wasn’t the best. 

On the other hand, if they apologized and were friends again, where would that leave you? Deep down, you knew that Logan wouldn’t abandon you. But sometimes, the past liked to repeat itself. You had friends that dropped you so quickly and you couldn’t afford to lose Logan like you lost your other friends. 

Your therapist had mentioned that you had attachment and abandonment issues after everything you had been through. You weren’t going to argue with her as it made sense. You were scared of being replaced, that was it. 

When Oscar met your eyes, you flashed him a quick smile. However, that had the Aussie turn his eyes away and to the floor, which made you frown. Maybe if you could be nice to Oscar, Logan and him could make up. 

A snort from Logan had you looking away from where Oscar sat. A soft smile made its way to your lips as you looked up at Logan. 

“What is it?” 

He leaned in to your ear to whisper, “Look at Charles right now.” 

You looked around for the Monegasque and completely lost it when you noticed his Monaco flag covering his face, or well, his entire torso. What had you more intrigued was Max, who had Charles’s hand in his as he dragged the probably black-out-drunk man into a quieter corner. 

“Is there something going on between them?” you asked. 

A hum came from Logan. “I don’t know. If there is, they’re not being very discreet.” 

You leaned back into his chest. “You can’t talk Mr. Kiss Me On The Podium.” 

Logan whined, “It was one time.” 

You took your phone out and your eyes widened at the time. “We should probably get back to the hotel. It’s nearly 3 in the morning.” 

The blond nodded and grabbed your hand, much like Max did with Charles. The two of you dodged and weaved through multiple people as they also congratulated Logan on his race. Yours wasn’t as impressive as you crossed the line in P4. 

As you led Logan away, you passed by Oscar’s table. 

“Congrats on P3,” you said, hoping that he’d heard you over the music. 

Oscar, at first, hadn’t thought you were talking to him. But, the words “congrats” and “P3” made it clear that you were, indeed, talking to him. His eyes widened as he looked up at you. Logan behind wasn’t really paying attention, and Oscar didn’t know whether to feel glad or deflated. 

He cleared his throat. “Thanks.” 

You didn’t respond, but that same lopsided smile was flashed his way before you turned around and dragged Logan to the front, leaving Oscar frozen in his seat. 

A long sigh left his lips as he put his head down on the table. He didn’t know what to do. Logan had been his best friend, there was no lie about that. But with McLaren and all the success, he had pushed the American to the point of no-return. And he was dealing with the consequences. A firm hand landed on his shoulder, making him look up. 

His eyes, now partially watery, met the blue ones of George Russell. 

George was expecting Oscar to have fallen asleep, because if there was anyone who could close his eyes and nap at a club, it would be Oscar. However, he wasn’t expecting the younger man to be close to tears. 

The Briton quickly sat down next to the Australian. 

“What the matter Oscar? Not happy with P3?” 

That did it. 

It was only a matter of minutes before the floodgates opened and Oscar began to sob. George’s eyes widened in a panic, not knowing what to do with a sobbing Oscar. He frantically looked around, trying to find someone who could help him. 

His eyes landed on Charles and Max, but by the way they were both swaying, neither of them would be very much help. 

He glanced to the other side, eyes connecting with Lewis. He made a weird motion to the heap on the table that was Oscar and wildly beckoned him over. 

The older Briton picked up what George was putting down and ended his conversation. He walked swiftly over and sat on the other side of Oscar. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Lewis questioned, now hearing the very clear sobs. 

George ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I congratulated him on P3, and he just started crying.” 

“He didn’t even look at me,” came a wail from Oscar. 

Lewis was now confused. “Charles looked at you a bunch mate.” 

“No!” Oscar sat up, fire in his eyes. To George and Lewis, he looked like a very peeved kitten. “Logan!” 

George was even more confused. “Logan?” 

Oscar sadly nodded, lip pouting. “Our first podium and he didn’t even look at me.” 

His head thunked back on the table, which made the two Mercedes drivers want to laugh. Lewis took a deep breath before putting his hand on Oscar’s back. 

“Mate, the two of you aren’t exactly friends right now.” 

That made Oscar quickly sit up, and more tears fell from his eyes. “B-but, he’s my best friend. I didn’t mean to push him away.” 

George sadly smiled. “Does Logan know that?” 

Oscar looked at the Briton. “He won’t let me talk to him. He turns away. Even Y/n talks to me sometimes but he won’t. I just want my friend back.” 

Another set of wails fell from his lips, making some people look in their direction. George grit his teeth as he tried to comfort Oscar. He hadn’t expected the Aussie to be so heartbroken about this. 

Lewis leaned in so that Oscar could hear him. “Well, then you just have to make him listen. Logan is guarded, so you have to keep pushing.” 

A sniff came from Oscar. 

“But what if he never forgives me?” 

“Then he won’t. But you would be able to apologize and move on.” 

That was definitely the wrong choice of words as Oscar started to sob once more. George sent Lewis a stink eye over the sobbing heap of McLaren driver. 

The younger Briton took a deep breath. “Lewis didn’t mean it like that. He’s just saying that you have to give Logan the chance to know that you are sorry and process things. It took him almost three months for him to forgive Lewis, Max, and Charles.” 

That at least got Oscar to stop sobbing. George made a mental note that Oscar was a sad-type of drunk. He was only hoping that you and Logan were doing fine, knowing that Logan tended to get sappy when drunk as well. 

However, it was about the same in the hotel that you were staying at. Logan had unexpectedly started crying in the car, making you panic. By the time you got him to the room, he was almost in hysterics. 

You had no clue what to do as Logan flopped face down on the bed. His sobs were still audible through the multiple blankets. You sat next to his head and rubbed his back. 

“Logan, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t help you.” 

You knew he said something, coming from the muffles. You rolled your eyes, even if he couldn’t see them. 

“I can’t hear you through the blanket.” 

Logan pushed himself up, letting you see his red eyes and tear streaks. 

“Oscar hates me,” he wailed and flopped back face down. 

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry with him. Obviously, the Aussie didn’t hate Logan. In fact, you think that Oscar is very sorry for what happened between them. You pushed all your feelings aside, wanting to help your boyfriend. 

“Baby, I don’t think Oscar hates you.” 

The sobbing blond turned his head. “But I yelled at him.” 

“You yelled at Max, Charles, and Lewis. Do they hate you?” 

There was some silence before he spoke up again and huffed. “No.” 

You giggled. “So why do you think that Oscar hates you?” 

Logan’s lip wobbled as he spoke. “Because he was so distant. I tried talking to him, and he kept pushing me away.” 

You thought for a moment. “You both were rookies with a lot on your plate. And, he had a pretty mean teammate. Maybe think about that?” 

Logan nodded. In his drunk mind, his thoughts were all over the place. But deep down, he knew that Oscar may have not meant to be distant. There was a difference between Williams and McLaren. The Aussie might have had more pressure than what he wanted to tell anyone. 

When he finally looked up at you, you could see the puppy dog eyes. Those bright ocean blue eyes that you loved so much. You always felt like you might sink, drown, and die in them. Logan sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head on your lap. His arms came around your waist to hold you. 

“What if we invite him to paddle in Canada?” he whispered, a bit nervous to your reaction. 

He knew that you dealt with some abandonment issues and didn’t want you thinking that he’d replace you if him and Oscar miraculously saved their friendship. So, by asking to invite him to paddle, it wouldn’t just be the two of them. 

He opened his eyes to see your reaction and was pleased with the soft look in your eyes. “We can do that baby.” 

“You’re so gorgeous. I love you.” 

You snorted, not expecting that. “I love you too, Logan.” 

A soft snore was your answer, making you giggle again. You gently rolled Logan onto his side of the bed and undressed him down to his boxers. You knew he tended to overheat, and sleeping in jeans was never fun for anyone. 

You stripped as well, but took one of Logan’s shirts out of his suitcase to use as pajamas. The bottom of the t-shirt ended a bit above mid-thigh. It was perfect.

When Canada arrived two weeks late, it was wet and cold. The race was a perfect reflection of the weather. You and Logan couldn’t be bothered by either of you not getting pole. In fact, you both almost ran over George when he managed to set the fastest time right before Max. 

The two of you, of course, hugged Max with the same ferocity. With Charles, you both hugged him a bit sweeter. You and Logan had made it to the lower ranks of Q3. Charles almost made it but was knocked out by Lance. 

Oscar stood by the sides, watching you two do a quick debrief with your small group of friends. Even Lewis, who had normally stayed away after quali-sessions, was excitedly waving his hands around, happy to be in the front of the pack for this race. 

The Aussie almost looked away, but Logan had decided to look in his direction, locking eyes with him. Oscar was ready for a sour expression, but was confused at the small smile the American threw his way. He quickly flashed one back before Logan’s attention went back to you and Max, who seemed to be in a very serious conversation. 

It really wasn’t as Max was telling you about his cats, but Oscar didn’t know. 

He was brought out of his staring by Lando wrapping an arm around him. He was then led away, but he quickly glanced back. You had caught his eyes this time, giving him the same smile that you had at the club. But this time, Oscar was brave enough to smile back. 

When his teammate dragged him away, you turned back to the group. “Are we all good for paddle on Monday? I know it’s very quick after the race.” 

George nodded. “I can come. Is it just us?” 

Logan chewed his lip. “I think I might invite Oscar?” 

Four pairs of wide eyes stared at him in disbelief. But they quickly smiled at him. 

Charles, who had made his way over after qualifying, said, “I think that’s very nice of you.” 

Logan nodded, sighing softly. “You guys don’t have to come.” 

Max wrapped an arm around him. “We won’t leave you to the wolves. Y/n could take care of you if we can’t make it. I’ll let you know on Monday morning.” 

The Ferrari driver grumbled a bit. “I just want to get through tomorrow.” 

lamborghini_racing has posted

liked by sargeantgirlie, Dior, lambo&co, and 3,204,284 others

lamborghini_racing tough race, but we'll get them next time. guess the bees don't like the rain 🐝

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lambo_duo we'll get them next time! still leading both championships!!

papa_tonino corsa superba. coraggio, ci arriverai la prossima volta 👏 (superb racing. chins up, you'll get there next time)

allofitaly what papa tonino said - Spain is ours !!

formula_delulu lando should have gotten a worse penalty. five seconds is nothing when George was almost 10+ behind

lestappenlove this just shows that lamborghini is more consistent. p2 and p3 should have been ours but whatever. heartbroken for Ferrari, Williams, and Lambo

Logan remembered how Charles grumbled as he had to hoist himself out of his car in the middle of the race. He was grumbling the same way. There were only ten laps left with Max in the lead, you and him trailing behind the Dutchman. However, it seemed like one of the McLaren drivers wanted to go bowling after getting a pitstop with new tyres. 

Everyone knew the track was cold, reflecting the rainy atmosphere. Going for gaps on cold tyres was not something that should be done. However, Lando wasn’t everyone. 

After coming out of the pits, he had barreled past you and then past him, clipping his tyre, which sent him turning back into you, ultimately resulting in a double DNF. He had made sure that you were fine as he helped you out of your car. You had gotten shunted more than he did, but he was still sore. 

It was silence in the recovery car as it drove you back to the pits. You two kept your helmets on as you got to your garage. Both of you were trembling as you walked in, expecting looks of hatred for crashing. Because that’s what happened with Williams and Arrow. A DNF was a death sentence for you and him. 

However, you two were met with sympathetic looks and very comforting hugs and pats. The team medics quickly looked you and Logan over for any major injuries. You looked over at Logan, who probably wanted to cry from the kindness as much as you did. 

Getting dressed was hard as your shoulders and fronts hurt, but you got through it. Max had won in the time that it took you both to get back and change. 

Still wanting to be good friends, you watched the podium celebrations as Max, Lando, and George stood tall. You were thankful that George wasn’t right on your tail as Logan hit you, because you would have hit the Briton. 

You wanted to say something to Logan, but were instantly pissed once again. The crowd of papaya-clad fans around you were chanting Lando’s name during the Dutch national anthem. You hoped that Lando would have the decency to gesture to them to stop chanting as Charles had done in Monza last year. However, the Briton seemed to bask in the praise. Logan sneered as Lando raised his fist, almost jeering them on. 

You scoffed. 

You watched as Max and George both side-eyed him. 

After the podium celebrations, you and Logan made your way back to the Lamborghini garage. You passed by Ferrari, noticing Charles glaring at someone behind you. A quick turn to see who it was also had you glaring. 

Lando and the McLaren team were celebrating the podium. But a swatch of blue had you calming down as you noticed Max sneaking into the bright red garage. 

Logan took your hand to lead you into your own yellow and black. The two of you went to Logan’s driver room and sat down. Your head was resting on his shoulder when there was a knock on the door. 

“We’re not expecting anyone right?” you asked. 

Logan looked confused as he got up and walked to the door. When he saw a flash of papaya, he wanted to slam it closed. But the McLaren kit belonged to Oscar and not Lando. 

The three of you just looked at each other before Oscar cleared his throat. “Can I come in?” 

Logan said nothing, but turned to the side to let the Aussie in. 

You went to say something, but he held out his hand. “Can I say something first?” 

Logan huffed. “Sure. Unless you want to be like your teammate out there and be disrespectful.” 

Oscar, with wide eyes, shook his head. “I can here to apologize.” 

You and Logan were interested now. 

The Aussie took a deep breath. “I know words won’t repair the past year, but I want to slowly start fixing it.” 

He looked to Logan first. “I’m sorry Logan. I shouldn’t have let Lando be so influential on me last year. Because of that, I lost you as my best friend and I regret it every day. Your friendship meant the world to me, and I’m paying my own consequences.” 

Oscar then turned to you. “Y/n, we don’t know each other well, but I’m also sorry to you. I noticed how everyone seemed to distance you at McLaren functions and I should have been the better person instead of following the crowd.” 

He was on the verge of tears, but so were you and Logan. 

“I’m not here because anyone asked me. I’m here because I want to make things right. And I know that I probably won’t be forgiven immediately, I’m not asking you to. But I wanted to say sorry first and hope to be on the right path to be friends. And – ”  

Oscar couldn’t finish as he was brought into a big hug by Logan. His breath shuddered as he melted into the hug. He sobbed a bit more when he felt your arms wrap around him and the taller blond. He squeezed Logan a bit tighter as more tears fell. 

Logan released the hug after a few moments and wiped his own tears. You also wiped your tears as you giggled at the moment of three drivers all crying together. Your laughs made Logan start, which made Oscar join in. 

It felt ridiculous as you three really started laughing. 

When you came down from the laughing high, Logan finally looked at Oscar in full. His eyes were red, but so where his and yours. He smiled at the Aussie. 

“Oscar, how do you feel about some paddle?” 

venus2 has posted

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venus2 padel after the storm

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loscar4ever OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH 😱

presidentlogan LOSCAR IS BACK????

phoenix95 we totally crushed them 😌

venus2 YEAH WE DID

charles_leclerc if only SOMEONE put in the same amount of effort we could have won 😡

maxverstappen1 I SAID I WAS SORRY

y/ns_world everyone is focused on the first pic but the second one is so cute 🥺

y/nxlogan I know righttttt

lambo_duo glad to see smiles in the comments, we'll bring it back in Spain!

pheonix95 has posted

liked by venus2, charles_leclerc, logang2, and 402,947 others

phoenix95 you're so gorgeous it actually hurts 🥴

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loscarlife I CAME STRAIGHT FROM LOGAN'S POST

cardar8155 carlos and oscar are still superior

lestappenlove ummmmmmm no.

venus2 you're so gorgeous 🙃

charles_leclerc someone complemented me once 😒

maxverstappen1 I'M STILL ALIVE????

charles_leclerc y'all hear that 🤨

lewishamilton just the wind

y/n.nation they're such couple goals

oscarpiastri has posted

liked by maxverstappen1, opeightyone, venus2, and 805,294 others

oscarpiastri never playing doubles with them again 🥲

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opeightyone looks like we should start a padel line

lando_no_rizz glad that it seemed to be the group plus oscar

sargeantgirlie he's on thin ice, but I guess oscar is now fine

phoenix95 admit it, you're just scared of us 😏

oscarpiastri yes. on and off track.

venus2 AS YOU SHOULD BE 😤

oscarpiastri @/maxverstappen1 come get your son pls

maxverstappen1 that's George's son

georgerussell63 oh so he's only my son when he's acting out

loscarland MY FAMILY IS BACK TOGETHER

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlm @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicore @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-su @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hi!!

Can you do a Sam Winchester begging plus size reader to sit on his face. Whatever vibes you want :) Dommy Sam is always a fav but as long as Sam is reassuring and eating reader out, I’m happy :)

Thank you!!

.⋆｡Peaches and Cream｡⋆.

Sam Winchester x plus size reader

Dean made the mistake of leaving you alone with a very soulless version of your best friend who only wants one thing from you

Warnings: soulless!Sam, smut, friends to lovers?, oral (f receiving), mentions of condoms, praise, body worshipping, overstimulation, dom!Sam, almost getting caught, little bit of self-consciousness WC: 1.8k

Minors DNI

a/n: thank you all for being so patient with me, i promise i only have a couple weeks left of uni and i'm gonna come running back with some new fics!

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

His eyes burned into the back of your skull, as they had been for the past 10 minutes. And yet, you refused to look up from the book in front of you, even though you had not turned a page in that same amount of time.  You weren’t a stranger to Sam’s gaze, in fact you used to love it; the way his big puppy dog eyes trailed up your curves whenever he thought you wouldn’t notice never failed to have heat bloom across your cheeks.

But his staring was far different now.

Sam was different now.

You could hear him shift in his seat before the tell-tale sound of his boots against the cheap vinyl as he got closer. You swallowed around the lump in your throat though it did nothing to sooth the fear simmering inside you. 

“You’re not reading.” His warm breath tickled your neck. You shivered and squeezed your eyes shut. You knew what he wanted, and so badly did you wish to give it to him, like you always had but it was so wrong. His soul was gone, the very thing that made Sam Sam but it was still his body, his voice so tantalisingly close.

“Yes I am.” You bit back a whimper as Sam leaned in closer, his large hands planting themselves on the table in front of you, keeping you pinned to the spot. The tip of his nose brushed gently along your ear.

“No.” Suddenly the book was ripped from your hands and thrown across the motel room (something your Sam would never do). “You’re not.”

His lips closed around your earlobe. “Sam.” You cursed Dean in your mind, that man and his need for diner pie no matter how far out of his way he had to go to get it. “We can’t.” Fire pooled between your plump thighs, quickly soaking through your panties. 

He shifted closer, his strong arms now tightly pressed against you. He released your ear with a soft pop. “Can’t or won’t? Because I think we both know just how badly you want me, sweetheart.” You held your breath as Sam’s hands slowly moved from the table to your wide hips.

“Sam.” You tried again but this time he answered you with a deep growl.

“Say my name like that again and I promise that you won’t be walking straight for a week.” A moan escaped your lips before you could even think of stopping it. You could feel Sam’s plump lips curl into a devious smirk. 

“But-“ His grip tightened and all the doubts in your mind vanished.

“But nothing. Dean won’t be back for hours and you need to unwind and I happen to know the perfect way to do that.” 

As a last ditch attempt before your mind completely went fuzzy, you blurted out- “We don’t have condoms.”

His chuckle rumbled through your bones, sending a chill of excitement up your spine. “I’m not gonna fuck you, not today at least. I just want a little taste of this nice,” His right hand slid down the pudge of your stomach and wedged itself between your thighs, cupping you over the thick denim of your jeans, “juicy,” He nuzzled his face against your neck, “cunt.” 

“Be gentle?” You turned your head, encouraging the larger man to meet your gaze. His eyes shone with his victory.

“You want your Sammy don’t you?” He teased. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll give you exactly what you want.” And then he struck. 

His lips moulded perfectly against yours in a kiss long overdue. It was soft, almost sweet but you could feel the way he was holding back, forcing himself to relent to your wishes, even as he cupped your jaw with his other hand, deepening it. 

You whimpered against his lips and he reluctantly pulled away. You barely had a moment to catch your breath before Sam yanked you from your chair and lifted you into his arms. “Sam!” You tried to protest, but he silenced you with a kiss more determined than before. 

His tongue forced its way into your mouth as he strode to his unused bed. Your arms wound around his neck, Sam growling in approval. His knees bumped against the mattress and he fell forwards, catching himself with his right hand before he could crush you. Your pussy squeezed around nothing at the raw strength of the hunter you’d been pining for. 

You grabbed at the front of his flannel as he tugged on the hem of your jeans. Your teeth clacked together and the sound of ripping fabric filled the room. “Eager girl.” Sam groaned against your lips as you still held onto the now destroyed shirt in your grip. 

Your jeans button popped open. “Please Sam.” His long fingers grazed the wet spot on your panties and your hips bucked up, encouraging his touch to go just a little further down. He chuckled cruelly but yet he obeyed. The calloused tips of his fingers pressed into your throbbing clit, making your jaw drop with a silent moan.

He nipped at the frantic pulse along your throat, unbothered by the deep welts he was leaving behind. Your heart skipped a beat as you laid your palms onto his naked chest. “Sam.” His name was barely even a breath. 

“Good girl.” Your ruined panties were pushed to the side as his middle finger traced up your slit, gathering as much of your wetness as he could. “So wet for me. You’ve been waiting so long haven’t you.” He cooed.

You tried to pull him closer, but he wouldn’t budge, content in teasing you. “Shhh let me play a little longer and then I’ll give you what you want.” His slender hips rolled against your thigh, letting you feel the monstrous bulge of his cock where it was straining against his own jeans.

You squirmed as he finally pressed his thick fingers to your clit, just barely dousing the fire between your legs. “Please.” Your eyes burned with tears of desperation. You needed him like it was the only thing keeping you alive.

Sam tsked and in response, pulled his fingers away. You nearly cried as your relief was ripped away from you. “Now, while I do love your begging, we’re doing this my way. You need to learn.” 

He leaned back onto his heels, his ripped shirt perfectly framing his toned stomach and chest. You couldn’t look away from him, never could you have even dreamed that your best friend was this good-looking. “Jeans. Off.” 

Your hands flew down to your hips, eager to obey. Sam smirked and pulled off the tattered flannel, his eyes remained on you though, burning with lust. Your hands shook as you finally got your pants off. Your panties quickly followed after.

“What a good little slut, listening so prettily. You just want your Sammy to take care of you don’t you.” You nodded desperately.

“Please, wanna be good.” 

He grabbed your wide hips and rolled onto his back, dragging you up the length of his torso until you were straddling his wide shoulders. “Then be good for me and sit on my face.”

“But-“ He shot you a lot from between your legs and dragged you up further so you had no choice but to plant your knees on the mattress next to his head. You caught yourself on the wall behind the headboard as you tried to rock forwards and pull yourself up. 

“Do this for me, sweetheart. Lemme drown in that pussy.” His teeth sunk into the soft fat of your inner thigh. 

“But Sam, I-I don’t want to hurt you. ‘M not exactly small.” 

“Sit. I won’t repeat myself again.” Your knees wobbled but you remained upright, determined to not harm the man beneath you. “Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

His arms wound around your legs and forced you down onto his mouth. “Perfect.” He grumbled into your cunt.

“Sam!” But before you had the chance to even think of prying yourself from him, Sam’s lips sealed around your clit and it took every ounce of self-restraint you had not to court around his head and keep him right there, suckling at you, forever.

Your moans echoed through the cheap motel room, bouncing off the peeling wallpaper and soaking into the old carpeting. You couldn’t help but grind down onto his face, chasing the pleasure he had already denied you once before. Sam groaned in approval from between your legs. His tongue lapped at you, moving with a precision that had you asking yourself why you hadn't relented sooner.

“Are-are you spelling something?” He just winked at you and ducked his head down once more. Your eyebrows scrunched as you tried to concentrate on the fluid movement of his tongue against you though the blinding pleasure made it difficult.

S-A-M-U-E-L He took a breath. W-I-N-C-H-E-S-T-E-R

He was branding you, and that thought sent you catapulting to the precipice of your end. “Sam, Sam please. ‘M so close, please, please.” His right hand released your thigh and quickly slipped underneath his chin, letting his thick fingers finally breach your needy cunt. The knot in your stomach wound impossibly tighter and then just as he crooked his fingers, hitting the delicate bundle of nerves within you, Sam spelled one more word.

M-I-N-E

“Fuck fuck fuck!” You thrashed on top of him, wave after wave of euphoria washing over you, drowning you in it as Sam’s unrelenting ministrations pushed you right into another orgasm just as the first was dying down.

Your hands flew to his silky hair and tried to pry him off of you but he kept going, seemingly determined to make you pass out from the pleasure. “Too much.” Your whole body shook as your nerves lit up like fireworks.

“Oh god-“ Suddenly, the tell-tale rumble of the Impala had both you and the man you were straddling freeze. The car door squeaked and you both looked at each other. 

Sam grabbed your hips and rolled you onto your back before ripping his half-naked body from yours. You threw the covers over yourself and shut your eyes, praying that your heavy breathing wouldn’t be noticed by the other hunter. 

Just as Dean’s footsteps reached the motel room door, Sam had tugged on a new (non-ripped) flannel from his bag. Your eyes slammed shut as the door creaked open and Dean slipped inside.

There was a beat of silence. “She sleeping?” You breathed out a sigh of relief, you couldn’t imagine what he would’ve thought if he realised what was happening between his soulless little brother and you barely moments before.

“Yeah.” Sam responded in a clipped tone, a now regular occurrence with his brother. Dean hummed and you heard the sound of a plastic bag being placed on the kitchen counter.

“I got some food for us. You want any?” You could’ve melted from the genuine concern in his voice but as Sam answered, your stomach churred with embarrassment.

“I already ate.” He smirked as he wiped away the last remnants of your cum from his lips with his thumb.

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[not-neverland06]

How About A Nuke?

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII

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The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: I see a lot of comments talking about how you guys wished they would just communicate. They are communicating its just that neither of them know what they want. Summary: All you want is to just be clean. He offers to show you a nice little spot where you can finally scrape the grime off of you. What could go wrong?

“So,” you shifted your bag further up your arm. You were favoring the left today on account of the giant gap he had left in your right bicep. You were still pretty pissed off about that. “Do you ever, you know, bathe?”

He looked over his shoulder at you, he seemed caught off guard by the question. “Bathe?” He repeated, face raised in surprise.

You rolled your eyes and nodded, “Yeah, bathe. I’ve been out here over a week. I’ve got about twenty layers of blood and sand stuck in every crevice.” Your skin crawled thinking about the different types of bodily fluid you’d been sprayed with since coming out of the cryo pod. 

There was a lot of blood, of course, but Hollywood doesn’t show everything that gets excreted in death. You were itching for a good shower. You know that’s out of the question, but there’s got to be something. 

He laughed and ripped off a piece of jerky. He offered you some, grinning when you shook your head. “Buckle up, sweetheart, you’re in for a rude awakening. You can always use the water, but that’s a waste of Radaway if you ask me.” You should have known. It’s not like anyone you’d encountered seemed particularly gung ho about personal hygiene, but you had hoped there would be something. 

You reached down, digging your nails into your arm and scratching off flakes of blood and who knows what else. You shouldn’t have bothered, though, it only made the rest of you feel a hundred times worse. You looked crazy, scratching at yourself like a dog but you couldn’t help it. 

“Alright, damn, I’ll give you some of my Radaway, you look half rabid.”

You stopped with your scratching and stared at him in shock. “You’ll give me some of your Radaway?”

He rolled his eyes, stopping only when he noticed you’d quit walking. “Is that not what I said?”

You crossed your arms and glared at him, “You’re not exactly known for your generosity. What’s the catch?”

He frowned and clutched at his chest like you’d actually done damage, “Now, that hurts darling. I’m just trying to help you out.” He turned around, walking to the right now, further towards greenery and away from the desert. “Plus, it’ll get rid of that fucking smell.”

You kept your mouth shut but he was one to talk. He hadn’t exactly tasted wonderful when he’d kissed you. Nor did he smell amazing. Still, he had made your heart race and it wasn’t from pure terror for once. Though, any positive feelings he’d caused within you had been negated the second he dropped you to the dirt like a used up toy. 

You knew better than to try and bring it up to him, but it had stung. Attacked that vulnerable part of you that made you want to put up walls so high even the sun couldn’t get through. 

With no other choice you sped up and caught up to him. Your hip was still bothering you, but it wasn’t dragging behind you as much as it was a few days ago. The only thing really bugging you now was your throbbing arm. He’d assured you that it couldn’t rot, he’d dealt with that, but that didn’t stop it from hurting like a bitch. 

“Through here is a lake you can use.” He pointed towards the area where the trees started to thin out. 

You looked at him skeptically, “You’re really letting me do this?”

He scoffed and glared at you, “The fuck did I tell you?” You don’t know if he’s talking about his new rule to stop questioning him or about giving you the Radaway, but you keep your mouth shut anyway. He hasn’t been as much of a dick today and you’d rather keep it that way. 

“Here,” he motions through the trees and you stumble into an abandoned neighborhood. It’s been submerged in water, you can spot some old apartment buildings peeking up through the top. 

Briefly, you wonder if you’ve ever passed your old home and just never realized it. You dismiss the thought as quickly as it comes, not willing to let your mind linger on thoughts like that today. 

You slowly make your way to the water, still not entirely trusting of his intentions. He’s made it clear he’s keeping you around for the long haul, but that doesn’t mean he’s stopped tormenting you. “You’re really gonna let me use your Radaway?” You call over your shoulder. 

He sighs and leans against the trunk of a tree. “Get your ass in the water, I won’t wait around all day. 

You’re not dumb enough to fully submerge yourself in radiated water. You just rip a piece of your shirt off and dunk it into the startlingly blue lake. You use it to scrub yourself down, rubbing your arms until they’re raw and feel clean enough. 

You shuffle closer to the water, trying to bend over enough to scrub your face a bit. But when you gaze down into the water you find something gazing back up at you. You scream, scrambling back just as that thing leaps out of the water and towards you. 

Something pink and wet slams into your chest and knocks the air out of your lungs. You grope blindly in the mud for your gun as it opens its mouth. Horror and disgust fill you when you see what’s in its mouth, human fingers dangle like disgusting uvulas. It darts forward, jaw posed to clamp around your whole face. 

A loud bang echoes through the lake. The thing goes flying back and causes ripples to drift across the surface of the water. You clutch your chest, trying to get your breath back and scoot closer to get a better look at whatever attacked you. It’s the size of your torso and looks startling like some deformed axolotl. He’s left a large bullet hole in the middle of it’s head deformed head.

“What the fuck?” You whisper, shakily getting to your feet and groaning when you realize whatever you’d manage to clean off had been replaced by a thick layer of mud. 

You turn around, hoping for some sort of explanation from him, but he’s just bent over laughing, gun still smoking. You grab your bag out of the muck with a huff and glare at him. “Really?”

He straightens up, still grinning and shakes his head. “You should have seen your face, you were petrified.”

”Well, I’m glad someone enjoyed that.” You glare down at the corpse, eyes wide with horror, “It’s got fucking fingers in it’s throat. Human fingers!” He saunters over to you, entirely too pleased with himself. He grabs his inhaler out of his bag and loads it with Radaway. He tosses it over to you and you catch it with your good arm. “You knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?” You press down and take in a deep breath, ignoring how bitter the juice tastes. 

“Never trust anything, rule number one of the Wastelands darling. Can’t even trust the water.” There was a loud roar off towards the middle of the lake and he nodded his head back towards the tree line. “Come on, that one was just a baby Gulper. Momma’s gonna be by soon and I can’t imagine she’ll be real happy.” He walks off without you and you’re stuck staring at the dead mutant. 

“That was a fucking baby?” He laughs at you again and when you catch up with him, you can't help but laugh a little yourself. You probably looked ridiculous, wrestling in the mud with what, apparently, was only an infant. 

He grins at you, “You got a lot to learn.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, I know.”

He’s kneeled down beside you, fingers prodding at the reddened area around your wound. It feels a bit better now, more like touching a fresh bruise rather than raw nerves. He poured some water from his canteen over the area and retied the bandage. He stood up and moved away from you while you dug around in your bag for another ration bar. 

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You’ve got the bar positioned between your knees, and you’re trying, hopelessly, to open it up with one hand. Your fingers, now dusted with dried mud, slip uselessly against the packaging. 

He looks up at you and lets out a loud sigh. “Give it here.”

”I’ve got it-”

“Give. It. Here.” You huff but toss the bar over to him. He rips it open in one smooth move and throws it back to you. You catch it with your good hand and take a large chunk out of it. It feels like rubber and tastes oddly like dried out meatloaf. You’re not exactly sure what flavor it’s supposed to be replicating, but you figure it’s so old it doesn’t really matter as long as it fills you up. 

He pours some water from his canteen onto a ripped piece of cloth and tosses it at you. You’re unprepared, bar in hand and midchew, it slaps against your face and you scowl under the fabric. “Really?” You mutter, mouth half full. You yank it off your face and give him a questioning look. 

“Just clean yourself up.” 

You drag it across your face and arms, trying to get off as much residual mud as you can. Your clothes are a stained, lost cause, but this will do for now. Not like you’re going to get much better without going up against some mutant monster. 

“You’re being nice today?” It comes out like a question more than anything. Probably because you’re having trouble trusting him, especially after the Gulper incident. You wished you could say you can’t believe he would do something like that, but you’re pretty sure he’d been hoping the mom would get you, not the baby. 

He shrugged and leaned back against a fallen log. “Feelin’ chivalrous.”

You hummed but didn’t push. You forced down another lump of your ration and reached for your water. “Where are we heading anyway? Been walking for a long time but we haven’t seem to have gotten anywhere.”

“There’s a compound I took a bounty for. We’re on our way to deliver it.”

You tilted your head as far back as you could, tongue out and hoping to catch the remaining drops of your water. “Shit,” you tossed the canteen back in your bag, already knowing it was hopeless. 

“Ah, hell,” you glanced up and saw Cooper rifling through his supply box. 

“How are you on Radaway?”

He sighed and chucked the box back into his bag. “Got two vials left.” He ran his tongue along his teeth, a pensive expression on his face. 

You sighed and rubbed idly at some mud left on your fingers. “You’re gonna need more soon.”

He cut you off with a sharp laugh. “Faster than soon, this is the diluted shit.” He rubbed at his chest and you wondered if he was already starting to feel the effects of being so low on the medicine. You can’t believe he gave you a vial of his own with so few left. 

Bastard must’ve really wanted to see you get jumped by a gulper. Your face twisted up in distaste and any twinge of sympathy you’d felt for him dissapeared. You wished he would cough so hard he’d choke on his tongue, at least then you wouldn’t have to listen to his bullshit anymore. 

He looked over at you and then your bag. “Got any of that purified water left?” You shook your head, crumpling the wrapper of your bar up and tossing it somewhere behind you, 

“Just ran out, not sure where I’m gonna find more.”

He chuckled and stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I do,” you stood up and grabbed your own bag, following behind him. 

Loud laughter and rowdy conversation drifts into the night air. You sit perched behind a large boulder, staring into the building across from you. It’s an old supermarket, refurbished to fit the Wastelanders' needs. “They’ll have what we need?”

He doesn’t look at you, his sight is dead set on the men milling about in front of you. They’re clearly guards, switching positions every couple of minutes and loaded to the teeth with weapons. Cooper silently tracks them, eyes darting between them as they switch positions yet again. 

“Yep,” he lifts up into a squat and watches as one of the men turns his back to lace up his boot. “Now!” He grabs you by the sleeve of your jacket and drags you along as he weaves between the guards. He throws you in front of him, practically tossing you inside the store. 

You hold back your gasp of shock and duck behind a waist-high shelf. There are only seven or eight men walking around inside. They’ve got a fire burning in the middle of the store, the empty shelves pushed back against the walls. Behind them is about the largest pile of supplies you’ve seen since being up here. They could give Ma June a run for her money. 

You peek your head over the shelf and try to get a look at just how many weapons they have. You hear the familiar sound of spurs walking behind you and twist immediately to see Cooper walking calmly towards the group with his hands raised in surrender. He catches your eye and winks before he fully addresses them. 

“Gentlemen!” You sigh and sink back against the shelf, an irritated look on your face. The shelf screeched forward slightly and you scrambled off it, you caught Cooper twitch a little in irritation but he didn’t say anything. He’s been fully noticed at this point, the others all glaring at him with their guns raised. 

He had a full view of all eight men from his perspective. What he couldn’t see, which you could, was a ninth man sneaking up behind him with a knife. He had it poised, aiming to strike right through the back of Cooper’s neck. 

Without thinking too much on it, you leapt out of your hiding spot and used your good arm to point your gun in the man’s face. He came to a stop almost cartoonishly, eyes wide and the knife in his hands trembling when you popped out. 

Cooper barely gave you a glance out of the side of his eye and you figured he knew all about the ninth man. He must have been testing you, see if you really had his back. “Hey!”

“Who the fuck is she!”

“What are you doing here?”

You ignored the sounds of their voices, you kept the gun trained on the boy and motioned him towards the left of the room. He followed, letting you guide him backwards until he was scrambling to hide behind his friends. It’s then that you finally got a good look at just how many guns were trained on you. 

One of them pumped their shotgun and you pulled back the hammer of your gun. Cooper’s guns were still tucked away in their holster, it was just you and however much firepower they could cram between ten pairs of hands. 

“Now, I suggest that you gentlemen put those guns down or my friend here is gonna get a little too friendly with her trigger.”

One of them scoffed, gesturing with the barrel of their pistol towards your right arm hanging limply by your side. “She got a bad arm and a shaking hand.”

“Maybe,” you call out, “but I got a working finger. I only need one of ‘em to kill you.”

Before he can respond there’s another one stepping forward. “She can get real friendly with me.” He’s got a lecherous grin on his face and a look in his eyes that makes your skin crawl. You sigh, sick of the men up here being so predictable, and turn your gun on him. His eyes widen, like he hadn’t seen you pointing it at his friends, and you pull the trigger. 

Your aim is a little off and the recoil is harder to handle with only one hand available to you, but you’ve got a sawed off shotgun in your hand, don’t have to have a great aim to kill a man with that. His twitching body has barely hit the ground before you’re diving to the right and ducking behind a shelving unit. 

Cooper goes to the left, eyes wide in the same astonishment as those men. Bullets started flying the second their friend was on the ground. They were shouting all sorts of insults and threats at you but it was hard to make out over all the shooting.

“You shot him!” Cooper shouted over the hail fire of bullets.

You rolled your eyes and did your best to reload the gun with your wobbly hand. “He pissed me off,” you shouted back at him. You leveled the gun over the top of the shelves and fired blindly. There was a loud yelp and then another Bitch shouted at you, so you must have hit something. 

“You know, I was trying to handle this civilly,” Cooper jumped to his knees and turned around quickly. He fired off a quick succession of shots, four bodies dropped as he did. The rate of gunfire slowed a bit as more men fell. He ducked down and ran across the room, throwing himself down next to you. He tossed his guns at you and tugged yours out of your hand. “Reload me,” you nodded and tugged some bullets out of his bandolier while he used your gun to shoot at them. 

“I’m sure you handling it civilly would have ended the exact same fucking way.”

He grinned and sat back next to you, “Well,” he shrugged, “maybe. Maybe not, doesn’t matter now.” You handed him his reloaded guns and he dropped yours in your lap. “Only a few left, use the shelves as cover and circle around behind ‘em.” He didn’t stay to make sure you understood his plan, he immediately set off, drawing the fire away from you and making a run for it. 

“Shit,” you hissed, struggling to your feet and following his instructions. With only a few of them left it should have been quick work to get rid of the last few stragglers, but the guards from outside had heard the scuffle and were rushing in. Cooper shot most of them but one got close enough to snatch his gun from his hands and throw it to the floor. 

Cooper struggled against the man, his towering form easily overpowering Cooper. Though, your friend didn’t seem particularly worried, if anything it looked like he was letting the man live to draw out the fight, like he was enjoying it. 

You were going to just leave him to it when you saw the same bastard from before with the knife sneaking up behind him again. You rush forward, scooping up Cooper’s gun as you go and shove the man backwards. 

He grunts at the impact but he refused to be deterred. He charges at you, eyes red with rage and blackened mouth frothing like a rabid dog. You try and keep your guard up but you’ve got a gimp leg and a useless arm, it’s not a fight you’re going to win. 

He wraps an arm around your waist and yanks you into him. You grunt, breathing out slowly as you feel his knife slide into your gut. You glance down at the rusted blade and shove your gun under his chin. His eyes widen when you draw the hammer back but you don’t flinch when you pull the trigger, not even when chunks of skull and hair start raining down on you. 

Cooper must have finally noticed the tussle happening behind him because he draws his second gun out from under his coat and ends his little fight with the last of them. You must be in shock, you still haven’t fully experienced the pain that you should. 

There’s a knife sunk past the handle slammed into your gut, you should be feeling something shouldn’t you? You’re sure it’s the adrenaline still pumping through you. Your body is warm from how fast your blood is pumping, your ears ringing from all the gunshots and head spinning from the amount of blood steadily leaking out of the wound. 

“Hey,” you turn around to face him and his eyes widen ever so slightly. You lose your footing and he darts forward, quick arms grab you and draw you into his chest. You clutch onto the sleeve of his jacket, letting all of your weight rest on him while you try and get your panicked breathing under control. 

You’ve had worse injuries than this. As hard as it is to believe, in your time up here, you’ve survived a lot worse than some measly stab wound. 

So why does this feel so fucking bad?

“Oh,” you moan in pain, nearly doubling over. A feeling like a million exposed nerves being set on fire stops you from falling to the floor, instead you push off Cooper and struggle to your feet. 

“Alright, come on,” he grabs your arm again and you have the ridiculous urge to just shove him off you. Your head is swimming,  you feel like you could float away. You look down at the knife again and finally realize just how large it is. One of those hunting ones that was about the width of your hand curled into a fist. 

Well, fuck.

“Hey,” he snaps when you stumble away from him again. “Sit your stubborn ass down, you need help.” He yanks on the straps of your shirt, holding you up and dragging you to a chair, you don’t have much choice as he forces you to sit. Though, the motion causes a wave of excruciating pain to flare through you. 

He kneels in front of you and rips your shirt open, you’re in too much pain to complain about it right now. He hums low in the back of his throat as he takes in the wound. With no warning whatsoever he grabs the knife by the handle and yanks it out like he’s ripping off a fucking bandaid. 

You nearly scream, lurching forward and shoving him away from you. The sudden shock of pain has left you half blind and panting like an animal. “What the fuck was that?” You force out through gritted teeth. He plants a hand on your shoulder and presses you firmly against the back of the chair. 

“Need to get you a Stimpak.” He takes your hand in his and presses it against the wound. Where blood was once oozing, it’s now gushing. You hadn’t realized just how much keeping the knife in had kept the blood at bay. With how rapidly it’s leaving you now you’re afraid. 

You’re afraid that you might not be able to make it back from the edge with just a Stimpak. You can already feel your fingers going cold, pretty soon you won’t be able to flex them and then you’d lose feeling in your arms too. 

“Hey,” he uses the grip he has on your hand to press down on the wound. You groan but he keeps the pressure steady. His eyes bore into your dazed ones, some odd expression in them. “You don’t get to give up. Keep pressure on this, understand me?” Your head flops forward in a lazy nod. 

He could have been gone for a minute or an hour, you wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. Your head is foggy, coherent thoughts replaced by loopy ones. You’re struggling to remember where you are or what you’re supposed to be doing. 

Just as your hand slips from the wound, he comes back. He grabs your hand and places it back, holding it there with his own. You appreciate the way he warms your fingers back up, but the rest of you is freezing too. Maybe he’d share his jacket. 

The thought of him sharing anything makes you laugh and he gives you a frustrated look. “Don’t go losing it on me. Not yet at least.”

You lean forward, face nearly pressed against his and grin. “You know, I haven’t heard a thank you yet.”

He scoffed, opening the Stimpak with one hand and preparing the injector. “Yeah, for what?”

“Saving your life, dick.”

You’re caught off guard when he slams the needle into your stomach, your lips part with a silent gasp and you wince at the cool rush of medicine. He grins at you, “Well, thank you for being the only dumbass to get herself stabbed in a gun fight.”

The medicine works fast, you learned that from when he’d shot you. You can already start to feel the pulse of blood slowing and your head clearing up slightly. “Asshole,” you hiss, leaning away from him. But his eyes stay trained on you, on both of your blood covered hands and where they still rest, linked together, on your stomach. 

You find yourself taking advantage of his distraction to really look at him. It bothers you, how after everything, his eyes are still so pretty. It’s the first thing that drew your attention when you were younger. Those eyes of his had you swooning from the first time you saw him on the big screen. 

He catches you but you can’t find it in yourself to care. There’s something odd in the air, a lingering tension from the kiss you’d never discussed. From the silent partnership you’d never voiced. You’d nearly gotten yourself killed for him tonight, the thought finally seemed to be dawning on him. 

His eyes drop to your lips and he leans in. He doesn’t get very far, lips just barely brushing yours before you’re jerking back in surprise. You’re bleeding out in his hands and he kisses you? Your hand is up and cracking across his cheek before you can think about it. 

His head whips to the side with a satisfying crack. He lets out a breathy chuckle, using his free hand to soothe the area you’d hit. He stretches the tension out of his jaw and shakes his head before he looks at you again. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed you. You definitely shouldn’t be further entertaining his ideas that he holds any sort of possession for you, but you’d just realized what that look in his eyes had been earlier. He had been worried about you. 

Cooper has always been the one who protected you. Not the other way around. And as twisted as he’d become, it still relatively remained the same dynamic today. You’d caught him off guard earlier, putting yourself in danger like that for him. And he had been worried about you. 

You grab him by the collar of his jacket and drag him forward before he can decide what to do with the fact that you slapped him. Your lips meet again and he hovers over you on your chair. The hand on your stomach pushes harder against you, deepening the pressure and making you groan into his mouth. 

He doesn’t waste time, deepening the kiss and letting his other bloodied hand drift into your hair. His fingers curl around the strands and he yanks your neck back, manipulating you how he wants and bending you to his desires. You melt into it, into the complete control you allow him to momentarily wield over you. 

You let your mind go blank and just focus on him. You can pretend, for now, that you’re in his old house. You’re coming back after a date at one of those fancy restaurants that he hates, but he takes you there anyway so you can have an excuse to dress up. 

He’ll whisper I love you and drag you to the couch. You’ll start there, his kisses traveling lower until he’s dragging you back to his bedroom. You’ll feel valued, cherished, loved. Cooper will take care of you. 

He parts slowly from you, still keeping a firm grip on your hair. It takes a moment for your eyes to flutter open again. You’re sure you look like a mess, staring up at him with glossy eyes and swollen lips, completely drenched in your own blood. 

“Don’t think about him when I’m the one kissing you, darling.” Your eyes widen and he lets you go. He shoves back from you and paces towards his bag. Any warmth in his eyes, any care, was gone. 

You want to say something to drag him back but the moment has passed. It’s not like he was wrong, you were pretending he was someone completely different to make yourself feel better. 

But you couldn’t make yourself feel guilty when you remembered half the reason you needed the comfort was because of who he was now. He comes back with a needle and thread. He lets the needle hover over the men’s fire for a moment before he approaches you with it. “Stimpak will only do so much, need to sew you up.”

You nodded and looked away as he knelt down and pressed the needle into your skin. You barely felt it,  could barely pay attention to him when your thoughts were on what it was like before. What he was like before. Sometimes it makes you sick to your stomach to look at him. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[mikwaa]

I want to increase our family!

Featuring: Kazuha, Childe, Diluc, Zhongli, Kaveh

Prompt: They ask you to have a child!

Warnings: Fem! Reader, fluff, too much romace on this,established relationship/marriage.

A/n: For some reason these headcannons are one of my favorites! Besides that this is one of my favorites brainrots.

Kazuha:

Kazuha, would be quite shy to ask you for this, even if it was something he wanted very much. He didn't know how you would take the news, even if he had been daydreaming about the idea for a while. "My dear, I want to talk to you." He calls you, rather fearfully. His heart was beating so fast, even he wondered why he was so nervous. You sat down on the couch with him, and even without talking to him you could see that he was anxious. "What's wrong?" You squeeze one of his hands, making him look at you. He swallows, then gives a silly little smile, "I wish there was someone else here, not just the two of us." And he regrets it right after he speaks, how could he have been so clumsy with a simple sentence? "Are you thinking of bringing someone to live here?" Your confused face already said perfectly that you hadn't understood anything. "N-no, no." He sighed, why the hell was this so embarrassing? You hold his face, looking at him with a frown, "You look weird, what's wrong?" "I want to grow our family, I really do." He holds both your hands, gripping tightly. You smiled with confusion at first, but after seeing his expression you understood what he meant. "… Do you mean kids?" And now it was you who was nervous, even though you two had been married for a while, it was different when this conversation comes up like this. "Yes, I would love to. I'd love you to carry my children." And he was so sincere, so kind. Even if he was in a cold sweat, completely nervous. He was still all cautious with you. You gave a blown smile, it was so special to hear him talking to you like that. He was more than ready to take that step, and he wanted to very much. "You have no idea how much I want to." You smiled beautifully, and he grabbed you in a hug so strong, so genuine. "We'll be the best parents, you can be sure." He assures you. And about that you could have no doubt, Kazuha would do everything to be the best father possible. He would work hard from the time you were pregnant until the time the baby was born, and he couldn't wait for that moment. You were very special to him, and he would settle down and live happily with the family he would make with you, the love of his life.

Kaveh:

Since early morning Kaveh was pacing around, he was anxiously waiting for you to come home. Lately he could only think of one thing, he wanted to have kids with you, he just didn't know how to bring it up. His face flickered as soon as he heard the sound of the door opening, it was you who had just arrived. "My sweetheart, how was your day?" It was the first thing he always asked you, regardless. "It was good as far as possible, and you?" You give him a little kiss, and he returns it. "It was great, great. I wanted to talk about something with you." He says reluctantly, he felt so nervous. You look at him a little puzzled, precisely because he seems a little tense, "About what? Did something happen?" "It's because I wanted to grow our family, you know? Something beyond the two of us." And there he was, he had prepared so much, but the words seemed to come out all messed up. You look at him with a frown and ask, "Do you want a pet? Don't tell me you want to bring those desert foxes home." You say smiling, squeezing his cheeks. "The foxes? Pffff, no, that wasn't quite it." He gives one of those nervous laughs, his gaze a little confused. "Then what? Any of the street dogs you've seen around? Or was it a kitten?" And he was getting more and more clumsy, how could he say that? He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and relaxing a bit, thinking to himself 'it's going to be okay Kaveh, you can do it.' He hugs you, holding you tight and close to him, and then he whispers, "We've been married for a while now, and I was wondering if you could give me the joy of having a copy of ourselves running around this house." And your eyes widened at what he said, now you understood what he meant. "Do you want to have kids with me?" You stammered, it turned out you felt as afraid as he did. He pulled back a little and looked at you, his eyes filled with love, "Yes my dear, I want to very much." Your heart beat so fast, you knew that at some point he would ask you for it, Kaveh was always very good with children. "'B-but you don't have to feel pressured, in case you don't want to-" "Of course I do, my darling, I want it as much as you do." His face lit up, he smiled happily, the kind of smile that made you mesmerized. He takes you in his arms and gives you a twirl, "I'm going to be the best dad in the world, and you're going to be the best mom!" From now on, the only thing he would talk about was the baby, he couldn't wait to see you pregnant. He would prepare the best outfits, the best room, he would give everything of the best quality to the child, and of course the main thing, love.

Diluc:

Ever since Diluc asked you to marry him, he was sure that he wanted to have a family with you. And he thinks it's high time to talk to you about it, and he was so nervous, it was still something he didn't know if you wanted, and he was eager for an answer. And he had been thinking all day about a way to broach the subject, and now that he was coming home it seemed he had forgotten everything he had planned. He came into the house, and went straight to your shared bedroom. And there you were, reading the book while waiting for him, his heart warmed every time he came home and saw you, no matter how long you were together, the feeling was always the same. "My love, you came home late today." And as always you welcome him with a smile, opening your arms to cuddle him. And there he went, snuggled in your arms, feeling at home. "Have you ever thought about adding to our family?" was the first thing he said, as always Diluc was direct, although he wanted to be a little more delicate this time. You were disconcerted by the sudden question, was he referring to a kitten you had been taking care of for a week? "Oh, you mean the cat? I was going to talk to you, I really want to bring him to our house." He grunted, and you realized that wasn't what he meant. "No, of course you can bring the kitten if you want, it's your house too after all." He raised his face, leaning his forehead on yours, "I'm talking about us, about having a baby." His face was so red, and yet he looked at you so tenderly. And you're surprised, and then you find yourself smiling like a fool. "So that's why you've been distant lately? You've been thinking about it all week, haven't you?" You stroke his red strands, as he wraps his arms around you. "Yes, I was thinking of a way to ask you that, in a way that was more…. Gentle. I guess I failed." He says in a sigh, and you can't help and end up letting out a laugh. "You have that way about you, I couldn't have asked for it in a better way. I'm ready, I really want it." You caressed his face, gently tracing your fingers over his cheeks. He gave a sweet smile, relieved even. He came over and kissed you, full of love and affection. "I love you, very much. Thank you for that." He murmurs as he lays you down on the bed gently. Diluc would be an exemplary father, unmatched in every way. Just as he was a perfect husband, and he would look forward to seeing a little child running around that big house. He couldn't wait to see you pregnant, carrying his little ones. And he would arrange to have you pregnant as soon as possible.

Childe:

"So my love, what do you think of kids?" Out of the blue, that's how he would start this conversation. All you did was look at him confused, you believed he was talking about his siblings, he had talked about trying to bring them to live with the two of you. "I like them, but why the question? Do you want to bring your siblings to visit us?" You looked at him, and he had a little smile on his lips. He ran a hand through his hair, and then said, "I do too, but I don't mean that. What do you think about having our own child?" And he wasn't the least bit embarrassed, quite the contrary. And you blushed a little, as you instinctively put your hand on your belly, "So you want to?" As if you had asked the question with the most obvious answer he nodded, quickly moving closer to you. "Can you imagine these little ones running around the house? I can't wait to play with one of them." And now you understood why during the week he had been buying baby things, clothes, socks, shoes, bottles. Every little thing you could imagine. "What do you mean, one of them?" He had already talked about his desire, and he had respected the fact that you didn't feel ready yet. But that didn't say he was going to tell you about it every chance he got. "I want more than one, don't you?" Childe was a man who wanted a big family, and if you wanted it that way too, there would be lots of little ones in that house. You laughed and put your hands on his neck, ruffling his hair. "You're eager, aren't you? Ever since we got married you've been talking about it." He wrapped his arms around your waist, "It's just the thought of seeing you pregnant, of having a smaller version of you. I can't help myself!" He kisses you, sweet and calm. "Then we should try to have one of our own, don't you think?" With a smile from corner to corner you say it, and he's soon completely overjoyed. As if you've just given him the happiest news in the world. He scoops you up in his arms, giving you a tight hug, "Right! right! I saw a store that sells stuff for kids, I can show you!" And he's already talking as if you're pregnant, eyes shining with the purest enthusiasm. "You'll show me later, you've bought quite a lot of stuff like that this week haven't you?" You ask him in a laugh, and then he puts you down. "It wasn't that much, just a few things." And he kissed you again, he just couldn't help himself after receiving such news. In the middle of the kiss he murmurs, "I'm going to spoil you rotten, you know that right?" As if he needed to say that, he already spoils you normally, pregnant then. Prepare your ears, because you would only hear about this subject for the next few months. And Childe would be even more euphoric with the confirmation of your pregnancy, which would certainly not take long to happen, the future dad Childe would not waste time.

Zhongli:

As a man who had lived long ago, Zhongli had many desires, and one of those was to see his beloved wife carrying in her womb the fruit of his love, his own kids. As you had been married for many, many years, this had always been a topic that you both spoke about easily, but only now had Zhongli taken the courage to make this request. He wanted to see you pregnant, carrying his clutch. He had always been very thoughtful about it, because he didn't know if he would be able to raise a child properly, and so he learned, and observed literally everything about it, and so he could draw his own conclusions. And being married to you, that was his will, and now he felt a security to be a father, and to increase the family. Even if it didn't seem like it, Zhongli liked the idea of a big family, he wouldn't mind if it were just the both of you, but the idea of several miniatures of you and him running around made his heart warm. "Good morning my dear." It was the first thing you heard as soon as you opened your eyes in the arms of your beloved. "Morning, have you been awake long?" You snuggle into his chest, as he gently strokes your hair. "It's been a while, I had some things on my mind." And you lifted your head to look at him, Zhongli was usually not easily fretted, so you puzzled over what might be on his mind. And he laughed as soon as he saw your sleepy little face all confused, you were a very adorable little thing. "I was thinking about us, about our future." And again he caught your eye, you were all focused on him. "Did I do something?" You murmur, your voice overcome by sleep. He laughs again, then replies, "No, don't worry, but yes, it's about you, about both of us." You sit up in bed, and stare at him with a stunned expression, thoughts scrambling just as much. "…?" He puts his hand on your belly, gently stroking, "I'd love for us to expand our family, what do you say?" You look at him with a smile, silly of you to think he meant a pet. You could tell by the look on his face that he was so looking forward to it, it was one of the few pleasures he hadn't experienced yet, and now he wanted to do it with you. "Do you think we're ready?" And it was always an insecurity, after all raising and teaching a child was not an easy task, far from it. "We'll only know if we try, it's your choice." Now he held your hand, stroking it with his thumb. Like the gentleman he was, he would never force you to do anything, everything you did would be of your own free will. With a blush on your face you turn back to him, nestling into his chest. "So I guess we should work on that, right?" And he smiled, a smile so bright and so beautiful. He was relieved to know that like him you wanted it too. "Of course we should, my dear." He was excited, he couldn't wait to see you beautifully pregnant, and then to see his baby into the world. Even though there was still a long time to go, he would already start planning changes in the house, just as he would already start to take an interest in baby utensils, in a very short time the house would be full of these things. And as for pregnancy, you should not worry, he will certainly not take long to leave you pregnant, he would do it as soon as possible.

[7ndipity]

Things That Remind Them Of You

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: The things that remind the members of you while on tour and make them call you up to tell you about it.

Warnings: none

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon for this request! I hope you like it!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin: A little cliche for him, but food. He’s always wishing he could take you to the different restaurants he gets to visit while traveling. Another is whenever he catches the scent of something that reminds him of your perfume. One whiff and he’s suddenly aware how long it’s been since he last spoke to you, whether it’s been five hours or five minutes, he doesn’t care, he has to hear your voice again.

Yoongi: For Yoongi, what reminds him of you is almost always music. Your favorite song, a song you hate, the song you once sang so badly at karaoke that he cried laughing, even songs that don’t seem to have any connection to you but just give the right vibe, each one has him reaching for his phone. You like to tease him that every song seems to remind him of you, and he chooses not to admit you’re right.

Hobi: It’s the taste of his morning coffee. He’s so used to hearing your voice first thing in the morning, still slightly groggy from sleep, sharing your plans for the day with him over your drinks of choice. He has to call you, he has to share at least this little bit of his day with you, otherwise everything just feels off for the rest of the day, like he’s missing something.

Namjoon: Similar to Yoongi, Joons’ world is so immersed in music, so he tends to find himself calling you after shows or rehearsals, when his mind starts flicking through memories connected to certain songs. Some of them are heavier, others make him smile in spite of himself, like the one he wrote after your first night together when he realized you were the one.

Jimin: It’s not necessarily something specific that reminds him of you, but more so certain times when it’s quiet, his mind immediately goes to you. Peace reminds him of you, of the sleepy late night conversations before you both fall asleep. He finds himself calling you in those moments to hear your voice, otherwise the quiet just feels wrong.

Taehyung: It’s whenever he sees other couples, especially when he’s out sightseeing. He always wishes that you could be with him while he’s away on tour, but seeing other couples sharing special moments together makes him realize just how much he misses you all over again. He calls you up immediately, telling you all about what he’s up to and asking your thoughts on it, making it feel more like you’re there with him.

Jungkook: For Jungkook, it’s the most random things. One of the members did something funny? He has to text you about it immediately. He saw a cute dog while out to lunch? He’s sending you a pic. At the end of the day, he still tells you about these things all over again when he calls before bed, but you don’t mind. Sharing the little highlights of each other's days makes the distance between you feel the littlest bit smaller.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @universal-travel-er @bo0o0o0ooo @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[underdark-dreams]

This fic will explore the fanon of Tiefling rut/heat cycles: specifically, what happens when a stressed, overworked, sexually pent-up wizard is confronted with his own biology and his feelings about a certain hero all at once?

Thank you @rolansrighthorn for kindly beta reading this chapter!

Rolan x afab!Tav

Birds and Bees - Ch.1

The new Master of Ramazith's Tower hasn't been feeling well. Rolan isn't quite sure what's wrong with himself, but when Tav arrives back in Baldur's Gate, things get much worse.

Tags: Tiefling Ruts, Sexual Tension, Mutual Pining | Word Count: 3.4k [Read on AO3]

Rolan awoke feeling sick as a dog. 

He pulled his legs over the edge of the mattress with a wince. The dull ache in his muscles was something he hadn't felt since those first weeks on the road out of Elturel.

He'd slept like hells the past few days; no doubt that was the cause. Once again, bizarre nightmares had left him gasping awake before dawn, covered in a clammy sheen of perspiration.

The dreams featuring Tav, however…

Rolan’s tail shuddered and flicked over the bedsheets behind him at the memory. He pushed those thoughts forcefully from his head. Tav was due back in Baldur’s Gate today—that was the last thing he should be thinking of when she arrived at Sorcerous Sundries.

She’d been away for over a week this time, gathering her materials in the Underdark. He wondered if that meant she'd have enough work to keep her in the city for longer, too. The thought encouraged him enough to rise and dress for the day. He should make sure her alchemy station was prepped and ready for her at the back of the shop, at least. 

Down on the main floor of Sorcerous Sundries, Rolan’s improved mood was instantly tested. Cal took in his face wide-eyed.

“You look awful.”

“And good morning to you,” Rolan responded irritably.

“Is it?” Cal trailed after him as he unlocked and threw open the wide front doors. “Rolan, maybe you need a day off. You look like you barely slept.”

“I'm fine,” Rolan said, voice firm. “Where’s Lia?”

Right as the words left him, a teacup appeared at his elbow.

“Had a feeling you might need it,” Lia told him. “Looks like I was right.”

Too tired to combat both his siblings at once this early in the day, Rolan accepted the tea with a begrudging sigh of thanks. The smell of bitter herbs hit his nose before he took the first sip.

“Doctoring me with folk remedies now?”

Lia waved a dismissive hand as she moved behind the counter. “Yeah, yeah, we all know you'd rather get fussed over by Tav. Can't have you dragging your tail and embarrassing us in front of her, though.”

Cal walked off with a snort.

Rolan shut his eyes and wished he could return straight back to bed. Instead, he drank his tea down in silence and said a prayer for an easy day of work.

He did find himself perking up after a while. It was difficult to stay sullen on such a glorious spring day; clear sunlight streamed generously through the high windows above, and the flow of customers milling into the shop settled into a pleasant, familiar hum. Rolan fell into the rhythm of assisting them here and there, locating scrolls and giving advice on spellwork.

It certainly wasn’t the prospect of seeing Tav again that was improving his mood so much. That’s what Rolan kept telling himself, at least.

Another breeze drifted in through the open atrium behind him, bringing with it the fresh scent of spring wildflowers. Rolan was taken with a sudden fancy to move closer to wherever it emanated from.

“Lovely morning, isn't it?”

Tav stood beaming at him from the doorway, despite the full-to-bursting pack slung over one of her shoulders. Clearly he wasn’t the only one affected by the irresistibly nice weather.

“It rather is,” Rolan agreed. Ignoring her usual protests, he unshouldered the bag from her with a tug; its weight made him question whether she’d stuffed it entirely with minerals.

“Ugh…thanks.” Tav stretched her arms back appreciatively. She was wearing a lightweight tunic, carelessly laced, and the motion strained the fabric over her chest. 

Rolan averted his gaze, feeling rather warm all of a sudden. He instead led Tav back to her workstation near the stairs.

“Looks busy in here,” she remarked with approval. “Business good?”

“Can’t complain. I take it your travels were as successful?” He punctuated the comment by landing her pack on the desk with a heavy thump. Tav laughed.

“Brilliant, actually. I've got a lot to show you, if you can spare the time.”

“Just give me a few minutes,” he answered, turning back to her.

Tav didn’t reply right away; she was frowning at his face. “Rolan, are you ill? You look flushed—” And she reached a hand as if to feel his forehead.

“Of course not,” Rolan answered, a bit too swiftly. Casting for an excuse to create some distance, he moved to the nearby reference shelves and began shoving the mess of books back into their correct cubbies. “Cal, could you grab another stack of the beginner’s Weave series? We’ve sold through.”

Cal looked up from his work rolling scroll pages. “Er, sure…which wing is that again?”

“Nevermind,” Rolan sighed. “I’ll get them myself. Let me know if your station’s missing any supplies,” he added to Tav, letting his voice soften a bit. It earned him a dimpling smile.

Rolan strode away from her toward the portal, feeling that annoying ache in his legs return as he did.

—

Tav watched Rolan’s figure trudge up the staircase with another twinge of concern. Then she set to work connecting all the equipment on her alchemy station. Lia appeared at her side before long, asking after her week’s travels in the Underdark and catching her up on news and gossip from the Gate. It was so nice to have friends like Lia; ones you could pick up right where you left off with.

Tav had emptied her bag onto her desk and begun sorting the small mountain of herbs into separate piles as she listened. “How’s Rolan been doing with everything, really?”

Lia was turning over one of her shards of laculite, idly catching the sunlight in its facets. “Mostly happy. And stressed, and overextended. And completely neurotic about organizing every shelf in the library. You know, typical wizard stuff.”

“I just hope he’s looking after himself,” she said down to her work. The words left her mouth easier than she wished.

Lia leaned a hip against her desk with arms crossed. “You sound interested in helping with that.”

The quake in Tav’s stomach made her feel very caught out, then very stupid. She let out an exhale of laughter instead.

“Rolan’s made it pretty clear that he is not,” she replied. Her fingers began stripping the blooms from her pile of dried mugwort with more force than strictly necessary.

“Between you and me,” Lia mused, “I don’t think Rolan’s anywhere near clear on that subject. Smart people can be real idiots, you know.”

“Who can?”

Rolan was headed from the staircase with an armful of books; he stood behind Lia with a suspicious look. Tav immediately wondered how much he’d heard.

“Rich people,” Lia answered at once, still leaning casually against Tav’s desk. “Lady Whitburn’s handmaid keeps coming in asking for spell scrolls that I’m pretty sure don’t exist. You think she’d get the picture by now.”

Rolan let out a long-suffering sigh and held out the stack of volumes to her. “Take these. And just send Cal to help her next time, that’s why she keeps coming back.”

Lia threw up a hand as if that only proved her point. “Like I said, idiots.” But with one last glance at Tav, she grabbed the books and ferried them away to the front of Sorcerous Sundries.

For her part, Tav resumed the work of preparing the week’s ingredients—there were several large batches of antidote to get through this morning. Rolan took up his usual spot at the desk in her periphery. 

Ever since the first week he’d offered Sorcerous Sundries to her as a home of operations for her alchemy, Tav found herself spending many hours at work beside Rolan like this. They spent the time talking about her travels, or his latest studies with the Weave, or just discussing the last books they’d read. On busier days, he was called away to help customers for most of her visit.

Today, however, Rolan stood unusually silent next to her.

“Sure you’re feeling all right?” She glanced at his back, again noting the tense line of his shoulders.

“Just a bit tired.” Rolan tipped open his massive record of the shop figures. “Haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I could make you something for that, if you like.”

He gave a low huff of laughter as he took up his quill. “From what I hear from my customers, I’d be out cold for days.”

“Really?” She couldn’t help a grin of professional pride, but focused on adjusting the flame under her distilling glass. “Glad they’re selling well.”

“I can barely keep them on the shelves, especially those remedial draughts you make. The last batch lasted three days.”

Though it was satisfying to hear, Tav felt a bit chagrined. “Damn…won’t have more of those for a while. I still need to track down a new materials trader in the Gate. My usual guy moved on to Neverwinter.”

There was a short pause in their little corner, filled only with the sounds of softly bubbling liquid against glass.

“You know,” Rolan said without turning, “you’re welcome to stay here, if it’s easier for you. The guest room’s always empty. That is, so you wouldn’t have to travel across the city on top of finding your new contact.”

“Oh—” Tav tried hard not to read anything into his offer. “Actually, I already left my things with Danis and Bex. But thank you, Rolan,” she added.

Rolan coughed lightly, back still turned. “Of course.” 

There was another pause, longer and strangely awkward. Tav suddenly found she needed something more to occupy her thoughts than watching a flask boil. Reaching down for her pack, she pulled her research journal up to the desk.

It had been many weeks since Rolan brought up that subject. Why now?

Cal and Lia constantly reminded her of the long-standing offer of a room in the Tower anytime she had need of it. For unspoken reasons, she’d always found polite ways of declining.

It wasn’t that Rolan had made her feel unwelcome in any way. After all, he’d opened up the expansive resources of Ramazith’s Tower to her use, lending her all of the delicate and expensive alchemy equipment that she’d never be able to cart back and forth in her travels. She owed much of her current success to his generosity.

But Rolan had proven himself a generous patron for all kinds of arcane arts as Master of Ramazith’s Tower. Really, what made her think she was any kind of special case?

The fact that she’d very much like to be that to him…well.

That was something Tav tried not to think about. It only led her to dangerous territory, such as staring at his hands while he worked a spell and wondering what else they might be good for. Hardly conducive to a friendly, professional relationship. 

And if she was any good at reading signals, friendly but professional was how Rolan wanted to keep things.

Tav shuffled through her notes a bit too briskly and almost scattered them. That was enough dwelling on that subject; clearly, Rolan had plenty to think about without worrying about unwanted advances in his own home. The least she could do to repay his generosity would be to continue respecting his boundaries.

“Noblestalk propagation?”

She glanced over her shoulder. To her surprise, Rolan had moved closer to peer down at the top page in her hands with curiosity.

“Most valuable thing in the Underdark,” she told him. “Even more than mithril. Actually, this is what I wanted to show you—”

Noblestalk fetched a high price for its alchemical power, certainly, but also for its rarity. The delicate mushrooms were notoriously picky about where they grew; it was part of what made them so hard to find. 

Truth be told, she’d been running a little experiment on them down in the Underdark over the past few months. She ran a finger across the charted results as she explained them to Rolan, whose tension seemed to vanish as he listened on with keen interest.

“Obviously the spores took faster in high humidity. But look, they actually did better when I transplanted them in a really cold spot near the river here—which is so odd, most fungi need a bit of warmth—

“Have you tried recreating these artificially? Carrying a sample back to the surface?”

“Not yet.” She scratched her chin in thought. “I’d need to find somewhere underground to propagate it. And I’d rather not spend any more time in the sewers, after that little cult business.”

“Just do it here,” Rolan dismissed, as if it was the plainly obvious solution. “We’ve got quite a few empty vaults now. Shouldn’t be too hard to repurpose one as a greenhouse of sorts.”

As she turned her head to respond, she was caught up short. 

Rolan was still peering intently at her writing. But in his concentration, he’d angled his body very close beside her. His chest nearly brushed her shoulder. She could’ve counted the freckles dusting his nose.

When he reached forward to flip over the page, she felt his other hand actually rest on the far side of her waist—the absent way you might touch someone very familiar to you when moving past them. Heat rose in her cheeks at the gesture.

Perhaps Rolan felt her tense. He blinked, and she watched realization dart over his features. He stepped back at once.

“Apologies.” Then he cleared his throat to add—“Your work is quite engaging.”

Coming from him, the words sounded much nicer than they had a right to. She felt her flush deepening, and quickly turned back to reorder her notes. 

“Thanks,” she laughed, praying it didn’t sound as awkward as it felt rising in her throat.

Behind her back, she heard Rolan return to his desk on her left. Presumably continuing his work on the Sundries inventory; more likely trying to ignore her obvious fluster. 

She clenched her jaw in an attempt to shove that same stupid, fluttery feeling out of her stomach, and returned to the practical work at hand. 

—

Rolan stared down at last week’s sales in his ledger. The figures were a blur of meaningless scribbles in front of his eyes.

Was he feverish? Seriously ill? There had to be a sound explanation for the way he’d just…laid hands on her like that, unthinking. 

He clenched the guilty right hand responsible, feeling its sharp nails press crescent moons into his palm. Idiot. He took a deep breath to regain his composure. 

It only caused that lovely wildflower scent from before to fill his lungs more completely, pulling at his other senses. Perhaps it was emanating from one of the many strange ingredients Tav was always carrying back from the Underdark. Was that what had muddled his mind this way?

He found himself glancing back over his shoulder to where she was bent over her alchemy scales. The pink tip of her tongue was visible between her teeth, a gesture she often made when concentrating.

As Rolan watched, a lock of her hair slipped forward over her shoulder. She swept it absently back behind her ear. The innocuous motion caused another wave of something floral to brush past his face, stronger this time.

“Are you wearing scent?”

Tav glanced up from the powder she was weighing out, brows raised in question. “What?”

“Nothing,” Rolan said swiftly, shaking himself back to rights a bit. He felt very lucky she seemed to have misheard. He turned back to his work before he could say anything else strange or embarrassing.

With effort, Rolan forced his attention back to the comforting logic of sums and figures. 

The time passed with blessed uneventfulness after that. The soft sounds of glassware and bubbling liquids from Tav’s alchemy faded to an idle lull at the back of Rolan’s consciousness. Nevertheless, he pushed through the past month’s numbers with more difficulty than usual, scratching through multiple errors as his quill moved over the page. He occasionally had to pause to rub at an uncomfortable crick building in his neck.

A laugh came from behind him. “Do you mind?”

Rolan raised his head to look. Tav was gesturing at the corner of her alchemy station with a bemused expression. 

To his own confusion, he found that his tail had traveled there of its own accord sometime in the past minutes. It lay coiled on the wood, its tip flicking back and forth in her direction, as if seeking her attention.

With another chuckle, Tav’s fingers closed around it and lightly dropped the appendage off the edge of her desk.

An involuntary sound caught in Rolan’s throat. The moment her hand connected with his skin, a shock of blood rushed to his groin. He nearly tipped forward in alarm at the feeling.

The rapid redirection left his legs wobbling and bloodless. His knees almost buckled under him; he gripped sharp claws into the edge of his wooden desk to steady himself. 

As the ringing in his ears cleared, he heard Tav reading under her breath behind him while she ground something against her mortar. Praise the gods that whatever just happened to his body had escaped her notice.

“Need a book from the library—”

Without a backward glance, Rolan stumbled toward the stairs.

Spurred on by the knowledge that any customers who might notice his urgent departure would certainly see the reason for it, he strode on double-time for the portal. Only once the swirl of Weave closed behind him, depositing him in the quiet of the Tower, did he release the breath caught up in his lungs.

Seeking to ground himself, Rolan glanced up to watch the golden dust motes drift through a beam of sunlight. It was the strangest sensation to be standing completely still and feel a sweat break out over his brow.

How did he not realize days ago? Muscle aches—difficulty sleeping—heightened senses. All clear indicators that his biology had finally caught up with him, albeit a solid year later than it should have.

Rolan gripped a hand to the back of his head with a groan of realization. Not perfume—it had been Tav herself he kept catching scent of this morning. That sweet smell that practically made his mouth water to recall now was nothing but raw instinct laid bare.

Well, he had no right to complain about the timing. Apparently many frantic months of escaping the Hells, surviving on the road, and battling back an invasion from the Astral Plane had done a lot to delay the inevitable. 

But inevitable it was, and as of today, very much inescapable. There was never really a convenient time for this sort of thing, was there?

It could be worse—as the new keeper of Ramazith’s Tower, at least he found himself with private quarters to retreat to for the entirety of it. If he was lucky, it would all be over in a week, and then he could go on ignoring this unfortunate side effect of his Infernal heritage for a few more uneventful years. 

Lia and Cal could manage the shop for a week without any major calamities, surely?

As Rolan paced the silk carpets of the Tower floor, he forced his feverish mind to finish scrabbling together the plan. His gaze fell on the desk by the window. In the next second, he was putting shaking quill to parchment. Something simple, just enough they’d understand—

Bad week for visitors. Please mind the Sundries while I recover. Tell Tav 

The tip of his quill skipped as he paused, letting a droplet of ink bleed into the page. 

Tell Tav what, exactly? That he was in his room rutting his brains out like an animal in heat? Likely thinking of her while he did?

That line of thought brought a series of unhelpful and very stimulating images to mind. He swallowed down a humiliating sound as the stiffness between his legs grew painfully hard in reaction. Merciful, bloody hells.

Tell Tav nothing, he finished in a scrawl. Rolan folded the note and deposited it on the floor just in front of the portal, where it would be impossible for his siblings to miss. 

Then he turned for the staircase to his bedroom, already mad to rip these chafing gods-damned robes off his skin.

[seattlesellie]

❀ deranged loser!ellie stealing your used panties she found in your dirty laundry basket, walking home with them stuffed in her pockets with a guilty expression on her face, jesse running into her and asking whats wrong and ellie just being like “no…n nothing” and then running off, cheeks burning bright red, praying to god you wont notice theyre gone.

❀ deranged loser!ellie pulling her pants down only to her knees as soon as shes inside, because she truly cant be bothered to take them all the way off, stuffing her hand down her boxers frantically and shoving a long finger in, gasping at how wet she already is. taking your panties and shoving them in her mouth, only to let out a high pitched moan she never knew she could make, licking over the wet patch and pretending its your cunt, eyes tightly shut because she cant let that picture escape her mind. running her tongue up and down the soft material while grinding on her hand, pushing two eager fingers in, only muttering soft whimpers of your name; “i wanna fuck you so bad” and “let me lick that pussy”, sounding so desperate and pathetic for you, if only you could hear. ellie then taking the soaked panties (from her own drool, she wishes it was you) and rubbing her puffy clit with them, groaning and bumping repeatedly into her room’s door like a dog in heat till she cums, a sweet little droplet streaming down her thigh <3

❀ deranged loser!ellie finally getting to fuck you, acting like a madwoman for your pussy, when you suddenly lift her pillow up to see the white cotton panties you just realized were gone a mere two weeks ago… ellie looking like she just saw a ghost and muttering useless apologies, and its only when she turns slightly unhinged with her strap inside your tight cunt and your legs on her shoulders that she gets the courage to stuff them in your mouth and tell you that she’s gotten off to you so many times she doesn’t even care what you think— “you wanna know where — ungh, shit— know what i did with those?” as she thrusts herself in so fast you go cross eyed <3

[crows-in-the-house]

Some Bill Cipher nsfw 🙏🏻 I want that triangle

Same anon. Same.

I didn't know if you wanted headcannons or a fic so I made general hcs. I will add a part 2 later with him as a human and a triangle

tw: slight gore, and sex over all, nsfw!

At first he would be really bad at anything intimate - too harsh, too sloppy, maybe too fast, too laud or annoying. But with time he will learn. Especiallly with you as his test subject! Not that you will remember that with your memories changed!

also, enjoys making your mind blank, it feels like a tv with static, it's so funny to him he can't stop!

He likes to shove his tangue in your mouth when you don't expect it. He towers over you, exploring the insides and biting on your lips, making saliva drip down from your mouth. Then he steps away and leaves as nothing happened

He's not really into sex, he doesn't get anything from it, but likes to watch you squirm and make funny faces so he can get down to it - at least he gets to mock you.

He likes how fragile humans are, the thought of being able to snap your bones with one wrong move doing your special time makes him going places. Of course, to your dissmay, he will share such informations with you. Wanna know how you could die now? What are the chances for you getting a heart attack? He will let you know!

And don't worry! He won't shut up during the whole thing! Really! He will talk withaut a break, constantly laughing at your attempts of making him stop.

He is into gore so will actively try to harm you. Don't worry tho, he will make your nerves drown in pleasure when he disarreanges your body parts and organs. Will also take a bite out of your heart, lick in between your lungs and try to stick his fingers in your hot throat. Doesn't it feel nice? Maybe he should stick something else in there huh?

He enjoys making your hair messy. You look like a pouting dog every time!

His hands are constantly roaming on your body, if it's not your hand, it's a waist or arm, or maybe the back of your neck. He likes to "whisper" (shaut and threaten) all the things he could do to you if you won't stop talking to all of your friends. After all he wants to you himself. Always.

If you want him to, he can act a little more caring, whatever that means. Of course, you will have to pay him back for that, but why would you care about that now? For once he will be gentle, confessing how good you make him feel, how adorable your emotions are, how cutsy (pathetic) you look to him.

Remember to pay him back later tho, all great actors must have their prize sooner or later!

Also uses your blood as a lube and drinks your saliva lika water

I think he would be a switch - either wanting to annoy you, being all bratty and whiny or trying to embarras you as much as he can, being raugh and mean, ejoying you obeying him.

Call him your god, your muse, your world, your life! Anything stroking his massive ego will get him rilled up. Drown him in compliments, show him your devotion and admiration, maybe he will act a little softer then usually.

Better be careful what you say during sex tho, he will ask milion questions just to get you under his control :

"Want me to stop? Really? Oh it's a shame you can't tell me with that gag in your mouth!"

"aww does my puppet want to cum? yeah? what would you do to get it hm? OH, EVERYTHING? WOULD YOU SHAKE ON THAT?"

"HA I COULD FUCK YOU SO GOOD YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO WALK FOR THE WHOLE WEEK. YOU WANT THAT RIGHT? RIGHT? HA! YOU GREEDY HUMAN, AS YOU WISH KID!"

he's into shaming and degrading his partner but prefers to receive praise, will get mad and raugh if you try to deny giving it

will pull your hair,

and your limbs, he may even rip them of just to put them back in

enjoys your cries, doesn't matter if it's from pain or pleasure

also doesn't understand what "too much" means until he's on the receiving end

not that he doesn't like overstimulation, getting unable to talk and move just because of you stroking him so good shows him how obsessed you really are with him! Please make him tremble and shake, make him beg you to stop, laughing and whining when you ignore him

Will absolutely lie to you and prey on your naivety - of course he can make you not feel the soreness and pain the next day! He's a demon, remember? All tiredness could go away at the snap of his fingers, that's a promise.

(Not a deal tho, so he ignores it the next day. Just to see your tired expressions and body covered in bite marks.)

Over all, he's a very intense experience.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Stray Kids Reaction || He Forgets Your Birthday

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - July 2023

⤜MASTERLIST

CHAN:

When you woke up that morning to an abundant amount of messages from everyone but Chan you were slightly disappointed about it. You'd expected Chan to have remembered your birthday but it turned out it had gone to the back of his mind and you didn't know if you should be angry about it or not. It was fast approaching time for Chan to submit another comeback idea so he'd been working harder than usual lately but so had the other guys and they had all remembered to wish you a happy birthday.

"Thanks, Lix," You giggled looking at the small box of cupcakes that were on the table in front of you, your eyes watering a little as you saw the icing on each cake spelt your name out.

"I didn't know if Chan-Hyung had arranged anything for you, so I wanted to do something small." He smiled at you and you let a single tear run down your cheek, slowly looking at Felix who was frowning.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No....N-No, he just...He forgot." You admitted and shook your head, quickly wiping the tears off your face and trying to move past it. It seemed silly to be crying over it in front of Felix when he knew just how busy Chan was with everything.

"He forgot? How? He has it written down everywhere...There's no way, maybe he's just trying to surprise you," You shook your head at him and nodded over at the door where Chan was sleeping, he'd come straight home and collapsed into bed which you didn't blame him for he must have been exhausted but it hurt. Before you could even begin to process what was happening Felix was making his way over to the door and slamming it open, Chan flinched as he turned around to face the door.

Unlike you'd thought Chan had been in the bedroom, hunched over his laptop and working.

"Are you kidding me?!" Felix cried out when he saw the older boy sitting there,

"It's your girlfriend's birthday and you're in here pretending as though she doesn't exist?"

"Lix, it's fine. He's clearly busy," You tried to pull Felix away but it was like trying to get a bone from a dog - damn near impossible.

"It's not her birthday until next week."

"It's today." Felix combated him shaking his head, normally Chan was on top of everything but it was obvious the idea of submitting a comeback was getting to him a little.

"No. It's next week because I have it written down, right...Yn?" He slowly turned to look at you and as much as you wanted to tell him it was next week, it wasn't.

"It's today," The air seemed to grow thicker as Chan came to the sudden realisation that he'd missed your birthday and his stomach dropped.

"No...N-No, because I booked us a table at your favourite restaurant and I even hired a small boat to take us on the river for a while," He shook his head going into his computer calendar and his face dropped as he realised.

"Yn...I-I'm sorry," You could tell he was sincere about it but you were still hurt inside about it, everyone else had managed to remember but not him.

"It's fine," A blatant lie and anyone with a working pair of eyes could see that so Chan rushed over and wrapped his arms around your midsection.

"I promise I'm going to make this up to you," He whispered in your ear, trying to think of anything he could do to make up for fucking up this much.

MINHO:

It was obvious to the boys what had happened and now they were staring at you and feeling guilty even though they had nothing to feel that way for. It wasn't them who had forgotten about you on your birthday, it was Minho who was still completely oblivious to it.

"Aren't your forgetting something?" Chan asked as Minho walked into the dorm's living room and made his way past you, his eyes scanning over each of the boys before his eyes landed on you but you refused to look at him. Not only had he forgotten it was your birthday but he was ignorant about it as well.

"Happy Birthday Yn!" Changbin yelled out finally having enough of Minho not saying anything and you looked down at your hands. It suddenly felt awkward to be sitting here when all of the boys had remembered but your own boyfriend had failed to.

"I'm going to head home for the night-" You tried to get out but Jeongin shook his head at you, he was very much looking forward to spending the night with you.

"I thought we were going to watch cringey movies and gossip," Jeongin whined as you stood up, reaching for your bag.

"I'm not really in the mood right now, I'm sorry." You smiled weakly and Minho stared at you, his stomach dropping when he noticed the boys watching him waiting to see what he was doing to do.

"Yn-"

"Don't...Minho...Just don't. Everyone here remembered my birthday except for you, do you know how that makes me feel?" The boys slowly made their way out of the room leaving the two of you to discuss this privately.

"I didn't mean to forget."

"Just like you didn't mean to forget our anniversary? Do you even care for me? Even a little?" The words tore through him and he wanted to cry at the thought of you thinking he didn't love you,

"I adore you Yn, you know that." He reached out to touch your arm but you stepped away from him and shook your head. As badly as you wanted to believe him, the part of you that was hurting wasn't going to let this go so easily.

"I don't...You're always off doing whatever, forgetting things that are supposed to be important and I'm left to wonder if you even love me."

[X]

The next morning Minho had gone straight to your apartment and covered the living room with bouquets of your favourite flowers, as well as getting some decorations he found.

"What's this?" You frowned coming down into the room and frowning when you saw him sitting in front of you,

"Happy Birthday," He smiled weakly at you, holding up a present as you bit down on your lip.

"I wanted to try again, so we're pretending today is the day and that I didn't almost fuck up the best thing that has happened to me," He brought you closer to him and you smiled weakly, kissing his cheek softly.

CHANGBIN:

"Are you sure he knew about it?" Felix questioned as you finished packing up the final box of decorations that had lined the room the boys had rented for the night. He was directing his line of questioning at Jeongin who had planned the whole night tonight,

"How would he forget? It's her birthday." Jeongin whispered looking over at you, the boys had planned a surprise party for you, not your boyfriend but your boyfriend's friends and you were starting to feel sick at the thought of Changin not being here.

"Maybe he got lost on the way to the venue," Felix suggested once he realised that you could hear everything that they were saying,

"Or he forgot," You mumbled, shaking your head to yourself, it wasn't the first time Changbin had forgotten something important and you knew it wasn't going to be the last either but that didn't mean it hurt any less. The door to the room suddenly slammed against the wall and a sweaty-looking Changbin was standing there, drenched in a thick layer of sweat and panting heavily.

"I got here as quickly as possible," He looked around the room and then over at you but you refused to even look in his direction, wishing the boys goodbye before making your way out of the venue with Changbin hot on your trail.

"Yn, I- I don't even know how to begin to say-"

"Don't say sorry because we both know you won't mean it." You shut the boot of your car and stared at him, your arms folded over your chest as you stared him down.

"How can you say that? Of course, I'm sorry." He whispered, his eyes softening as he looked at you. There were tears running down your cheeks but you tried not to draw attention to them.

"Then how are you always forgetting things? If it's not my birthday it's our anniversary...or the times you forgot we had dates." He scoffed at you and shook his head, there was only one time that had happened.

"That's happened once!"

"Four times." You scoffed, getting into the car but he held onto the door preventing you from shutting it on him.

"Let me make it up to you?"

"I would, but I don't know how you can do that. It fucking hurts Binnnie," Your voice cracked as you let the tears stream down your face, the door was pulled wide open and you were suddenly pulled free from the car and into Changbins arms.

"I will find a way, please...J-Just don't go home alone, let me come with you." He begged as he rubbed your back softly, your arms tightening around him as you nodded your head at him.

HYUNJIN:

Hyunjin smiled at you as you sat beside him in bed, you watched him closely as his smile slowly turned into a frown,

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He chuckled softly as he slowly got out of bed,

"I'm just waiting for something." A couple seconds of silence went by before he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek, smiling at you before heading into the bathroom without so much as a "Happy birthday."

"Baby? Are you forgetting something?" You called from outside of the en-suite door, waiting for him to remember but the door opened.

"You're right! How could forget!" You smiled brightly, finally happy he seemed to have remembered so quickly but he walked past you, took the towel and headed back into the bathroom again souring your mood within a couple of seconds.

[X]

The rest of the day you'd spent completely alone, deciding that if Hyunjin hadn't remembered then you were going to spend the entire day alone doing everything you loved.

"Where have you been? I've been texting and calling you for hours." He said as soon as you walked through the door,

"I spent my birthday doing everything I wanted to do since someone forgot." You stared at him and watched as the clogs in his head began to turn over and he realised how badly he'd fucked up that morning.

"Yn-"

"Don't." You warned him, shaking your head as you made your way through the house, taking your bags up to your bedroom as he followed behind you.

"I spaced! I'm used to working on your birthday, I just-"

"You forgot. No biggy," You lied, even though it was a huge biggy, you could see just how much it was stressing him out and while you had been mad that morning there was no use making it worse now when he was clearly having a hard time with it. 

"Big, Big, Biggy," He shook his head at you, holding you from behind.

"Let me order your favourite food, and tomorrow we will do everything you could ever want." He held you tighter as you nodded at him, smiling a little as you relaxed in his arms.

JISUNG:

You walked into the studio with a picnic basket and some bottles of water, sitting on the sofa as you watched Jisung through the small glass window inside of the room. As soon as he saw you he smiled and walked through the door,

"What's all this?" He nodded to the picnic that you were laying out in front of him and you smiled a little. You knew when you'd woken up that morning that he'd forgotten your birthday but you knew Jisung well, he was a cute hamster that forgot his own lyrics and there was no way you could be mad at him for forgetting your birthday. As much as it had upset you, you'd decide to get on the better side of it and come out smiling. There was no need for a huge fight when it was clearly something that could be remedied by you talking like adults or you acting mature about it. It wasn't as though he forgot every year, in fact normally he was on top of everyone's birthdays, always the first one to message so clearly it had been a mistake this morning, one you could easily forgive him for.

"Birthday picnic, I knew you'd forgotten but I wanted to come and spend lunch with you," You smiled as you pulled out the hotter food, Jisung's bottom lip trembling a little as he scratched the back of his neck

"I didn't...I-I didn't forget...I-I was just-" He tried to come up with something - anything - he could say to try and make you believe him but he couldn't and guilt began to swim over his body. With the stress of the job weighing on him, it must have slipped his mind and he felt awful for it,

"Relax baby, it's fine. Honestly, please just eat with me?" He nodded sitting beside you as you took out more than enough food for the two of you, both of you beginning to dig in while Jisung apologised to you for forgetting.

FELIX:

It had been a week of silent treatment for Felix and he was beginning to lose his mind a little. Usually, the two of you would get into a fight, you'd give him the silent treatment for a couple of hours and everything would be fine again but clearly, this wasn't a normal fight the two of you had. Not that there was a fight, Felix just remembered you no longer speaking to him,

"You're really not even going to look at me when we're in the same room?" He questioned as you stared down at your phone, scrolling through a random news article you had no interest in.

"What did I even do?" He stared at you, completely oblivious to everything he had done last week. It had been your birthday and you happened to share it with a few of Felix's friends while he had spent the day wishing them birthday messages and calling them to let them know he was thinking of them he hadn't even so much as wished the same to you.

"It's what you didn't do." You mumbled, locking your phone and placing it face down on the table in front of you. All of the other boys had remembered, you'd even gotten a couple of gifts from them each but Felix was blind to it all.

"What is it I didn't do?" He whined a little, he was sick and tired of beating around the bush and to be frank, so were you. It was annoying having to tiptoe around the subject.

"My birthday was last Friday." You stared at your boyfriend and watched as the realisation hit him, his mouth beginning to form an "O" shape,

"So while you were wishing everyone else a happy birthday I was alone...the whole day with not so much as a text from you." You sniffled a little, it was still fresh in your heart and you hated how much it burnt to not hear from him that day,

"Why didn't you say something?"

"I thought my own boyfriend would remember something so simple." You began to cry into your hands and instantly he was sitting beside you, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as he bought you to rest against his chest. 

"I'm so sorry Yn, I'm so fucking sorry."

"Do you know how much it hurt to see you wishing everyone else a happy birthday but me?" You sniffled as he continued to hold onto you,

"I'll make it up to you," He promised but you didn't say anything, you just cried into his chest softly as he held onto you.

SEUNGMIN:

All day long Seungmin felt as though he'd been forgetting something and it had bugged him too much, even when he walked into the house something still didn't feel right.

"Do you ever feel like you forgot something important but you can't put your finger on what it is-"  Seungmin stopped as he walked into the living room to see you sitting with the boys and surrounded by some presents and cards.

"I see I forgot something very important." He whispered as you stared down at the card in your hand, thanking the boys for coming to see you when they did.

When they eventually left Seungmin was following you around the house while you cleaned up, apologising over and over again but you refused to even acknowledge that he was talking to you.

"It was an easy mistake." He told you as you shook your head, standing in the doorway of your shared bedroom. Right now you didn't even want to look at Seungmin nevermind share a bed with him for the night,

"An easy mistake is when you forget to pay a bill, or when...O-Or when you forget to pick someone up but not forgetting your girlfriend or four years birthday." You shook your head at him about to shut the door when he placed his hand on it, preventing you from doing so.

"It's the first time in four years I forgot, that has to make up for something." He whimpered a little and you shook your head, softly shutting the door and going to get ready for bed.

[X]

The next day when you eventually decided you could no longer avoid Seungmin he was all over you, pampering you with kisses and extra attention, he'd even managed to get the day off so he could at least attempt to make up for yesterday.

"I made breakfast, and I got some of your favourite movies ready," You stared at him as he pointed over at the living room, everything was done to look cosy and you hated how much you wanted to give into him for all of this.

"I don't have presents until tomorrow-"

"It's not about presents Seungmin...It's about you remembering it," He nodded his head, pressing a small and gentle kiss to your cheek,

"I will, I promise." You hummed a little at him as he lead you into the living room, making you sitdown on the sofa before he bought everything into you.

JEONGIN:

As soon as the front door shut Jeongin could sense that he was in some kind of trouble and he instantly wanted to get back into the car and drive to the dorms.

"Babe?" He called out to the dimly lit house, slowly beginning to make his way up to the bedroom where he figured that you would be waiting for him but when he got there he frowned. Small sniffles were coming from inside of the room and you sounded as though you were whispering to someone else. Jeongin's hand stilled on the door handle as he listened to you,

"I just can't believe he forgot," You sniffled louder this time and you shook your head, you knew it probably seemed like a stupid thing to cry over but you hated Jeongin for forgetting your birthday.

"He embarrassed me in front of everyone Lixie. Mum was looking forward to showing him off to everyone and he just never showed up...N-Not even a text to let me know he was busy." You began to cry into the pillow and Jeongin's stomach dropped as he listened to you talking about him.

"My birthday, how could he just forget? Am I that forgettable?" You questioned angrily, sitting up in the bed as you thought about it more and more. That was when you noticed Jeongin's shadow under the door and you sighed wishing goodbye to Felix before waiting for Jeongin to walk into the room. As soon as he did there was a sheepish look on his face and he whimpered a little, you looked like you'd been crying for hours. There were tear stains down your cheeks, your eyes were swollen pretty badly and not to mention they were also bloodshot.

"Baby-"

"You forgot...You actually forgot," You bit out a little angrier than you'd intended but you couldn't believe he'd just managed to forget your birthday. It wasn't as though they had any promotions going on at the moment either, come to think of it he was supposed to be on holiday so you had no idea what had been so important he was able to forget you all day.

"Words and actions will never make up for what I did. I know, I fucked up and I intend to make it up to you for the rest of my life." He whined as he got into the bed beside you, slowly wrapping his arms around you and bringing you into a tight embrace your heart fluttering as you relaxed in his touch. You hated your heart for giving in to him so easily after what had happened today,

"How did you forget?" You probably didn't want to know the answer but you knew the question was only going to gnaw at you until you got an answer from him anyway,

"I don't have an excuse, I just blanked. I went to see my brother and we went for food, I just completely blanked on it, baby," You nodded at him, you were glad he was being honest with you about it rather than lying but it still didn't make you feel any better about being ditched all day.

"Tomorrow, we're spending every second together. You'll get breakfast in bed...I'll treat you like a queen." He promised as he began to kiss your cheek and slowly down to your shoulder, pampering you with kisses up and down your neck and shoulder.

Tagline: @chiisaiblog @hanasonmi @sw33tnight @acciocriativity @scarletemeterio @halesandy @aerastus @laylasbunbunny @critssq @lenfilms  @meowmeowisdaname @imafivestarkpopstan @lost-leopard-beanie @djeniryuu​

[arabellasleopardcoat]

You wouldn’t believe the things I have done for her (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Daemon lives a dangerous life. You wish you could find a way to protect him, but you are too afraid of guns. Lucky you, Daemon has a plan.

A/N: Do not try this at home. Requested by the lovely @avalyaaa I am sorry it took me so long, but I wanted to give your request the attention it deserved.

Warnings: Smut. Mafia! Daemon. Gun kink. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH: GUN KINK. Slight degradation.

You sit quietly in the back of the car. In the front seat sits Harwin, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He is bored. You can tell by the way he keeps fiddling with things. Changing the radio station, messing with the AC.

Harwin probably misses his old work. It’s not like Daemon needs a bodyguard or a driver. You know it’s more for your protection than his. And while Harwin is no stranger to guarding people who don’t need his protection, you bet the fact that Rhaenyra was fucking him made the prospect much more agreeable.

The AC gets turned off again. You would scold him for it, were it not for the fact you are deadly bored yourself. Daemon’s quick meeting has turned into an hour long one, and you have been instructed to not step out of the car. The only entertainment you have is your phone, and you can only scroll through so many TikToks before wanting to claw your own eyes out.

Instead of continuing to refresh your For you page, you turn your attention back to obsessing over your conversation with Daemon. The shame from your stupidity makes your cheeks heat up.

“I don’t trust them.” Daemon had said, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He often avoided kissing you in the lips whenever you were close to his associates. As if not kissing you could trick them into thinking you were not relevant and convince them not to target you. “They are…. Not the most respectful with women.”

“You don’t trust me, you mean. To handle myself.” And by the Seven, it had even sounded bratty to your ears. You had not meant it like that at all. You had only wanted him to stop using that shitty excuse.

There were women who attended these meetings. You knew it. Hell, you had even met them. And these weren’t sex workers or strippers. These were women who held high positions in the organization. Rhaenyra, who was going to inherit it one day. Mysaria, who ran an informant network. Even Alicent pitched in from time to time. You were tired of being lied to. Sometimes, you craved the more normal boyfriend experience.

“I trust you. I don’t trust them.” Daemon had chuckled at your pout, and given you a pat in the head. “Behave.”

It had felt so dismissive. So humiliating. As if you were a child and not an actual grown woman. You hated arguing with Daemon. There was something about his tone, or his attitude, you were not sure which, that made him sound forever condescending.

You supposed inherited wealth was like that. The Targaryens had been running their schemes for nearly six generations by now. They were royalty by modern standards, even when you didn’t know about their more shady dealings.

It was no use, being upset over it. Daemon was too set in his ways to change. You needed to find a way around your problem, instead of charging right into it. But nothing comes to you at this moment, so you unlock your phone and continue your scrolling.

You save a few recipes you want to try, and like some pet videos. You are thinking of asking Daemon to adopt a puppy. A small breed would suit your apartment better, but you know Daemon. He will probably want the most intimidating dog he can get his hands on. A big, scary doberman could be something you could get behind. You had been feeling unsafe as of late.

A sudden, loud noise makes you jerk on your seat. You start to ask Harwin what’s wrong, but you don’t manage to even form the words. It's happening too fast.

“Get on your knees and do not get up until I say!” Harwin shouts. You do not need further explanations, understanding something is really wrong. You fall into the floor of the car with such haste that your phone is sent flying under the seat.

“…. Whisk the butter and the sugar…” You try to reach for it, but the space is too cramped, and suddenly the car is moving, throwing the phone around. Your knees throb from dropping yourself from the seat too hard, and you try to focus on that and not the way your heart feels like it’s in your throat. A gunshot, you realize. A gunshot. You should be used to them by now, but you still feel afraid.

Harwin drives fast and efficiently. It’s two full blocks before he orders you to get up again. You do so, legs shaking. There is a wet feeling on your knee. Blood. You had scrapped it when you threw yourself on the ground.

“What happened?” You ask him, smoothing your clothes down. Now that your panic isn’t as intense, you feel a pang of guilt. Daemon. Seven Hells, you had left him back there. “Daemon?”

Despite knowing that Harwin’s orders are first and foremost getting you out of danger, you can’t help but feel guilty. You had not even thought to worry about him. He is probably fine, considering the place was filled with Targaryens. He is also more than capable of handling himself. But to be so blinded by your fear that you did not even think of him…

“I got no fucking clue.” He asks, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “I’ll call Daemon, alright?”

“Yeah.” You say, quietly. You grab the seat’s edge and squeeze, as if you could will Daemon to your side by frustration alone. Harwin dials.

“Yeah, we are fine.” Harwin says, smiling at you through the mirror. You know he wouldn’t be so casual if something bad had happened, and so, you give him a thumbs up. Your guilt eases a bit, being replaced by relief. “She is fine, just a bit shaken up.” And he rolls his eyes because Daemon can be a bit overbearing.

“Just trouble with an errand guy.” Harwin explains, once the call is over. “He should be here soon.”

But despite how casual they made it sound, you couldn’t shake the fear and guilt away. It stayed on your mind, nestled like a worm, curling around your brain and threatening to choke it. When the night comes, and Daemon sleeps peacefully by your side, you still think of it. Of how you could die, and he could too. And there wouldn’t be a thing to be done.

You sit up on your side of the bed, letting the sheet pool around your waist. You hug your knees to your chest. The night is chilly, and the blackout curtains Daemon insists on having to ensure the room is pitch black. It only serves to disquiet you further.

There is a gun on Daemon’s nightstand. Should there be one in yours? His work is dangerous enough to warrant it. Enough to warrant you having a bodyguard, why not a weapon of your own?

You weren’t going to let him die. Nor were you going to leave him behind, like today. This was the twenty-first century, not the Middle Ages. You were tired of cowering back and acting the damsel in distress. If someone is going to try to hurt the man you love, you sure will fight back.

Daemon was yours. As much as you were his, and so, it wasn’t fair that only he protected you. You needed to be able to have his back, or at least, not be a distraction in a fight.

Your decision is not just something you can communicate to Daemon, though. He is not going to like it. You know him. Daemon is a bit old-fashioned like that. He likes gender roles a little too much for it. He is your protector and provider, and you are supposed to just be sweet and warm. The thought of you using a gun will probably cause him a heart attack.

And the thing is, Daemon doesn’t just style himself your protector. He does an outstanding job of it. He has managed to keep you away from the nastier side of his business. Never have you seen a dead body, or any of his associates beyond his family. So if you hope to achieve this, you need to be smart about it.

You decide you will tell him first thing in the morning when he is barely awake. He will be more susceptible that way. And happy with your plan, you finally manage to catch a few hours of sleep.

The next morning, you get started making breakfast with only one thing in mind. Convincing Daemon. You are barefoot, wearing only one of his shirts. It’s basic manipulation, and he will probably able to tell, but you hope it will soften him to your cause.

It’s when you are scrambling the eggs that he emerges, lured by the smell of fried bacon and a fresh pot of tea. Daemon wraps himself around you, still warm with sleep.

“Morning, love.” His voice is still a bit hoarse with sleep. He nuzzles your neck and hums, pleased. “Couldn’t I convince you to come back to bed?”

You laugh.

“Not really. The eggs are almost done.” You take the pan off the stove, letting it cool. “I would like to learn how to shoot.”

Daemon stiffens. You can feel him pull back from you. It’s not a physical thing, his arms remain wrapped around your waist, but his voice becomes colder and meaner. He is fully awake now.

“And why, in the Seven Hells, would you need to learn?”

“To feel safer.” You answer, keeping your tone steady.

“Do you not feel safe already? I could hire you another bodyguard.” Daemon hugs you slightly tighter. You lean into the counter a little bit, and sigh. Then, you detangle yourself from him.

“I don’t want a bodyguard. I need to learn how to shoot.” You state again, calmly. You turn to look at him. He looks more annoyed than angry.

“Sweetheart. You know that is not the best idea.” Daemon pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Why not?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“You are sensitive. You cry when animals die in movies.” He complains, stepping a bit closer to you. Daemon pours you a cup of tea and plates the eggs. “Go sit. I’ll wrap this up.”

You give him a sullen look but obey, watching him cut and toast the bread just in the way you like. You sit by the kitchen’s island, watching him work. Daemon is only wearing his underwear. You don’t think he owns something that resembles pajamas. Targaryens always run hot, or so they say.

Disappointing yourself, you let yourself be distracted by the view. You watch the muscles on his back shift and move as he finishes breakfast for you. You are mesmerized by the elegance of his every movement.

He is delicious, you think to yourself. You want to climb him like a tree. Despite the slight age difference, Daemon is more handsome than other men you have met. He is a bit vain, sure, but his efforts are worth it.

It’s only after he sits next to you that you remember what you were doing. You blame it on the lack of sleep.

“So?”

“You are my woman. It’s my duty to protect you. I’ll keep you safe.” Daemon rubs your shoulders, comfortingly. His voice sounds apologetic, a denial despite the soft tone he is using. “You know I keep you well away from danger.”

And he does. Not only Harwin and him have talked protocols, but Daemon has also ensured you would be protected even in the event of his death or imprisonment. You have numerous properties to your name, a few fake passports and three hidden bank accounts in different tax havens. None of which would be taken away if the two of you break up, Daemon has clearly stated. He loves you enough to want you to be protected even if you don’t love him anymore.

“I don’t like being powerless.”

“I seem to remember you do.” He squeezes your thigh, playfully. Your breath shifts despite yourself. You cover it by taking a sip of your tea and leveling a faux glare at him.

“I know.” Daemon kisses your nose. “I like that you don’t know how to shoot. That you are clean from this world.”

“It won’t sully me.” You argue because it’s a silly thing to think. It’s not like you are going to start shooting people or running illegal gambling rings. You just want to be able to defend yourself if something happens. And perhaps Daemon. If he doesn't feel too emasculated, this ridiculous man of yours.

“If I wanted a woman who knew how to shoot I would still be with Rhaenyra.” He complains.

“Plenty of women know how. I am not…” You rub at your eyes, tiredly. You want him to understand nothing is going to change between the two of you. “I do not want to go to your stupid meetings or meet your associates for dinner. I just want to know how to defend myself if something happens.”

“And I am saying you don’t need to because nothing is going to happen.” Daemon’s voice turns firmer. Now you can tell he is beginning to get angry, so you reach for his hand and squeeze.

“But if it does? If one night we wake up and there is a gun to our faces? Then what? Do I just let you die for me?” You allow your voice to break in the last part, letting him truly see your anguish. It is a fear of you that has lived on too long. You need this. You need to be able to defend both of you if something happens.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

It gets you to the firing range. Daemon takes you there in the middle of the week, hoping to inconvenience the least amount of people with him booking the entire place.

Your first impression of it is that it’s nothing like in the movies. There are neat little booths with circular targets instead of human shaped ones. You had expected only utilitarian decoration, harsh white lighting and white walls. Instead, the place looks well maintained and expensive. You should have expected so, considering this is Daemon you are talking about.

“Your first lesson…” Daemon says, eyeing you distrustfully. You stare right back at him. “Will be on safety.”

He takes two bulletproof vests out of a hanger, as well two pairs of earmuffs.

“These are protection gear, meant to be used each time you are practicing. And hopefully…” Daemon passes the bulletproof vest over your head. You let him do so, lifting your arms when he instructs you. The vest is heavier than you expect, and more solid too. It feels like what you wear when you are getting an x-ray. “You will use the vest too if you ever fire a gun outside here.”

“And not the earmuffs?”

“You should wear them to protect your ears, especially if you are firing many rounds. But you never see people wearing these because they are heavy-duty protection. In a real fight, you wouldn’t be able to hear your surroundings. Gunshots are pretty loud. So are gunfights.”

“Is that why you are losing your hearing?” You sass, with a grin. “I thought it was just your old age.”

“Oh, shut up. Little brat.” Daemon smacks your ass, playful. It doesn’t even hurt, but you jump and squeal in faux outrage. He laughs at your antics, and it does make you feel better about forcing him to teach you this.

“Should we do the whole…?” You gesture vaguely, trying to reference the classical movie or book montage where the female lead and the love interest stand very close, under the excuse to fix her posture. Daemon shakes his head.

“What is even that?” You would call him an old man for missing your reference, but you know he is sensitive about his age. Besides, you are not a great mime either. “No. You are going to stand with your legs and shoulders the same width apart and a proper posture. No slouching!”

“You know, not all of us grew up with a tutor chasing us and screaming for proper posture.” You grumble, but comply with his orders.

“Perhaps if you had, you wouldn’t need all those Pilates and Yoga classes you so enjoy.” Daemon argues right back. He circles you and pushes a bit at your hips. You try to loosen them. “Perhaps my cards would not explode then.”

“Shut up. It’s not like you don’t reap the benefits.”

Your good humor disappears when Daemon places a gun on the counter in front of you. You go quiet, suddenly unsure of your choice. He shows you how to charge it and how to put the safety on and off. You pay him all of your attention, feeling a bit numb. Most of the details about it fly over your head, despite your attempts to memorize them.

“Alright. I think you are ready for your first try.” Daemon says, handing you the gun. You grab it with trembling hands. You adjust your stance and ensure the muzzle is pointing down, and that you are not gesturing wildly with it. He puts your earmuffs on, and then his.

The world around you feels muffled. You swear you can hear your heartbeat, with how silent everything is. The gun in your hands is throwing you off. It looks odd. These can’t be your hands. You feel like you are not actually there, but watching the scene unfold from outside, watching someone else about to shoot.

Daemon adjusts your grip with his hands, casual about his proximity to the loaded weapon. You stiffen as soon as you feel him approach you, worried about accidentally shooting him.

“Come on.” He mouths, impatiently. You lift the gun, take the safety off, and aim. You pull the trigger, and it is with an awful noise and jerk, that you fire for the first time. The shot goes wide, hitting the wall next to the target.

Daemon taps your shoulder and gestures for you to go again. He watches your every move. His expression betrays nothing. If you are going at it the wrong way, you wouldn't be able to tell.

You repeat the motion, flinching at the noise. Even with the earmuffs it’s loud. It reminds you of that day in the alley, and makes your stomach clench. Daemon signals for you to put the gun down, and you do so, glad that it’s over. You can’t believe you thought you could actually do this. You feel so stupid. He was right, you are too soft.

Daemon can probably tell you are getting too in your head. He removes your earmuffs and pulls you in for a hug. The vests make it awkward, but you feel comforted by his solidness next to you.

“You did great, sweetheart.” He lies, and kisses your temple. You feel so disappointed you could cry. A laugh bubbles out of you, a bit hysterical.

Daemon tsks. He reaches for the gun and deftly discharges it.

“Come on.” He says, kissing your cheek. “I know what your problem is.”

“Yeah?” You ask him, a bit doubtful. You don’t want to feel any sort of hope, just in case that he is mistaken. Giving up so easily might be childish, yet you had not expected this to be so hard. After all, like half the people that Daemon knew could do it.

“You have to learn to love the gun.” He places it back on your hand and steps up behind you. It seems like you are doing the movie thing after all. He kicks your legs a bit, encouraging you to shift your stance.

“Love the gun?”

“You keep looking at it like it’s a weapon of mass destruction.” Daemon laughs, and mouths along your nape. You shiver. It’s an almost Pavlovian reaction by now. When Daemon’s voice gets all low and husky, and he holds you like that, your body knows it’s time for sex. It’s very inappropriate. But conditioned as you are, you can’t stop the throb of arousal between your thighs. “Stop looking like you are horrified by it.”

He fixes your grip around the gun. He steadies your hand.

“Shoot.”

You obey, pulling the trigger. The gun clicks, but nothing happens. It’s unloaded.

“Good.” Daemon says, and lightly bites your shoulder. “Again.”

You repeat the motion. He has you do it over and over again, until you no longer flinch when pulling the trigger. When you are fully desensitized to the sound, Daemon takes the gun from you.

“Great job.” He says, placing the gun right on your face. “Now kiss it.”

“Excuse me?” You stare at Daemon, sure that he must be joking. Kissing the gun? No way. But one look at his face, at the amused curve of his lips, and the mischievous glint in his eyes, tell you that he is serious.

“You heard me.” Daemon chuckles, a bit darkly. You understand then that this is both for his amusement and a punishment. He gets off on humiliating others, that you know. And he had not liked that you had forced him into giving you shooting lessons. He now intends to bring you down a few pegs. “Kiss the barrel.”

You scrunch up your face. You got your pride, too. Despite knowing that submitting to his whims is easy and will probably pacify him for a while, you can’t help but resist. Your whole body rebels at the idea of accepting such an obvious power play.

“Come on, don’t be like that. You owe me.” Daemon tilts your head up, placing a finger under your chin. He makes a show of cooing over your pout, before leaning in to kiss you.

“I don’t!” You move your head away, denying him. It’s a bit cruel, and it makes him frown, which you consider a win.

“You so do. I didn’t want to teach you, you know. At least give me good jerk off material.” He pouts at you, and you can’t help but smile a little. He is ridiculous.

It is part of why you love him. Daemon is young in spirit, if not in body, and he makes you feel younger too. Giddy and willing to do silly things. Silly things like leaning in and kissing the barrel of a gun.

The metal is cold under your lips, hard and unyielding. Daemon makes a pleased noise and pulls you in for a kiss. You can feel him smile against your mouth, before trying to deepen it. Playfully, you nip at him, until it is him who yields and opens up for you.

It is then that he presses the cold barrel against your nape. The feeling of the gun against your skin makes you tense and jerk, giving him once again the upper hand. With the control of the kiss back in his hands, he pulls you closer.

You feel yourself slowly starting to become aroused. One of Daemon’s hands finds your hip, squeezing the flesh there. His gesture is both possessive and greedy. Something swoops in your belly, dark and demanding. You want all his attention on you, you want him all for you.

Making out with Daemon is a full-bodied experience. It shouldn’t surprise you, then, that he starts to gently run the muzzle of the gun down your neck. At first, you don’t notice, too caught up on how close both of you are. Your chest is flush against his, and the feeling of his body against yours makes you whimper, before you realize what game is he playing.

“Daemon.” You warn, annoyed. He gives you a shit eating grin.

“I am just getting the two of you better acquainted. My best girls.” Daemon leans in and kisses behind your ear. He takes his time, making out with the shell of it. He is cautious to do all the right things to make you tremble against him. Yet, you can’t seem to forget about the gun, running down your sternum, between your breasts.

The muzzle gets caught against your clothes. Daemon uses it to push one of the sleeves of your top a little aside, to be able to lavish the skin there with kisses. You only feel the metal against your skin for a second, but it makes you think about how it would feel against your naked skin. Would the cold make your hairs stand up on edge, and your nipples pebble? Or would it warm up to your temperature?

The thought makes your breath hitch, and your panties even wetter.

“There is no one here.” You say, quietly. “If you were to take off my shirt…”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Daemon grins, encouraging you to lean against the counter of the firing range. “You devious little thing.”

He drops to his knees in front of you, carefully taking your clothing off. You watch him move between your legs, helping you widen your stance. Daemon kisses a path from your ankles towards your knees, mouthing along as if having the finest of banquets. His kisses feel scorching against your skin, and you can’t help but jut your hips slightly, trying to command him into touching you.

Daemon smiles at you, cheekily. He then bites your inner thighs, scratching just enough to make you arch in pleasure-pain. When you are just about to hike one of your legs over his shoulder, he sucks your clit inside his mouth, and it’s then that you feel it. The cold barrel of the gun, pressing along your inner thighs.

You moan. Daemon laughs.

“You little whore.” It sounds fond. He eats you out without any finesse, slurping noisily. The thought of anyone else being able to overhear this makes you embarrassed, so you try to keep quiet. Your eyes close, hands squeezing around the edge of the counter.

Daemon is not trying to bring you any pleasure. His movements and touches are too methodical for it. He presses a finger inside your hole, then another. Then it is scissoring them and shushing you with soft licks to your clit when you complain at the slight sting.

Any pleasure you get out of it is incidental. Instead, Daemon is getting you ready for something. And this time, you know it’s not his cock. The thought fills you with dread and arousement in equal parts. How will it feel? Metal doesn’t give the same way flesh does. But the thought of having a gun, Daemon's, inside you, makes your hips jerk.

“Impatient, aren’t you?” He pulls away, reappearing from between your legs. “Fuck. I don’t know if I want to see your face or your greedy little hole when I put it inside.”

You look at him. His hair is sticking up in all directions, but his smile is absolutely ferocious.

“My face. Just in case…” You reach for his shoulder and squeeze, gently. Despite how arousing you think the whole thing is, you are still hesitant. Sometimes, things don’t feel as you imagine they would. You don’t want this to be disappointing.

Daemon seems to understand, despite the fact that you don’t verbalize it.

“I’ll talk you through it.” He says, kindly. He then spreads your folds a little and presses the tip of the gun against your hole.

You yelp. Your grip on his shoulder turns punishing. It feels pleasant, as penetration often does, but there is a foreign quality to it as well. The gun is wide, and metal doesn’t give as flesh does. You feel as if you are rooted tp the spot by it, being impaled with each inch Daemon presses inside you.

“You are doing so well. Good girl. My little girl.” He presses a kiss to your stomach. He keeps rubbing at your clit until you relax around the barrel. It’s only then that he attempts to fuck you with it. You clench at his shoulders, overwhelmed, and moan.

It’s confusing. The ridges of it feel good, catching against your hole. The metal slowly starts to warm up, not feeling as strange as before. Daemon keeps steadily sucking your clit.

The pleasure builds. So does your need. You start to move your hips along with his thrusting, trying your best to reach your orgasm. So of course, Daemon pulls away from your clit.

“You are taking it so well.” Daemon praises, voice husky with desire. “Your pussy swallows the gun right up.”

You moan, almost without realizing. You are so close it itches. But moving your hips up and down isn’t enough. You need more.

“Daemon, please.” You beg, near tears. Never before have you been this frustrated.

“Who would have known? You are such a hungry little whore.” Daemon smirks. The crudeness of his words makes you gasp. You feel smaller than you have ever felt, yet somehow, it makes you feel deliciously dirty. He is not wrong. It’s embarrassing, how you are humping the gun he holds, but you can’t stop. “You don’t think, you are so desperate you would fuck anything. Do anything, just to fill your greedy holes.”

“Please. Fuck.” You sob. Daemon licks his thumb and starts rubbing your poor, abused clit. He keeps fucking you with the gun, building you up and up, towards the orgasm you so desperately crave. You come with a scream so loud, you thank he has booked the whole place for only yourselves.

Turns out, you don’t hate guns as much as you thought.

[wlntrsldler]

soldier, poet, king | luke castellan

song: soldier, poet, king by the oh hellos

warnings: not canon compliant, struck by inspiration and wrote this in one sitting so it's kinda just me rambling

i. the soldier

luke grew up a gentle child. he was the type of child who showed mercy at everything, at everyone, even when he knew that he held more power than them. and he did have more power than them.

from a young age, he knew he was different. he just didn't know how or why. it wasn't like he could just ask his mother why locked doors suddenly unlocked when he touched the knob, or why he always seemed to get away with stealing an extra cookie at the lunch line, or why he seemed to understand people who gossiped in other languages. not only were these odd talents to have (and yes he used odd because that's what his classmates used to call him) and his mother would probably not know the answers anyway, but his mother was unreliable at best.

luke was a quiet child. he never talked about what life at home was like and nobody ever asked him. after all, he showed up to school showered, dressed, and fed. there were no red flags there. he didn't blame the school for not knowing his living situation. how could they know? but sometimes, nine-year-old luke castellan wished someone bothered to ask.

maybe if they did, luke would tell them about how his mother talked to herself in the middle of the night and seemed to argue with the pictures on the walls. maybe if they did, luke would tell them that his mother didn't recognize him sometimes and that she would scream at the top of her lungs until her body grew tired then she'd sit still at the kitchen table until the sun rose.

or maybe he wouldn't. he didn't want to be a bother to anyone.

luke had never hurt anything until he was nine. up until then, he used to scoop up spiders on a piece of paper and release them into the world. it felt wrong to kill them so he never did. he used to watch his steps on the way home from school in fear of accidentally killing a centipede on the sidewalk. he used to leave food on the porch for the stray animals that passed by his neighborhood.

luke grew up a gentle child. until he fled home.

the first time luke killed something was when he was roaming the forests of massachusetts. he ran out of food days ago and was surviving on the honey bun an old lady at the gas station bought for him. it wasn't the healthiest option, but she assumed that he was starving from a long day at school and took pity on him. luke said his thanks and returned to his journey.

he could see the sun beginning to set behind the trees. in another life, he'd be watching the sunset in a tent with his mom. it would've been a family camping trip. he took a bite of the now stale honey bun and imagined it was a gooey marshmallow that his mom helped him roast over the campfire. as he crumpled the plastic, he heard it-- a scream from a girl.

luke's eyes widened and he raced to where the sound came from, reaching for the pocket knife he stole from the box his mom kept hidden in the attic. she never let him up there, but as luke was packing his things to leave, something told him to disobey his mother.

he found you with your back against a tree, terrified, with a dog-like creature snarling at you. it had two heads, glowing eyes, and what seemed like a million teeth. it turned its heads to look at luke, and the smile that dawned on its face was haunting. luke fumbled with the pocket knife and watched in amazement as it grew into a sword, both silver and gold, and seemed to illuminate underneath the descending rays of the sun.

luke stumbled in his steps as he held the sword tightly in his small hands and he swung. the dog barred its teeth, no doubt upset that luke was putting up a fight. his technique was nonexistent. he just swung and swung until he managed to lay a blow on the creature, and when he'd done enough damage, luke pierced the sword between the dog's two heads and watched it vanish into thin air.

luke dropped the sword by his feet, trying to catch his breath. he'd almost forgotten that you were there, that he did all that to save someone else. it wasn't until you placed a hand on his shoulder that luke was pulled back to life.

"thank you," you whispered. luke got a good look at you then. tear streaks down your face, hair a mess in two thick braids on either side of your head, and eyes that seemed hollow, though the will of wanting to survive fought to keep the traces of you there. "you saved my life."

luke looked down at his feet to find the pocket knife back in its original form. he bent down to pick it up, hands still trembling as he stuffed it in his back pocket. he wiped his sweaty palms against the fabric of his jeans, "i-i've never killed something before."

"me either," you gulped, nodding. "i'm y/n."

luke brushed his stray curls from his forehead, "luke."

ii. the poet

life at camp half blood became repetitive after a while. training, dinner, offerings, and repeat. luke was excited when he became the head counselor of the hermes cabin because at least he had something new to do. he no longer needed to follow you around to fill his time, though he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss spending so much time with you.

you'd been promoted as the head counselor of your own cabin months before luke, which was overdue in his opinion. you'd grown dependable, strong, and fearless over the years at camp. sometimes luke couldn't believe that you were the same girl who cowered against a hellhound all those years ago.

the life he had before he met you seemed like a lifetime ago, and in some ways, it was. eight years had gone by since he arrived at camp half blood. he's seventeen now. time had taken away many of his memories from his childhood.

"hey soldier," you greeted, bumping his shoulder with your own. "done with your list yet?"

"soldier," he greeted with a bright smile. "just about. want to tag along while i finish up?"

the nickname grew out of a morbid conversation the two of you had a few years ago. it was after you'd just gotten claimed by your parent, the night before you were due to move out of the hermes cabin. luke had found you sitting in the middle of the arena, your sword tossed carelessly on the floor. when you didn't show up to the cabin after lights out, luke knew he had to look for you.

"hey," luke approached you gently, taking the spot beside you. "everything ok?"

you lifted your head, craning your neck to look at him. you shook your head, "no."

his eyebrows furrowed in concern, "what's wrong?"

"i have a quest," you mumbled, tears welling up in your eyes. "that's why she claimed me."

for years, you found home in the hermes cabin. year by year, you admitted defeat, thinking that your parent would never claim you as theirs. it was painful, watching new arrivals get claimed by their parent while you watched on the sidelines, clapping in celebration. you faked smiles and niceties, but luke knew how much it hurt you.

he'd walk with you back to the hermes cabin and kept you company until you felt better. if he had it his way, he'd stay beside you forever, but he'll be content if he got to stay with you until you didn't want him to anymore. thankfully, that time hadn't come yet.

luke felt anger bubbling in his chest as he scoffed, "all these years... i'm sorry y/n. that's fucked up."

"it's okay, luke."

"it's not, though," he shook his head, "it's not okay that she only wants to claim you because she needs you. what about when you needed her, huh? all those years that she ignored you."

your shoulders deflated. luke was saying all the things you'd been repeating in your head since you've been claimed. "i know, luke, but that's just how the gods are."

"maybe that's the problem," he said. his anger kept increasing, his voice sharpening after each word. he thought about the worst-case scenarios if you left. you could get hurt. you could get trapped somewhere. you could die. the thought of it made luke sick. "maybe the gods need to get a taste of their own medicine. tell me you're not going on that quest."

"i have to."

"then i'll come with you."

you placed a hand on his thigh, "i can't ask you to do that."

"you're not asking. i'm offering."

"no, luke," you sighed, "as much as i would like you there, someone needs to stay here. someone needs to look after annie and the rest of the kids."

"and who's gonna look after you?"

"i'll be okay," you managed to smile, "i can hold my own now. i have the best teacher, remember?"

luke's eyes softened at your words. he'd been teaching you fighting techniques since he was dubbed the best swordsman of camp in centuries. everything he learned, he passed onto you. the life of a demigod was unpredictable outside the walls of camp half blood, and if there came a time when he wouldn't be around, he wanted to make sure you could fend for yourself.

he took your hand in his, tugging on your arm to pull you closer. once you were close enough, he wrapped an arm around you and placed his chin on the top of your head. "i know you can."

there was a silence that fell upon the two of you after that. the two of you sat there beside each other for a beat before you spoke again, "do you think they will ever change?"

"no," luke answered honestly. "we are not their children. we're soldiers to them."

as time passed, the truer those words became. he watched his friends, his siblings, return as a shell of themselves after their quest. he often wondered when he'd be called for his, though he was in no rush. some people were gone for weeks, months, sometimes years, and he couldn't fathom being apart from you for that long.

as he snapped out of his thoughts, you laced your fingers with his, "i'd love to join. i miss your siblings."

luke laughed, "they miss you too. i'm no longer their favorite now that i'm head counselor."

"that's because you never let them have fun," you joked, "fun is good. in moderation."

"hermes kids don't understand the word moderation."

"true," you giggled, running your finger across his knuckles. "chiron is looking for you, by the way. said it's urgent."

luke shrugged, placing a kiss on your temple, "i'm sure it can wait. wanna spend some time with you after finishing up. feels like i haven't seen you in ages."

"we just had breakfast and lunch together, luke," you cocked an eyebrow teasingly, though your grip on his hand tightened. "can't get enough of me?"

"you know the answer to that," he hummed, not deterred by your tone. he never kept it a secret that he'd follow you to the ends of the world if you asked. "but we haven't gotten time with just us two in a while. would like to be able to kiss my girlfriend without campers saying ew."

"the ew's don't seem to bother you that much because you do it anyway."

luke stopped, untangling your fingers so he could hold your face in his hands. he placed a long kiss on your lips, one that left you breathless. "like you said, i can't get enough of you."

iii. the king

the waters were rough tonight. princess andromeda rocked harshly against the current, but luke remained unmoving at the front of the ship. he stared out into the dark waters, thinking back on the memories he had left. kronos was slowly chipping away at all of them, but he held tightly on certain ones because he didn't want to forget.

all of the memories were of you-- the way your skin flushed red after hours training in the arena, the way your hair fell in a tangled mess when you let your hair down, the sound of your laughter when he kissed your neck and his curls tickled your skin. these were things he would fight to remember.

luke thinks a fate more cruel than death would be to forget you.

tomorrow would mark a year since he left camp half blood to lead kronos' army, a year since he last saw you. it seemed trivial to him now to think about the 'what-if's' of his quest, thinking about all that time he would spend without you, only to have it happen anyway. only this time, he knew for certain he wouldn't return again.

life on the ship was vastly different from camp half blood. luke never thought that he'd miss the boring routine, but he did. the only thing that stayed the same was that he remained in power. in camp half blood, he was respected, seen as the leader of the pack. and here, the same can be said. he was kronos' right hand, and until the titan was able to attain his physical form, luke was in charge.

he was the captain of the ship. he was the king. he would bring glory to the demigods.

in the distance, a faint light appeared. luke squinted as he tried to make out the object slowly coming closer. he turned to enter the ship, the room falling silent when he opened the door.

"there's something out there."

chris stood up, approaching luke. he was the only one who dared to address him and luke preferred it that way. chris was his brother. he didn't know the rest of them well.

chris cleared his throat, "we just got word from someone on the inside that they're sending some people to attack us."

"so that's what's out there," luke clenched his jaw, "who did they send?"

"percy, annabeth," chris gulped, "and y/n."

for a moment, luke's demeanor faltered. were you really on your way to fight him? is that what your relationship had come to? luke bit his tongue, trying to control his emotions. he crossed his arms across his chest, "change course now."

another one of the demigods stood up, a puzzled expression on his face, "what? there's only three of them. they're outnumbered. we can take them."

"did i stutter?" luke snarled, "i said change course."

"it doesn't make sense to. changing course will set us back at least. a day!"

"are you in charge?" luke questioned. in his heart, he knew he would pay for this later on. once kronos hears that luke changed the plans without his knowledge, he would suffer but he thinks that whatever torture kronos has in store for him would be less painful than seeing you again.

you were fighting the same war, but you stood on different sides. it was something luke still had trouble coming to terms with.

the boy shook his head, cowering in fear as he made his way out of the room to relay luke's orders to the others. luke turned around and pinched the bridge of his nose before walking back out to the front of the ship. he held onto the railing as the ship turned right, his body jerking with the motion. he always did seem to lose his composure when it came to you. as the ship sailed away, he watched the light he saw in the distance fade into the darkness.

[dxstopiaa]

hey! i just read the puppy hybrid reader with albedo, haitham and dottore. can i request a tighnari, childe and ayato version?

characters: dom! tighnari, childe and ayato x gn! hybrid! reader.

warnings: nsfw! degradation, breeding, marking, exhibitionism [ohmygosh 700 followers already !?! i love you all sm <3]

tighnari

❥ He’s sure you’re not this stupid, nor are you doing this accidentally. Your answers are ridiculously incorrect, even the simplest questions regarding topics he’s certain you already learnt are left clumsily forgotten.

❥ “Wrong.” Each erroneous reply that fell from your swollen lips granted such feedback— a harsh tug on your stimulated nipples or even grazing his teeth over your overly alert ears. How you wish you could tell your tutor that you’re simply too concentrated on him instead of the content you’re studying.

❥ Pitiful, really. You’re his honoured student yet Tighnari finds himself doubting your abilities when you’re reduced to a sobbing bitch on his cock, fully hilted but stationary. You’re begging him to move except Tighnari insists you stay quiet unless you can answer his questions.

❥ “Correct.” Every right response warranted a passionate kiss on your lips and a succession of thrusts with the snapping of his hips up. He just felt so heavenly inside you, both his tongue and his dick. You’re grasping onto his shoulders with the urge to cum but he’ll never let you finish so soon.

❥ Tighnari has to bite back his own grunts when you surround your warmth back around him, enveloping his erection with your soft, tight walls. His own ears twitching from sheer excitement the further he thrusts into you.

❥ Your tail swings back and forth with ecstasy and the pursuit of pure pleasure, your hands crave for Tighnari’s own grasp surrounding them. Unlucky for you, he opts to continue this twisted torture of teasing until your legs grow weak and your brain can only process the consequences of low grades.

❥ “Pathetic, you can attempt to woo me with your body yet your mind can’t seem to catch up fast enough.”

childe

❥ What were you thinking, talking to another man when you should be in the arms of your boyfriend? Don’t try reassuring Childe that he’s only a co-worker, for he’s already keeping you face down against the bed, tightly grasping your hips with his bruise-inflicting fingers.

❥ Cries which were a melody of pleasure and desperation flowed past your lips, your tail bouncing from how hard he was plunging his cock into your sore hole. Would of been cute if Tartaglia wasn’t so focused on disciplining your crude self.

❥”You’re…” Interrupted by the string of vulgar comments which left his mouth, that now was sloppily kissing and leaving bites surrounding your neck. Everyone needs to know who this little pet belongs to, by any means. Childe feels himself twitch at the thought of the revealing clothes he’ll dress you in to show his newly formed affection off.

❥”…Mine.” With an ultimate thrust, the young harbinger fills you with his seed, using his fingers to push every last drop back inside. He won’t have you wasting his precious cum, consider yourself lucky he’s giving it to you.

❥ Dirty animals like you deserve to be fucked until you’re chanting his name like a spell— until you’re certain Tartaglia is the only name you know of. Dumbed down to a feeble house pet to serve his pleasures exclusively. You’re just too incompetent to be used for anything else.

❥ You’d lost count of your orgasms, Childe’s stamina was animalistic and ferocious, recovering in a mere minute before returning to the mess he has underneath him. Your eyes gleamed with something akin to forgiveness, lust or even yearning.

❥ “Is this what dogs like you do during mating season? Go around prostituting yourself to other men? You know i’m the only one for you, sweetheart.”

ayato

❥ Pretty, little youkai like you need a lesson on etiquette. It’s most certainly scandalous to be moaning your master’s name as you pleasured yourself ‘alone’. Ayato was always observing your sessions, wandering how long a stupid thing like you would realise his presence.

❥ Pistoning your fingers in and out of your tight hole, whimpering and shaking from the feeling you’ve been fantasising of. Oh, how you wished the Yashiro Comissioner would tug on your tail and you’d milk him dry of his cum, it was so so hard to resist calling his title out aloud.

❥ Ayato, who sees his maid so worked up all because of him, he feels a sense of sympathy flourishing within his chest and groin, he couldn’t help but introduce himself onto the bed you laid on.

❥ “Dream come true, hm?” He coos when you take in his cock fully, violet eyes flickering to your ass as he pounded into it, gloved hands gripping the headboard to provide a different angle. He has you secured in every position he knows— pulling your thighs open with your soft tail rubbing against his bare chest, or lying flat as he stimulated your crotch with the friction of a slender finger’s rubbing.

❥ Don’t keep him for too long, Ayato is a busy man who craves your body every second without his dick sheathed feel within you. He’ll let you cock warm him, only if you’re polite enough though! Serve him all you have to offer and he’ll repay your deeds with a feeling so unique to him.

❥ Lowly little maid which has the Commissioner spending thousands of mora to accessorise your cute face, waist and nipples. He’s secretive as always, leaving the little gifts where you’ll only ever find them. The only debt he’s wrapped you in is the profitable image of your shy smile, your ears drooped under that unchanging cynical smirk.

❥ “Do you want me to drag you by a leash around the estate? To show how obedient and determined you are for my love? I promise a reward after, pet.”