#and then not even being able to comprehend how to do that for yourself

[darlingxs-blog]

YOUU . will write about daemon uhh idk hc idkk uhhh how would it feel like to kiss him . he clearly seems to enjoy „scaring” the player and not acting completely subservient towards you, so I like to think giving him more freedom or egging him on to do his own choices would be a . Way to bond w him

(I wonder how the others would react to him, if theyre able to comprehend him at all)

UHH besides that . maybe possibly perchance teasing Daemon? Finding some way to make him feel all tingly physically and seeing his form get all staticy and fuzzy? i need to kiss him and his . blue mouth UHHUDNFFHGGGHGHHHH

HEHSHSB OHDHHE WHY ARE YOU SO SMART OHDHEB GOOD LAWD YESSSEEHDHD

We kissing Daemon right on his static ass lips trust 😼🙏

Unfortunately I've never flirted with nor teased anyone ever in my life (I have no dating experience leave me alone) so the teasing is definitely going to be some very erm low tier shiz nit okay thank you byebye

A bug...

He's a love bug. Shhh keep it to yourself.

The bugged out dresser freaked you out a little bit, it started glitching when you tried to talk to Deenah but were met with a corrupted voice and a messed up text box and no show of Deenah, at all.

But you know what they say right, third times a charm. You walk up to the glitching dresser and shoot the little 'love beams' as Skylar Specs likes to call them at that dresser that freaks you out a little if your being honest.

"I don't bite." A glitched out figure of what you can't even describe appears in your view and you can't lie. He's...kinda hot. "I think. Did I?"

Feeling oh so confident with yourself and your abilities to tug at your household object's hearts you decide to work a little charm- no, let's be honest here. The words slipped out before you could even register what you wanted to say "you can if you want" seriously, what the hell was going on in your brain sometimes. "I don't think I want to" his distorted voice snaps you out of your self depreciating thoughts and makes you feel a little upset...he could have been at least a little nicer.

"And why not?" You reply back to the glitched out figure, if you started digging your own grave, why not make it deeper?

The silent buzz of static fills the air around you two before "chomp chomp" again with his distorted voice "munch munch" how serious he sounds and since you can't really tell his emotions by his expression all you can do is try to force down a laughter that threatens to spill from your lips.

Though, before you can say anything in reply. He's gone.

__________time skip cause I fucking can_______

You wake up the next day, before even getting out of bed you slide the rose tinted glasses onto your face and the warmth of Betty and her soft body snuggled up with you sweeps your stress away. You gotta thank Skylar for showing you this absolutely fabulous woman the first day you got these damn dateviators.

"Mornin' honey." Betty's arms tighten around you while bringing you in closer and you laugh sweetly idc if your a man, your a femboy now at her antics. You know just how much she doesn't like the mornings. "C'mon darlin' you gotta let me go." And she does, with a lot of reluctance before sitting up and grabbing your wrist with a much softer grip than she had on you before.

"You're not gonna kiss me before you go?" A pretty pout is on her lips and you just can't resist giving them a quick peck- just so she'll feel better...and you just really wanted to kiss her.

She hums and falls back against the plush pillows on your mattress holding one of the many throw pillows to her chest before shutting her eyes softly to squeeze in just a couple more minutes of rest.

After a quick stretch that pops your arms you turn your head only to remember the glitchy dresser, Daemon likes when you suddenly remember he is there even if you can't see him physically or at least that's what you think.

You walk up to the dresser and without even having to think about it for too long Daemon appears in front of you in a blitz. He looks...angrier than usual. That's none of your business though.

One dateable by one you've slowly been 'realizing' them as the Kind yet Anonymous hacker but it and today was the day you wanted to see what Daemon would look like if he was well complete.

"Daemon, something on your mind?" Sympathy etches on your features and he has to force himself not to jab at you for getting way too soft way too quickly. Someone could take advantage of that. "'Fine. Just do it." His layered voice is sharp, he doesn't want to waste time it seems.

You've busted your ass off getting your specs points to the max and now it finally pays off with your large harem of lovers becoming human right in front of your very eyes, like you did with the ones before the process of Daemon becoming human is much more...anticlimactic really, but you can't lie. Even with the features that would seem odd for just an ordinary human he still is quite fine- "can I kiss you" "What?" You blink once, twice, thrice before he says it again "I want to kiss you" bitch YES PLEASE DHHEBD

"Well, If you want too..." suddenly feeling very bashful you turn your head away, out of all the things you thought he would have said when he finally became human you have not conjured up a single scenario where that was the very first thing he said.

A hand that seems to generate a buzz of static across your skin and deep into your blood stream turns your head back to face forward and lips are pressed against yours. Daemon's lips are flat and almost freezing yet you've never felt anything that made you melt so quickly.

A hum of static fills your mouth and dances on your tounge like pop rocks and yet you don't feel anything at all, all the while you feel his desperation he has with every nip at your skin with the mouths that don't exist.

With every second that passes with his lips locked with yours the buzzing gets more intense, it feels like a straight shock of electricity and yet you don't feel enough pain to pull away in fact it only brings you closer.

Unfortunately, with your mortal body comes with mortal lungs that do need air to survive so you pull away with a huff that you regret. You really didn't want to let him go.

He looks down at you and your flushed face, chuckling like he isn't just as red.

___________________________________________

I had to stop it right there cause it was getting cringey, unfortunately I don't know how to write Romance 😔 IM SORRY but like I'm happy with this lowkey, kinda, a little.

On everybody's soul we YES WE are cracking Daemon.

[maxdurden]

adaine's family relationships are something i can actually be so incredibly normal about too btw

[snekdood]

this is partially a critique on my part but even more of a critique on other online leftists' part since i notice a complete lack of attempts at putting oneself in others shoes- it shouldn't quite literally take learning you have x minority ethnicity in you to have sympathy and understanding for them.

[chastiefoul]

how they'd react when you wanted to sleep on the couch... just because.

fluff. light-hearted ft. gojo, nanami, sukuna, suguru, toji, choso

satoru

“baby scooch over.” a whispered voice along with a gentle nudge on the shoulder woke you from your dozed off state. “hmm?” you mumbled out, blinking your terribly heavy lids open although to no avail they’re begging to keep themselves shut. satoru glanced at you with a frown on his eyes with a pillow held close to his body. “scooch over baby,” he pleaded, kneeling beside the couch you’re currently lying on.

“go back to bed toru,” you said softly, tugging your blanket closer. “but you’re not there,” he whined, intertwining his hand with yours as he attacked it with kisses, not letting you go back to sleep, especially if it’s without him. “i thought you said you’re going to be fine?” you asked, jogging the memory of him being all smug while saying you could do whatever you wanted. “that was not me, i would never say that,” he said promptly and goodness you didn’t know before someone’s lips could turned that much downward. you chuckled breathily, knowing this will happen sooner or later.

you scooted over on the big couch, leaving him the space he’d been begging for. you could have sworn you heard a squeal before you’re wrapped in satoru’s warm hold, his head resting snugly atop of yours. “no sleeping on here anymore. not without me,” he said into your hair, kissing it softly.

❀

nanami

“but why, love?” he asked, having a hard time comprehending your wish to sleep alone on the living room only because... you randomly wanted to? you chuckled looking at his bewildered face, an expression of someone who’s probably racking his brain upside down thinking that he’s done something wrong. “ken, i promise it’s just because i feel like it and no reason other than that.” you cupped his face, planting a soft kiss on his nose.

nanami looked a little relieved, albeit sullen, hesitant in asking whether he could invite himself in or you wanted a little time for yourself. and when it’s finally time to sleep it’s becoming more obvious that your lover wasn’t going to make it easy for you.

“need any more blanket honey?” he asked tapping the head of the couch as he stood there a tad nervous, knowing full well you got everything you needed since he insisted to be the one to prepare it. pillows, blanket, a hot drink, he’s got it all for you. “i’m perfect here, ken. you can go to bed,” you said with a reassuring smile, yet it did the opposite effect to the man.

“can i be here until you sleep, my love? it’s just that i feel like i wouldn’t be able to rest properly until i see you do the same.” he stroke your cheek softly with his thumb, and when you leaned into his touch he knew he’s gone for you. that there’s no way he could be asleep if he went back to the bedroom in that moment—unless you’re with him, of course. though, he didn’t say this, he just continued combing through your strands of hair, loving the peaceful expression on your face.

and unfortunately for the blond man, when it comes to these things his thoughts were written all over his face. you already caught on the fact that he wanted to lie down with you there yet his wish in prioritizing your wants refrained him from speaking his. you laughed a little, feeling a burst of fondness towards the tall man.

“on a second thought, can you sleep here with me ken?” he moved as quick as the sentence ended, already making his way under the blanket. he sneaked a hand around your waist, pressing your body closer against him. “i was kind of hoping you’d ask,” he mumbled, slightly embarrassed. you snuggled closer to his chest, feeling utmost comfort as he rubbed your back gently.

“i know.”

❀

sukuna

not even ten minutes in trying to sleep on the said couch, sukuna had already carried you back towards your shared bedroom.

“but-“

“no.”

he put you on the bed gently, then he draped a blanket over as he tucked you in. sukuna has that look of a man who’s determined in keeping you there, and you already knew it’s a fight you could not win thus, you turned for another plan instead: pouting.

even until he got beside you as he rested his big hand on your stomach, you refused to look at him, crossing your hands in front of your chest. he sighed, “give me one good reason i should let you sleep out there,” he said exasperatedly. “cause i want some me time?” you claimed. even you weren’t sure why you’re battling him so hard on this.

“then have it here in this bed with me. you’ll get all cold later and cling to me later anyways. i’m just speeding up the process.” he replied, already closing his eyes.

“what a strange way of saying you couldn’t sleep without me,” you said, with a grin on your face. the feeling of his thumb moving against your skin brought you immense comfort, your impulsive plan long forgotten.

“if you already knew that then quit making it harder for me, brat.”

❀

toji

he stared at you who’s already making yourself comfortable on the couch, amused. “looking cozy there,” he said with a grin, a face of someone who’s up to no good. “yeah, it’s actually not ba-“ the sentence was cut off was your own squeal, toji had picked you up as he took your lying down position and put you top of him.

“you could’ve just asked first!” you fumed, hitting his bicep—which did more to you and it did him, how could one even get their muscle to be as hard as that? he just chuckled in response, putting a hand around your waist. “sorry doll, got too excited,” he said lazily, already seemed all happy, like he had all he needed.

and he did, with you close to him resting your head on his chest, knowing that you loved counting his heartbeat. the man was truly content.

“we really should get a bigger couch,” you mumbled. we should get everything you wanted, toji thought. but it’d be a bit much to say in the moment so instead he just continued rubbing your sides until you dozed off, plunging into the dream land.

“sleep.”

❀

suguru

“whatcha got there baby?” he asked, an easy smile on his face. there’s really no day with you where you didn’t make him tilt his head questioningly. “’m going to sleep here tonight,” you said, fluffing the pillow before lying down on it comfortably.

“okay, where’s mine then?”

“your what?”

“my pillow. you didn’t bring mine along yours?”

“oh well i just thought you’d want to sleep in the bed anyway?” you replied, and suguru looked like you just insulted him deeply. the couch dipped, he then lied down beside you on the same pillow, making him extra close as he embraced you. “i sleep where you sleep baby, you make me this way. i can no longer rest when i don’t get to hold you close like this,” he said softly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

you have a big smile on your face as he said this, inhaling his familiar scent as you put your arms around him. “that better not be a complaint,” you said, cuddling closer to the man.

“never.” he kissed your temple.

❀

choso

it seriously look like it killed him when he had to walk away from the room, leaving you to sleep by yourself on the couch. his steps were excruciatingly slow, taking as much time as he could in case you changed your mind.

“cho?” you almost laughed looking at the way he perked up, a hopeful expression on his face. “can you turn off the light on your way?” and it almost felt too cruel the way the sparkle on his eyes dimmed, his shoulders beyond slumped. he then practically had to drag his own feet before letting out a small nod.

you chuckled, couldn’t keep up with the teasing anymore. “i’m kidding baby, do you wanna get in here?” you lifted up the blanket, patting the empty space next to you. it was the fastest you’ve ever seen him, as he’s beside you in no time.

he clinged to you tightly, like he’s making sure as much of his skin made contact with yours, a satisfied smile on his face. his hair tickled your neck nicely, as you traced the area below his eye with back of your finger.

“next time you want something just ask, cho.”

[mggslover]

spencer and readers first fight ! can you possiblyyyy do something along the lines of spencer said something sassy/petty/mean which results in reader giving spencer the silent treatment and he crashes out begging for her to speak to him 🤓☝🏼

your first fight with spencer genre: slight angst, fluff word count: 1,7k a/n: i've been so excited to write this one! honestly way too long for a drabble, but i hope you enjoy it

“That’s okay. Your mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend a concept like this."

Spencer didn’t understand the gravity of his words before you huffed out a sigh, placing your hands on your knees as you lifted yourself up from the spot next to him on the couch. His eyes followed your body as you walked straight toward your shared bedroom, opening the door before shutting it behind you with a bang. The click of the lock echoed through the now silent living room.

Spencer sat frozen in place, his gaze fixed on the door as if you’d magically reappear in front of him.

Everything about your body language hinted at you being angry, but he couldn’t grasp why. He replayed the situation back in his head in an effort to decipher the reason.

You had cheerfully greeted him when he entered the apartment. He’d been away on a case for several days, not having had the time to speak to you over the phone or give you any updates on how he was doing.

As much as he preferred keeping clear boundaries between his personal and professional life, Spencer couldn’t resist telling you the details of some of his cases when coming home. Not when the psychology behind the unsubs fascinated him so much. And especially not when you eagerly pulled him toward the couch, pushing him down onto the soft cushions as you handed him a cup of freshly brewed coffee, ready to hear about his day.

You sat cross-legged in front of him, eyes twinkling with admiration as he told you about today’s case. He explained how he discovered a pattern in the way the unsub took his captives, using the numbers 11235 — the first five numerals in the Fibonacci sequence.

He noticed the frown forming between your brows as he got into more detail.

“Can you explain that to me? I don’t get it,” you asked.

“That’s okay. Your mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend a concept like this.”

Spencer wasn’t lying. He remembered how his coworkers had blankly stared at him when he analyzed his theory — how Emily made eye contact with JJ, their silent looks saying there he goes again, and how Hotch had to cut him off to tell him to get to the point. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to explain it to you, he just didn’t see the point in doing so, not when he knew this was a connection only he could understand.

After a couple of minutes, there was still radio-silence. Spencer got up and walked to the bedroom, knocking softly on the door. “Angel? Can you open up for me?”

“Just go away, Spencer.”

Your voice cracked, like you had been crying, and the sound made his heart sink.

“Please open the door so we can talk. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong?” Your scoff vibrated through the door. “I don’t even want to talk to you if you can’t understand what’s wrong.”

Spencer swallowed hard, his hands turning clammy. He didn’t like confrontations and especially not with you. You’d never fought before. Rationally, he knew fights weren’t necessarily a bad thing — conflicts usually stemmed from deeper fears and feelings that get triggered, and confronting these feelings could lead to creating an even stronger bond. But right now, all he wanted was to turn back time and make sure those words never left his mouth.

His mind blanked in situations like these, so the only logical fix he could come up with was to call Derek.

“Hey,” Spencer spoke through the phone, balancing the device between his ear and shoulder as he nervously paced through the living room.

“Hey man. What’s up?”

“I messed up.”

Morgan’s chuckle sounded through the speaker. “Our genius making a mistake. Who would’ve thought the day would come?”

Spencer sighed, losing his patience. “It’s serious.”

Derek paused before responding. “Alright, slow down. Tell me what happened.”

Spencer repeated the conversation for what felt like the hundredth time that day, his guilt accumulating with each repetition. He gulped when he heard Derek take a sharp inhale at the other side of the line. He could almost see him shaking his head.

“Okay,” Derek began. “Now listen to me. When it comes down to it, all women are the same, they just need some loving and appreciation. Go buy her some flowers before the store closes.”

Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. He glanced one last time at the still-locked bedroom door before heading out.

Thankfully, Spencer’s apartment was close to downtown. He hurried into the first flower shop that he spotted, his eyes scanning the bouquets until they landed on a pair of bright colored lilies. The outer corners of the petals shone with a radiant shade of pink, fading into a soft white at the center.

He cleared his throat as he placed the flowers on the counter. “Can I have these, please?”

The woman behind the counter started wrapping them in pink paper, reaching out for lint to tie a bow. “Trouble in paradise?”

Spencer blinked, not often experiencing someone seeing right through him. Besides his coworkers. And you.

“Ya know, I see so many men come in here on the daily. You can just tell they got in trouble with their lady; sweating bullets and rushing to pick a bouquet the second before the store closes.” She twirled the bouquet in her hand as she pulled on the strings of the lint bow. “At least you picked a nice one.”

“Do-,” Spencer hesitated, his voice softening in an uncertain whisper. “Will she forgive me after this?”

“Depends on what ya did,” she answered with a lift of her shoulders. “What I can tell you is that flowers don’t do much fixing.”

Damn it, Derek.

The florist turned around, rummaging through a drawer, before pulling out an envelope and sliding it across the counter.

“Write,” she stated in a single syllable. “We need words. We need to know that you care, and we need you to put more effort into it than paying ten dollars.”

With a new plan in mind, Spencer hurried home. The apartment was still silent when he returned, the door firmly closed and no signs of you having left the bedroom. He sighed and made his way to his desk, shoving aside piles of books and papers until he had enough space to write. He opened the envelope the florist had given him, and carefully pulled out a sheet of blank stationary.

My Lover Dearest,

It is ironic that I have read so much poetry and so many books in my life, and yet I cannot find the words to describe how much you mean to me.

Sometimes, I find it difficult to believe that someone as wonderful as you would want to be with me. That I’m allowed to deserve the love that you give me.

My mind works in strange ways, and as much as you’ve praised me for it, it can work as a curse as well. I am scared to overwhelm you, to talk your ears off (which would be a shame, because you have beautiful ears) to the point that you grow tired of me.

I never had the intention to cause you pain, or to initiate that you’re any less brilliant than you are. You are the brightest part of my life. I feel grateful every time I get to talk to you, and I would love nothing more than to explain any concept you’d want me to. I’m sorry for not having understood that before.

I love you. I love you. I have been wanting to tell you this in a special way, please know that I am not just saying this to ask for your forgiveness. I love you.

Sincerely, Spencer

The clock chimed 03.00 a.m. by the time Spencer finished his letter. His hand ached and he could barely keep his eyes open as he stumbled to the bedroom door. He turned the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. With a resigned sigh he slid the letter under the door and sat down against it. It didn’t take long for exhaustion to overtake him.

The repeated knocking of the door against his back woke him.

“Spencer?”

Your voice sounded like a siren, and he instantly scrambled away from the door, allowing you to open it fully.

You stood there, holding the envelope in your hand as your eyes softened when you glanced over him, mouth forming a small oh. “What are you doing here?” you asked in worry.

“The door was locked,” he answered, voice still hoarse from sleep.

A curse escaped your lips as you pressed your hands against your face. “I am so sorry. I must have fallen asleep with the door still locked.”

Spencer’s lips lifted into a small smile, relieved that you hadn’t locked him out intentionally. “It’s okay. Orthopedists actually recommend sleeping on the floor from time to time. Sleeping on a hard surface encourages a more natural position for your spine, which can reduce back pain. It even strengthens certain muscles, so the pressure on your body evens out. As a matter of fact, anthropological studies have shown that-”

He stopped mid-ramble, blushing when he noticed the faint smile tugging on your lips.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’ll stop,”

“Don’t you ever stop,” you replied as you lowered yourself on the ground next to him. You reached for his hands, placing them into your lap.

Spencer’s blush deepened, and he struggled to suppress a grin. Your encouragement reassured him, and he went on about groups in Japan and Tanzania who experience significantly lower rates of back pain due to their minimal use of furniture.

“Spencer,” you gently interrupted after a while.

He blinked at you, seeing the gleam in your eyes as you adoringly stared at him. “Hm?”

“I love you too.”

[deadsetobsessions]

He’s existed for an eternity. He will exist for longer than that. Danny Fenton’s ruled the Zone longer than he’s been fully alive, by a long shot. Still half alive.

Immortal. He can’t die- not when he’s already half dead- and his age stays and stays stagnated. Un-aging. True immortality, unlike the claims of those newborn gods who borrow power from a deeper force than even they could comprehend.

A god dies when there are none left to venerate them. Danny dies when death ceases to be reality, which in itself is death…

It’s easy, once his mortal life had faded far away. He slips into roles- protection, of course, never forgotten- and traipses around to live in universes even as he kills them by simply existing. One day, a little fairy catches his eyes. It fluttered about meaninglessly, gathering dew drops and sap. It taught him two lessons.

“Why do you work yourself so?” Death had asked the little fairy.

The little fairy, only seeing the facade of a placid young boy that Death had donned to imitate the days where he was fully alive, had answered fearlessly. “I enjoy the work! My court needs those supplies, and I’m happy being able to help while doing something I love.”

“Oh.” Danny remembered being like that once. It was why his essence thrummed with Protection, even in Death. He had forgotten, even as a halfa, how to be alive. He knew how to be living, but he’d forgotten how to be alive.

Still, the boy had another question.

“Are you not afraid of me?” He’d met people like these before, on the rare occasions he personally guided souls, and they were unflinching in his presence.

“No, you are just a child. Say… won’t you tell me your name?”

“Danny,” Death answered truthfully. Death doesn’t like to lie. “Danny Fenton.”

“Danny-” the little fae freezes, malicious grin falling from its face as it trembled like the blades of grass it stole dew from. “No- no, no! Why- why can’t I take your name?!”

“I am also known as Death,” Danny admitted, watching as the fairy’s magic imploded on itself. One could not own death. He learns a lesson that day too. If he disguises himself, if death is disguised as harmlessness, as just ‘one more’, as an object of greed, those living would happily run towards Death himself.

As the little buzzing fae backed away, the flowers on its extremities withered. Danny caught its wrist before it could dart away.

“Tell the ruler of your court to come,” Danny said gently, ectoplasm easing away from the trembling little thing.

“Yes, yes, please, I will.” Danny released the fluttering thing and bid it leave.

----

"That's how you met Oberon?"

Danny laughed, plucking the little Robin from a jump and shadowing to the ledge two buildings ahead.

"Not so, little sparrow. That was how I met Tatiana."

"The queen?!"

"The queen. Remember this, if nothing else, when you play with Royalty, there is very little they wouldn't stoop to in order to ensure their wants."

"Okay. Does that include you too?"

See? Danny knew the little sparrow was smart, somewhere beneath that fanboy-driven dumbassery.

"Yes."

"Soooo... what do you want, Danny?"

"To know what it is to live again. Death tends to be cold, you see."

"...Can I help?"

A flash of fangs, a slow, meaningful smile. "You are already helping, little sparrow. Even your Bats are helping. I have not felt joy in centuries."

"Oh."

Robin's comms buzzed. "Ask him about how he met Oberon, Timsy!" Jason's voice came through loud and clear to Danny.

"Oberon?" Danny cut in, enjoying the vibrant activity his chosen nightlife observed. "Oh, I beat him at poker. Actually, I own a quarter of his palace."

[tojirights]

I'm sure we've all the "Alastor in a rut" fics but can I mix it up a little and request Alastor in a rut and so needy he's willing to give reader control?

a/n: omg baby's first rut, spawned by his attraction to you and he doesn't know how to get it to stop so he asks for help? :'))) i am def a subby person but every now and then i can write our mens being the needy ones ��

tags: 18+ smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, alastor cums a lot

you had an unexpected knock at your door late at night after you'd already gotten into bed, and at first you ignore it. then, it happens again. you groan and throw off the blanket, about to get up when alastor appears from the shadows next to your feet.

you go to scream, not even able to comprehend who or what is grabbing you in the darkness, but there's a hand covering your mouth before you can do so. there's also something... stiff hitting your back. you calm when you recognize the hand and you take a deep breath when he removes it. "what the hell alastor?" you whisper-yell, spinning around to face him. you barely recognize the demon standing in front of you.

he's disheveled, shuddering, and looks completely exhausted. he's in what you assume he sleeps in, which is an interesting looking robe. "al?" you frown, reaching out to touch him but he grabs your wrist before you can. "please, darling... for your own good, be careful with your next move..." even his voice is shaky. your eyes finally catch his, and you gasp when you see the deep, dark desire seeping through them.

“i need… need you.” he speaks, still breathless and you’re sure you’ve never heard something so sexy. your eyes widen, taking in the fact that alastor's cock is what was poking you when he grabbed you. alastor has barely said anything other than a quick casual sexual remark in your direction the entire time you've been here at the hotel, and now he's asking for your help.

"o-oh um... yes! i mean-" you speak way too fast, embarrassing yourself with how fast you're interested in 'helping' alastor. before you can say anything else, alastor's lips meet yours and you're instantly melting against him. he steps backwards until he's falling flat onto the bed, tugging you on top of him. your hips straddle his, and the friction against his cock has him arching into you. you swear he whines when you grind your hips, that you can feel his cock pulsing under the small layer of clothing.

you've heard of demons going into a rut, but you've never seen alastor acting quite like this. his hair is stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his ears stand more alert. he physically looks... needy. and his breathy pants beneath you only spark your desire to help. you decide to push your luck just a little bit and interlock your fingers with his before pushing them above his head and holding them there while you rub against him.

alastor looks mad at first, that you dare try to pin him down, but the second he feels the sweet drag of your cunt over his barely clothed cock, he almost cums. "please." you're not sure alastor's ever begged for... anything before, but his pleas make your core pulse, heat pooling between your legs. "mmm, please what?" you smirk, watching frustration bubble up in his eyes. "please- i just... i need to be inside of you." he sighs, not putting up as much fuss as you thought.

you hold back a moan of your own, wanting to maintain some semblance of control over alastor, since you're sure this won't happen again. "ah~ good boy." you coo, again watching as something flashes in his eyes that's a mixture of anger and lust. "need you, darling." he pleads, grinding his aching erection against you. biting your lip, you tug off your shirt and wiggle your hips enough to slide down your sleep shorts. "make me cum." he gasps, giving into every carnal desire flooding his system.

as soon as the head of his cock presses against your pussy, he's trying to push you to take it all. "ah ah..." you warn, once more reaching to pin his hands above his head. "i will make you cum. don't move." your tone is strict, and alastor hates how much it makes his cock throb. he'll get you back for this brazen attitude at a later date...

for now, all he can think about is emptying every last drop of his seed deep within your sweet, wet cunt. after an agonizingly slow descent, you find yourself fully sat on his cock. alastor's eyes are shut, his chest heaving as every breath he's holding back the urge to cum. "hey al..." you whisper, leaning down so your nose touches his. alastor swallows, his hips wiggling ever so slightly. "y-yes darling?" he shudders, feeling every inch of your pussy squeezing around his leaking cock.

"cum as many times as you need..." the hitch in his breath is so audible, and all the tension in his body snaps like a twig. "you-" he gasps, legs spasming as he tries not to lose it just yet. "-don't know what you're getting yourself into." it's a warning, and you know that, but your cunt clenches at the idea of spending the rest of the night like this. "use me." you murmur, watching as alastor's eyes roll into the back of his head.

the groan that follows is primal, and you give in to his thrusts from below you. the force pushes you forward, your chest flat against his, every thrust upwards pushes more and more of his seed so deep inside of you. and even with his cock nuzzled deep against your cervix, the amount of cum seeps down his cock and covers your inner thighs.

you expect alastor to look worn out, but he looks even hungrier now. wasting little time, alastor flips the two of you so you're now under him. "now then..." he begins, his head slightly clearer now and he's not going to tolerate your behavior from earlier. "i think i like you beneath me a whole lot better, dear." you bite your lip and smile, mischief forming in your eyes. "i like this too."

the look in alastor's eyes tells you that you won't be getting any more sleep tonight.

[rs-hawk]

Hippe ties herself to a large, ancient tree, not knowing it's a god?

Changing this just slightly to be about Ancient Forest spirit but so cute. This is canonically how y'all met now <3

Happy Earth Day: Post One

When you had found out that the large tree in the center of the forest was one of the trees set to be cut down for the new housing development in the area, you finally decided to do something. For years you had complained about the way that the forests in the area had been systematically destroyed, but you had never done anything about it. Never protested or told someone who could actually do something about it. That was going to change today.

After work, you let your boss know that you wouldn’t be in for a few days. He laughed when you explained that you were going to protest the new construction, and warned you that if someone didn’t cover your shifts, you’d be fired. For once, that didn’t deter you. You had to do something. You managed to convince a few coworkers to cover your shifts so the next morning, you packed two backpacks and made your way up to the tree.

It wasn’t a long hike, but decent enough that you were sweating by the time you got there. When you finally did, you leaned against the tree, running your hands cover the rough bark.

“Hey buddy. I’m not gonna let them cut you down,” you murmured to it, pressing your forehead to the bark.

After a few moments you stood up and began to get the chain you had brought with you out. You laced it around the base of the tree trunk, then weaved it around your hips before locking it. The key was settled on a chain around your neck that settled between your breasts.

That day when the construction company came, they rolled their eyes at your protest, saying they’d come back the next day and you better be gone.

You weren’t going anywhere.

That night, you settled against the tree, still chained to it. However, in the low moonlight that broke through the leafy canopy, you felt shifting behind you. Your mind don’t fully comprehend what was happening as you felt long, sharp claws caressing your skin. Hot, scaled flesh pressed against your back. Warm, wet breath on your neck and face.

“What the,” you yawned as you slowly began to wake up, blinking slowly as your eyes adjusted to the low light.

Something that felt like a tongue ran up your neck, making you shiver as goosebumps sprang up on your skin. The hot saliva turned cool quickly in the late night air. Just as you were starting to try to wrap your head around what was going on, a low, rumbling voice filled the air.

"Your kind have long forgotten me, and yet you guard me with your flesh, risking your own blood to be spilt instead of my roots being upended. Why?"

There was a tremble in your voice. You knew that whatever was using the tree as a disguise, or was somehow able to be the tree, was ancient. More ancient than anything you had even thought of, much less been in the presence of. "They wanted to tear you down, but it's not right. This tree has been here for thousands of years. This is the last old growth tree in the whole state. I can't... I can't just let them keep tearing up and destroying the forest without trying to do something."

A low, purr like sound came from the creature behind you. It was clearly pleased with the idea of you wanting to protect it. "So, you are one of the rare ones, hm? Willing to risk yourself for what you believe in? To protect those who cannot protect themselves?"

"I wouldn't say that," you said, your face warm from a flush that ever so slightly darkened your face.

It chuckled, nosing your neck again as it drew you closer, grinding a large length of cock against your back, the chains that attached you to it rattling. "You are so different from the others that come here, little human. You make me wonder if perhaps your species is worth saving."

You don't have time to respond as it tugs down your shorts roughly, pushing your panties to the side. When had you gotten so wet? The creature chuckled, adjusting his massive length to be sliding between your thighs, smearing your arousal along your inner thighs.

“Or maybe… you’re just the one worth saving,” it chuckled in your ear, his scales scraping against your cheek as he leaned in, his tongue curling around your ear, sliding inside ever so slightly.

You definitely were not going to unchain yourself anytime soon.

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[purinfelix]

walking 'cross the campus - n. riki ⋆˚࿔

summary: one too many drinks lands you in the arms of a handsome stranger, who you suddenly end up confessing to - but given that you've never met before, it shouldn't be too big a deal, right? ─────── college au niki x reader || warnings: alcohol, reader being a sappy and kinda cringey drunk, fluffy awkwardness, tension || w/c: 2.5k

a/n: i fear the Niki brainrot is taking over me lately (blame my younger sister whos a niki bias and who has just been influencing me LOLLL) also not that anyone gafs but i actually had this fic idea for a formula one driver originally but never finished it so i recycled it .... hope u guys enjoy !!!!

Maybe this party hadn't been a good idea.

It had certainly seemed like it a couple of days ago when you'd decided to go, despite the assignments and readings piling up on your never-ending to-do list. Even a couple of hours ago, when you were there and enjoying yourself quite a bit, it hadn't seemed too bad an idea. But now, as you heard back to your dorm, barely able to keep your head up or your eyes open after enjoying yourself a little too much, you were starting to regret your decision

And it didn't help that you were being carried bridal-style by the most attractive guy you'd seen all year.

"What did you say your name was again?" you slurred, trying your best to stay awake in his arms.

"Niki," he says, his voice deeper than you were expecting, "though I doubt you'll remember that tomorrow morning." You watch as he chuckles to himself softly, eyes fixed on the stairs he's carrying you up.

"Huh- why?"

"Do you even remember how many drinks you had?"

"I stopped counting after," you unloop your hands from around his neck to count on your fingers, "eight?"

He lets out a small sigh, followed by a shake of his head, as if he's tired of you. But as he does, there's a ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth, almost as if he's trying not to laugh. "And that's if you can even call the shit in those solo cups 'drinks'. You're braver than I am, trusting frat boys with what you put in your mouth."

You let out a quiet hiccup before speaking in a high, giggly tone, "That sounds dirty." As you lay your head back on his broad chest, you can feel him laugh under his breath.

"Is this your floor?"

You nod, despite having absolutely no idea where you are - surely you can trust your past self to have been stupid enough to tell a total stranger where your dorm is, especially one as good-looking as this.

"I won't forget you," you hum happily, fighting the weight of your eyelids to look up at him, though he just looks ahead, brows furrowed as he tries to find your room.

"And why is that?"

"Well, you're so nice for doing this," you pause, a playful smile spreading across your face, "plus, you're not bad to look at, I don't think I could forget a face like this if I tried."

Without thinking, one of your hands comes up to cup his jaw, pulling him to look at you. Without your hands around his neck, his grip on you slips- and it doesn't help that your words, actions, and the sudden eye contact have caught him completely off guard.

"Wh-careful!" He scolds you with a soft hiss as he quickly repositions his hands to keep you upright.

"Oops!" you hic, unable to comprehend just how much of a hassle you're being right now, but still aware enough to catch the pink flush across his cheeks as he lets out a sigh of relief at the sight of the door with your name on it.

"Key?" he asks, somewhat impatiently, and you clumsily fumble around in your pocket for them before slamming them into his open palm. You hear the familiar sound of your dorm door opening and soon, the cool feeling of your plush bedsheets.

"There you go," he hums softly as he lays you down, though your grip on his neck doesn't loosen.

"Hey, mister," you huff through pouted lips.

"Yes, missus?" He replies in a tone that's equal parts amused and endeared, despite how exhausted he must be with you.

"I think..." you pause to reposition yourself, widening your eyes and pulling him close as if to force him to see the earnest expression on your face, "I think I might love you."

You don't have time to hear his response because you're passed out stone-cold the next second, and the only thing you hear is quiet shuffling followed by the soft click of your dorm door shutting.

The next morning hits you like a truck. Hard.

Your head throbs as you peel it off your pillow, and your mouth feels like sandpaper as you let out a croaky groan. You squeeze your eyes shut, lying there for a few moments and slowly, memories from last night trickle in.

Loud music, sticky floors, flashing lights, one drink, two, six - after that, nothing, a complete blank. Though if you try hard enough to can conjure up the faint memory of someone's hands on the small of your back, and yours around their neck.

You try not to overthink it, sitting up slowly and glancing around your room for any signs of damage. Everything looks normal enough, no carelessly thrown clothes or items belonging to anyone other than you.

With a painful stretch, you reach for your phone, which is neatly waiting for you on your bedside table. All it takes is one look at the time to force you out of bed in a rush - class starts in 20 minutes, great.

You do your best to slip into class unnoticed, making a beeline for your usual spot at the back with your hoodie over your head, sunglasses shoved onto your face to protect you from the harsh overhead lights. You think you've succeeded and start to rummage through your bag for your laptop when you notice someone drop into the seat next to you.

At first, you don't think anything of it, but curiosity forces you to attempt to glance at him over the top of your glasses. He's handsome, there's no doubt about it - he has a sort of boyish charm that you can sense from the way he's lounging in the seat, dark hair falling over his sharp features. It almost irritates you how put-together he looks for how early in the morning it is.

Then you realise he's looking right at you, with an amused smirk spread across his face that makes your heart unexpectedly flutter and your stomach twist.

"Rough night?" he asks, his voice deeper than you expected as he gestures to your sunglasses. His eyes don't leave yours, and there's a mischievous glint in them as he speaks.

You blink. "Uhm... yeah?"

He lets out a low laugh, and you can't help but feel like there's something more going on here that you're not quite getting. "You don't remember much, do you?" he drawls through a smile as he leans back, eyes raking over you.

"Should I?"

"Figured," he laughs, low and teasing, instead of answering your question.

You narrow your eyes at him, chewing on your bottom lip as you struggle to place him - he looks familiar, somewhat, but you're sure you'd remember meeting someone like him before. He certainly doesn't have a face you'd see every day around campus, so you're pretty sure you've never spoken to him before.

"I'm Niki," he offers casually, but as he does, a pang of deja vu hits you, and you don't get long to wonder why before he speaks again. "We kind of met last night."

You feel your stomach drop. Kind of?

"You were at the party?" you blurt out in surprise.

"Yeah, you were a mess," he says, the corners of his lip quirking into an entertained smile.

You're unable to hold back from letting out a mortified groan, hiding your face in your hands - partially to hide your blush but mostly because you can't stand to meet his eye right now. "Please tell me I didn't throw up on anyone or anything," you whine out.

"No puke, don't worry," he assures, "but you did need a little help getting home.

You peek at him through a gap in your fingers. "Who by?" you ask, speaking slowly as if you don't really want to know the answer.

He gestures to himself, a smug grin growing on his face. "Yours truly."

"You drove me?"

"Carried," he corrects.

"Carried?!"

"Bridal style, actually, the entire way."

Your eyes almost pop out of your head from how wide you open them, and all he does is tilt his head to get a better look at your reaction to what he's just said - almost as if he's savouring it. "Oh my god," you sigh, "I am so sorry."

"Don't be," he shrugs calmly, bringing up a hand to run through his hair, "you were pretty entertaining compared to that boring party."

"What exactly did I do?" You feel your chest tighten as you ask, wincing at the endless possibilities of ways you might've embarrassed yourself.

"You don't want to know," he scoffs, turning away from you.

"No, I really do," you insist, despite your better judgement telling you that you were probably better off blissfully ignorant.

He leans back in, dropping his voice to a low tone that feels like it's a secret just for the two of you. "Let's just say you were very ... affectionate."

You blink, unsure of how to respond. "Affectionate?" you echo.

"Yep," he says, and it irritates you just how unaffected he seems by all of this. "You told me you loved me, and I have to say it was pretty convincing."

He turns to you, watching with a playful glint in his eye as you struggle to comprehend his words. If he feels bad for teasing you, he certainly doesn't show it, instead continuing with a taunting tone. "Practically begged me not to leave."

You feel your face burn hot with frustration as you furrow your brows. "You're lying," you insist.

"Maybe," he shrugs, "guess you'll just have to trust me."

"Okay, just tell me I didn't, like, cling to you or anything."

He raises an eyebrow, attempting to fight a smile as he speaks. "Define cling."

You let out a guttural groan of embarrassment, pulling your hood down to hide your face again. "I am never drinking again," you sigh dramatically, your voice partially muffled by it.

"Aww, c'mon, I kinda liked that side of you," you hear him taunt, "it was cute."

"I hate you," you huff curtly, flicking back your hoodie to meet his eye, though the pink blush spreading across your cheeks betrays your words.

"That's not what you were saying last night," he chuckles to himself, turning back to his laptop and focusing his attention back to the lecture which, at this point, is almost over. You feel your frustration grow at the sight of him pretending he actually cares about it, as if he hasn't just dropped an earth-shatteringly embarrassing bomb on you.

You try to do the same, to make an effort to show just how much his words aren't affecting you, how totally normal you are about what he's just revealed - or more the thought of what he's still hiding. But you can't. Even as you try to focus on what your professor is saying, you can't seem to comprehend a single word. All you can think about is the boy sitting next to you, about the faint memories you have and how every single one aligns horrifyingly with what he's told you.

You're so lost in these memories in fact that you don't notice him leaning close to you again, not until his low voice hums in your ear.

"You really don't remember anything?"

You jump slightly, turning just enough to catch his eye, which is a lot closer than you're expecting - close enough that you can see the slight hint of worry in his expression. "Not a thing," you sigh curtly.

"That's a shame," he says, clicking his tongue as he shifts back in his seat, flicking his hair in the opposite direction as if to avoid your eye "I was starting to think you meant it." By how exaggeratedly he sighs, you can tell he's meaning to poke fun at you, but the slight waver in his voice betrays him, and instead, you sense just a tinge of disappointment in his words.

"So, what now?" you mumble, shifting awkwardly in your seat, "Do I owe you a thank-you or something?"

He tilts his head back to you, round eyes lighting up despite the rest of his face clearly trying to convey nonchalance. "I wouldn't say no to a coffee."

You narrow your eyes at him, "You're not trying to ask me out, are you?"

He stiffens slightly at your words, but is quick to cover it up before speaking again. "Would you say yes?"

You open your mouth, then close it, unsure of what to say in response. He's caught you off guard for what feels like the millionth time this morning - not by what he's asked, but rather by how not casual he sounds for once. In the time you take to process his question, you get a chance to study him, searching for a sign. One that tells you that he's just messing with you, that this is all an elaborate prank and that the previous night didn't actually happen the way he says it did.

But instead, you get something completely different, something unexpected. You watch as his eyes suddenly flicker away from yours, and he turns his attention to fiddling with the several rings on his fingers, as if he's trying to act like he hasn't just asked whether you'd consider a date with him.

That's when it clicks - he's nervous.

The guy who witnessed you make a total embarrassment of yourself last night, whom you drunkenly confessed to and whom has been doing nothing but teasing you and basking in your flustered responses for the past hour, is nervous.

You're unable to stop your lips from twitching into a small smile at the feeling of the tension suddenly flipping. "Maybe," you answer, trying to mirror his calm tone.

He glances at you again, something flickering across his face that slightly resembles hope, maybe relief, as he bites back a wide smile. "I'll take that."

The lecture finally draws to an end, and you watch as he stands up, grabbing his bag swiftly before turning to you. He's failing at hiding his smirk, but now it lacks the same smug self-assurance you found irritating just a couple of minutes ago, and you swear you see him hesitate for just a second before speaking.

"Think about it," his voice is lower now, almost careful, "and then if that maybe becomes a yes, you know where to find me. Or, I guess, I know where to find you technically."

"That sounds stalker-ish," you scoff.

"Hey, you're the one who told me you loved me."

"Fair," you shrug, resigned. With another low chuckle, he's slipping out of the classroom - but not before sending you one last look, as if his eyes refuse to let yours go. He sends you a lazy grin, one that seems like an affirmation of everything that happened the previous night.

And now you're sitting there, heart beating a little faster than before, head still a little foggy with blurry memories - but not enough to fully miss everything that just happened.

'Think about it.'

You've never really noticed Niki before, not like this, but now with the memory of his low voice in your ear, his teasing gaze on yours and his inability to let you live anything down ever - you're definitely thinking about it.

taglist for ni-ki fics (love u!! <3) : @miniw0nz @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @charsworld96

[minkieater]

sleepy smg

smut minors dni | fem reader | 1.7k

mingi had always thought he was insatiable— late nights spent with his fist around his cock for hours while he was on tour, even longer nights buried inside you when he was home because he couldn’t get enough. he never thought twice how you always kept up with him, never stopped before he did, always begging for him to empty himself inside you again until you’d effectively milked him dry. 

he started to put two and two together, realizing your libido might be higher than his, and mingi can’t even comprehend how that’s possible. being together long enough for the honeymoon phase to be well over by now, mingi wonders if sex should be so… prominent still. 

not that he’s complaining. especially not when you’re perched on his lap, your lips sucking the skin just underneath his ear, your breath hot on his throat, how could he complain? 

ah, he just wishes he could do something about it besides react. his day was too fucking long, too strenuous, it took too much of his energy to do anything but groan out in relief. 

he could just tell you. you knew how hard his day was, he vented until he was too exhausted to use his vocal chords anymore, and you listened with focused, pointed eyes. you gave him your full attention, validated his feelings, as patient and empathetic as you always are— he wanted you so bad, a pang of guilt hit his chest when he realized he didn’t have it in him to pleasure you back. 

the back of his head hit the couch and you took it as your opportunity to lick up the column of his throat, dainty fingers slipping inside his shirt, dancing along his skin. he shivered as your hips rutted into his, and you smiled against him, “sensitive tonight, yeah?” 

he barely grumbled out a response, eyes already fluttered shut, lost in the small pleasures you were giving him— even more guilt piled up in his throat when he wanted more. 

“my tired boy,” you cooed, fingers coming up to cup his cheeks, placing a soft kiss on his lips. mingi didn’t open his eyes. it seems you know exactly what he was thinking, anyway. “want me to take care of you?”

his eyes cracked open, slits under his heavy lids, only able to let out a whispered “please.” 

a string of excitement lit you up like a christmas tree. with a smile on your face you were on your knees in seconds, stripping him of his jeans, tugging them down to the bend of his knees. mingi’s eyes closed again, his head a deadweight against the couch, lost in a cloud of delirium and arousal. he didn’t even have it in him to lift his hands. 

a whimper left his lips when yours touched his leaking cock. it stood tall, thick in your hands, your favorite meal. you smiled at the noise, loving the state he was in, so tired and heavy from the weight of his day, but so open and compliant for you, always. you took it slow, mouth working him slowly, ears on fire listening to the shameless noises that left his lips. 

moans sounding broken, as if they fought their way through his lips, lilting, melodic. a chorus filled the space of your living room from mingi’s lips and the wetness of your mouth, they joined in harmony to fill your ears, to spur mingi farther into the headspace you knew he loved to be in. 

your eyes caught his hands, thick fingers and calloused palms laid beside his thighs, lifeless and heavy as his fingers twitched with each stroke of your tongue. your fingers laced into them, conjoining you a second time, you gripped tight as his cock met the back of your throat. mingi choked out a moan, rich and piercing, his fingers straightening out against your own. 

you couldn’t laugh with your mouth full— but you would if you could. he let a curse slip through his lips as his hips bucked up, gagging you further, your eyebrows twisting to accommodate. with no hands, you forced yourself into a rhythm, the one that always made him cum quick. tongue pressed to the underside of his length, lips wet and swollen around him, mingi’s moans fell into staccato, telling you he was where you wanted him without speaking a word. 

with eyes screwed shut and eyebrows folded into one, you swallowed him down, every sip shooting directly down your throat. when you released him, cock softening and shrinking, you watched as his chest heaved— deep breaths with short exhales, his hands once again limp at his sides, you uncurled your fingers from his as he came down. 

his head rolled to the side, eyes opening just enough to watch you take your thumb to your bottom lip, wiping off the last remnants of saliva off your skin. his smile was lazy, small, a slight curl at the edges of his beautiful plump lips. “i fucking love you,” he muttered just loud enough for your ears to catch, voice hoarse and smoky, wafting into a cloud around you. 

“love you too, baby,” your voice is bright, endearing, bones cracking as you stand back up on two legs, he looked so tired you had half a mind to pull his pants back up for him. “let’s go to bed?” 

mingi gives you the smallest shake of his head. with all his might he pulls his pants back over his thighs, then leans forward to grab your waist, fingers settling onto your hips as he maneuvers you onto his lap. you lean down to kiss him sweetly on his lips and he deepens it immediately, tongue slipping into your mouth, fingertips tightening on your hips. you arch into him, not wanting to grind onto his softened cock, your job had been done already. you could get yourself off in the bathroom later, after he’d fallen asleep. 

“wanna make you feel good,” he mumbled into your mouth, voice still low and laced with the sleep he desperately needs. 

“there’s always tomorrow,” you grab his chin, pressing your forehead against his. he whines, making you giggle, but you don’t cave. “you’ll be so rested tomorrow, we can go at it all day.” 

“don’t act like you aren’t soaked right now,” his voice slips into something else; still deep, but coated with arousal instead, an underlying taste of demand that you weren’t expecting from him tonight. he uses his grip on your thighs to lift you, sliding his left thigh inward, then places you back down on top of his leg. “need to.” 

you blink at him, eyebrows furrowing just slightly with a question you didn’t need to ask. “need to see.” 

as if he got a second wind, his eyes were darker now, drenched in want as his cock grew again through the space of his undone zipper. one grind of your clothed cunt over his flexed thigh had your head falling forward, a sigh leaving your lips, your eyes screwed shut. the friction was much too needed to feel an ounce of embarrassment.

“feels good, right?” he encouraged, slipping into easily found dominance, guiding your hips against himself for you, as if you wouldn’t do it on your own. he couldn’t help himself, even if exhaustion was tugging on every one of his nerves he still wanted to see you fall apart. riding his thigh was easy, barely any work on his part, a win-win situation. 

he bounced his leg once, forcing you to grind on his thigh especially rough, the sharp intake of air you took was more reaction than necessity. “yeah, there we go,” his voice a jagged whisper, one corner of his lips curved up, tongue poking out to curl over his bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth. 

you caved too easily— you always did with mingi, whether you were in the comfort of your own home or in public, it never took much convincing. ignoring the pull of his fingers you worked yourself into a rhythm of your own, wetness threatening to soak through the thin pair of sleep shorts clinging to your lower half. 

he kept his thigh flexed as you reangled your hips just right, tipping forward with your back arched so your clit dragged against the strength of his thigh, catching on the texture of his pants. the pleasure was like a kettle, starting off slow, steady, until the heat began to boil, the whistle at its peak sounding scarily close to you right now. 

“yes, make a fuckin’ mess on me,” he hissed, palms dancing over your hips now, eyes glued to where you met. “wanna see a stain when you’re done.” 

your eyes screwed shut, a hah tumbling from your lips, nails clawing into his shoulders. you worked yourself faster, grinded impossibly harder, rips of needy mewls cracking from your lungs. “feels so fucking good,” you nearly force out, you knew he loved your words just as much as you loved his. 

“cum for me, then.” an order, one he barked out because he knew you were teetering on the edge, with a few more rolls against his thigh you were obeying, unraveling all over him. shameless humps against his leg like a dog in heat, you rocked yourself through it, and he moaned with you. 

your body slumped over his, your head on his chest as you both laid there for a minute, breaths heavy with exhaustion and post-orgasm haze. after a few, you hummed in comfort, eyes closed, “bed now?”

mingi groaned, his body feeling too heavy, “don’t wanna walk all the way in there.” 

a sound of amusement left your nose, you both knew there was no other option. you got up first, slowly peeling your body off of his, standing on your legs that still thrummed with your orgasm. 

mingi stayed put, his lips twisted into a cocky smile, eyes trained on his thigh. you followed his gaze, a stain clear on his pants, a deeper shade of a non-symmetrical shape in the center of his thigh. he looked up at you, amusement in his eyes, “you’re such a good listener.” 

you roll your eyes, the heat of slight embarrassment in your cheeks, “shut up, it’s bedtime for you.” 

you watched as mingi changed his clothes after trudging to the bedroom, his socks sliding against the floor the whole way there, he fell asleep next to you nearly as soon as his head hit the pillow, still sporting a half-chub. you fell asleep with a smile on your face, knowing you’d wake up with him spreading your legs.

[heartyluv]

love your blog so dang much 🫶🫶🫶 may I request protective Sylus who is there to prevent reader from harm in a sticky situation? (circumstances completely up to you) 💕

Note: Ahhhh, I can’t thank you enough. Making you happy makes me happy! I wasn’t too sure how to go about this, but I think it ended up coming out pretty decent. I hope you think so. It’s actually longer than I anticipated, too. Enjoy!

Warning: Shooting, Sylus kills someone, Gross man touches and hits you. Sylus arrives in time so nothing graphic happens, but please, still read with caution.

Word Count: 2,333

Sylus/Reader

“It’s not too late to change your mind. I can figure out how to get what I need another way.”

“I know you can. But I know I can do this for you.” You take hold of your worrying boyfriend’s hand, caressing his knuckles gently with your thumb.

“In and out, do you understand?” He says gruffly, concern etched in his tone. You look to Sylus with full attention, comprehending and digesting all of his words. “Do not compromise yourself and do not put yourself in unnecessary danger.”

“Just because I don’t care to do something a certain way, doesn’t mean it won’t be done in order to keep you safe,” he says firmly before taking your hand and sliding a small ruby red ring onto your thumb. “Do not hesitate to press this should you need me.”

When you offered to help your boyfriend complete a job, of course his first and immediate response was no. You weren’t trained, nor did he want you to be apart of this kind of aspect of his life. He was the one who got his hands dirty, who lied and manipulated who he needed to in order to get things done—not you. But you begged him.

You begged him so much, promised that you could help. You just wanted to feel useful. You wanted Sylus to know how much you really had his back, how dedicated you are to him. You wanted to prove yourself.

But he didn’t need you to do that because Sylus knew how much he could trust you and how much you cared for him. He was your protector and letting you do this goes against everything he stands for when it comes to keeping you safe. It was with complete reluctance when he finally caved and said yes to letting you enter a party undercover. It was only because he truly saw how much you were bothered and came to understand how important it was to you to be useful despite it being unnecessary in his eyes

It’s a fairly simple job. You’re to retrieve documents relating to the operations of an arms dealer trying to climb the ranks to surpass a top businessman like your boyfriend.

He wasn’t a threat, but Sylus handled his business in a way that never allowed something with potential to solidify. Knowing what this man was going for, who he was working with, and his plans, was all he needed to squash his business before it could really get off the ground.

You look down at the short tight black dress you put on, feeling slightly uncomfortable because not only did you not tend to wear clothes like this, but you were wearing it to flaunt yourself in order to gain the arms dealer’s, Mikael’s, attention.

Sylus’ main reason as to why he was allowing you to do this because he would be out here waiting for you with Luke and Kieran, ready to wreak havoc if necessary. Admittedly, if you were able to go in and obtain the information he needed, it would make his life incredibly easy, but difficultly wasn’t a foreign concept to Sylus. If anything happens to you, going in with guns blazing wasn’t above him, even if it would cause some hiccups that he’d have to deal with. He had no other plan at the moment and you were his best shot, but in the end? You were coming home with him unscathed.

You look out the window of the SUV you’re in and gaze at the large mansion with obnoxious strobe lights and loud music. Luke is parked right beside you in a sleek red sports car, ready to drive you to the front door so that you can have a flashy entrance. It’ll draw Mikael’s attention and unfortunately, that’s exactly what you need. Bringing your eyes back to Sylus, you softly smile and hope your nervousness isn’t so evident.

“I got this Sy, I promise. In and out.” He nods curtly, reaching over the center console and kissing your lips before sighing. He gives you the okay to go, watching you climb out of the passenger seat of the black vehicle and into the backseat of the expensive one. Kieran sits up in the backseat, patting his shoulder.

“She’ll be okay, Boss. She’s smart and we’re here for her if anything.”

But Sylus doesn’t speak. He simply watches the car turn onto the road and head to the house whose backyard he’s about to wait in while you’re inside. For their sake, you will be okay. Because no one will be able to control the man he will become if you aren’t.

When Luke drives off, your body buzzes with uncertainty. There’s no guards or anything, but you know they’re around. That incognito feeling and uncertainty of their placements has you on edge, but Sylus assured you that he had it covered. Slowly, you climb the marble steps and walk into the lavish home, feeling the beat pulse through your body as dozens of people gyrate against each other in any open space available.

And just as you thought, Mikael has been staring at you since the moment you came in. You know he heard the loud music Luke played, know he’s curious about the lone woman who’s come to his party.

Sylus showed you several images of him, so you’re not mistaken about who the older man is. Short, stubby, balding, and in his 50s.

Two women sit on his lap in the little VIP section he’s created from himself and he roughly squeezes their thigh, saying something before they stand up. Mikael is next, pushing past them with two cups of what you assume is alcohol, in his hand as he makes his way to you.

“And what is a pretty lady like you doing, coming here alone? Come to see me, hm?” His grin is mischievous and it makes you want to cringe as he hands you the drink of what smells like whiskey. But you promised Sylus. You promised yourself.

You smirk, stepping closer and looking him up and down, biting your lip to make him believe that you want him. What you really want is to vomit.

“And if I did?” you tease, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and his eyes fall to your mouth.

“I’d say you’re a smart broad.” He steps closer, his overpowering cologne washing over you as he whispers in your ear.

“I gotta say, ain’t been no girls as sexy as you in here tonight. Come to the VIP and we’ll see how lucky you get.”

Disrespectful and full of himself. Every single part of you wants to kick his ass.

You simply smile and nod, taking his sweaty hand and letting him guide you to the booths he has in the corner of what seems to be the living room. Sylus said his office is upstairs and that’s where he has the documents.

You’re so close. You won’t fail, you tell yourself.

It feels like hours go by as he gropes your body in ways that makes you want to have his hands shot off. From your ass to your thighs, he just keeps touching. But you need to get into that office. You refused to drink, trying to keep him talking and distracted with monotonous conversation.

And finally, finally he says what you’ve been waiting for.

“Why don’t I take you upstairs? Show you around?” He grabs himself through his pants, and the urge to hurl continues to grow. Your anxiety spikes as well, because this is exactly what Sylus said not to do, but it’s the only way you have.

“Don’t let yourself end up alone with him. If you can’t a way to the office by yourself, leave. I’ll be there for you.”

But you can’t leave. You won’t.

People continue to party as Mikael brings you upstairs and down one of many halls, showing you several different rooms. He’s flaunting his wealth clearly, as well as his status while he gloats on and on about how he doesn’t know what to do with all the space.

He passes a door though, and that makes you stop.

“What’s in here?” you speak up, and he turns around with a sly smile.

“Curious thing, aren’t you?” he chuckles. “My office. Nothing in there you need to worry your pretty little head about.”

“Mm, I’m not worried. But I do like offices. I like them a lot,” you let your words end in a flirtatious tone.

“Yeah? Tell me what you like.”

“Why don’t I show you?” He doesn’t need to be told twice.

Easy. Of course he is.

He pulls a key out of his pocket, using it to unlock the door. Paranoid too, it seems.

When you’re in the office, you look for the safe. Sylus mentioned that would be behind a painting and how convenient that there’s only one in here with Mikael sitting on a throne. Pitiful.

Before you can try and say anything, Mikael wraps his arms around your waist and your body tense as he kisses your neck.

“Wait—” You try and speak but he’s tugging at your dress.

“No wait,” he grumbles, his breath like lava on your skin. “You don’t get to tease me all night and try and take it slow, doll. Show me what you like about offfices so much.”

You try and push him back, but he just starts getting more aggressive. The more you pushback, the angrier he becomes. So much so that he hits you because of your resistance.

You fall to the floor due to the impact, your eyes widening with fear at what he might try and do. Is he going to kill you? Worse? You don’t want to find out.

You’re way in over you head. You hate that it took you this long to realize that, but you need help. You need Sylus and you need him now.

It’s as soon as you press the button on the ring that you start hearing gunfire. Mikael looks at you with accusatory eyes.

“You bitch!” he snarls. “What did you do?! Who do you work for?!”

He starts to snatch you up, griping your arm tightly, but the door kicks open, wood splintering and flying through the room. Sylus doesn’t even give him a chance to let you go. He simply shoots him in the knee, causing Mikael to fall to the floor in agony.

“I’m so sorry,” you mewl, feeling tears prickle in your eyes.

Sylus squats down next to you, his eyes raking over your body. It’s the sight of your disheveled clothes, the red print on your face and arm, and the fact that you pressed the button in the first place, that makes his blood boil. He’s fueled with rage, but he refuses to scare you more than you already are.

“You’re okay,” he promises you. “I’m taking us home.”

Mikael looks at Sylus with shock and fear, still disoriented from the pain.

“S-Sylus!” he shouts and your boyfriend stands, giving him attention and tilting his head.

“I mean, Mr. Sylus! I didn’t know—I swear, she came onto me! I would never—“

“Your attempt to excuse your actions only angers me more than I already am. For her, I will make your death swift.” He takes a step forward. “Had I not been so determined to make sure she remains okay, you would have felt more pain than the result of a bullet. You’re a poor excuse of a human being and there is no such thing as redemption for you. Maybe you’ll do better in your next life.” Sylus shoots Mikael so that one bullet is all he needs to end him, point blank.

You jump, tears falling down your cheeks. You’re embarrassed and shaken up. Sylus has killed in front of you before. That’s not what scares you. It’s just the intensity and reality of it all. You weren’t ready, and Sylus was right to be hesitant.

But he doesn’t think any of that at all.

“Come, sweetie,” he gently grabs hold of your hands. “I’m here. Can you stand?”

You nod, letting him help you up as he rests his suit jacket on your shoulders. He guides you out of the barren home and back into the SUV, throwing orders to the twins to get everything cleaned up and to get the files.

The drive is silent, all the way until you’re back home. Sylus helps you out the car when you arrive, taking you inside. He brings you to the grand bathroom and begins to undress you, then runs a hot bath with your favorite bath salts and soaps. He undresses himself next, letting you step into the tub first before climbing in and sitting behind you.

“I’m sorry…” you finally speak, only to apologize again.

“Don’t be,” he whispers, kissing your shoulder. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I failed—”

“I failed. I knew better than to let you go in there, yet I did it anyway. But you’re safe now, kitten. As long as I’m breathing, you will always be safe. Do you believe me?”

“I do,” you say just below a whisper.

“Put all your faith in me. I won’t make the mistake of putting you in harms way ever again.”

Your eyes water again and you turn around, taking advantage of the large tub to sit in his lap. You wrap yourself around him, holding him close as you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Sleep, sweetie,” he kisses your cheek. “I have you. I’ll take care of everything.”

You listen to him because you trust him as much as he does you. Had he not been there… you don’t even want to think of it anymore. All that matters is that he was. He will always come to your rescue because a life without you is not a life Sylus will ever experience. That, he is sure.

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 1

Masterlist || AO3

Pairing: Millionaire Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: 18+ Chapter Summary: To save money for law school, you accept a job at Maid Discretely; a high end, anonymous cleaning service. You aren’t supposed to know whose home you’re cleaning, but your curiosity is peaked by your first client, and when the two of you have a shocking and surprising run in, more than just your curiosity peaks.  CW: Author chooses not to use warnings in this chapter in order to avoid spoilers. While I never want to trigger anyone, you are solely responsible for the content you consume. AN: Oh boy, here we go! I'm in a straight PANIC getting ready to post this. I hope it meets all your expectations, I was not at all expecting that reaction to the teaser post. Love you all and thank you for all your support. Please share or comment, I have a praise kink LOL. Follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates and turn on notifications for future chapters. Dividers and support banners by @saradika-graphics. Thank you @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk and @burntheedges for being my little cheerleaders over this, ily!! Chapter Word Count: 4.4k

You stare down at the very intimidating legal document you have clasped in your clammy hands. There are so many big legal sounding words that seem to be mocking you with their importance. Somehow there are clauses that have sub clauses that are then further broken down into sub-subclauses. It feels heavy to be handed this on a Monday morning. Truthfully, this doesn’t seem like something a soon-to-be twenty-one year old woman who literally just graduated college, albeit a semester early, should be allowed to sign without parents and a lawyer present. 

This is just supposed to be a simple job working part time as a maid for your best friend's family’s cleaning company. A job where she promised easy money and part time hours that you set for yourself. The perfect opportunity for you to be able to save money AND set aside lots of study time for your upcoming LSAT rewrite. You passed it a few months ago and applied to a bunch of law schools, but you aren’t going to waste these next few months waiting around. You know how competitive law schools can be, so you’re preparing to be better just in case you don’t get in.

Your eyes scan words that your brain can’t seem to comprehend. The internal panic starts to bubble in your chest, someone who has law aspirations should know what these words mean.

This is just supposed to be easy. Cleaning. Vacuuming. Washing floors. Simple things. 

But now, as you sit in this shiny, fancy downtown office building looking at your full legal name typed beside a bunch of ‘initial here’ and ‘sign here’ lines on a nondisclosure agreement you’re starting to feel like this is anything but simple. 

“Our clientele is VERY exclusive,” your childhood best friend Jamie says. She looks very professional and grown up sitting behind her glass desk. Her long, toned legs are crossed, the slit along the side of her crisp, white pencil skirt showing off her tanned upper thigh. She’s paired her white skirt with a baby pink silky blouse that's perfectly tucked into the high waist of the skirt. Her long, dark silky hair is twisted into a jeweled claw clip. Even though you’re the same age she has an air of sophistication and grace, even with winged eyeliner, a matte pink lip, and a slender rose gold septum ring that sits tight to her little button nose. She almost screams old Hollywood in the middle of Austin, Texas. 

She continues, “You won’t know the names of the clients and they will never be home. If they do come home, leave immediately, and try your best not to be seen or heard. Then you can fill out in the company app what you did and didn’t manage to get done.” 

You put the paper down on her perfect desk so she can’t see your hands shaking. How can you work at that desk all day and not get a single fingerprint or smudge on it? There’s a very good chance that I am not cut out for this. This is fancy. And expensive. I’m neither of those things. 

“What am I gonna be walking in on at these houses, Jamie?” You ask, swallowing the fiberglass that’s suddenly prickling at your throat. 

Jamie shakes her head and laughs, saying your name through her melodic giggles. “Most likely nothing. We’ve never had an encounter or run in with a client. They pick times for cleaners to come when they aren’t home.” She leans back in her high backed chair and continues, “But the clients are big deals. Politicians. Judges. Athletes. The odd celebrity. They don’t want anyone in their home that will snoop or snap pictures. Hence the NDA.” 

“Well, why didn’t you start with that!” You laugh. “Jesus, I thought I’d be walking into like a virginal sacrifice or some shit!” 

“Well, there was that one time…” Your face drops and she immediately starts laughing again. “I’m kidding. Relax. Look, you’ll probably get three homes a week, each house will take six to eight hours. The hourly pay is twenty dollars plus whatever tip they’ll leave you in these black envelopes.” 

She puts a perfectly polished finger on a stack of black envelopes with a red ‘Maid Discretely’ logo on it and continues, “In my experience, the tips are around five hundred, completely tax free. This is a good gig! You’ll be in law school becoming smarter than all of us in no time. Fuck, you’ll be writing insane contracts like those before we know it.” 

She stands, one hand resting on the desk while the other slides the paper towards you with a closed pen. She drops the writing apparatus on top of it, the metal casing of the pen clanging loudly on her glass desk. You let out an exasperated sigh, dramatically clicking the pen before signing the NDA. Jamie claps her hands excitedly then snatches the contract away before you can rip it up and says, “Let’s get your uniform and supplies!”

She hands you a few fitted white polo style t-shirts, black dress pants, white Keds (that she scolds are for inside the houses only), a caddy full of high end cleaning supplies, a top of the line Dyson vacuum and everything else you’ll need.

She ends your meeting with instructions on how the company's scheduling and tracking app works. "Essentially, you set the days and times you’re available and it will populate for you. You’ll have addresses, dates and times, as well as tasks to be done, all nicely laid out for you. If a client likes you, they can request you for additional shifts, but for continuity purposes you should get the same couple houses that you’ll rotate through throughout the month."

You nod along, mostly surprised to hear the girl who did a keg stand just a few days ago sound so professional, using words like 'continuity purposes'.

The next day you have your first official shift. Tuesday from nine to three and you’re scheduled at a mansion in a neighborhood you’ve never heard of and you most definitely wouldn’t fit in to. Jamie is already waiting there for you when you pull up. She explained yesterday that she’d help you with the first one and then you are on your own after that. Well, not completely alone. Your iPhone is loaded full of smutty audio books, murder podcasts, and law books to listen to as you clean. 

Jamie was right, you think to yourself as you scroll to the latest romance novel you’ve downloaded and grab your AirPods, this is a good gig.

The house is absolutely massive, and you highly doubt you’ll be done in six hours. You gather all your stuff and head up to the house. Jamie shows you where the company supplied key box is and how to open it from the app. As you grab the key Jamie excitedly says, “This used to be my client. He always leaves a huge tip!”

You unlock the large front glass door and enter into a white marble foyer. The windows on the first floor are easily ten feet tall and allow in so much natural light. Gold and obsidian swirls in the marble reflect along the walls, dancing in the sunlight. To the left of the front door is a large open kitchen that might be bigger than your entire apartment. The marble of the expansive countertop is the same colour as the foyer. All the cabinetry is matte black with brushed gold handles. The kitchen opens into a lavish living room, a massive fireplace and TV sits on the far back left wall, encompassed by a very cozy looking white sectional. 

To the right of the front door, starting furthest away from where you stand in awe, is a door to a huge half bathroom, followed by a long table with a bowl for keys and mail, and then the door that leads to the garage. About fifty feet in front of you is a grand staircase that branches out to the left and right. Beyond the staircase you can see into the backyard. This is by far the nicest house you’ve ever been in.

As both you and Jamie slip into your keds she says, “Upstairs to the left are a few bedrooms and the office. I usually started there and then went to the right side where he has a huge entertainment area. Then I would clean down here since he doesn’t cook very often and it’s usually just a quick wipe down.”

Just as you start to panic over how you’re supposed to remember all this she nudges you and adds, “But that’s all in the app for you, most of the clients are very particular so they’ll lay out exactly what order you should be cleaning in, as well as any other extra things they need done.” 

She helps you carry all your stuff upstairs and then watches you work. Sure enough, the app says to start in the office so you do just that. Careful not to disturb the few piles of paperwork you dust the desk and shelves and then wipe down the windows and computer screen. You vacuum the hardwood and plush rug last and after Jamie gives you an approving nod, you move onto the next room.

You continue like that, going from room to room, your friend, and now boss, occasionally giving feedback or leaving to answer a phone call or respond to an email. The job is easy enough; repeating the same steps in each room over and over again. It’s the exact type of work you exceed at. You enjoy having clear sets of instructions and expectations, and a prioritized list where you can start at the top and work down. You’ve always excelled at following meticulous directions in school. Your life maybe not so much. When it comes to dating or your parents you aren’t one to do what you’re told.

When one o’clock rolls around you just have one bathroom upstairs and the already pristine downstairs to tend to, but Jamie coaxes you into taking your break, which is another thing you’re bad at. You were raised not to take breaks, taking a break or doing nothing means you're lazy. You should be working all the time, and pushing yourself to accomplish things. As a child you’d push and push yourself to be the best, honor roll ceremonies were the only time your dad would show up. He’d smile and brag about you to whoever was around.

“It’s important that you take all your supplies to your car with you when you eat your lunch. Never eat in their homes and never park on their driveways.” You nod and hoist all your stuff to the front step. “Make sure you lock up like you’re leaving too.” 

“How am I doing so far?” You ask as you lock the door, your stomach growling loudly as if it needs to prove to her how hard you’re working. You hadn’t realized how much of an appetite you’d gain just from cleaning. The few stale crackers and small can of tuna you managed to find in your cupboard this morning doesn’t seem like it’s going to be enough. 

“Really well! I actually think I might leave you to finish up. Don’t forget to take whatever he left for you out of the black envelope on the kitchen counter.” She doesn’t look up at you, her fingers tapping out an email on her shiny iphone screen. She doesn’t have her phone in a case and you can only imagine the level of self confidence you have to have to carry around an expensive item unprotected like that.

“Is it weird that there’s no pictures or anything of the family that lives here?” You say curiously as you both walk towards your parked vehicles. 

“No,” she says flatly. “I think it’s just one person here and that’s pretty normal for the houses you’ll be cleaning. Lots of them are rarely home or only home to sleep.” 

You gawk at the massive house from across the street as you throw all your supplies in the back of your used and rusted SUV. One person lives here. Alone. How is this possible? He’s clearly doing well for himself. Either he’s really lonely or a complete asshole. 

After you eat, you head back inside to finish up cleaning. The entire house looks like a show home. Not a single thing out of place. The kitchen seems staged, void of life aside from a tiny droplet of coffee on the countertop beside the Italian coffee maker, and a tiny brown stegosaurus toy that sits on top of it. Two minutes before the end of your shift you do a final sweep to make sure you haven’t left anything behind and then slip open the black envelope. Inside you find seven one hundred dollars and a note that just says ‘TY - JM’.

As you log your day in the company app you can’t believe you just made seven hundred freaking dollars to clean up after a man who makes no messes. You excitedly check your upcoming schedule and it looks like you’ll be back here in two more weeks. You could potentially be getting fourteen hundred dollars a month from this elusive “JM”. A man with no pictures or personal touches in his shiny white, black and gold mansion.

It’s been almost two weeks since your first clean at JM’s house. Your other clients were good tippers, usually between four to five hundred, but you’ve been looking forward to going back. You know you’re not supposed to know who the clients are, but you couldn’t help but google JM to try to figure out who he is and how he has so much money. In hindsight, you guess all your clients have money, but something about him has alerted your curiosity. He seems like smoke, or a ghost, in his own home. Your other clients had some sort of semblance of life in their houses. A dent in the pillow. An open newspaper on the kitchen table. A coffee cup dropped in the sink before they headed off to whatever fancy job they have to afford such a massive house. A toilet seat left up or a smudge of toothpaste on the mirror. 

But not JM. 

No, the only thing JM left was a tiny droplet of coffee. Coffee that was probably imported straight from Italy. You’re almost ashamed of the amount of times you’ve wondered about that stegosaurus toy. It seems so out of place in his house of clean lines and sterility. 

You’re just settling in to enjoy a Sunday night of sushi, rosé and Bridgerton with your roommate when your phone bings, a little red notification bubble popping up on the Maid Discretely app. You have an added shift request for JM tomorrow. Instead of one six hour shift on Tuesday you now have two six hour shifts. You accept the request and scroll through the tasks. He’s requested you to wipe the baseboards and lightswitches on the main floor, a deep scrub of every bathroom, as well as doing the inside of the fridge, stove and microwave. There are also instructions for washing the sheets in the main bedroom, and spraying down the patio furniture around the pool.

Only a millionaire in Texas would ask for his pool furniture to be cleaned in February. 

Shortly after you accept the shift you get a text from Jamie:

Saw you accepted the shift. The client asked for the normal clean on the first day, please. Extras the next day. Thanks.

The following morning you head to the large, bright mansion. Parking across the street and hauling all your stuff in. It feels a bit weird to be here on a Monday and you have a feeling you’ll be reminding yourself all day that it is indeed Monday and not Tuesday.

You get all your stuff together, change into your indoor company issued keds and head up the stairs. The pink and orange hues of the sunrise glitters off the white marble tiles, glints of gold and sparkling black reflecting off of it. You take a second to look down from the landing as you pop in your airpods. It really is a beautiful home, and it’s too bad that whoever lives here is either lonely or an asshole, but for a split second you let yourself pretend that you and JM just finished making love and he’s now in the kitchen making you an espresso or a latte with that insanely fancy coffee machine in the kitchen. You shake your head at yourself. You didn’t find anything when googling, which isn’t surprising since two letters aren’t much to go on, but this house seems to draw you in, like it’s calling to you. It’s strange, it’s almost like you have a crush on this house and you couldn’t help but make a whole persona for whoever lives here. Even with its clean lines and lack of life, something about it settles in your gut, it feels like home. 

You scroll your podcast app trying to pick what episode you want to listen to and head down the hall, you can’t seem to decide so you pocket your phone without starting anything and reach for the matte black handle of the office door. You’re expecting to see JM’s tidy office with a few stacks of paperwork in one corner, but the sight you find before you has all the blood rush from your head and your stomach dropping right out of your body. Your jaw drops and you freeze in utter shock and fear.  

Instead of the usual stacks of paper, there’s an icy blond haired woman tied to the desk. She’s completely naked and on her back with her legs spread wide. Her ankles are tied to the legs of the desk with a scratchy looking rope, her wrists wrapped in matching rope and resting above her head. Her nipples are almost purple underneath the clothespin attached to them. You freeze, just the lewd wet noises of her pussy being worked furiously by the mysterious, fully clothed JM. His deep, commanding, gravel filled voice reverberates through the office. “Little fuckin' slut. Gonna split you in two.”

The woman lets out an unashamed cry of pleasure. Your entire body seems to go numb as your caddy falls from your hand, crashing loudly against the hardwood flooring. His head whips to the side, the icy blonde woman letting out a scream and trying to cover herself up. Your hands cover your mouth and even though you can’t feel your legs you spin and run for the stairs.

“Fuck. Fuck. Wait,” JM calls after you.

One of your AirPods falls from your ear as you run, you’re tempted to stop and grab it but you need to get out of here. Jamie’s voice echoes through your skull, ‘try your hardest not to be seen or heard’. 

He catches up to you as you reach the front entryway, his strong hand pushing the door closed. You can feel the heat of his body against your back. You’re shaking - both from being terrified and embarrassed. You have so many thoughts running through your mind. This will get you fired, or worse, you could have just possibly lost the company a client. Fuck. You aren’t supposed to know who lives here and you certainly aren’t supposed to see them doing that. 

“Please wait,” he says softly behind you and the heat of his broad body sends a chill down your spine.

The blood is rushing through your ears as your heart pounds in your throat. You don’t like confrontation and even with the softness in his voice, you’re sure he’s about to scream at you. You feel sick, and when you replay the words he said to the woman upstairs, and the sound of her moan that made you drop your caddy you start to feel dizzy and nervous.

Your hand falls from the handle of the front door and the brick wall of a man behind you steps back. You spin slowly to face him but keep your eyes on the floor. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, linking your fingers in front of you and focusing all your attention on the cuticle of your right thumb.

“No, please. This is my fault.” You trail your eyes from the floor to him. He's in perfectly pressed black dress pants paired with a white dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled to his forearms and he’s holding his hands up in front of himself as if to show you he isn’t armed or as a way to say 'you’re safe here'. 

You flick your eyes up to his face and he’s looking at you softly, the morning sunrise lighting up his tanned face and salt and pepper hair. JM is probably twice your age, but he is incredibly handsome. 

“I am so sorry. I must’a got my days mixed up when I booked you.” He says, a soft southern accent sneaking out. 

“I’m going to get fired,” you respond shakily.

“No,” he says stepping forward, you subsequently take a step back, pressing your body against the glass front door. Something about this man makes you nervous, but not in the same way women are trained to be nervous of strange men that are almost twice their size. “No. This is my fault. Please, let me explain. I jus’ gotta - well, can I go deal with…” his head cocks towards the stairs, “And then let me explain. Please?” 

You look at him, his handsome face all soft and apologetic. His dark brown and amber eyes dance around your face and without realizing you're even doing it, you nod your head. 

“Thank you,” he drops his hands at his side, visibly relaxing at your decision not to run. “Sit at the island for me. I’ll be back.” 

He watches you as you pad over to the island. The tall bar chair squeaks on the tile floor as you pull it out. He peels his eyes from you and heads upstairs. When you sit you have to stop from moaning out, the pressure of your body weight there sends a wave of rolling pleasure through you.

What the fuck? 

It’s a dull, throbbing ache followed by a small gush of thick wetness. Did you mistake a feeling of arousal for dizziness and nervousness upstairs? Were you turned on by what you just witnessed? 

Certainly not. There’s no way! He was, well, he wasn’t being nice to that woman. 

Soon you hear footsteps coming down the stairs and towards the foyer, his body blocks her from your view as they talk at the front door. They speak in hushed voices, all you’re able to make out is her saying thank you followed by the sound of a soft kiss and then she’s gone. 

She thanked him? It seems like he should be thanking her. 

He wanders into the kitchen and your throat goes impossibly dry. As if he can read your every need, he grabs a glass from the cabinet, puts it under the water dispenser on his fridge door and then slides the glass across the large island to you. You have to lift off the chair to reach it, whispering a thank you before taking a sip. 

JM leans against the countertop beside the fridge and watches you take a long drink. You put the glass down with a quiet clink and then fold your hands in your lap. His eye contact is intense, not in a creepy way, it’s almost like he’s assessing you. You find it hard to look at him so you avert your gaze to the glass. 

He clears his throat gently before he starts. “I jus’ want to say how sorry I am. You didn’t consent to seein’ any of that and I can’t imagine how awful that was for you.” His voice is so calm and soft. 

You flick your eyes up to him, “No, this is my fault. I am not suppose-“

JM shakes his head and holds up one hand, signaling you to stop. “No. This was me. I got my days mixed up. Meant to book ya for next week. This ain’t on you. This was my mistake. If it’s ok for me to ask, what’s your name?” 

You mumble your name into your glass and down the rest of your water. You figure you’re probably fired either way so who cares if he knows who you are. His face ticks up slightly, almost like he’s proud of you for drinking, and says your name back to you. 

“I ain’t gonna say anythin’ to your boss and I understand if you want to leave for the day. I’ll pay ya either way. I also understand if you say somethin’ to them and I can’t be a client anymore. It was unacceptable for me to be doin’ that when you’re supposed to be here. There ain’t any other way to word it. I was inappropriate and wrong.” He steps forward and holds his hand out so you slide the glass across to him. 

He refills it and puts it back for you to grab. “No,” you say, your voice cracking. After clearing your throat you continue, “No, I appreciate your apology but I’m not going to say anything.” 

He watches you again as you drain the glass, the same look of pride flashes across his eyes, “I’ll - umm - I’ll be in my office. You can uh,” he runs a hand through his scruff, “You just do whatever you need. I’ll stay outta your way.” 

He disappears before you can say anything else. You head up the stairs after a few minutes to find your cleaning caddy sitting in the hall with everything placed neatly where it belongs. His office door is closed and you can hear the deep rumble of his voice while he’s on a call. You grab your things, head into the master bedroom and begin cleaning. 

A few hours later while you’re sitting in your car eating lunch, the garage door opens and JM goes whipping past you in the sexiest blacked out sports car you’ve ever seen. He doesn’t even look over you as he speeds by. Your heart sinks, it's unexplainable but being in that house with him there, even after what you witnessed, felt more comfortable than being alone. JM must have some sort of magic touch, how you went from nervous and embarrassed to calm and comforted with just the look on his face and few words is beyond you.

After wiping down the kitchen you are all done for the day. You grab the black and red envelope off the kitchen counter and open it, peering in nervously. There’s a piece of matte black paper on top. You slide it out gently, the paper feels expensive between your fingers. As you unfold it you reveal a shiny black JMK logo at the top. In neat gold lettering is his writing.

‘Please know how sorry I am. Your consent is more important than anything. I broke that. Just hope I didn't break your trust. -Joel Miller.’

At the bottom of the envelope are ten crisp one hundred dollar bills. 

Next Chapter

[snoopychris]

dbf!chris just looks too good at a wedding

warnings: age gap (22-33), semi-public sex if you squint, unprotected p in v, breeding kink

you knew six years ago that your relationship with your dad would never ever be the same. you’d never be as close again. it was crazy that you were even living with him now.  it was crazier that he had asked you to be in his wedding party. the craziest part of all was that you said yes and that you were actually at the wedding.

your dress matched the color scheme of the entire thing, but it was different enough from the bridesmaids dresses to make it known that you were part of the groomsmen. it was silky and flowy and long in all the right places. doing absolute wonders for you and your curves. it was driving chris absolutely crazy. 

the first time you spotted chris was from across the dance floor. you’d never seen him like this before. not even at the airport bar when he was working did he look this nice. he was dressed simple, but it worked for him. his tie was tight around his neck. his arms were filling the sleeves of his suit in a way you could only describe as superman like with the way the suit looked tight whenever he moved. the small black straw that sits in your drink is stained with your lipstick. chris has seen it before. it’s intoxicating. 

the open bar had to have been one of the best things ever invented in your mind. you were sitting there again, having had made your way over for the third or fourth time that night. the bartender wasn’t letting you have more than one drink at a time, likely a way of making sure you stay sober enough to be able to give your speech in and hour and a half. 90 minutes till you had to lie to a hundred people about how happy you were for your dad and his soon to be wife. you pout your lip and bat your eyes rapidly as the bartender begins to cut you off, using an excuse of “you’ve had a lot of alcohol.” in your defense, it was one of three reasons you were here. the second was that it was a child free wedding. when you don’t get your way with the bartender, you let out a childish huff. you kick your bar stool gently, glancing down at your phone. 

the bartender begins speaking again, but you know it’s not to you. in fact, you’re not quite sure who she’s speaking to until there’s a hand placed on your shoulder. you should probably look up, but you smirk to yourself when you realize you won the game of cat and mouse that you had been unwillingly playing with the man standing besides you. “and a manhattan for my friend here.” chris smiles, sliding a five dollar bill over to the bartender. well hello reason number three. she shakes her head as she doubles down on her explanation of you having too much to drink. chris looks down at you and shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders. “cmon mir. it’s a wedding. her dads wedding. you’d probably want a few drinks at your dads second wedding.” he argues. he wins the argument quickly, and within minutes there’s a drink in your hands. 

“oh my savior.” you giggle, taking a sip of the alcohol. it hardly makes you react anymore. chris bows at you jokingly, earning a giggle from you. “oh i was talking to the manhattan actually.” you joke, setting it down on the fancy counter. chris chuckles as he grips onto your hand, walking you over to his assigned table. everyone else who was meant to sit there was off dancing somewhere. it was nice. quiet. “i think this is actually… the first wedding i’ve ever been to that i’ve been old enough to comprehend.” you mumble, pushing around your straw. chris lets out a heavy sigh as he looks at you, your dress still being his number one distraction. 

“i’ve been to a couple. mir over there, that bartender who was refusing to serve you, i went to her wedding. was even in the party. i was the best man. granted it was my brother but. still… a few buddies here and there. i think the last wedding i went to was mir and matt’s actually.” he whispers, taking a sip of his own drink. he’s lying. the last wedding he went to was his own. not that he’d ever admit that to you. you glance at your watch, groaning loudly. 84 minutes. chris notices it. usually your apple watch sits on your wrist, but today it’s replaced by a fancy chanel one. he reaches his fingers out, lingering them over the band. you smile up at him, sending him a nod of reassurance. it’s okay for him to touch you. he takes your wrist in his much larger hands and brings them up to his face. 

he takes his sweet time kissing each one of your knuckles. with how aroused you both are, the gentle kisses themselves are foreplay. you whine quietly as you cross your legs, the slit of your dress revealing a tad more than you’d like. chris doesn’t mind it at all. if the tablecloth weren’t so sheer, he’d climb under the table and eat you out right there. you’d never admit to him that you’d do the same. crawl under the table and give him the best head he’d ever had. but now wasn’t the time for that. at least, not here. 

“y’know… because i’m the only woman in the grooms party i got my own room to get ready in.” you whisper. your voice is laced with confidence. it’s almost like you knew that you’d get the exact thing you wanted the second you purchased your dress. chris’ eyes widen at your blunt statement, glancing around. you know he’s looking for your dad. you also know your dad’s too busy to even notice the two of you talking.

 when he takes just a little too long, you decide to take everything into your own hands. you stand up slowly, gripping onto the end of his tie. he looks up at you, grunting when you begin to tug on it to get him out of his seat. you’re walking him like a dog. strangely enough, your confidence turns him on. he knows it won’t last long once he gets you alone. the walk to the dressing room takes a little bit longer than chris would like, but he has to deal with it. in an ideal world he’d take you against a wall or in a bathroom as soon as possible, but he couldnt risk getting caught. not here. not in a room full of people you both knew in one way or another. 

his hands were all over you the second he kicked the door shut behind him. he so desperately wants to take his sweet time with you and go as many rounds as humanly possible. unfortunately for him, theres only 70 minutes until your speech. good enough. chris begins to remove his suit pants, loosening his tie just a bit. he scans you up and down briefly and god, that damn dress. you’re tapping your foot impatiently, arms crossed across your chest as if you’re a child who isn’t getting her favorite ice cream. 

“y’gonna drive me fuckin crazy, kid.” he whispers, beginning his assault on your neck. he so desperately wants to mark you up, but it’ll have to wait for another time. in a perfect world, he gets to kiss all over you and your body, but he’s in a time crunch. he has to do what he can. your dress is likely wrinkling with each second that it stays bunched above your hips. thats a problem, for later. the problem for now is chris being so damn close to ripping off your lacy thong that you wore on purpose. his self control is telling him that if he rips them in half then you’ll be fully exposed for the rest of the night. oh well. sucks for you. youre too distracted by the kisses being placed on your neck to care anyway. the ripped fabric lands on the floor near chris’ feet as he pulls his underwear down. he knows that the time he has is shortening with each moment he takes, but he decides that he has time to tease you anyway. 

usually with chris, he’ll tease in other ways. he’s never teased like this before. he’s never slid himself between your folds, just barely avoiding your entrance. chris smirks when he hears your whine, shaking his head when you grip onto his wrist. the confidence that you had when you dragged him to the room was long gone by now. chris was fully in control. “youre s’whiney baby…” he teases, finally slipping inside of you. much to chris’ pleasure, it doesnt take much effort with how wet you were. at first, his thrusts are slow– not painfully slow, but just slow enough that youre able to adjust yourself to his length. it doesnt last very long. before you know it, before you can even speak his name, his hips are moving fast and hard. “there y’go baby… take it. y’doin so so good. its like you were made for this. y’feeling okay? cant have you goin too cockdrunk today.”  he’s treating you like a princess and a whore all at once. its new. its nice. you nod rapidly at his words, biting down on the end of his tie to muffle your sounds. even though youre in a private room, its close enough in proximity for you to be willing to be as loud as you usually are. 

the force and speed of chris’ thrusts increase when he sees the way your eyes roll to the back of your head when he hits the sweet spot of your gummy walls. he feels you tighten around him, a familiar indication of your impending climax. he’s following close behind you, bringing your lips close to his. he’s gentle when he kisses you, the complete opposite of the actions that are going on below your waists. “y’gonna cum for me? good girl…” he whispers, moving his free hand down to rub your clit in circles. the simple action makes you squirm and completely come undone, gripping onto the small hairs on the back of his head. he chuckles at the sight and buries his face into your neck, mumbling against your skin.

“gonna cum inside you, yeah? gonna breed you full of my babies… gonna make you a mama…” you comprehend his words enough, you just know that its the lust speaking and not actually chris. he fulfills his promise, releasing spurts of his cum deep inside you. he groans when his cock twitches, remaining settled in his position. you sigh as you pat on the back of his head, a sign that he has to get ready to look presentable. he knows that it has to happen, he just wishes he could stay in the post-coital bliss for a little bit longer. he regretfully pulls out, looking around the room for something to clean you up with. your previously discarded underwear would be too rough on your skin to do any actual cleaning.

he panics slightly when he finds nothing, looking at you like you have some sort of answer. your eyes widen when he comes up with nothing, swallowing. theres still about 45 minutes until your speech, but you need time to regenerate the energy you just lost. chris throws his head back, looking up to the ceiling as he groans. he undoes the tie that sits around his neck, kneeling in front of you. you chuckle when he lets out something along the lines of “you owe me a new tie” but smile down at him when hes done cleaning the remains of your previous activities. he stuffs the tie in his pocket as he shakes his head, pulling your dress back down to your legs. you slowly stand up, gripping onto his shoulder for support. his touch lingers on your waist, making sure that you have everything you need. 

the walk back to the party from the private room was a lot shorter than the walk to get there, likely due to the lack of desperation that was lingering. you take a seat back at the bar, quickly diving into small talk conversation with the people around you. chris makes his way over after a few minutes, ordering another drink for himself and one for you. he clears his throat when your dad makes his own way to the bar, resting a hand on your shoulder. “so be honest with me right now, why didnt you bring a plus one to the wedding?” all chris can do from a few seats away is smirk. 

dividers by my sweet sweet @13hoax

a/n: he makes me so absolutely feral guys like the suit did something to me mentally it changed me. kiss kiss! -gen

tags(reply/message to be added!): @oopsiedaisydeer @marrykisskilled @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbrat @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @ayesha-eroticaa @freshhhloveee @courta13 @sturns-mermaid @ivysturnss @slutformatt17 @emely9274 @princessesgarden @cykss @throatgoat4u @blahbel668 @ivyyyyyysposts @h0e4fictionalme-n @riasturns @sofieeeeex @littlebookworm803 @allylovescody @ribread03 @cheesecakedolll @chrislova @ikyoudreamofme @jetaimevous

[ponderingmoonlight]

Satoru Gojo purposely keeping the scar you gave him instead of using reversed technique

Pairing: husband! Gojo x reader

Word Count: 1,6k

Synopsis: When his skin gets busted by your sheer excitement, it doesn't feel right to Satoru to use his reversed technique and simply heal.

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, Yuji's "death" scnene in season 1, blood lol

Thank you dear anon for aggressively reminding me that it's canon for Gojo to not have any scars, it really helped me cooking up that fic! 🤍

Every step feels like hell, the only thing that keeps you from collapsing onto the floor being the reassuring hand of your husband on your shoulder.

This can’t be true, it’s just impossible. Yuji Itadori was a member of Jujutsu High for a few weeks, just started to get to know this world better. This was supposed to be an easy mission, the three of them should have made it out alive with ease. But apparently, Sukuna decided to show up. And apart from injuring Megumi, he violently took Yuji’s life by ripping his heart out. A heart made of pure gold, a heart so precious that you couldn’t help but care for that boy the minute you saw him.

But now he’s dead.

Your hands start shaking immediately the minute you step into this cursed room you visited far too often, gazing at Yuji’s body covered by a cloak. This isn’t a bad dream. No, the blood covering the white cloak tells you more than urgently that Yuji Itadori isn’t there anymore.

“Please tell me that there’s a chance he’ll come back”, you mutter.

Oh, how much both Shoko and Satoru hate to see you like that. It’s not a secret to anyone at Jujutsu High how deeply you care about your students, loving them like your own children. Of course, this isn’t the first time you’ve seen a student die in front of your eyes. In times like these, jujutsu sorcerers pass away like flies. But Satoru knows what you’ve seen in Yuji, that he somehow reflected parts of yourself. And still, you weren’t able to protect that boy, both Satoru and you coming too late to rescue him.

“I really wish I could, but he shows no signs of life. I’ll move on to autopsy now. If you want to say goodbye…Maybe do it now and leave afterwards.”

Satoru wraps his arms around you just in time before you slide onto the ground, holding you tightly against his chest.

“This is not fair”, you breathe out, head still not able to accept Yuji’s farewell.

He was so young, so full of life. He doesn’t deserve to die, he still had so much ahead of him. There needs to be something you are able to do. Aren’t Satoru or Shoko able to use their cursed technique?

“He didn’t show any signs of life for hours by now, (y/n). Not even Shoko or me are able to bring him back to life. I’m so sorry”, he mumbles against your ear out of nowhere.

So this is really how it ended? With Yuji getting killed by none other than Sukuna himself? Like in trance, your wobbly legs carry you to the autopsy table his lifeless body lays on. You want to stretch out your arm, want to look at that precious boy one last time before Shoko does her job.

But you can’t.

“I can’t look at him”, you blurt out.

With a swift motion, you turn around and burry your face against your husband’s chest.

“It’s okay babe, just look at me, okay? You don’t have to do this.”

Satoru’s arms keep you from losing yourself completely, soak up your falling tears while his head rests against yours. Oh Yuji, you’ll never be forgotten. All the laughter’s both of you shared, his potential, how he always cared about others. You will think about him every time the sun starts to rise, when new students get greeted, when you kill another curse-

“Hey, what’s up? Huh, what are both of you doing here, Gojo-sensei?”

This voice…

That was Yuji Itadori.

Out of instinct you turn around rapidly, not even noticing how the back of your head crushes into Satoru’s forehead with full force. He sees starts, blood taking his sight in an instant while his mind isn’t even able to comprehend it was Yuji who just spoke.

“Yuji! Are you okay? Are you hurt? You’re back!”, you babble out, embracing the boy in a tight hug.

“To be honest I don’t even know what happened last and I’m pretty hungry…Oh, you’re bleeding Gojo-sensei!”

You’re…bleeding? You turn around in confusion, following Yuji’s eyes.

“OMG SATORU!”, you cry out, the sight of your husband covered in his own blood shocking you to your core.

When did that happened…Was it…you?

“I guess you were so happy to see Itadori that you’ve forgot about me standing behind you”, he mutters amused.

“Babe I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got so carried away and-“

“Don’t worry about me. Reversed technique, remember? I’ll be whole in seconds. Just look after Yuji, I love you.”

You let out the breath you were holding, the bright smile forming on your gorgeous face making Satoru forget the world around him for a moment. You are so caring, so passionate. And you are his wife.

“I’m a lucky man”, he mutters to himself while pressing the tissue Shoko handed him against his wound.

There you sit, gently caressing Yuji’s cheeks and asking him over and over if he’s okay.

“You really are. This isn’t a problem for you, right?”, Shoko questions with one glance at the laceration on his forehead.

The shocked look on your face replays itself over and over in his mind, lets a chuckle escape his lips. With the help but his reversed technique, it would be way too easy to get rid of that minor wound. Within seconds, there wouldn’t even be a scar left, just his flawless skin. But…it was you who did this to him out of sheer excitement. It sure would be nice to look into the mirror and get reminded of you daily, right?

“Oh, I might as well keep that”, he replies with a sly grin.

- a few weeks later -

You sit on the edge of the couch, desperately waiting for that time of the day. Even after being married to that force of a man for 4 years now, you find yourself getting all excited when he announces that he’s going to shower. Because going to shower means that he’ll come out just wearing boxers with his body still a little wet and his hair sticking to his face in that delicate way.

“Still waiting for me, huh? It’s not like you can see me naked every time you want, babe”, he finally purrs.

Your heart skips a beat. This man…How is it even allowed to look so breathtakingly gorgeous? The way a single droplet of water runs down his cheek, how he gently strokes his damp hair back.

Wait. You squint your eyes a little harder. What is that on his forehead?

“What do you have there?”, you question, rubbing your own hand against the ride side of your forehead.

This almost looks like a scar. But Satoru shouldn’t have scars. After all, he’s able to use reversed technique, healing himself in the matter of seconds. Is it just dirt? No, that definitely looks like scar tissue.

“Oh, it’s nothing”, he immediately tries to brush you off, pulling his hair back into his face.

“No way Romeo, come back here right now”, you demand.

With a swift motion you lift yourself off the couch and hunt after him.

“Is that a scar?”

“It might be…”

“Why didn’t you just heal it? Show it to me!”

When you finally catch him, you slick his hair back again. Only to be greeted what indeed looks like a middle-sized scar. But why and how did this happen, why didn’t he just heal like he usually does?

“You really don’t know where this came from?”, he challenges you.

You blink a few times. What the hell is your husband talking about?

“Why would I know where this came from?”

“Because it was you, (y/n)?”, he playfully bites back.

You? Your mind races, searching for a single moment you ever hurt your husband. You were never really able to even hurt him, no matter how berserk you went in training. When was the last time you even wounded him? But wait, there was this one time you made him bleed, that one time when…

“This was when Yuji woke up-“

“EXACTLY!”, Satoru cries out and gives you a round of applause.

“But why did you keep it? You said you’d be able to heal it…”

“Because I didn’t want to. This scar right here”

Gently, he takes your hand in his and traces the soft scar with your fingertips.

“will always remind me of what a wonderful human being you are.”

Oh. Your eyes turn glossy in an instant, staring up at your loving husband while he gifts you with the most breath-taking smile you’ve ever seen.

“Satoru”, you breathe out.

There is no time to waste. You wrap your longing arms around his tall frame tightly, aiming to never let him go again.

“Every time I look into the mirror, I think about my wonderful wife”, he mutters into your hair.

“Y’know, you could just take a picture of me or something-“

“No. I would rather just keep that scar of my wonderful wife smacking me over a student.”

You hit him playfully over his comment, a giggle escaping your precious lips.

“Come on, it wasn’t like that…”

“I’ll always tell the story like this.”

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Dividers by @saradika 🤍

[purple-plum-petals]

Hello! I saw your homicipher requests were open, and I wanted to request some general mr scarletella fluff if possible! :D

⊱ General Fluffy Headcanons ⊰ || Mr. Scarletella Headcanons

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮ Character(s): Mr. Scarletella (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and horror-elements), Unhealthy Obsession/Possessiveness, Cultural Barriers (Mr. Scarletella Doesn’t Fully Comprehend Certain Emotions/Expresses Them Differently Than a Human Would). Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, Romantic or Platonic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~900 words Request: “Hello! I saw your homicipher requests were open, and I wanted to request some general mr scarletella fluff if possible! :D” Author’s Note: I’ll be honest with y’all, writing straight-up fluff for these characters is really hard to do lmao. I try to stay as canon-compliant as possible (it’s low-key a curse, but it’s such a great way to practice writing 😔), so I hope these are fluffy enough for you given, well… the source material as a whole haha. Mr. Scarletella wasn’t originally one of my favorite characters from the game, but he’s honestly starting to grow on me at a concerning speed – shout-out to all the artists on Twitter who have added to my enjoyment of this man. ✌️

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

🩸: Whenever it rains, Mr. Scarletella is always standing right there next to you, holding his red umbrella over your form so you do not become drenched because of the dreary weather. He takes his job very seriously, too, not minding how cold water causes his clothing to cling to his already deathly cold skin. He does it with an ever-present smile, too, watching you with unblinking eyes while he happily follows you around. Mr. Scarletella doesn’t get cold, he typically doesn’t feel any physical sensation in the first place, so getting a little wet while being able to keep you dry is something he doesn’t mind doing for you. If you invite him to join you under the umbrella, he falters for a bit before eventually standing next to you, shielding both of you from the rain (he loves being able to stand that close to you – he can almost feel the warmth radiating from you, and he finds himself craving it even after the two of you have found somewhere to take shelter). 

🩸: If there’s something you express an interest in, whether or not Mr. Scarletella is around when you make the off-handed comment, you’ll wake up to it lying right in front of your door. It’s honestly a bit creepy sometimes, just waking up to the article of clothing you looked at for longer than three seconds or the book whose title you briefly mentioned sitting at your feet when you open the door. In the past, any gift he left used to just be haphazardly placed in front of the door, and it reminded you of when a cat would catch a mouse and bring it to their owner (you’re not going to talk about the time you woke up to a literal human heart waiting for you, though…). However, Mr. Scarletella noticed that humans who exchanged gifts typically had them wrapped in paper, so he started to mimic their behavior, too, in the hopes you would like them more. Sure, his wrap-jobs were bad, almost hilariously so, but it was the thought that mattered. 

🩸: Whenever he looks at you, his pupils further dilate (even more than they usually are – it’s almost to the point where his entire eye is purely black, the red of his irises lost in the dark void of his gaze). Mr. Scarletella loves being able to just look at you, needing nothing more in life. He’ll watch you with an unblinking stare while you do literally anything. Whether it be cleaning your home or making yourself a meal, he will observe you as if you were the most interesting thing to have ever existed. As stated before, Mr. Scarletella is very good at mimicking human behaviors so, sometimes, he’ll ask if he can join you in whatever task you’re doing. He’ll copy the way you clean the floors or perfectly execute chopping the vegetables for the dish you were making after showing him what to do a single time. He’s very pleasant to be with during moments like these since he’s very good at acting like a human most of the time (other times, though – say if you need something from the top shelf – his body will twist and morph in very unsettling ways... It just emphasizes that, even if he’s good at pretending, he still isn’t human at the end of the day).   

🩸: Being with Mr. Scarletella means that you cannot have an unserious relationship, it’s just not in his vocabulary (because he’s obsessive, especially regarding you). He’s devoted to you entirely – body, mind, and soul – gladly letting you have the red umbrella to do with it whatever you wish. He’ll shiver slightly whenever you hold it in your hands, your touch is so strangely gentle as you softly run your fingers along the handle or press a kiss to the unassuming object. It hurts but in a different way. A part of him wishes you would just throw the umbrella to the ground, dig your heel into it, and have him experience a pain that was easier for him to understand… but you don’t. He loves your sweet touches, even if it’s painful and causes his chest to ache. He finds himself wishing he could touch you in that way, too, his ghost-like caresses causing your skin to tingle with static whenever his feather-light hands graze over your flesh (he loves cuddles and loving touches, even if he can’t experience them with you in a conventional sense). 

🩸: If you ever find yourself being bothered by someone who won’t leave you alone or someone who won’t take no for an answer, well… they may or may not end up missing. If you don’t want Mr. Scarletella to take care of anyone who is bothering you for you, you’ll definitely have to explain that it’s not appropriate because of the differences in your cultures – death and murder are common in the other world, after all (I’d also explain to him that he cannot harm or threaten people you care about, either, since he honestly wants you all to himself). This does mean, though, that you know that you’re safe no matter where you are. Mr. Scarletella is always watching you so, if you find yourself in a situation where your safety is at risk, you honestly have nothing to fear. He’ll keep you safe – you’re his love, his world, his reason for living, and he won’t let someone else take that from him.

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

Can’t do it yourself?

Ellie Williams x Reader

Warnings: Sex with strap!! 😲

Summary: Ellie making you fuck yourself :)

A/N: Randomly thought of this while walking to school?!

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

There was no way to get out of this mess. No way.

“Ellie— fuck, please!” You pled like your life depended on it. Mind dazed and clouded with pleasure, barely able to comprehend a thought, you give out and rest your head back against the pillows. Your arms were tied behind you, and there was no way in hell you would actually survive.

Why were you so damn fucked? because you were getting fucked. By who?— Ellie Williams. Your god-damn girlfriend.

Well, not at the moment.

“I wanna see you move..” She rasped out, a tinge of excitement in her voice as she stared down at you. The tip of her strap had made it’s way into your entrance, stopping there and teasing your cunt. Ellie was fucking crazy for this, having you on your back, legs spread, and making you to fuck yourself.

“I can’t, you know that!” You huffed out, tilting your head to get a better look at the way she barely had her cock in you. It was placed perfectly for your hips to squirm around and feel something, though it was far from being properly taken care of. Fingering was one thing, but having her pound in you was another. Everytime she drove into you you swore you could go stupid. Go entirely crazy at how good she was at rolling her strap into you.

Just thinking about it made your pussy wet. So, with a whine, you slid down to push more of her into you.

Then again, Ellie wasn’t one to like being ignored. Right when you could feel her going deeper, Ellie’s slender fingers gripped your hips and thrusted one hard pound and then pulled out to where she was before. Back to teasing you. There was no way in hell your girlfriend would allow you to go against her, have it your way. For, she was the one dominating you, nothing more nothing less. And, undoubtedly, feeling your insides squeezed against her strap, you gasp out with satisfaction. You hoped she’d keep going, but you were quickly disappointed with the fact that she really would make you do it yourself. It was cruel and twisted.

“Whoa, not so fast..” Ellie whispered, a playful smile on her face, “Who said you’re getting it deep?..” You practically groan at her insistence. You needed to have her ruin your walls, fuck you like there was no tomorrow. Possibly even loosen you out with those hips of hers. Your lidded eyes met her green ones and you were sure she was enjoying this, torturing you. “Ellie, please..” Her name rolled off your tongue as a whine and it sure made her cheeks red; you could tell she was trying to be a good top for you.

“I said move.” Pussy throbbing for friction, you let slip a soft.. noise at her demanding tone. You’d rarely hear it but, damn, you loved it too much. You move your hips at, both, your and her liking. Circular motion on the tip of her cock. It made your body shudder with need. Occasionally, you’d move up and down to rub her against your clit, and, my-my, did it make you moan.

Ellie loved watching you grew desperate, even more than before, staring at your face and your hips. Her own cunt was throbbing, even wet from being aroused. The sight of you was one she’d worship, and it was getting harder to keep teasing you. Keep herself from giving you the release you seemed to, clearly, need.

So, she didnt. With a grip on your thighs, she hooked your legs around her neck before pushing deep into you. Ellie knew exactly how to fuck your tight pussy. Before you could react, she dug into you like some excavator. Drilling deep into your walls and hitting ever spot that made you stupid. Completely and utterly stupid. Moans and pants filled the room as she steadied her pace, fast and hard pounding until she knew for sure you were finished.

“Ugh!— Ellie— Ellie, oh my.. fuck!” There you were, unable to speak without putting effort into it. Your body recoiled with the force Ellie had, causing your tities to fly up and down. And, of course, your girlfriend liked the sight. So much so that she had to feel it.

Gripping your breasts, she fastened her pace, though it was hard to imagine going faster than she already was. Lewd praises left Ellie’s lips, “You like that?” She’d whisper out, smiling as if she’d never seen you like this. “Yeah, you definitely like this, Baby..” You did like— love it.

Praise was what made you cum, what made you all flustered. And your girlfriend knew the exact words that could get you going, get you cumming faster. It got your mind all hazy, leaving you to beg for mercy.

Your walls closing, you couldn’t get enough of the sweet, delicious, thrusting your girlfriend had provided for you. It was like you could die here, all dazed and happy. The squelching noise from your cunt was making you, both, embarrassed and surprised, you hadn’t realised just how soaked you were. At least your girlfriend knew. She’d have one hell of a meal afer this.

With one final thrust, she stopped deep in you. Her cock filling you up like you’d needed it to. The shock came, and you felt yourself loosing control over your body. Shuddering and writhing like a fuckin’ bitch— you were Ellie’s bitch. So you didn’t mind.

And, anyways, your girlfriend was enjoying the view. Admiring the way you looked. Disheveled by the overwhelming pleasure that had taken over your body and had left you feeling amazing. Then again, Ellie never missed. The way her hips rolled to thrust into you, it was so damn attractive that you could cum to it alone.

“Great job, Baby.. you’re so.. gorgeous.” Ellie murmured, keeping inside you while leaning down to kiss your forehead. Both of you were gasping for air, it was all worth it. “Mind owing your girl a favour?”

Sixty-nine it was.