#Intruder Safety Glasses

[shubeeshoecovers]

Disposable Earloop Face Mask

ShuBee prides itself on supplying professional surface protection products, disposable earloop face masks, ratchet suspension hard hats, non-slip shoe covers, and many more that are made specifically for the service industry to make clients happy. https://www.shubee.com/face-mask-c-sb-fm

[pukicho]

What's the weirdest dream/nightmare you've had?

Pukicho story time???

This happened in 2004, I lived in Ireland. I had one very particular dream that I still often think about to this day:

It started in an unusual flat, somewhere up high. It was modern for the time, it felt decidedly Y2K. Every piece of furniture, the walls, the lamps, they were all bright pink. It was so trendy that it almost felt like a parody of itself, but I was a kid, and my mind wasn't clever enough for the act of parody. I would've simply forgotten this flat ever existed if the latter-half of the dream didn't leave such a permanent mark on my memory - now I can recall every last detail.

I asked a stranger to use the restroom. The toilet was downstairs, so I opened up the door to a utility stairwell and began heading down, alone.

I could look through the center of the staircase column, it was pitch-black and there was no visible bottom. I remember going down the staircase for hours, literal hours - A dark, oppressive hum from pipes and vents blinded my ears and shook the inside of my stomach with its volume. I remember thinking how long the dream felt in this moment, I recall getting consciously impatient, but I kept going. My eyes couldn't adjust to the nearly invisible-darkness surrounding me so I put my hand against the walls and handrail for guidance and shuffled downward like a blind man without his walking-stick.

Finally, only a moment before the tension would have juddered me awake, I found the door to the bathroom. I opened it up; to my relief there was light. The room was rectangular, on one end was a boxed-shaped shower with fogged glass, on the other end, a toilet. The floor and wall were decorated by the same beige tile - it all looked hastily plastered. I sat down to do my business. At this moment, the ballooning anxiety I had felt outside had dissipated almost entirely. I sat in silence - I remember acknowledging the sheer contrast in volume between the AC-hum in the bathroom to the oppressive roar from the stairwell.

It was good to be sitting there. I remember feeling as though the dream had slowly turned into a nightmare - but consciously, everything felt right again. Nothing happened for a long time. It grew so boring and tame that my mind stopped focusing on the dream entirely, and I began fading into memoryless sleep. And then the lights went out.

At this point, sitting in a darkness even blacker than the one I had just emerged from, not even a hum could be heard. The only noise I could hear, and just barely, was my own brain-matter hitting against the sides of my ears, bellowing a deep subharmonic hum from within my own skull. Suddenly, every semblance of safety was ripped from my chest, and I sat there, feeling in greater danger than I ever had before. I felt a pressure so omniscient that it choked me -- but nothing came, nothing happened. I waited for minutes - minutes where each second could be counted down in scrutinizing specificity, but nothing happened.

Suddenly, and with no presumption, I felt coarse electricity pumping through my chest. I wrangled with myself in my own bed, feeling what felt like infinite pain pass through me. I could feel myself yelling from within the dream through the vibration of my lungs. A cacophonous buzzing bled into my ears as thousands of people screamed from within my skull. The cries of a falling choir ran-through their screams, like angels falling from heaven.

At the very same moment, a body appeared in the shower. It glowed yellow, so bright and irradiated I could hardly look directly at it. It caressed itself, clawing into its body like it was reeling from immeasurable pain. It moved unnaturally, squirming and spasming as if fast-forwarded. The glass blurred its details, but it did nothing to mask its energy. It was as if it held the sun inside of its own stomach. I felt as though an intruder entered my own mind and I had no power to stop it. Just being near it was enough to kill me, and I was already dying.

The wall of sound lasted not even one full-second - and then - a piercing zap shot me up from my bed, and that was it. I can't remember anything past that point, but I assume I went back to bed shortly thereafter, forgetting what had just happened, if only for that one night. I must have had a vapid dream, worthless and memoryless, unknowing that I had just lived a dream so dreadful that it'd stick to my psyche like tar for the rest of my life.

No other dream has ever felt that way since. It was as if a second-soul decided to visit me, a soul stronger and more omnipotent than mine. Surely a dream is just a dream, regardless of the feeling it gives you, but now I go to bed every night, wishing I'll be the only soul residing within its story.

End!!

[proneterror204]

Manson family relations

The GIW had finally done it. They had declared marshal law in Amity Park. The complete lockdown started three days ago and they had surrounded her house. Sam was lucky her parent never skimped on home defense. They had gotten advice straight from Bruce Wayne after all and it was reinforced with Fenton Tech.

When the lockdown first started Sam's and a bunch of other parents went to complain, and the GIW had simply opened fire. They were gone now, along with most other parents. She didn't know where the Fentons were. Tucker, Jazz, and all the other kids were hold up in the school, under siege by the GIW just like her. The Fentons had also fortified the school. FentonWorks went up in green ecto-fire yesterday. Sam doesent know why.

Danny had been blown out of the sky getting everyone left to safety. He had been unconscious in her bed for over 24 hours now. Sams only comunication with the outside world had been from her grandma Ida, who was vacationing in Florida, and said that she was sending family.

Sam was trying to figure out what that meant when she heard gun fire outside. Not ecto-guns but real guns and explosions. It was getting closer.

Glass shattered from inside the house and her emotions boiled. There was no way she was gonna let them inside the house. Sam raged as every house plant her mother thought was fake sprung to life and lashed out at the intruder. Swords slashed vines and guns riddled pots and plants with bullets till a man in an orange and black battle suit stood in front of her. He had two sword and alot of guns. He took off his helm revealing and aged face with a missing eye as he spoke.

" Relax little Poison ivy, Ida sent me. My name is Slade Wilson and Im your grandfather."

[cheollipop]

❅*⋆ 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙣𝙤𝙬

navi | taglist

pairing: jung wooyoung x fem!reader

w.c.: 4.4k

genre: smut, fluff, established relationship

while the world revelled in the first snowfall of the year — crowding their windows as the sky painted the streets in a blanket of white — your focus remained elsewhere, too busy celebrating wooyoung.

❅ warnings: food/eating mentioned, unprotected sex (👎), creampie, oral sex (m receiving), deepthroating, men whimpering *drools*, wooyoung is a tease, sub-leaning!reader, cockwarming, creaming, praise, nicknames (youngie, woo; baby, good girl, darling, love), they are so in love i want to throw up

❅ A/N: happiest birthday to my beloved.

nsfw under the cut—minors dni 🔞

Smoothing your spatula over the cooled top layer, small, golden crumbs adhered to the buttercream as you coated the freshly baked cake’s exterior. You peered outside the window atop the sink, a smile stretching your lips when you’d noticed the falling white specs coating the world behind the safety of your glass pane.

You loved winter. You loved the hot chocolate with marshmallows melting into a swirl of whipped cream, huddling up on the couch with candles burning, blankets engulfing your form while the world around you faded away as warmth seeped into your skin. You loved the anticipation of snow, and the bliss it brought with it when it dressed the streets in a soft, pearly gown. You loved the big jumpers you’d sneak out of Wooyoung’s closet, his scent imbedded into the soft fibres, and the homemade soup burning your tongue as he spoon-fed it into your open mouth. Even with harsh storms swaying the trees from side to side, branches banging against your windows, hail pounding on the hoods of cars, and bleak winds breaching the thick layers of cashmere and fleece, winter with Wooyoung was warm.

Too immersed in taking in the sky’s frosty offering, you’d missed the gentle rustling of keys, the click of the front door, mindlessly spreading the slightly-too-thick coating while socked feet padded their way to your idle form. The sudden hands on your waist startled you, a gallop of buttercream flying off the spatula you were holding as your arm jolted upwards, quickly twisting your body with a stunted inhale to face the intruder. Your initial fright dwindled away as you stood before Wooyoung, eyes closed to avoid the buttercream stuck over his eyebrow, his body trapping yours against the marble counter.

“Woo,” you breathed out a sigh of relief, giggles bubbling up in your throat as you reached for the tablecloth you had thrown over your shoulder, wiping his face with your lips drawn tight to suppress the laugh attempting to slip through.

“Is this how you treat me on my birthday?” You wanted to kiss his pout away, but you resisted. “I rushed home to my darling because I missed her so much, and she tries to blind me,” he sulked, fluttering his eyes open once you’d wiped his face completely clean.

This time, you giggled, leaning forward to press your lips together, moving to peck the corners before pulling away. “I’m sorry, my love,” you smiled apologetically, not bothering with teasing him on his birthday. His mouth stretched into a smile that mirrored yours, and you leaned into his body, arms wrapping around his small waist while his circled your own. Glancing down at his shirt, about to scold him for the improper number of layers he’d thrown on before leaving, your eyebrows shot up at the blotchy streaks of brown painting the thin white. “What did the guys do to you?”

He tilted his head to take in the state of his shirt, blowing out a breathy laugh before directing his gaze back to your puzzled features. “Oh baby, you should’ve seen my face. They had Jongho push it down into the cake.”

“Mm, you still have some in your hair,” you grinned while picking out the crumbs from his hairline, running your fingers through dark locks to break up the stuck-together strands.

A gust of air blew over your face as it escaped Wooyoung’s parted lips in a heavy sigh, interrupting your ministrations when he dropped his head onto your shoulder to nuzzle his nose into your pulse point, inhaling the lingering scent of vanilla wafting off your skin and occupying your residence. Pressing a kiss to your neck, he muttered against the soft flesh, “I’ve missed you.”

You smiled, “you’ve only been gone for two hours.”

“Too long.”

Your chest warmed, fingers carding through the soft hairs at his nape while he laid the weight of his head onto your shoulder, breath steady and arms secure around your waist, occasionally tightening as he zoned in and out of the present, content to simply rest within the aura of tranquillity you’d effortlessly granted him. “You’re here now,” you burrowed your nose into his hair, the chocolatey aroma of a wasted cake embedded into the soft locks.

It wasn’t that Wooyoung was fond of winter too — he simply enjoyed spending it by your side. Pretending to be cold so you’d snuggle closer to him, running your hands through his hair and peppering kisses over his face until it scrunched up, blowing hot air over his already-warm palms just to see the corners of his eyes wrinkle as his lips curled with a smile. You'd wait all year to watch the world pile on layers of thick fabric with a sheet of white, quickly melting dust resting on their shoulders, dainty snowflakes bedecking brown locks, irises glinting under the winter sky as you walked down the slippery sidewalk with intertwined fingers swinging between your bodies.

Winter, to you and Wooyoung, meant meaningless walks under the soft snowfall, feeling the momentary chill of the icy flakes on your skin before it reverted back to liquid. Red noses inhaling the crisp air, soft gusts of fog leaving freckled lips as excited words rolled off his tongue — something about a new series he was watching, or was it a movie? The non-prescription glasses he insisted on wearing all but fully beclouded, droplets of melted snow rolling off the plastic frame, his lips cracked with their excessive movement as he kept switching between topics, as though he’d been saving them up for weeks. As though you didn’t share most of the day’s hours in each other’s company, eyes meeting delicate features as the morning sun cast its early rays over your resting figures, and falling shut within each other’s embrace, hoping their gentle touch could carry into your dreams.

Wooyoung knew when to be quiet as well. When the grey, weary skies reflected upon your affect, your warm sheets proving to be a little more difficult to part with, and words a little more difficult to utter. In such instances, Wooyoung offered you peace, safety, warmth. A place to rest and recover, where the passage of time didn’t seem too daunting, where you could find footing at your own pace, with a gaze flooded with unfaltering adoration cast upon you, and arms warmer than the peak of summer holding your trembling form until it found the strength to stand alone, a ghost of a palm on your lower back even as you took your first steps back into the present.

A pleasant exhale warmed your shoulder before Wooyoung’s body retreated partially, arms still encompassing your body while he directed his focus onto the counter behind you. “Has my baby been working on this since I left?” His tone was playful, amused as he peered over your shoulder at the crumb-coated cake left unfinished.

The corners of your lips lifted into a shy smile, cheeks flushed while you nodded. With your eyes fixed onto a particular stain on Wooyoung’s collar, you’d missed the tenderness of his gaze as he took you in — curling in on yourself while he held you in his arms, flour dusted over your sweater and traces of buttercream left at the corner of your mouth from a sneaky taste testing you thought would go unnoticed. Holding your chin with his pointer and thumb, Wooyoung directed your focus back to his face, greeting you with an easy smile before leaning forward to close the gap between your lips. They sashayed like dancers, moulding against one another in a gentle, yet gradually deepening kiss, noses pressing against one another as Wooyoung stepped further into your space.

And just like that, he was gone again, moving back to moon over the blend of abashment and disorientation taking over your features while your lips continued to chase his, the plushness lingering over your senses, and you wanted more. But the hands on your waist were twisting you clockwise until you faced the loitering snowfall once again, Wooyoung’s arms now on either side of you, bracketing your body against the counter while his lips feathered over the cartilage of your ear as he spoke, “come on then, don’t let me distract you.”

Your heartrate picked up, Wooyoung’s body heat — despite the intentional space left between your back and his chest — seeping into your skin, not aiding the flush running up your body at the proximity, the not-so-innocent touches, the teasing, the taste of his lips persisting over yours.

“Woo,” the tone was firm, but your voice wavered before you could stop it, and the telltale stretch of his mouth against the shell of your ear told you all you needed to know — Wooyoung was aware of his effect on you, and would work to exploit his power in any way he could.

Slender fingers reached for the piping bag you’d set aside earlier, twisting one of your hands with his free one to place the tool into your open palm. “Here, I’ll help,” his smirk remained, evident in his voice as he laid his hands over your knuckles, following your lead as you adjusted the bag in your hold until it fit comfortably.

You exhaled the breath you’d been holding, steadying your trembling hands and angling your body over the counter, dragging Wooyoung down with you as he watched your measured movements in silence. Pressing down on the sides of the plastic bag, you formed your first buttercream swirl with a meticulous twist of the wrist. You pursed your lips, leaning back ever so slightly to examine it before nodding in approval, bending down once again to repeat the process.

Wooyoung's hand remained perched idly over yours, eyes flitting between your profile and the hands lining his birthday cake’s circumference with — very uneven — swirls of vanilla buttercream. With no trace of your previous bashfulness to be found, Wooyoung found himself mooning over the engaged furrow of your eyebrows, the glossy sliver of tongue held between your teeth, steady hands moving underneath his with no complaint about their added weight; you’ll most likely use that as an excuse to justify the noticeable discrepancy in swirl size, and Wooyoung will most likely allow it, drop the banter and accept you accusations, simply to see the blissful spark lighting up your irises.

Suddenly straightening up into his body, you’d dragged Wooyoung out of his sappy daydreams and back to inspect the finished cake, the decorative swirls appearing more uniform now that they’d been clustered together, the mouthwatering scent of vanilla and caramel so inviting, so homey and pleasant.

As though you’d read his mind, you reached forward to grab a clean fork from the dishrack, not bothering with cutting out a slice before you’d stabbed the cake to scoop out a bite of fluffy, vanilla-coated sponge. Wooyoung's mouth opened without thought as you directed the heaped fork over your shoulder, teeth clanging against the metal as he slid the contents off its prongs. You'd expected the passionate feedback, turning your head as soon as his eyes had fell shut, wishing you’d plugged your ears as soon as the hyperbolic moaning began. Sensing the sway of his body behind you while he chewed loudly, you slid your finger over the coated side of the cake, collecting a bead of buttercream and rotating your body to smear it onto his cheek. The moaning stopped, thank fuck.

The deadpan expression barely lasted, his features melting into that of warmth, affection, love — as though you’d handcrafted the intricate snowflakes painting the world white and placed them into his hands. Wooyoung’s gaze moved to your lips, skipping contemplation, and diving forward to share the sweet remnants of vanilla on his tongue, flicking it over your bottom lip with a sly smile. He trailed tender kisses up your face, starting at the corner of your mouth and up to your cheekbone. And just as your eyes fluttered shut, a warm, buttercream-covered cheek collided with yours, curved nose nuzzling into the warm flesh to smear the sugary cream over your skin. His grip on your waist was unyielding, holding you still while you thrashed in his arms.

“You shouldn’t play with your food, my love,” he grinned, fingers now poking at your sides.

“Woo—” you shrieked and jerked away from his touch, throwing your head back as giggles erupted from your chest. “Please—s-stop!”

He carried on with his ministrations for a few moments more, revelling in the pleasant melody leaving your smiling lips, the joyous expression persisting even after his hands ceased their motion, now resting comfortably over the curve of your waist. It was as though an inconspicuous force drew him to you, finding it laborious to remain detached from your form. The cake on his shirt be damned, he wrapped himself around you, tucking his head into the crook of your neck to inhale the scent of your body wash, pressing feathery pecks over the soft skin.

The corners of your lips curled upwards, sighing pleasantly at the gentle gesture as you smoothed your hands down his back, nuzzling your cheek into his clothed shoulder while the scent of musk and chocolate mingled in the air around you.

Settling in the tranquil stillness with Wooyoung, you could feel the taut, lean muscle lining his back beneath your palms, absorbing his comforting heat as you stood together. “How are you not cold?”

He smiled fondly at the slight lisp you spoke with, tucked so close to his body, his shoulder muffled your words. Pulling back, he placed a wet kiss to the tip of your nose when you’d whined about the sudden parting, and his hands reached for yours. He enveloped the icy digits within the warmth of his own, bringing them up to his mouth to blow hot air into the cocoon he’d created around your hands. Closing his fingers around yours completely, he hoped it’d contain the warmth of his breath, lowering them back down to peer at you through his eyelashes, a familiar glint in his eyes.

“What?” you questioned warily, one eyebrow raised and heat rushing through your body.

Despite his intense stare, his eyes — though slightly narrowed — remained soft, one hand leaving yours to smooth down the hair at the side of your head, the scent of chocolate surrounding you once again as he pressed his lips to your temple, the leftover sugary cream on his skin spreading over your cheekbone as he spoke.

“My sweet baby, let’s warm you up, yeah?”

--

All plans to ravish you vanished as soon as your knees met the carpeted floor between his legs, hurried fingers tugging at his sweatpants, not allowing him the time to settle back down onto the couch cushions before a wet tongue swiped over the precum beading at his tip.

“Baby, you really don’t have to,” he muttered breathlessly, fingers carding through your hair, eager eyes watching your spit-soaked lips approaching his cock.

Looking up at him through your lashes, you wordlessly took his cockhead into your mouth, fluttering your eyes shut as you lowered yourself further down his length, grunts and choked moans reverberating in your ears and motivating you to carry on. He felt heavy on your tongue, the prominent vein lining his shaft throbbing in your mouth and bitter precum overwhelming your tastebuds. Wooyoung’s thighs tensed under your palms, and glancing up at him, you watched the turmoil his features portrayed, wanting you to move at your own pace, yet the burning want sizzling in his gut begged him to take what he wanted.

“Youngie,” a gentle mumble of his name was enough to drag him out of the battles crowding his mind, snapping his eyes down to your face with parted lips and stunted exhales. Dragging your mouth down his length, you watched as his gaze moved to take in the slow descent, then back up at the sound of your voice, “use me however you want, birthday boy.”

You flattened your tongue over underside of his cock, moving upwards to circle around his head, your exaggerated slurping breaking Wooyoung’s composure, the internal battles in his mind coming to a standstill as your warmth engulfed him, eyes beginning to roll back with every inch you took down the rough plane of your tongue. His hands shot up to hold your face, thumb caressing your cheekbones while he kept you in place, languidly rolling his hips into your mouth, head thrown back over the cushions behind him with burning arousal rushing through his body. You nuzzled your nose into the thick hairs at his base, and even as you gagged, your mind floated in ecstasy with every upward buck of Wooyoung’s hips.

“Fuck—‘m sorry darling, you feel so good,” he admired the skill in which you took his cock with lidded eyes, brows furrowed while he held you down until he felt the last of your oxygen warming the skin of his pelvis.

Wooyoung helped you off his length before you had the chance to tap on his thigh, chest heaving as he watched you regain your breath, his throbbing length coated in your spit and spurting translucent, sticky precum in anticipation. He followed the string of saliva connecting the tip of your tongue to his cockhead, swallowing dryly as his body lit up with all-consuming lust. Watching you suck in the air you’d lost, Wooyoung assumed he’d have more time to recover, to push down the hints of an orgasm come too soon, but the sudden fingers around his base offered him no reprieve. Small, firm tugs on the lower half of his cock built him up to an almost-high once again, his voice thinning — groans turned choked-up moans — and his hips involuntarily jerking into your fist.

“W-wait—baby, ‘m gonna cum, please—” he pleaded, but the small smile you tried to hide told him everything he needed to know: you weren’t planning on stopping. You wanted to hear him whimper and whine, watch him squirm and shiver under your touch until he’d dirtied his clothes with his own cum, until his cock could no longer handle the flaring stimulation. But Wooyoung had other plans, grabbing your wrist and sighing as you relaxed your fingers around his cock, shutting his eyes to bask in the calm before opening them once again to take in your dejected features. Too riled up to play your games, like a carnivorous fauna who’d been mercilessly starved for weeks, Wooyoung wanted to feast. “God, darling, I wanna fuck you so bad.”

You thought the couch would’ve been reserved for foreplay and playful teasing, but Wooyoung didn’t bother move to the comfort of your shared bed, simply lifting you off the ground and trapping you under him, the fingers tangled in the hair at your nape tugging your head back to bare your neck while blunt canines left imprints over the delicate skin. Wooyoung’s cock fit snugly between your walls, resting comfortably within your clenching heat while he ravished you, his body weight resting on your pelvis restricting your movement. It seemed as though the raw lust blazing in hooded eyes had dissipated completely, replaced by unwavering patience, gentle pecks and blooming bruises, a throbbing cock seated within your cunt with no plans of moving, of fucking you the way you’d yearned for.

“Youngie,” you whined, a high-pitched whisper that elicited a hum from the man biting into your shoulder. “Please move.”

A breathy chuckle blew over your skin, “I thought the birthday boy made the requests?”

Your expression fell, was it the embarrassment or dejection? Either or, you turned your head to face the backrest, the motion restricted by the hand in your hair, now easing its grip as Wooyoung noticed the flush spreading up from the collar of the flour-dusted sweatshirt he didn’t bother add to the pile of clothes haphazardly thrown over the carpet.

Redirecting back up to your jaw, he planted wet, open-mouthed kisses over its slope, gentle fingers on your chin guiding your gaze back to him. “Oh baby, I’m just kidding.”

His lips settled into an easy smile, soft fringe fanned over his forehead and shimmering beads of sweat forming over the slivers of skin peeking through. The abashment you’d felt faded upon meeting his eyes, void of any judgement, and full of unconditional infatuation. His lips landed onto yours while you were too busy admiring his features — a slow, deep kiss to match the leisure movement of his hips, the drag of his cock over your walls throwing gasoline into the fire burning in your gut. Arm hooking under your knee, he spread you open and laid himself over your lower half.

“What are you—”

“Moving,” a sly smirk paired with a sharp thrust into your welcoming heat, a groan left his parted lips while he watched you melt under his towering frame, the audible squelch of your pussy like music to his ears.

He didn’t give you time to process, elbows digging into the cushion on either side of your head as he built up to a mind-numbing pace, stuffing his cock inside you and revelling in the pleasure painting your features — eyes shut and mouth forming an ‘o’, unable to form coherent words, only a staccato of airy ah’s. His cock was relentless, repeatedly pressing into your sweet spot to light fireworks behind your eyelids, your hips rolling to meet his to create an echo of skin-on-skin between the four walls. The constant squeeze of your pussy around him, the sweet sounds leaving your lips, the firm hold you had around his biceps as he pistoned his hips into you with fervour — Wooyoung’s composure began faltering, and his desperation unveiled itself the deeper he fucked himself into your sopping cunt.

You were so wet, a frustrated whine reverberating in Wooyoung’s throat when he slipped out of you, hands trembling as he hurriedly pushed himself back into your fluttering hole, sighing in unison once your walls were once again moulded to his shape. He lowered himself atop you, his forearms easing some of his body weight off yours while he nuzzled back into your neck, grunts and breathy moans now much closer to your ear, much clearer, sending searing waves of heat straight down to your stretched core.

“So fucking perfect,” he muttered into your skin, “taking me so well, letting me use your cunt the way I want. Such a good girl for me,” he bit down on the column of your throat, feeling it vibrate with your moans as he built himself up to the brink of his orgasm, then slowing down to drag you there with him.

“Fuck, Woo, please—”

Your fingers found the hair at his crown and tugged, not to pull him off you, but to hear the whimpers sounding at the back of his throat. You were close too, so fucking close from the relentless abuse of your g-spot, Wooyoung’s cockhead pressing into it with every forceful thrust into your needy cunt while his pelvis continuously brushed against your swollen clit. The familiar fluttering didn’t go unnoticed, your pussy gripping Wooyoung with its every retreat, swallowing him back inside — inch by inch — with an exhale of relief.

“Close?”

It sounded more like a statement, but you nodded anyway, the hands on his shoulders sliding down his bare back to grip the warm flesh of his hips, desperately guiding them into your heat. The gesture, paired with the doe, sparking eyes you looked up at him with, the gentle tone of your voice as whispered pleads and repetitions of his name escaped your pouty lips, dragged Wooyoung over the edge, tumbling down the steep hill of his orgasm until his vision blurred with unshed tears. The rhythm he'd maintained broke, replaced by sloppy, frenzied thrusts into your dripping cunt, a thick ring of cream forming around his cock as he emptied inside you.

He twitched violently between your walls, and the sudden warmth spreading through your lower belly dragged you down that hill with Wooyoung. You clamped down around his length, halting the frantic pounding as he sheathed himself within your cunt, feeding thick ropes of white into your womb while he shuddered above you, unfiltered moans vibrating against the side of your neck.

It felt like you were still coming, even as Wooyoung used your cunt to milk out the last of his cum, heavy dollops streaming out of the stretched hole, your walls continued to flutter around him, thighs trembling at his side and under his palm. Even as he stretched your leg out for you, refusing to leave the comforting warmth of your cunt while he wrapped his arms around you and twisted you onto your sides, your mind still floated within a cloud of ecstasy.

Was it your orgasm, or was it just Wooyoung? His presence, the soft scent of his cologne and the chocolate in his hair creating a bubble of comfort around your resting frame, his warmth seeping into your skin and lighting your heart ablaze. Today was meant to be about him, celebrating him, but love laced itself into everything Wooyoung did, and he couldn’t help but give, even on a day on which he was meant to take.

“Thank you for today,” the words spoken into your hair were unexpected, and you lifted your head to meet dazed eyes.

“What?”

“The cake, and the dessert,” he smiled at the innuendo, leaning down to peck the tip of your scrunched nose. “Thank you for loving me.”

Dumbstruck, you stared up at the man with glassy eyes, tucking yourself back into his chest before he could question the tearful reception of his words. But Wooyoung only held you tighter, pressing a faint yet reassuring kiss over your hair while you sunk further into his arms. Warm. Even in the midst of winter, Wooyoung was warm.

With the fluffy blanket you’d laid over the backrest now wrapped around your bare figures, you rested within Wooyoung’s secure hold, sharing whispered confessions and hearty giggles while the sun started its descent from its locus. And as the sky shifted from blues to a vivid magenta, you endeavoured to maintain the smile stretching Wooyoung’s lips, to watch his lines around his mouth further deepen until this happiness forever etched itself onto his face.

The world continued to celebrate the first snow of the year — blankets of white now melting over the asphalt — but your focus remained elsewhere, too busy celebrating Wooyoung.

reblogs/feedback are greatly appreciated!! ^^ apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

The Intruder

Jennifer Jareau x fem!reader Warnings: REALLY BIG trigger warnings for CM-style violence, including an attempted rape, general fear and alarm and danger, explicit language, gun violence, injury, happy ending (don't worry, I would never do that to you bbs), let me know if I've missed anything! Word count: 1.7k

Summary: When an at-large unsub with a grudge breaks into your and JJ's home, everything–and everyone–you hold dear is suddenly at risk.

You woke to the sound of breaking glass, soft and muffled but unmissable. You sat up quickly, as still and as quiet as possible. Maybe you’d imagined it? But then you heard the back door creak open and shut and fear shot through you like ice.

You grabbed JJ’s arm, shaking her shoulder, trying desperately to keep yourself calm.

“What, babe?” JJ mumbled, still half-asleep.

“Jayje, there’s someone in the house,” you whispered, voice shaky and high.

She shot up, listening closely, unconsciously moving her body to shield yours. There was no mistaking the creak of the hardwoods. JJ launched herself out of bed, quiet, brows furrowed, and you knew then that this JJ was not JJ your girlfriend. This was FBI agent JJ. This was taking-down-serial-killers JJ. Counter-terrorism-in-the-Middle-East JJ. JJ who had killed and would kill again without hesitation if she had to in order to protect her people. And you were scared. Not of her, but of whatever had come into your home and brought this JJ to the forefront. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

Keeping her eyes on the door to your bedroom, JJ reached into the nightstand to pull out two handguns and her phone. She checked the clips, then turned off the safety and carefully pressed one of the guns and her phone into your hands. Your breathing was frantic, and you were trying very hard not to cry.

She looked at you then, right in the eyes, and it was the only time in what felt like hours since you’d woken up that she’d made eye contact with you.

“JJ, I can’t,” you gasped, voice quiet.

“Yes, you can,” she replied firmly, molding your hands around the gun. “Call 9-1-1. And if you need to, point and shoot. Just like we practiced.” She directed her gaze back to the doorway, eyes adjusting to the dark, holding her own gun comfortably at her side, practiced instincts kicking in. “I’m gonna check it out.”

“JJ, no!” you begged, grabbing her arm, eyes wide. “Please.”

She pulled away, a little more harsh than she meant to be, but this wasn’t a time for sentiment. Someone was in her home. Someone who could hurt you. And she wasn’t going to let anyone hurt you.

“Point and shoot, baby” she repeated, raising her gun and walking out of the room.

You shook, hating the feeling of the cold metal against your fingers. You’d practiced with JJ, you’d been to the shooting range. She made sure you knew how to handle firearms. But you didn’t think you’d actually have to handle them. You clicked JJ’s phone on, but for the life of you, you couldn’t remember her password. You silently cursed your panicked brain. You knew her password, you’d known it for years. What a time to forget. And yours was where it always was at night–plugged in on the kitchen counter.

You craned your neck, listening for something, anything. But all was quiet. You didn’t know what would be worse–the sounds of an altercation or this absolute silence.

But then you heard a crash, and you knew. Sound was much worse. Your stomach was in your throat as you listened for more, but the house had fallen quiet again. You started to hyperventilate. There were only two possibilities. First, that JJ had apprehended the intruder. But surely she would have called out to let you know it was safe? Second, that the intruder had apprehended JJ. And that stirred a fear so deep, so consuming it could swallow you whole. You felt sick to your stomach.

You waited and waited, breathing somehow both too much and too little, gripping the gun tightly. You watched the doorway, begging the universe for JJ to come around the corner. You saw movement and, for a brief moment, you were flooded with relief. But it was replaced by the most sickening, gut-churning terror you’d ever felt in your life when your brain registered that the person in the doorway was not your girlfriend.

It was a man. Tall. Broad. In a black ski mask. You thought you might vomit. From sheer panic. From the thought, shooting through your body like a bolt of lightning, that if JJ wasn’t here that meant she wasn’t okay.

Your chest heaved as the man approached you, so fast you could barely register him. You wanted to scream, you knew you should scream, but it was like your voice was stuck in your throat. You were frozen in place. You tried to raise the gun, but the intruder was too fast, wrenching it from your grasp with large hands. He tossed the gun to the side as if it were nothing, then shoved you into the headboard with such force you saw stars. You writhed and fought, but he was so much bigger than you, so much stronger. With one of his hands, he pinned your arms about your head and, with the other, circled your throat in an iron grip. You coughed, eyes watering. Somehow you still couldn’t scream, still couldn’t find your voice. But you had to fight somehow.

You raked your fingernails along the man’s wrist, pressing as hard as you could, hard enough to break through the skin. He growled and yanked your wrist back, snapping the bone. You screamed, and he pressed a gloved hand over your mouth, yanking off his mask. Tears leaked down your face as you took him in. Nothing special. A man, just like any other man.

He smiled at you, and you thought you might be sick.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?”

Even if you could’ve answered, you wouldn’t. You had no idea who he was.

He sneered, moving his face so close to yours that you could smell his breath: stale cigarettes and something older, fouler, like a rotten tooth.

“Pretty girlfriend didn’t mention me, did she? Didn’t want to scare you?”

Another wave of tears streamed down your face at the thought of JJ. What had he done to her? Was she okay? Was she even alive?

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said, and you flinched as he caressed the side of your face, his gloves rough on your skin. “I’m sure she’ll come around just in time to see what I’ve done with you.”

A panic unlike any you’d ever felt before flooded your body as he removed a glove and yanked down your pants before starting to unbutton his own.

“No, no, no!” you screamed, kicking, fighting, doing everything you possibly could to get away, but he was just so much bigger than you. The weight of him on top of you, his hand bending your broken wrist back so that you writhed in pain, his knees pressing into your lungs so that you could barely breathe.

The way he looked at you–like you were something to be devoured, to be destroyed and torn apart for his own enjoyment–you would never forget it. You pinched your eyes shut as he ran his tongue over your face. He grinned again, a nasty, leering grin, and sat up a bit to survey you.

But then–a bang and a red flood pouring from the center of his forehead. You squirmed away, shaking and gasping, yanking your pants up. Seeing someone else in the room, you grabbed the gun and pointed, whimpering.

“Y/N, it’s me!” JJ yelled, raising her hands. “It’s me, baby, don’t shoot!”

You were so relieved to see her you thought you might black out. Panicked sobs coursed their way through your body, and your vision swam with tears. JJ eased the gun out of your hand and placed her hands on the side of your head, frantically looking you over.

“Are you okay?! Are you hurt!?” she said, eyes wide and frantic as she wiped the blood from your face. You used your good hand to examine JJ’s head, her hair that was caked with blood.

“You’re bleeding,” you choked out, wondering how it was possible to be both so relieved and so scared at the same time.

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice breaking. “Head wounds just bleed a lot.”

She sniffled, eyes wide with fear as she grasped your face. “Did he…?” She couldn’t bring herself to say it, the words stuck in her throat. She almost couldn’t bear to hear the answer.

You shook your head, and JJ let out a sob of relief, kissing the side of your head and pulling you into her.

“Okay,” she breathed, rubbing your back, hands all over you, as if to assure herself you were really there, really alright. “You’re okay. You’re safe, baby.”

She was assuring herself more than you. You let yourself rest on JJ’s shoulder, shaking, holding your swollen wrist to your chest. JJ ran her fingers through your hair, holding you so tight you thought she might never let you go. And you didn’t want her to. You never felt safer than when you were in JJ’s arms, now more than ever. She kept pressing her lips to the side of your head, breathing you in, feeling the solidity of you.

The blue-red lights of police and paramedics flashed outside your window, and you tilted your head up to look at JJ, her face illuminated.

“You’re okay, baby,” she said again and again, her voice shaky, tears still threatening at the corners of your eyes. “You’re safe.” Like a mantra, like something that could ward the evil away from your home, away from your bedroom where it had intruded on something pure and beautiful.

“JJ,” you whispered, cupping her face with your good hand. She stopped speaking for a moment to look at you–so much love, so much fear and relief in her eyes. “I’m okay,” you reassured her. “I’m safe.”

“You’re safe,” she repeated, as if she couldn’t quite believe it, like she needed you to prove it, confirm it.

“I’m safe,” you said again, your eyes shining. “You kept me safe.”

“You’re safe.” JJ let out a shaky breath, pulling you into her chest, and if you could stay there forever, you would.

[tacticaldiary]

Unlikely Intruder

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Special agent Kennedy bested by the most unexpected intruder in the middle of the night. A ruined night of sleep leaves the both of them sharing a soft moment.

A/N: Enjoy! Requests are open!

Masterlist

Leon’s always been a light sleeper. 

It comes from years of living on the edge, of catching an hour of sleep in any cramped, temporarily safe location he could during missions, gun loaded in hand and ready to shoot if need be. From harsh training that molded him into the indestructible person he is today 

It’s exactly why he’s awake the moment he hears a small, muffled thud downstairs. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he slowly unwinds his arms from around the person next to him, casting her a soft glance. 

The thud comes again and Leon’s sitting up, reaching for the pistol in his nightstand. 

Did someone break in? He strains his ears, but there are no footsteps, no indication of broken window glass. He knows all the doors were locked, he checks them every night before bed. 

Obsessive, she jokes at him whenever he goes through the little night-time routine he has. 

Perhaps he was, but if being called obsessive was the consequence of ensuring her safety, he’d let her jeer at him for hours. 

“Leon?” The soft voice steals his focus momentarily. He watches his girlfriend shift, rubbing at her eyes and sitting up, most likely sensing the wariness rolling off of him in waves. “What’s wrong?” She stifles a yawn, pulling the sheet up with her. Disheveled and disoriented from sleep, she looks adorable. He’d take her right back to bed if not for the prickling chill running down his spine.  

“I heard something,” Leon tells her quietly, turning his attention back to the door. “Something downstairs.”  

“What?” Her eyes widen and she sits up straighter, casting a cautious glance at the door. “Like a person? Did someone break in?” Her voice comes out hurried, and Leon squeezes her arm gently to calm her down. 

“You’re alright.” He assures her. “You’re with me, aren’t you?” 

“Cocky much?” She manages a small smile, which dissipates as a crash comes from downstairs. Leon’s on his feet immediately. 

“Stay here, baby.” He orders, in that deep authoritative voice she’s heard him talk to others at work with. “Lock the door behind me and don’t come out. I’ll come and get you, understand.”

She wants to protest, wants to insist that two people are better than one, but knows that Leon is built for this life, that he knows what he’s doing and she’d only be the added challenge of someone he needs to protect while investigating. 

“Okay.” She agrees. “Yell if you need help, alright?”

“Sure.” Leon leans down, presses a kiss to her hair before striding off, gun in hand. 

The click of the lock she turns behind him unsettles her more than it reassures her. 

Minutes pass without noise, not a peep. No thuds, no crashes, nothing but the silence that bubbles into eeriness the longer it goes on. What was going on? Did Leon find something? Someone? 

The next crash makes her jump out of her skin. It’s accompanied by a muffled, loud curse from Leon, something so out of character that it makes her instinctively grab the doorknob. 

She hesitates. 

He said not to follow...but she rarely hears Leon raise his voice like that. Worry prickles at her, the need to make sure he’s alright winning over her hesitation to stay safe. Creaking the door open, she pads quietly through the hallway, slowly stepping down the stairs. 

It was alright. Everything would be fine, she just needed to find Leon. She’s taken a couple of self-defence classes, Leon had arranged them for her and even given her a few lessons himself-

Though those ones ended up with her having a little more fun at the end. 

Shaking her head to rid herself of the thoughts that had no business coming to her now, her breath hitches as she hears chairs and tables scraping, Leon groaning with effort. 

She peeks around the corner, heart racing, ready to run in to help him and-...

The fright drains out of her at the sight.

Her boyfriend, this strong, deadly special agent, this fully grown man wrestling with a small, spitting angry raccoon around their kitchen. The latter is hissing and trying to scratch at him while Leon holds it by the scruff, an angry red scratch across his cheek, bleeding sluggishly. 

“Are you alright?” She asks, Leon’s gaze snapping to her. 

“Thought I told you to stay put.” He shakes his head, giving the creature a frustrated look, holding it at arms length. 

“That was before I knew you’d be bested by a raccoon.” She laughs. He does not look amused as he pulls open the front door and ushers the animal out, firmly shutting and locking the door behind it. 

“It did not best me, I just wasn’t expecting it.” He winces when he touches the scratch on his cheek.

“Same thing.” Padding her way across the kitchen, she tilts his chin to the side to get a closer look. “That look nasty.” She smiles when Leon kisses her palm. 

“Stings. Not too bad though.” 

“Come here.” She runs a washcloth under warm water in the sink and hoists herself onto the counter, gesturing him over. Once he’s slotted between her legs, hands bracing himself on either side of her, she leans in and gently cleans the blood off of his face. “Let me know if it hurts.” She meets his eyes briefly. 

He wouldn’t. 

Leon drinks in every single moment she decides to touch him. He’s not used to touches that don’t come with expectations or hurt, so being with her is a reprieve from his busy life. He stares at her face unashamedly while she works, the water warm, her gentle touch cupping his face soothing. He admires the line of her jaw, the softness of her eyes. 

She was beautiful. The best thing that ever happened to him. 

Sometimes he wonders if someone as tainted as him deserved to come home to a person as pure-hearted as her.

But then again, Leon supposes he can afford to be selfish this one time. Just for this. 

“It looks deeper than I thought.” She snaps him out of his thoughts. 

“I’ve had worse than an angry raccoon scratch.” He quips, smiles widening at the disapproving look she casts him. 

“Do you think it was carrying anything?” She asks suddenly. “Like rabies? It was wild, wasn’t it?”

Leon thinks for a moment. He’d come downstairs to the creature rifling through their pantry which had been left cracked open. it had not taken well to Leon’s attempt to remove it and had lunged at him. he didn’t get to check it it was foaming at the mouth or not. 

All plans of going back to bed with her fly out the window. 

Leon groans and drops his head down to her shoulder. A trip to the ER it was then. “Shit.” He curses, muffled by the fabric of the shirt she wore to bed. It’s one of his, he notes. 

A soothing hand cards through his hair, scratching gently at his scalp. “I’ll get the car keys.” She huffs out a small laugh.

Requests Are Open!

(15/06/2023)

[emperorpalpatittay]

The Break In

Simon “ghost” Riley x wife!reader

As voted on

Angsty, some swearing

—————————————————————————————————————

Simon remembered the first time he’d taken his mask off at the door tempted to leave it in the car. Shut the ghost completely out of his home life. You’d never seen him with the mask. He’d always been your Simon. You knew about ghost of course but had never seen him.

He wanted to leave the damned mask in his car. To not let ghosts tainting presence near you. His beautiful, sweet wife. Then he thought who would stop an intruder, who would keep you safe. Simon couldn’t. Ghost could. Ghost could and would kill anyone who broke into your home without a second thought. Neck snapping, sinew tearing, bullet ripping pain is what ghost was for. Simon was simply yours to love to dote as he did you.

He hoped he was being silly in letting ghost into his home. Just a stupid mask sitting by the back door. It comforted him in an odd way. The mask was almost like a guard dog. An entity and omen to ward off harm, at least in his mind. For four years. The mask by the back door had sat serving as nothing but a symbol of safety.

You were walking hand in hand back to your flat. Simon shortening his strides so you could keep up.

“Do you think they’ll make a sequel?”

“Ah fuckin hope not, film was complete rubbish.”, you chuckled at his straightforwardness. Never one to mince his words which was something you adored about him.

“I didn’t think it was that bad. Maybe just a bit hard going at times.”, he squeezed your hand and smiled at you. Responding like this was something he often times did.

You came up through the alley to the back door of your flat. It was the entrance you most often used due to it being where the garage was. As you got closer you noticed the back door swinging in the breeze. Wide open.

“Simon, did we forget to close the door. I could have sworn I locked it.”, your expression was puzzled. Simons immediately jumped to worried. He walked up to the open door and saw scratches all over the door frame. A piece of wood broken off behind it. Indicating it’d been broken into.

It was like something had taken over his body. All of the sudden his back was perfectly straight. Eyes alert. His stance was tense but athletic, ready for a fight. His eyes. His eyes had lost their warmth instantaneously. They were now cold and calculating.

You tried reaching for his arm. “Sim-

“Stay. Here.”, he interrupted. In a gruff and authoritative voice.

He walked through the door and grabbed his skull mask off of the side table. Without looking back he put it on a ventured further into the house.

He could hear footsteps from upstairs. From at least three sets of feet. He took the knife that he always carried strapped to him out and carefully creeped his way upstairs through a path of destruction where they had torn apart the house in search of valuables.

The floor boards quietly creaked under his weight, but the intruders remained unaware until it was too late. He came into the door way and there they were.

Three men all dressed in black covered in his wife’s jewelry and his watch. One of them dangling a pair of his wife’s panties in front of the other laughing as he sniffed at them. The pictures from their honeymoon broken on the floor. Broken glass littering the hardwood flooring. The room was absolutely ransacked.

It made him see red. These people came into your home. Tore apart your things. What if you had been home? What if he had been away? What would they have done to you? He watched them sniff your things laughing at the delicate lace.

Anger and hate seeped into his veins like venom. How could you hate three people you had never set eyes on before this much. His hate was deadly.

He leaped from the door armed with a knife and righteous hate.

His kills were done with perfect precision. No blood splatter on the warm white walls or ceiling. Just three pools on the floor. Where two men lay still and glossy eyed, while a third lay gasping for breaths that he know he won’t be taking for long.

“You thought you could break into my house. Why?”

“We didn’t know, we didn’t know! I’m sorry please I’- AHH UGH. Please! Please! I’m sorry!”

Then, silence.

“Simon! Si! Darling!”, you stopped in the doorway and let out the beginning of a scream before muffling it with your hand.

There he was. The Ghost. Eyes cold behind the mask. Drenched in blood. The flooring you and Simon had worked so hard to put in ruined. Three bodies lay crumpled on the floor. Fear written forever on their faces. As much as you feared the ghost he was still your Simon and you needed to make sure he was fine.

“S-Simon? Are you okay?”, you tried taking a step towards him only to have him out his hand up.

“Stay there, lovie. I’m covered in blood. I don’t want to get any on you.”

His breathing became erratic and you watched him fall to the ground. You rushed forward to him and got on your knees to be on his level.

“Simon. Oh my god. Are you okay? Are you hurt? My love talk to me please.”

“I’m so sorry, dove. I never wanted you to see this.”

He dropped his head into his hands.

“Oh darling. Look at me.”, he picked his head up and looked at you. Taking his face in your hands you placed a gentle kiss upon the hard plastic of the skull before taking it off and placing a kiss on his forehead.

“I love you, Simon. With or without the mask. You are my husband. Nothing will change that.”

[super-who-locked-me-in-here]

Do you think Will has a traumatic response to the sound of glass breaking?

Like, between Randall Tier breaking into his own house to kill him after hurting one of his dogs, Francis almost killing Hannibal by shooting through the window of the safe house, and also just the general association of a shattering noise with the broken teacup imagery and being gutted/Abigail dying, I would not be surprised at all if this was true.

Imagine post-fall, someone tries to break into their house in the middle of the night, and they know someone is on their property because in this headcanon they have dogs, and the dogs are going bananas.

They split up (after sealing the dogs away), with Will making his way to the front door and Hannibal making his way to the backdoor. The intruder breaks a window near the back of the house trying to get in, and Hannibal deals with him swiftly. It doesn't seem like there's anyone else, but Hannibal can't be too sure, so he makes his way towards where Will is quietly, and is suddenly terrified to find him on the ground in the fetal position.

Hannibal tries to reach out to Will, say his name, see if he's hurt, but Will takes notice of his presence even as he's not fully aware. Hannibal just narrowly avoids getting punched in the face, but doesn't not manage to avoid getting grabbed by Will with his other hand and flipped under him.

Hannibal has been in this position with Will before but under arguably different circumstances, and he can see clearly as he looks at Will who's staring down at him like he's seen a ghost, that there is no light behind Will's eyes, that he is not present in the room with him.

Will's arm rears back as if to try to punch him again, when Hannibal whispers softly. "Your name is Will Graham. You are in our mutual home in Cuba. It is roughly 3:30 a.m. You are safe. You are alive. We are alive."

Will's eyes search his face anxiously as he says all these things, but upon Hannibal expressing that they are both alive, all the fight seems to go out of him. His arm falls to his side, his head drops to Hannibal's chest, and he lets out a quiet sob. His left hand feels up Hannibal's side and caresses the healed bullet wound, and his right hand wraps tightly around Hannibal's wrist.

Hannibal is not entirely sure what caused Will's distress, although he's positive he's the cause of it in some form or other. Whether Will's fear had been for Hannibal's safety or other people's safety from Hannibal is unclear to him. He's sure he will learn in due time, but for now, he is content to lay in the floor of their entryway and let Will ground himself with the only constant he has left.

[loislane41319]

First meetings

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Wordcount: 459

Summary: The BAU finally get to meet you and Spencer's baby girl.

Warnings: none.

Note: First of all, thank you for reading my stories. It means a lot. I'm currently not doing very well, so I don't know when I'll post next. For now enjoy this one and I'll see you at the next one!

P.s. I was wondering if Spencer would let anyone hold his baby without washing their hands first, because of his germophobia. Let me know what you think!

Story:

One by one the members of the BAU dripped into the bullpen. The room was unusually quiet as none of them spoke a word. Their last case had been a gruesome one and it hadn’t ended well. Suddenly JJ spoke up: “Guys, I think there’s someone in the conference room.” Her colleagues started mumbling in agreement after noticing the silhouette behind the glass window. “Is that Reid?” Derek asked as they walked towards the room. Emily, who was in front, opened the door, answering her colleague: “Not just Reid.” She said and as the team members entered they noticed who exactly had intruded into their space. Dr. Spencer Reid, his wife and their beautiful baby girl.

Penelope and JJ immediately sandwiched you and your daughter, while the others started catching up with Reid. “So, how’s motherhood treating you?” JJ asked you. “Well, I haven’t slept in a month and I’m pretty sure these were the last clean clothes in our house, but honestly… I wouldn’t change it for the world. This little angel is everything we've always wanted.” You told your friend, looking lovingly at your daughter. “Well, if you need a night off, there are six people in this room who would love to look after this pretty little peanut for you.” Penelope told you. You just smiled at her thankfully. “And how’s Spencer?” JJ then asked. “I will tell you all about that, after I use the lady’s room.” You told her and you walked away, leaving your baby in the safety of her father’s arms.

Derek Morgan couldn’t help but smile proudly at the young genius as he looked at the little girl in his arms. “Pretty boy, looks like there’s actually someone prettier than you now.” Derek said. Spencer just smiled. “Hey, you mind if I hold her?” The older agent then asked. “Sure” Spencer says and carefully lays his daughter in his colleague’s arms. “Hi there, pretty girl, how are you doing?” Derek asks in a baby voice as he softly bounces the little girl up and down. Suddenly she starts crying. “Oh, sounds like she needs her dad.” Derek says and hands her back to Spencer, who immediately starts soothing her. “Hey angel, it’s okay. I know big, bald, muscly agent Morgan seems scary, but it’s just uncle Derek. He won’t hurt you, he can be your own personal bodyguard when you need him.” The young father tells his daughter as the little girl slowly calms down.

Once she’s quiet, Spencer noticed the conversations around him had also quieted down. “What?” He asks his colleagues. “Nothing kid, fatherhood just looks really good on you.” Rossi tells him, causing Spencers cheeks to turn a bright shade of red.

[svtminji]

ᡴꪫ ⋆ ࣪ NANA TOUR ! ˓𓄹 ࣪˖ ─── half-cut episode one.

╰ here comes the 7-day vacation full of laughter! come enjoy italy to the fullest! follow the lead of guide na with seventeen, nana tour with seventeen! pd na, a 20-year veteran of travel entertainment shows, got a new job as a tour guide and became guide na! he's the tour guide for seventeen, who's going on a vacation into the summer in italy!

psa — this is half cut of episode one since the original episode is over 2 hours long 😖😖 part two will be posted soon enough 💆

septiembre ─── tokyo

                it was relatively quiet in the hotel room considering the commotion that was caused by the four drinking members. it begged the question on how the floors above and below did not file a noise complaint. well, whatever the noise was, it did not seem to bother the couple as they were sound asleep in the comfort of each other’s arms.

                not everything was sunshine and rainbows. as soon as na-pd stepped into the staff room, chaos began. na-pd explained to the staff about how he was kidnapping all of seventeen, minus seungcheol, and that it would occur today. minji’s manager had raised a few eyebrows and decided to speak what was on her mind.

“before we move on to the subject at hand, minji has already made her schedule designed to fit along with the rest of seventeen.” the manager explained. “she made reservations at restaurants to eat with her friends and family, so how are you going to break the news to her?”

[…]

                looks were thrown around the room and this started the worried expression of na-pd. he cleared his throat and spoke.

“well i’m sure minji won’t take the news so lightly, especially from me. but i’ll be the one to tell her, along with the8 and jun.”

[minji, jun, the8: their dreams ruined by na-pd]

na-pd recalled his plan with seungcheol and they managed to obtain 11/14 members without a complaint to say the least. the next room they needed to wake up with the news was the jeongmi room. although before na-pd could even touch the doorknob handle, seungkwan stopped him.

[?]

“this is for your safety and the viewer’s safety.” seungkwan spoke before putting his ear onto the door. mingyu, who noticed what seungkwan meant, pushed him slightly and waited for the confirmation. silence was passed around before he nodded. “coast is clear. you may now proceed.”

opening the door and turning on the lights, the group noticed two things. one: jeonghan pretending he was already waking up. two: minji having the blanket over her head. incoherent shouts were heard and it only made minji pull the blanket more to cover herself. just her luck, a group of men intruding her space once again. the members were mentioning something to jeonghan which minji couldn’t bother to hear about.

the female member could only care about two things: why the fuck they were in the room, and how to make them leave. before she could say anything, someone had pulled down the blanket over her head and revealed herself to the unnatural light, cameras, and men. minji opened her eyes and sighed.

[not a good morning]

“look who’s awake!! it’s minji!!” soonyoung spoke beside her while holding down the blanket so it wouldn’t go back up. minji, who could only reply with a glare, tried to pull the blanket back up but soonyoung persisted.

“why is everyone here? it’s not like we’re doing some variety show right now.. especially with the cameras..” minji spoke as she looked around the room, specifically for a shirt to put on, and that was when she saw na-pd.

like a deer in headlights, she laid there in shock. jeonghan, who knew she wasn’t in proper attire, grabbed an old shirt of his and handed it to her, along with her glasses. hoshi lifted up the blanket so nothing would be seen from the cameras, and muttered something which made him receive a slap on the back. pulling down the blanket, minji was dressed and she bowed her head to signal she was saying hello.

“i don’t want to be rude, but why is everyone here?”

“minji.” na-pd sat down on the bed and looked at minji with uncertainty. “remember during super promotions, the group chose ‘one fine day’?” the female member nodded and looked at him to go on. “well, that day.. is today..”

the truth comes out…

“oh..” minji looked at him then towards her members who were nodding to confirm. “oh…”

“it’s supposed to be random and ..” na-pd continued on explaining his initial plan but all minji could do was block him out. she stared at the floor and moved her gaze towards her phone then back at the speaker. “and so what we needed to do was-”

“i’m sorry to interrupt you, but i had already made plans two months ago with my family and friends.” minji had cut off na-pd, and got up from the bed. “i need to call them at this hour and tell them the news. i understand it’s not your fault but just give me a minute.”

minji’s actions displayed that she was displeased with the sudden news. na-pd started talking to the rest of the members as minji continued talking to whoever was on the line. after a while, it had gone quiet and japanese was only heard from the female member. jeonghan went up to her and asked for the phone; minji gave it to him and walked over.

sad minji in the morning..

“he’s talking to my mom right now, but is our passports all together? i just want to know in case i have to go look for it.” minji spoke as she looked at na-pd. her bedhead was still noticeable and some of the members stifled a laugh.

“yeah, all of the staff members have managed to collect the passports and the information needed to land.”

“oh okay, that seems fine. if you don’t mind me asking, where are we going specifically?”

na-pd looked like his mouth was locked and he shook his head. “that’s something explained later on once we have myungho. he needs to hear the news that jun and him aren’t going to their scheduled plan.”

minji nodded then connected the dots. “so.. their original schedule was just a cover up?” na-pd nodded. “ah, good luck with him. he’s kind of sensitive when it comes to lying about those things. pretty sure he had already called his family and told them about it.”

“well. i’m planning on telling him myself and explain to him the circumstances about it.” na-pd explained. “i don’t want to appear as a bad guy in general.”

an. personally.. i think i could’ve written this better.. but oh well🥲🥲🥲 this was in the drafts for at least 3 weeks and i didn’t want to hold this back even longer. pt 2 soon 👍👍

[shubeeshoecovers]

Buy Disposable Earloop Face Mask

ShuBee prides itself on supplying professional surface protection products, disposable earloop face masks, ratchet suspension hard hats, non-slip shoe covers, and many more that are made specifically for the service industry to make clients happy. https://www.shubee.com/face-mask-c-sb-fm

[syoddeye]

thinking about gaz specializing in vip protection.

gaz x gn!reader | ~660 words. tags: stalking, threats of violence and sexual assault, italics a/n: written on my phone during a lunch break, so there's that. apologies for any formatting issues.

gaz knows from the outset that the gig’s gonna be rough. that it’s not the usual kind of vip protection.

the client’s a victim of stalking and harassment. poor thing’s found dozens of foul messages painted on their front door, ranging from angry diatribes to garbled nonsense. letters left in their mailbox. notes tucked under their car’s wipers. their phone number and email address have been compromised repeatedly, and no amount of changing them shakes the bastard.

gaz does his best. he is the best. on the first day on the job, he lays out the ground rules and implements checks. they’re extensive. he sweeps every nook and cranny of the house when they leave or arrive. he looks under the beds, in closets, and behind the shower curtain. the client doesn’t set foot outside unless he gives them the okay. with their permission, he installs additional cameras and alarms. he’s insistent. he won’t take any chances, won’t compromise their safety. never failed a client, doll. not gonna fail you.

for a few weeks, the new measures work. the routines are strict but effective. gaz's client sleeps through the night. they stop losing their hair. they even feel safe enough to leave the house for public engagements.

his heart swells with pride. it’s flattering when his vip boasts about his skills and how safe they feel around him. he sees the lines between the personal and professional blur, but he doesn’t stop them from hanging off his arm when he escorts around town.

but the threats return with a vengeance. the stalker escalates. the tone shifts. the messages turn violent. sexual. they don’t just target the client this time, but gaz, too.

can't wait to fuck you on top of his body. 

stop making eyes at him or i'll gouge them out. 

gonna make him watch me fuck you, gonna make you watch me kill him.

gaz tries to comfort them. he phones old friends and calls in favors. whatever it takes to catch the bastard, he’ll do it. however, when someone tries to break in one night, the vip reaches their breaking point. gaz returns after chasing the would-be intruder off and finds them in hysterics. they can’t do this anymore. no amount of money or fame is worth it. they weepily announce a hiatus, quit their projects, and withdraw from their social life. they sever ties with their management team because, for all they know, they’re the ones leaking their information.

they rent a remote property under a pseudonym and use cash. they pick somewhere idyllic, surrounded by nature. time in isolation to clear their head and hopefully throw their stalker off the trail. of course, they keep gaz on as their personal protection. they trust him. they like him.

the land's beautiful. quiet. from the house, they can see for miles around. there isn't a chance that someone can sneak up on them out here. and with no internet or phone service, and mail only available for pick up an hour away, no one can reach them either. peace at last. the client thanks gaz for sticking by them. anything for you, doll.

that first evening, while walking the perimeter, gaz calls soap on his sat phone.

—you're well and true fucked in the head, sergeant.

—i thought i wrote pure poetry. they fuckin' worked.

—affirm. you on your way?

—aye. comin' in quiet like ye asked. ready to play hero again? gonna share?

—s'pose you've earned it. see you soon.

sure enough, there’s a dark shape outside the bedroom window when gaz checks. a crouching body, fogging the corner of the glass like a panting dog, invisible unless one knows to look. gaz gives the all-clear and excuses himself. he needs to relax. sweet dreams, doll.

just as he eases into an armchair, a blood-curdling scream echoes through the house before it’s abruptly cut off. he smiles to himself and takes his time, enjoying a drink. he might as well give soap some exclusive access before showtime.

[strlingsav]

Disclaimer: I am not an expert when it comes to PTSD, did my research on it though. Feel free to correct any issues you see with it.

Remedy

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— You comfort Simon during a panic attack.

Warnings: Mentions of PTSD, panic attack, hyperventilating (overall may be triggering if you experience PTSD or related symptoms), violence. Explicit/triggering content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

You didn't hear Simon return, but you snapped to consciousness when a glass shattered. You sat up, rubbing your eyes as you pulled your hair out of your face.

You yanked the covers off, legs swinging out of bed. You saw the light of the kitchen from under your bedroom door. It was pouring rain, violently hitting your window. Lightning lit up the bedroom, thunder shaking the house.

Cautiously, you stepped toward the door. You were sure it wasn't an intruder, but you couldn't be absolutely certain, and that made your stomach sink. Simon hadn't said anything about coming home, and he usually woke you when he arrived.

You reached the handle, the door creaking open, and you looked out, seeing Simon, his back to you, seated at the table. He was still in his uniform.

You sighed with relief, opening it further and walking over to him. You stopped in your tracks when you saw glass on the ground, and an amber liquid sliding down the wall.

"Simon?" You asked, inching closer.

He didn't answer, even when you moved around to stand before him.

"Are you okay? When did you get back?" You squinted, your eyes still sensitive to the light.

He barely lifted his head, bags under his eyes. His eyes were bloodshot, and the glare he gave you was bone-chilling. He was breathing quickly, strangled breaths coming out as he tried to speak.

"Sorry, bout the glass. Didn't mean t' wake you."

"Don't be sorry," You breathed, kneeling before him. "Can I touch you?"

He nodded.

Your hands settled on his thighs, urging him to look at you.

"What's wrong, baby?"

He breathed in, his exhale shaky.

"The thunder," He said, his head falling back. "It-fuck." His knuckles were white, clenching his fist so hard you were sure he'd drawn blood.

"That's okay. Take some slow, deep breaths. You're here with me."

He nodded. "I'm tryin'," He said. "Just-"

He clenched his jaw.

His shirt was soaked with sweat.

You held onto his hand, thumb rubbing over his skin as you breathed in and out slowly.

Simon had had episodes before, PTSD attacks. You were still familiarizing yourself with his triggers- he hadn't let you near him during his attacks for the first few years of your relationship, the resentment of being so vulnerable made it harder to work through. You were certain that whatever he saw when he closed his eyes was worse than going without sleep for days.

He exhaled again, his fist still closed as he rested his hand on the table. He had a hundred-yard stare, eyes focused on the wall behind you. You saw the sweat gathering on his brow, soaking his hair. He was sheet-white and shaking.

"You should get back to bed," He said, turning his head.

Even through his suffering, he only cared about you. Your happiness, your safety, your health. It made you irrationally angry yet simultaneously smitten.

"I'm not going to bed without you," You spoke in a soft voice, trying to remain calm and quiet.

He grunted in response, his breathing still too fast for your liking.

Looking around, you spotted the glass that he had shattered.

"That was one of my favourite glasses," You teased. "You're buying me a new one."

"Never liked it anyways."

"Is there anything in this kitchen you do like?" You giggled softly.

He had a habit of starting things and not finishing them, mostly due to deployment but also in true male fashion. He'd promised to renovate the kitchen, claiming it was old and outdated. The house had been without cabinet doors for almost a year now.

"Particularly fond of the whisky," He looked at you.

"I figured," You grinned. "I'm happy you found the shelf I put together for you. You do have to share it with me, though."

"Woman after my own heart."

His breathing had slowed, and he looked a bit more alert now, his hand gripping yours. He was no longer fixated on the wall, and his eyes had softened.

You knew that your ribbing, however pointless, would help him take in his surroundings, bring him back to reality. His episodes thus far were usually fleeting, only a few minutes before he was coherent.

"Would you leave me if I only drank tequila?"

He screwed his nose up. "In a heartbeat. Can't have a woman that drinks that dog piss."

You let out a laugh, and he gave a small grin, which would've gone unnoticed if you weren't around him as much as you were.

He had seemingly calmed down, colour returning to his cheeks. His shaking had stopped, and he was leaning toward you, hand cupping your cheek, eyes drifting between yours.

A deep sigh came from his lips.

"Couldn't get rid of me if you tried, sweetheart."

"You can't sweet-talk your way out of buying me a new glass."

"Wouldn't dream of it," He said. Looking past you, he stared at the mess in the floor. "Should clean it up," He groaned.

"Leave it, I'll get it in the morning."

He didn't fight you in that, thankfully. Usually he would put up a fuss, but he seemed to be so exhausted he didn't have much room for arguing.

You stood to your feet.

"Let's go to bed."

"Better shower first, reckon I smell."

"A little, but I won't hold it against you."

"Come with me?" He asked.

You nodded, taking his hand as he stood to his feet.

You helped him strip out of his clothes, unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his body. Your eyes crawled over every scar and mark on his chest and torso. He was drenched in sweat, his whole body glistening. You felt the heat emanating off of him. He kept his eyes on you, admiring the way you looked him over.

He yanked the belt from his pants, stepping out of them.

You turned on the shower, warm water beginning to steam up the bathroom. You lifted your shirt over your head, taking your shorts off next. In the haze, he found your eyes, his hand on your waist, grounding him. He'd never experienced anything like what you gave him; unquestionable love, freedom, a life worth more than what the military offered. It made him feel valued, like he had a chance at being worthy of you.

He sighed with relief when the warm stream hit him, his shoulders relaxing when he felt you touch him. His arms reached out, fingers on your waist as he pulled you close. You let your head settle on his chest, listening to his breaths as you stood together, in the embrace of the water.

He tilted your jaw to look at him, and once your eyes connected, he craned his neck to press his lips against yours.

It was a simple peck, at first. A thank you, expressed in the best way he knew how. You stood on your toes, your hand sliding around his shoulders, and took his bottom lip between yours. Another kiss, more passionate than before, that said you were there, permanent.

He didn't let you go, engulfing your lips in his. You whimpered softly; you missed the way he felt against you, the way his lips fit perfectly with yours. His rough hands on your waist made your stomach flutter, your heart pounding in your throat as he caressed you.

His hands slid to your ass, grabbing at it softly- testing the waters. Exhausted or not, he missed your body, your voice, and he was more than willing to sacrifice sleep for it.

When a soft moan slipped from your throat, he took the opportunity to dig his fingers into your flesh. You shivered with anticipation, sliding your tongue into his mouth.

He grunted, his calloused palms riding up to your hips, ushering you against the wall. He dropped to one knee, hoisting your leg over his shoulder.

"Simon, you don't have t-"

He looked up at you, "I need to taste you, sweetheart. Been far too long."

You nodded, "Okay."

He pressed his lips to your hip bones, and you nearly melted- his soft tongue gliding over your skin. Nothing warmed you inside and out like his mouth. Your palms pressed flat against the shower wall, the cool tile keeping you mostly grounded, reminding you to breathe, to stand still.

He kissed your inner thigh softly, reaching your pussy before his tongue dove between it, hitting your clit. Your hips jerked forward, letting out a soft gasp. He had your thighs in a vice-grip, unable to bend or break in his hands.

He paid attention to your body, lightening his touch even though he wanted to devour you- to fill your head with nothing but pleasure, not a single thought about anything else.

Your shaky hand reached out, fingers diving into his hair, grasping ever so slightly. He groaned against your core, the vibration sending a tingle through your spine.

He looked up, his lips engulfing your clit and sucking gently. He savoured the sight of you, head tilted back, chest rising and falling with your deep breaths, body glistening under the water.

"Missed the taste of this pussy," He mumbled, mouth still pressed against you. He watched your cheeks flush, your pleasure flourishing under his praise. "So fuckin' good."

You panted, your hips mindlessly grinding against his tongue as he flicked it over your clit. He listened to the sounds of his efforts; your sweet voice, calling his name- it spurred his desire tenfold.

His finger grazed your entrance, teasing you with the idea for a moment, before ending your misery and sliding his thick finger inside of you. The silky flesh of your pussy welcomed his finger with the slippery juices inside you.

He felt the familiar fluttering, the shaking in your voice, your pussy squeezing around his finger, and continued his ministrations.

"Go on, cum, sweetheart. Miss that beautiful face."

You sighed deeply, your abdomen burning as your climax built quickly. You felt yourself getting weaker, your body focusing all its energy into your orgasm.

Letting out a strangled moan, your body tensed when you came, his tongue and finger extending the longevity of your climax. You writhed against his face, jerking when he ran over your clit.

He stood to his feet, towering over you again. He lifted your leg, urging you to lift the other while he lifted you to his waist.

"This alright?" He asked.

"More than alright," You breathed.

Your hair was disheveled, the wet strands sticking to your skin. You were still flushed, your body still weak from your orgasm. It had been a long time since you'd had one, and the first release was like taking a sip of water in a drought.

He pressed the tip of his cock to your entrance, your head falling to watch as he slid inside you, jaw dropping as you watched his cock disappear. You groaned, listening to him suck in a deep breath.

"I missed you, Simon," You said, lips attaching to his neck. "So much."

He thrusted a couple times, slow and calculated movements to get himself coated in your juices, before he sped up his pace. Your lips were stopped in the process, clinging to his jaw as he drove his cock into you, actively hitting your clit with his pelvis. You shivered, overstimulated but wanting more, desperately.

"Missed you even more, love," He breathed, nose against your jaw.

Your fingers hooked under his arms, grasping at his shoulders as he rounded his hips, plunging inside you, just barely skimming your cervix. It nearly knocked the air from your lungs, and your fingers grasped at his back, desperate to be closer to him.

Your fingers reached for your clit, circling the bundle of nerves as he massaged your insides. He was nearly gasping, watching you writhe and shake on his cock as you rubbed your clit.

You threw your head against the wall, eyes squeezing shut, your hand reached out flat for balance as he readjusted, lifting you up higher. The new angle drew a gasp from your lips, his cock buried against your G-spot, fingers still working your clit.

"My beautiful girl," He cooed, hands squeezing the backs of your thighs.

You leaned forward, your hands clinging to his jaw. Your lips were inches from his, relishing in the moment of intimacy, the pleasure that coursed from your core to every other part of your body.

You didn't have a moment to respond when your clit began to tingle, sparks of pleasure erupting before a symphony of ecstasy. It engulfed your entire body, toes curling mid-air, your thighs clenching, pussy contracting around his cock.

"Bloody fuckin' hell," He grunted.

"Simon- don't stop," You whimpered.

He thrusted harder now, resigned to watching you gasp and moan on his cock. He was no longer paying attention to his impending climax, but your expression of pleasure- parted lips wet with the shower water, eyebrows drawn together, cheeks flushed- drove him over the edge.

He rolled his hips a few more times, releasing inside you. His hips jerked, soft grunts coming from his open mouth. His eyes were locked on your pussy, swallowing every last drop of his cum.

"Christ," He breathed, his head falling to the crook of your neck.

Your hand landed on the back of his neck, grasping at his hair.

You stood like that for a few moments, letting the shower water wash over you, enjoying the post-orgasm bliss together.

He finally set your legs down, making sure you weren't too sore or cramped from the position to stand, he held your waist.

You finally caught your breath, looking up at him with wet eyelashes.

"Want me to wash your back?" You asked, sending him a small smile.

He nodded. "Don't get carried away, you're a bit of a pervert."

"That't not true- I'm just making sure you're clean," You raised your brows.

"Perverted, is what I call it."

"You're the same way when you wash my tits," You shot back.

"'M a soldier, trained for perfection, sweetheart."

You rolled your eyes.

"Those things have to pass inspection, or it ain't done right," He teased.

"Whose inspection, Simon?"

"Mine-"

"Yours, yeah. I'd say that's a conflict of interest."

"I'd say it's regulation. Didn't complain when I was inspectin' your cunt."

He voice was low, no inflection of sarcasm to be found, but you knew better. You knew Simon well. You smacked his arm playfully, a laugh coming from the back of your throat.

"You're disgusting. Turn around," You groaned, hiding your bashful smile.

"Watch those hands, soldier."

[bangtaninborderland]

MYG - Secrets In The Sheets

Genre: smut, maid reader x mob boss Yoongi, 18+, REQUESTED

Warning: mentions of guns and death, spanking, oral (f&m receiving), penetration, hair pulling, choking.

A/N: thank you for requesting this! I had so much fun writing it! I hope you enjoy it please let me know what you think I always do try my hardest to make requests as good as possible.

BTS MASTERLIST

Yoongi sighed, tossing his keys atop the small glass table, and sliding his shoes off along with his jacket.

God, he needed a drink.

He shuffled over to the small drinks table he had installed in the corner of the living room overlooking a rather dark Seoul, picking up a bottle of whiskey not bothering to read the label as he poured himself a glass. It didn’t matter what it was called nor how strong it was, what mattered was the few moments of peace he felt as the liquid slid down his throat, a light burn in its wake. A small piece of relief in his rather hectic and unusual life.

He chucked remembering how Hoseok had explained that stress was his own fault, “Hyung.” The younger had called up, running in front of him to open the sleek Mercedes. “You know, you wouldn’t be so stressed if you took a holiday. You don’t always have to be a mob boss.”

“Hobi you know I couldn’t leave, probably end up with a bullet in my head on some random beach. You know I don’t feel like being fed to the fish thanks.”

“So uptight Hyung, get home safe.”

“Always do.”

He loved his team as much as he refused to admit it, his team were his life and he would step in front of a thousand bullets to protect them.

He placed his glass down, unbuttoning the top button of his black shirt. You could tell the fabric was expensive, but then again - everything about Min Yoongi was expensive.

He was about to settle in his study preparing to go over the mass amounts of paperwork that built up over the past week when he heard a shuffle in the upstairs bedroom.

Without a second thought, he pulled out his gun, checking the bullets before heading up the stairs. Eyes searched every corner of the house as the noise grew louder, what was once a slight shuffle now being muffled moans.

Definitely fucking weird.

He watched his steps, careful not to move too fast to alert the intruder to his presence, hand pressing his bedroom door open before returning to hold the gun properly.

He was taken back in absolute shock as he watched the maid laying on his bed, legs spread wide as her fingers disappeared inside of herself. Her other hand gripping the crisp white sheets.

Walking over to you he did the only thing reasonable, he held the gun against your temple. Eyes hard as you jumped in surprise before registering the barrel against your skin. Your face falls, overcome with a clear look of fear. “M-mr min.” You stuttered. Legs fold over themselves to give you some cover.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Yoongi spat, nudging the hun further against your head. “I don’t pay you to fuck yourself in my bed I pay you to fucking clean.”

You whimpered, pushing yourself into the bed further to make your frame seem smaller. “I- I’m sorry I just I I’ll leave please sir I’m so sorry.”

“What got you so desperate that you couldn’t wait?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow, his curiosity taking over as his eyes raked around your body. You felt your nipples harden against the fabric of your uniform, your thighs coated in wetness.

He tore his eyes away, mentally shaking his head, he may have been a ruthless killer but he had some decency.

Your eyes wandered around, a hint of embarrassment in them. “It- y-you Mr. Min. I was just cleaning the spare room and a box fell and the… the toys fell out and I… I’m sorry I’m so sorry.”

He sighed, removing the gun from your temple, flicking the safety on before placing it on the table close enough but still out of reach. “What was it that turned you on?”

“What?” Mr min I do-“ you stuttered being cut off as yoongi placed his hand over your mouth.

“The only thing I want to hear from you is an answer. What got you turned on.” He tutted, tongue licking at the corner of his mouth as he pulled his hand away. Resting it atop his hip. “Well?”

“The- the vibrator sir.” Your face was flushed, the embarrassment only worsening with every moment you were trapped underneath Yoongi.

“Why?” He was genuinely confused, his little toy box housed an array of toys, ranging from relatively simple to more complex, degrading.”

“I.. uh….” Your voice grew quiet as you mumbled out her explanation. “I thought about you using it on me.”

“My maid is fantasising about me fucking her?” Yoongi smirked, an idea already forming. “I suppose you want to keep your job huh?”

You sighed, that was something easily answered. “Yes, Mr Min.”

“Okay, only if you let me give you what your pretty mind was thinking about.” He sits on the end of the bed, expressing nearing bored as he continued his mental assessment of your body.

“I don’t- I can’t.” You looked away, not bothering to move but not as settled. “It’s wrong Mr Min.”

He shook his head, a wicked smile tantalising the maid. “Call me Yoongi, I won’t force you, sweetheart. If you want to go you know the house better than I do, I can give you a recommendation I’m sure someone else would love your…services. However, you could give yourself what you want most and keep your job.”

Yoongi lets you have a few minutes to think, never wanting to force someone. “If…if I took you up on your offer…would we get to do it more than once?”

He shrugged. “It depends on you and if it’s good.”

“I think I can be of satisfaction to you Sir.” You pouted, lightly offended by his comment.

“Now don’t pout, why don’t you show me how else you can use those pretty lips?”

“You really want me, Mr Min?” You giggled shyly, it was no secret Min yoongi was a wanted man. Anyone who had the privilege of seeing the man wanted a taste of him, both men and women alike would take their shot throwing all kinds of compliments and date proposals at him only for him to reject every single one of them.

“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true darling.” He rasped, watching you drop to your knees was a fucking sight. He wasn’t a bad man, not in that sense anyway, but he knew a beautiful woman when he see one.

“Want me to take your cock out, Yoongi?” Your tone had a dangerous lilt to it as you said his name for the first time, If he wasn’t hard before he was now.

He nodded, resting his hands behind him to keep him steady. “Do whatever doll.”

You relished in the cute pet names he had easily been addressing you with. You didn’t respond to him verbally, instead, your hands went to his belt buckle, undressing him as fast as you could. You wanted to moan the second his cock sprang free, the length and thickness both much better than you could ever have imagined. “Fuck.”

“Like what you see?” He chuckled, he was very aware of his body, of how good he looked.

“Love what I see.” You corrected, looking up at him for consent before continuing. He gave you a small nod once he realised what you were asking, once he did your hand was wrapped around his cock pumping him a few times. “What do you want from me Mr min?”

“I told you, darling, I want to see what that pretty mouth can do.” He winked, throwing his head back as you brushed your finger along the tip of his cock.

“Well then Mr min, I won’t keep you waiting.” You smiled, lips parting around the head of his cock, tongue swirling around a few times earning a groan from him.

You felt his hand upon your head, he didn’t push you down instead he lightly brushed your hair from your face. “God you’re fucking amazing.”

You responded by hollowing your cheeks, taking his cock as far down your throat as you could, even pushing a little past that point to show off. “Fuck your mouth is like heaven.” He groaned, thrusting upwards a little making you gag.

You recovered quickly, ignoring the feeling of tears pricking your eyes as you continued sucking his cock, hand wrapped around the base massaging the length you couldn’t fit. He let you sit there for a few minutes, his hand running through your hair, gripping it gently every time your tongue swirled around the tip, before lightly parting your cheek. “Off, my turn.”

You pulled off, making a ‘pop’ sound as you did. “You’re turn what?” You panted, your own arousal still growing.

“I want to see if you taste as good as you look. Lay down on the bed.” He patted your thigh, waiting for you to situate yourself on your back before he pushed your legs apart, making room for himself between them. “Every part of you is fucking beautiful, I might just have to keep you here forever.”

“All for yourself Mr Min? isn’t that selfish?” You teased.

“I’d like to see anyone try and touch what I claim doll, everyone knows to stay away from whatever the mins own.” He chuckles, shaking his head as though surprised and your comment. “Shuffle closer.”

You carried out his request, pushing your body closer to him, letting your eyes flutter closed as his breath grew heavier against your skin. He started at your thighs,, kissing and licking every now and again choosing a particular part to bite down on, definitely leaving marks. “More.” You whispered, hand reaching down to pull him closer.

Everything stopped and you opened your eyes, confused by the lack of touch. As you did his hand grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Patient girls get nice things, do you want me to show you what I do to girls who demand darling?”

You shook your head, mouth dry and eyes a little fuzzy. “N-no Yoongi.”

“See I knew you were smart.” He smiled, moving back to his previous position. This time you let him carry out his torturously slow pace, trying to keep as still as possible. The last thing you wanted was for him to stop.

Eventually, he moved higher, his lips heaving over your labia and whether you meant to or not you bucked your hips at the sensation earning a slap to your thigh. “Still. Don’t disturb me.”

“Yes, Mr min.” You whined, fisting the sheets to keep you grounded. “Sorry.”

Once again he brought his mouth to your cunt, tongue licking a long stripe between the folds. “God.” You groaned, relishing the way his tongue swirled around your clit.

He was good with his tongue, too fucking good. He covered your pussy with his mouth, both sucking your clit and using his tongue at the same time to flick the bud repetitively giving you no time to catch your breath. His hands wrapped around your thighs, keeping you trapped against him.

“Yoongi- too- ah fuck too much too much” you screamed, hand pushing at his head to move him away.

Despite his smaller frame, he was much stronger than you, your fighting did nothing against him if anything it only encouraged him more as he slid his tongue into your hole. “I’ll cum right now yoongi fuck wait.” You thrashed around, the pleasure overwhelming you.

Your orgasm was winding around your stomach, with just a few more stripes of his tongue you’d be brought to a mind-blowing orgasm. You would have been but you weren’t. He pulled away just before you could be pushed over the brink, your orgasm dwindling away. You’d never been edged before but the smug look on his face when you opened your eyes initially wanting an explanation somewhat calmed you.

The look he wore told you what you need to know, he wasn’t ready to be done.

“I want to see you riding me. Think you can handle it or are you done already.”

“Please.” You huffed, brushing your hair out of your face before pushing him backwards, his body landing on the bed with a light thud. “Give me a little more credit Mr Min.”

“Someone’s got a little confident?” He raised an eyebrow “Condom. Top drawer.”

You rushed off the bed, handing him the packet. Within a matter of seconds, you were back on top of him, his eyes dark, focused, watching you align his cock with your entrance.

His energy was everything, dark, alluring, dangerous but even so he was still smug and the thing about you? You could be smug too. You smiled back, practically a grin as you slid down, tightening your walls around him as much as possible. “I’ll show you confident Mr min.”

You ground your hips in a circle before beginning to ride him, his cock filling you up perfectly. “Come here.”

He pulled you down to him, placing a rough kiss against the corner of your mouth before locating your lips properly, you riding him made it a little more difficult but still his grip around your throat was firm, keeping you close enough to explore your mouth with his tongue.

You moaned into his mouth as he thrusted his hips upward, his free hand grabbed your ass cheek, slapping it hard enough to echo throughout the room. You pulled away from the kiss, biting his lip. “Want you to fuck me.” You gasped, legs growing tired.

He flipped you around, your body pinned beneath his. His cock slid inside of you easily, your pussy dripping with the need to orgasm. He fucked into you, your eyes rolling back as he pressed into you further. “Fuck you’re so warm, so tight.” His voice was raspy, rough.

“Slow, slow please.” You mumbled, already too fucked out to speak clearly.

“Whatever you need petal.” He mumbled, his hips rolling against you, his cock filling you most deliciously. Every antagonising stroke sends your nerves haywire.

“Who knew the pretty maid could be so dirty hm?” He slid his length out leaving just the tip, pausing for a second before ramming into you, a resounding scream tore out of you. “I used to want you cleaning, used to see the way you’d bend over right in front of the cameras. You’ve always been a little tease, haven’t you? Wanted me to come and bend you over my desk and teach you a lesson?”

“Wanted- wanted your attention.” You stuttered in between moans.

“Let’s see how that works out for you doll.” Without warning his hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing lightly around the sides, only enough to make you dazed. His hips snapped against you relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping filling the room accompanied by your moans and slurred words.

“S’ good” you babbled, nails scarring down his arms. “gonna cum.”

He reached down, kissing you effortlessly silencing your screams. “Cum for me sweetheart, cum around my cock.”

With a few more thrusts you were pushed over the edge into a blissful orgasm, everything went fuzzy. You felt him grow erratic, his thrusts slowing down as he filled the condom. “Fuck.” He groaned as he pulled out.

You whined at the loss of contact, still out of it. “Let me get a cloth to clean you up, love.” He explained, disappearing for a few seconds before returning with a black cloth. You winced as he helped clean up the mess between your legs. “Do you want a shower? You could have some clothes?”

You nodded. “Later. Was it good?”

“It was fucking amazing.” He chuckles, placing a kiss on your forehead before flopping down next to you. “Sheets are a fucking mess, the maid is going to have fun cleaning that up.” He winked.

You slapped his arm, laughing. “Shut up. You can clean these it’s your fault. I can’t believe you held a gun to my head.”

He shook his head. “Actually if you weren’t having a world of fun in MY bed we wouldn’t have done that. I was surprised you didn’t run away the second I did that, sometimes I can be a little erratic forgive me.”

“Please don’t remind me it’s so embarrassing I really didn’t think you were going to be home until later and I swear I would have changed the sheets. It’s forgiven by the way, it’s not as bad as some things I’ve seen working here.” You’d grown used to an awful lot over the five years you’d worked for Yoongi but you stayed because he wasn’t a bad man, he treated you respectfully.

“Thank you.” He smiled. “and don’t worry about it love we all do things we aren’t proud of.” He sighed, his voice was softer than usual.

“Wait, you said it wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t catch me.” You sat up on your elbows, eyes wide. “You weren’t tempted one of the many times I teased you?”

“More than you know. Felt like an uncontrollable school boy watching you.” He laughed, hand threading through your hair.

“Well, the schoolboy got top marks on the exam.” You giggled, playing along.

“Who said it was finished? That shower is still an offer.” He winked, standing up with a hand out.

You groaned, slipping your hand into his.

Min Yoongi may have been a vicious crime lord, a dangerous killer, and a powerful businessman but he was also the best boss you’d ever had, him having a great cock and high stamina was just a bonus. A very big bonus.

[yuesya]

A Fyrefly Type-V is more colloquially known as a Personal Escort model. Their primary purpose, in addition to contributing to the war effort against the invading Swarm, is to carry out the role of a royal guard. To protect Her Majesty, Titania, Queen of the Iron Cavalry.

“More than anyone else, Titania’s safety is paramount,” their creators tell them. “For the glory of Glamoth! Dedicate yourselves to your Queen, even at the cost of your lives.”

Yes. They will. A chorus of assent rises from their collective throats in unanimous, simultaneous answer.

… AR-1368 knows that she is fortunate. Overwhelmingly, the vast majority of the Iron Cavalry do not have the opportunity of seeing Her Majesty in person. After all, the Swarm Propagates endlessly among the stars, and there is always a pressing need for new Knights to rise and promptly take their places upon the battlefield –sometimes even straight from their incubation pods, when critical circumstances call for it. What little contact the Knights have with Her Majesty is through the quiet ideas and impressions that are sent to them, the telepathic directives that Her Majesty guides the Iron Cavalry with.

That, and the dreams.

… But for Personal Escort models, who are specifically designed to protect their Queen, they also receive the honor of being permitted to accompany Her Majesty. To remain in her presence, in a more physical sense of things.

The first time that AR-1368 sees Her Majesty is exactly a week after she steps outside of the dark, sterile incubation chambers.

It’s…

Indescribable, the feeling of wonder and awe that one feels when standing in the presence of the Queen. To gaze upon Her Majesty and know what devotion is. But at the same time, there’s also something that’s… that’s not quite…

…

… AR-1368 doesn’t know how to articulate it, this strange feeling that stirs inside her when she sees Her Majesty still and unmoving, suspended within a glowing blue liquid in the glass chamber. There is some nameless emotion that constricts her throat for a brief moment, but she cannot put a name to it. AR-1364 can’t quite decipher it, either, and he’s the most verbose and expressive unit of their batch.

AR-1368 doesn’t understand.

… But the confusion is swiftly replaced by wonder, and a faint nervousness-excitement when Her Majesty turns her attention to them. She greets them easily, her presence a cold, gentle brush upon their minds. Not intruding, never intruding, but a steady sea of calm, crested with an ever-faint flicker of curiosity.

Hello.

There is a strong juxtaposition between the lovely, melodic voice AR-1368 hears in her mind, and the harsh, robotic voice that echoes out in their surroundings at the same time. One that’s almost a little… jarring.

“Hello to you as well, Titania. As of today, AR-1364, AR-1367, and AR-1368 will be added to your personal retinue,” the Chief Scientist said. “Improvements have been made to the newest iteration of the Type-Vs.”

What of the old guard?

“Unfortunately, they’re a complete loss,” the Chief Scientist responds. “Most were destroyed completely during the evacuation process from the previous facility. The survivors… suffered too much damage. Our scientists tried their best, but it was determined that it would be more efficient to salvage usable remains instead of–”

The lights in the room flicker, suddenly unstable. For a moment, everything is cold.

The Chief Scientist frowns. “Titania?”

… It may be efficient in terms of resources, but experience is more important than raw materials, and far more difficult to replace.

In the surrounding room, the Queen’s voice is cold and robotic. But within her mind, AR-1368 can feel the glacial tone seep through her, the Queen’s cold displeasure chilling to the bone. She is not the only one; beside her, she catches a glimpse of AR-1364 flinching slightly.

It’s good that the Chief Scientist does not catch this break in formation, because AR-1364 would be sent for retraining otherwise. But the hoarfrost cold recedes immediately, and a phantom warmth washes over them, tinged with a faint note of something… apologetic.

Is that… Her Majesty?

“Titania,” the Chief Scientist says, voice infinitely patient in a way that indicates this is a topic that has been discussed multiple times before, “We can always make more of them. Focus on directing the war effort, and we will devote our efforts towards providing you with all the Knights you need in order to carve a future for Glamoth beyond the abhorrent Swarm.”

[neetily]

Shower Down — (SDV) Sam

— ✧ warnings: Breeding, Creampie, Shower Sex, Established Relationship, Cervix Fucking — ✧ word count: 4,089 — ✧ genre: smut (18+)

— ✧ A/N: reposting from my old account since i was asked to! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

In hindsight, he probably should have dealt with his… Issue before even thinking about starting his morning routine. It’s a regular occurrence, after all. Daily, even, like the hormonal teenager he is at heart. He should have known better than to simply waltz in to your bathroom without a second thought, but after helping you work the farm pretty much all day yesterday, he still feels too beat to even think properly at such an early hour. He doesn’t even know what time it is, only that the mornings sun is too bright to stay resting. The soft sounds of running water should have at least alerted him to your presence, but instead he merely followed his set in stone routine and allowed his body to shuffle sleepily to the bathroom. Quiet steps, yawning as he opened the door into your bathroom with only the intent of brushing his teeth and showering— as one always should upon waking up, and yet even still he fails to notice your presence. How exactly he isn’t sure, but he’ll find a way to blame you for it regardless. He at least gets half way done before seemingly coming to, mid brush when he realizes just exactly what he’s walked into. Not that he’s one for complaining, and certainly not given the circumstances he finds himself currently in, but it genuinely startles him to see you staring right at him through the mirror reflection.

“Oh, shit!” he stumbles, muffled a little by the brush in his mouth as toothpaste dribbles from his lips. You simply glance back at him, a playful little smile on your lips that only causes his cock to throb harder at how casual you look. Morning wood, of course, made only worse by seeing his pretty girlfriend stand naked behind him. And yet even with the shock that comes from seeing you so naked so early in the morning, so much so that he struggles to find words following his cursing, he can’t bring himself to look away. Wouldn’t even if he could, honestly. What a pretty sight to greet him first thing in the morning, his gaze on you softening the more his brain catches up to reality. The domesticity of sharing such a small space together tragically going right to his already hard cock rather than his heart, but he figures you don’t mind given the remaining knowing smile on your face.

It’s certainly not the first time he’s seen you naked, though if he’s honest, every time sort of feels like the first, still. You’re his pretty baby, so of course he can’t take his eyes off you, even when intruding in your private morning shower time. His perverted tendencies taking advantage of his low willpower and gluing his attention to the way you seem to sway side to side before him, his cock clearly poking in a tent as a reward in return. Though the relationship certainly isn’t in the early stages, it’s still difficult for him to find the self control to act decently around you. Simply put, he wants you. Perhaps far too much given how rock hard his cock is from just the frosted view of your naked body, teeth brushing stopped momentarily to instead look at you with awe. No attempt made to avert his gaze, his dumb stare raking over you from head to toe and then back up again, catching only glimpses of your soaked… naked body. Saliva drooling with toothpaste to stain his chin at the sight of you in the shower, his palm absentmindedly tugging at his equally dribbling tip to satisfy his early hour urges. God, he thinks you’re so gorgeous. Water dripping from your hair as you look back at him with amusement, clearly spotting him far before he took notice of your own presence. Even then, it only makes his cock harder. Knowing that despite his accidental intrusion you chose to keep yourself hidden, waiting behind the safety of your glass shower for him to discover. Fat beads of precum decorating his stretched thin boxer shorts at the sight of your lazy smile, his own lips tugging into a similar one before re-realising that he’s still holding his toothbrush, toying with his cock in front of you with his other hand while he offers you a sleazy look. 

“S-Sorry!” He continues brushing, finishing up as fast as possible so that he can bring his full attention back to you, his baby. His pretty, naked, baby. “Fuck,” he spits, running his toothbrush under the tap only to throw it back where it belongs, snapping his head back to you with his cock pointing directly at you. It’s a wonder how his boxers even stay on with how hard he is, his tip leaking precum through the fabric while you slowly spin for him to show off, giggling so cutely that he can’t help but gasp a little. Truly, he’s mesmerized. Feet stubbornly stuck in place by your bathroom sink while his cock twitches and leaks all for you, straining demandingly against his barely there boxers in an effort to highlight his need for you, but whether you notice or not doesn’t matter. Not with the teasing smirk you offer in return, his throat dry despite just brushing while he wipes at his lips. “Didn’t mean to— Promise, I didn’t mean t’walk in on ya.” He sighs, his tummy flipping and cheeks blushed when you give a knowing laugh back in response. “I mean it! I jus’—” his words are cut off as you push your body up against the glass, nipples on clear display for him to salivate at. It takes him a moment to realize whats going on, but when he does, he’s unable to stop the cocky laugh that escapes his chest. Oh, so that’s how you wanna play things? Flirting with him behind the glass pane, do you think you’re safe there? Not a chance. A sneaky smirk plastered on his face as he quickly as humanely possible removes his clothes, cock slapping against his toned tummy to cause him to hiss at the contact in his rush to undress, chest tight with love and balls taut with seed while he stumbles over himself. Because for as much as his trespassing was a genuine mistake, it seems you don’t mind in the slightest, and he’d be a fool to not take advantage of the opportunity you’re presenting him. How could he not when you practically beckon him forward with your squished to the glass tits, the soapy water running off you so prettily that for a moment it seems impossible for him to move— instead stuck staring stupidly at you with an open mouth. Fuck, he’s so lucky. Seeing you first thing in the morning is like a dream come true, and that much seems especially accurate with how flirty you’re acting, lust pooling in his tummy to prove a far bigger issue than just some plain old morning wood. 

And so he takes a few steps forward in your small bathroom to reach your even smaller shower, biting down on his lip to control the excitement that threatens to bubble out the closer he gets, a nervous giggle on his tongue at just how easily you slide open the door for him to enter. Like you’ve been waiting for him all morning, watching as your gaze drops to his painfully hard cock bobbing against his tummy and then back to his face, your intent clear to see as you beckon him in. And like a stupid dog he is he follows, tail wagging behind him in sheer infatuation for you and your lewd display, breath caught in his throat from how difficult it is for him to comprehend that you’re his. You, gorgeous, sexy, you. Standing naked right in front of him, prompting him to come under the shower head by leading him in with such gentle touch, making room for him to slide in front of you and yet still he’s pressed right against you, his cock inevitably leaking onto your front for the water to wash away. It’s only when he’s flush against you that he remembers how to speak, mind caught up to the warm smile you send his way while your hands rest softly against his biceps. You do this to him, yknow? Make his mind all fuzzy and blank, just from looking at you. Fuck, he’s so in love with you. He has to show you, by any means possible. It just so happens that this mornings attempt consists of his cock twitching so nicely against your lathered up tummy while he eyes you up and down, tongue poking against the inside of his cheek in a confident display of want for you. 

“Sorry,” he starts again, his gaze half lidded and tone cheeky with knowing that you want this too, but it’s fun to play pretend. To act as if everything was normal and that he didn’t want to shove his cock so deep into you that you can’t walk for the rest of the day. “Really, I didn’t mean t’jus’ walk in like that.” And he’s being honest, but the casual way he he talks with you is in stark contrast to how hard his cock throbs and it only riles him up more as you simply listen to his excuses, his hands mirroring your own as he lets them rub lightly against your shoulders, traveling down your arms to the bend of your elbow and then back up again. “But now that I’m here…” He smiles, raising his eyebrows at you in a way that makes you giggle and fuck, even that turns him on some more. How cute you sound when enjoying his dumb theatrics, the slight shake in your body as you laugh rubbing against his cock, the way your back is pressed clean against the tiled wall of the shower and still there isn’t enough room for him— all of it causing him to be overwhelmed completely by you. Your touch, your scent, your voice— it all culminates in one thing and one thing only. “Well… Let’s just say that m’happy t’see ya here, yeah?”

He knows what’s about to happen, and he knows that you know too. The little glint in your eye as you bite your lip in front of him, playing coy and hard to get with your barely there touches and meek little nods— shit, you’re so sexy it’s unfair. He could just— could just breed you right now if he wanted to. It’s something he’s been thinking about for a while now, but seeing as how loving and doting you are of him always, though especially this morning, he decides maybe it’s time he gives in to your late night confessionals. Because honestly, he hasn’t been able to get it off his mind since you mentioned your hidden want to be bred, every fuck after the first admission proving to pull him further to your side on the matter and he can’t help but think this chance encounter was actually planned all along. You, up early and showering before he’s even had a chance to wash up himself. Staying silent as he wanders in, watching him with a curious smile on your lips and even inviting him to join you in the shower. It has to be your intentions, right? God he hopes so, given the fact that he’s so horrendously down bad for you that he can’t stop a small groan escaping at your playful touches. They aren’t even that sexual in nature, and yet he’s harder than he’s ever been with the possibility of wifing you up in the dirtiest way he knows how, his head leaning back a little to rest calmly against the wet glass.

“I am too.” You whisper, so breathlessly that he whines a little simply at the husky nature of your voice. Truthfully, you could do just about anything and he’d be turned on, which is part of the reason why he finds himself agreeing with your breeding kink. He gets it, now that he’s standing face to face and cock to front with you in the much too small shower. Laughing a little at his inability to see it previously— you’re gonna be his little wife, and he wont stop today until he’s sure you’ve taken his seed. That’s what you want, isn’t it?

“Yeah? And why’s that?” He smiles, knowing full well why you’re happy to see him but the fantasy of it all is too good to ignore. Has his cock leaking all over you some more, twitching between both bodies while he makes it wait just a little longer. Will make the eventual act all the more satisfying, he thinks, as he edges himself against you. 

Your hands drop lower to his abdomen, trailing your nails over his slight abs in a way that makes him shiver into your touch despite the warm water running down him. He needn’t ask at all, but this teasing game is driving him insane, his smile refusing to leave as he bites his tongue to prevent himself from shoving it down your throat in needy hunger. Driven to rest his hands on your hips by his baby making thoughts, gently pinching and playing with your skin there while ruminating over how perfect your body is for breeding. For his seed, flashes of imagined sights consisting of your full with milk tits and pretty round tummy causing his hips to buck ever so slightly against you. Because what a good mommy you’d be, yeah? He couldn’t imagine a better fit even if he tried, intentionally rubbing his hard cock against you now the closer your hands reach down, gripping your hips tighter for a better fucking surface. 

“Mhm… Because…” You trail off, the feeling of your fingers brushing against his cock winding him too much when paired with the seductive tone you adopt, eying you up expectantly as you pause to make him wait to hear what he knows is coming. “Because I need you.”

There it is, and even though he knew it was coming, the verbal confirmation of your want causes his head to grow dizzy. “Yeah?” He stupidly mumbles, because he sure as fuck can’t think of anything else to say with your hand so close to his cock. He understands. He needs you too.

“Mhm. If you’ll have me, I mean.”

And he’s never moved faster in his life before, harshly sucking air in-between his closed teeth before grinding his cock against you with more purpose. “Fuck yeah I want you, shit—” he gasps, the wet glide of his cock against your tummy convincing him to flip you around in a second, pressing your front tight against the shower tiles and growling down at you when you stick your ass out further against him. Heart in his throat and cock immediately slipped between your thighs, his brain automatically turned off to focus solely on making sure you’re properly bred by the end of this morning. “Always, always want ya.” He mumbles against your neck, leaning over you to better hump his cock between your wet thighs, panting with you as his cock glides between your folds and knocks against your puffy clit. There’s a certain acute desperation in his actions and in his words, the choked half whines and greedy thrusts against your cunt, no patience left in him to take his time with your dirty display just moments ago. He’s convinced that you’re the girl of his dreams, knows as much to be true when you softly moan his name each time his tip leaks more pre against you, every thrust of his cock against your slit compelling him further to give in to his instinctual need to impregnate you— just like how he knows you want just as much as him. He has to knock you up.

It’d be a lie to say he fucks his tip right inside your little hole on pure accident alone, but rather his eager humps spreading the copious amounts of precum your moans pull out of him cause his cock to just— slip in. Not that he hears you complaining though, a small shocked gasp and you’re already wiggling your ass back against him begging for more: and he’s all too happy to give. A voiceless sorry dying on his lips at the feeling of your hole wrapping tight around him, his hands automatically locked at your hips to keep you pinned in place for him to shove himself inside. It’s not slow by any means, and even he winces a little at the too fast stretch his needy cock forces you to endure, but he’ll just have to apologize later. He’s got no time to do so right now as his hips naturally rock into you, too fixated on watching his cock disappear into your little cunt to excuse his rough treatment, squeezing reassuringly at your hips to thank you for taking him so well seeing as he’s too breathless to do so otherwise. Blank mind, all he knows is he wants you. And he has you, right within his greedy grip, pulling your ass back as far as he can against him in the small shower to fuck you back against his already fast fucks just as much as he humps you forward with each thrust. A loud slap heard over the hot water trickling down, his balls hitting your clit with how hard he fucks into you, staining your insides sticky with precum while hunching himself over your own cramped body position to completely encase you with him. “Perfect fuckin’ cunt,” He heaves against your ear, spoken through gritted teeth and a tense jaw, his tempo brutal in how hard and fast he fucks into you. A clear show of just how powerless he is to control himself around you, how desperate he is to prove just how much he wants you. Enough to breed your tight little hole and start a family with you, anyway. “Gonna fill it up, kay?” He half laughs, the sound overtaken by a pained moan from how hard your cunt squeezes around him at his words.

“Y’like the sound of that, huh? Oh, sure feels like y’do.” He taunts you, his mouth opening to graze his just brushed teeth against your shoulder, an act of claiming. He hums around it, eyes narrowed as if it’d help him listen to your high pitched whines for more better, cock throbbing inside of your tiny hole at the lewd squelch he fucks out of you each time he fully sheathes inside. “Sounds like y’wanna be a mommy— fuck, I’ll make ya one—” he promises, punctuating his assurance with deeper thrusts to make sure you know just how serious he is. Because beyond just how sexy the thought alone of creaming your pretty pussy is, he also can’t deny how hard his heart beats at the chance of tying the knot with you by way of knocking you up— preferably right here and now. “Feel s’fuckin’ good babe— God.” He moans, voice still laced with gravelly sleep, digging his chest into your back to try and bend you over further in the shower so he can properly mount you, a prime breeding position for his full balls to empty into. And you’re taking him so well, such a good girl for him to breed, moaning prettily and offering your hole up for him with such ease, fuck. He can’t stop himself from fucking you, frankly. Just a dumb dog in heat, breeding his favorite bitch in his favorite position— doggy style.  The sight of you bent over and so submissive before him just does things to him. Drives him crazy with need for you when you present yourself like this, allowing him to do whatever he wants to you so long as you get your little hole filled. Loves it so much that he’s already close, pinching your sides with urgency as he feels the way you cunt tries to keep him buried deep inside, sucks him in harder each time he tries to pull his hips back. If he couldn’t hear how clearly you wanted him to cum inside from your gasped whines then he sure as fuck can tell from how receptive your body is to him. And he yearns for it too, driving his cock as fast as he can into you and bullying his tip to your cervix to increase the likelihood of breeding you.

And he doesn’t even have time to think about satisfying you first, too caught up in his selfish desires to watch his cum drip from your cute little cunt to regard you with even an ounce of careful attention. It’s all happened so fast, so intense is his need to breed that he can only lay over you panting, tongue lolling out to help him gulp down more air so that he can continued fucking you like his life depended on it, wet slaps ringing in his ears to match your soft squeaks and drawled moans. He’s so in love. So desperately, infuriatingly, devastatingly in love with you that the only logical conclusion in his current horny with love drunk state is to keep pounding into you. His thrusts growing sloppier the louder and more attention seeking you get, begging for something, but he can’t hear you all too clearly. Not when he’s struggling to keep his breath from the amount of whines your cunt pulls from his own throat, doing his best to listen intently to the smack of his balls against your slit, water running between his body and your own to increase the wet suck you offer his cock— no, he can’t hear your cries. Can only feel how tight your hole gets as he shoves his hips right against you, grinding his length into you in short snap thrusts that make his eyes roll back with just how nice it feels to be completely enveloped by you. “Gonna— Fuck me— Gonna cum inside, kay?” He pouts down at you, adopting a babying tone as if he was mocking you. “’N ya can’t get away— shit, keep ya pinned against me, yeah? Make me a daddy, fuck, please—” his tone increases in pitch the more he babbles, head thrown back the second you let you a small sound of agreement between your incoherent whimpers and he’s done for. Your tight cunt promising to milk him dry as he fucks his cock into you with stuttering half thrusts, fucked himself stupid into your tight little hole that he doesn’t even have the mind to warn you before it happens. He isn’t even embarrassed about how quickly he’s filling up your cunt because if anything, he thinks it serves to show you just how much he loves you. Can’t compose himself enough to hold back for you, continuing short little humps into you to fuck his cum back in as he shoots his load right against your cervix, panting your name over and over again as if it’s the only thing he remembers— and it might as well be from how well you empty him. Balls deep in your cunt and he still can’t stop his hips from moving, circling his cock inside of you until he’s well and truly painted your insides white, a few drops of his seed leaking from your overstuffed cunt and down the drain with the water. 

Even if he wanted to talk after such a quick fuck he can’t, left stunned and satisfied (albeit a bit sore from the cramped space of your shower) and it’s still morning. Plenty more day left to fuck you pregnant some more. His grip on your waist growing softer as he slowly pulls out of your used hole, only to immediately plug it with his fingers with a terse smile on his lips. “Don’t want any spillin’ out.” He admits, cooing down at your sensitive sounds from being touched so soon after such a rough session.

“Round two after a shower.” He perks up, playfully slapping your ass and laughing lightheartedly at your pouty whine. He may have acted on a whim this morning, but given just how good it felt cumming inside of you, he’s more resolved than ever to make your wishes come true. Tonight, he’ll make sure your fantasies are fulfilled— whether you like it or not.