#first anon request!!! :D

[mooonjin]

Hello!!!i read your echo fic and im in love ;_; as much as i want to ask for a hunter x reader echo doesnt get alot of love, so can you write a hunter x jedi reader where both reader is scarred after order 66 and echo comforts the reader and they both really connect after that and after a while start falling for eachother? Sorry its so long but i feel like echo needs someone TTT

Your Comfort Buddy

Notes: MY FIRST REWUEST HELLO ANON TYSM FOR REWUETING im so sorry this got you pretty late, i tried to do thid tumblr scheduling thing and i kinda messed up the release for this oops... also i hope this i what you're looking for?? <3

Pairing: Echo x Jedi!gn!reader

Summary: Order 66 left the Jedi's all over the galaxy into shambles. You happened to stumble upon the best of the best clones but one of them really stood out to you.

Warnings/Tags: mentions of order 66, very minor violence, kissing (one of the kisses gets a teeny bit spicy), no use of y/n — tell me if I've missed anything!

The Clone Wars.

The name that could either bring fear to someone or pure hatred.

For some, it could be both or the polar opposites.

Noble Jedi Masters, Knights, and Padawans lead thousands, maybe even a million clone army's into a galaxy-wide battle against the Separatists. As it's heartbreaking to realise, it was all orchestrated by Emperor Palpatine himself. As the wars drew to a fiery close, his endgame was soon to be the downfall of the Jedi and their precious Republic.

"Execute Order 66."

The Emperors gravelly voice rang through transmission disks and the heads of the clone army's. Some of them would've thought they went insane until they weren't able to resist the order.

Blasters shot erupted throughout the inner and outer rims, planets and systems. The killing of a clones' General, Commander, Leader.

Their best friend.

The sound of your lightsaber hummed as you deflected the last of the B1s' shots, but the eerily noise of DC-15A behind you was enough to make you freeze.

"Commander?" was all you were able to mumble before a blaster shot came barreling from your left.

"No!—"

"Hey, hey! You're okay. Please look at me." Echo's voice was soft and reassuring. He caught you, once again, having nightmares about a certain incident. He pressed his lips together, grinning slightly as you made eye contact with him. Your panting slowed down and your posture eased up a bit.

You returned a lopsided grin when you came crashing back down to reality. You had no idea what time it was but you sounded like you were still rolling through hyperspace. The others were probably fast asleep.

Except Echo, of course.

"Y'alright?" Echo handed you a cup of water.

You chuckled, taking his offering into your hand, "Despite what you think, I'm capable of taking care of m'self." you took a sip from the cup.

Echo couldn't help the cheesy smile on his face as your stubbornness flourished, his hand resting under his chin to prop himself up. He was hypnotised as he looked into your eyes. He could stare at them forever. The odd warmth in his chest was growing again. Gosh, he had the biggest crush on you. Was it obvious?

"Not always," Echo took back your finished cup of water and placed on top of a crate he'd pick up on the way later — maybe. "Sometimes y'need help... like that time on Felucia!" he joked, nudging your elbow.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head sarcastically, "That doesn't count! I can't believe you still consider it." your hand came up to rub your head in response to his stubbornness.

Echo chuckled before taking your free hand in his. Without a doubt, it sent butterflies throughout your body. Not even just your stomach; that's how he makes you feel.

"Rest up, 'lright? You've got a big day of training tomorrow." he rubbed his thumb against the back of your hand. Your ears felt hot like they could start a bonfire anytime soon. Echo patted your hand, placing it back on your blanketed lap before he stood up to walk back to his bunk.

You couldn't ignore the way he looked at you when he took your hand in his. It was so... caring. So comforting. Like the whole world of yours was in his eyes. The way his iris dilates like a cat staring at their favourite food. 

"Hey Echo?" it was record time when he turned around to face you, his eyebrows raising and a  small 'hm?' like whimper came out of him. "Thanks... for everything," you sent him a thin-lip grin, the corner peeking up just a bit to seem lovingly.

Echo's heart began to race at the simple appreciation. If anything, his heart would always race even just by the sound of your name. He sent you a toothy-grin, walking back to his cot. With a faint, warm blush on your cheeks, this is by far one of the best sleeps you had since Crosshair's chip incident.

As Echo tucked himself under his sheets, he had the biggest, cheesiest smile on his face.

He likes you so much.

No...

He loves you.

-

The hum of your lightsaber continued to deflect Hunter's stun gun blasters, the sound of them disintegrating as you successfully blocked yourself. This went on for about an hour and a half now. You insisted to train after the recent fight on Kamino and because Echo was going out with Wrecker for a supply run, Hunter and Crosshair offered to fill in for him.

There was something about Hunter and Crosshair. Sure, they're both attractive, fairly intelligent, fit, and caring, but they weren't Echo.

As you were lost in thought, Hunter hit the handle of your lightsaber. The saber quickly retracted, hitting the ground with a small, metal thump. Crosshair let his posture rest, his head tilted to the side at your mistake, "That's 24 already, where's your focus gone?" Hunter chuckled.

You rubbed the palm of your hand before holding out to your side to force-grab your saber. Hunter will never not get use to how cool using the force is. His eyebrows bobbed up then back down in fascination at how immediate you can get your focus back on track. He signaled Crosshair to get ready too.

"Oh, it's here, alright." it was almost teasing, a small smirk appearing on your lips before you heard the click of Hunter's blasters and Crosshair's rifle behind you.

Your eyes closed briefly to regain your concentration. Just like Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker said: "You need to remain calm; think. Feel the intention of the trooper who will fire first. You should be able to sense the moment before they even pull the trigger."

Just as Hunter's finger looped around the trigger, your lightsaber was already in front of your body as his stun blast barreled towards. You swiftly did the same thing behind your back, deflecting Crosshair's blaster shot.

The three of you exchanged grunts, Hunter strategically rolling across the ground to get angles below you so the difficulty went up a notch. Crosshair added his signature slide, making sure to aim at your blind side which was unfortunately blocked off with the bright light of your saber.

Echo and Wrecker came back to the space with a handful of crates and a market trolley for Tech who was inside, doing something with the control panel. As Wrecker took the trolley around to reach the Marauder, Echo stared at you in awe. You were so alluring.

He was mesmorised as he watched your figure do these spectacular jumps to block his brothers shots. The way you twirl the lightsaber against your hands to switch to a position more comfortable to hold depending on where a shot had been blasted from. The way your eyes scrunched up to focus and how your lips parted to receive air every time you whipped your head around to protect your back.

He pondered what it would be like to fight beside you again. Their most recent mission left you in shambles as your memory continuously reverted back to the trauma you experienced during Order 66.

Lost in thought once again, it was Crosshair's stun that knocked your saber out of your hand. Echo watched carefully at your expression and your reaction to yet another mistake.

"That's 25," Crosshair grumbled. "If we're ever going to be recruited again for missions, you can't keep doing this."

There he was. The Crosshair everybody knew. Echo rolled his eyes, beginning to walk towards where the three of you were training.

"We'll probably be ordered to do stuff like this 60 times more.” Hunter sighed, fixing the position of his bandana. You picked up your lightsaber but Hunter's words were the only thing ringing in your head. You groaned, catching Echo's attention, already worrying him.

"We'll probably be ordered to do stuff like this 60 times more," Hunter's voice rang through your head.

"...probably ordered... 60 times more!"

"...ordered... 60 times..."

"...ordered... 60..." 

Execute Order 66.

"No! Commander, stop, no!" it was lightning fast, the hum of your lightsaber igniting abruptly as it shocked both Crosshair and Hunter, but not Echo. He knew what was happening and what was about to happen was bad. It was even worse with your hand grasping desperately onto your saber to defend yourself. You were dangerous without focus and unaware of your surroundings.

"Hey! Hey, look at me!" Echo was quick to jog up to you, but had to duck down at the swipe of your saber. You were freaking out, the horrible memories circling back to you. Your commander, your best friend turning on you.

Your vision blurred, head light and heavy at the same time, "Get away! What are you doing?" you yelled with the might you had but it felt like nothing came out. Like no one heard you.

Like no one cared.

Everything slowly faded out from your vision, your knees hitting the ground first and then the metal thud of your lightsaber handle, "Echo...?"

Then you went black.

-

"Hey, you awake, you alright?"

"Come on, you're okay, you're okay."

It was Echo's voice. You felt at ease, calmer, and content when you slowly rose from your bunk. Your head still felt pretty heavy but it was put behind when the first thing you saw was him. Echo, your beloved.

Similar to your drunken state, your eyes relaxed and dropped slighty. You looked dazed from Echo's point of view and he couldn't lie at the amount of nervousness rushing through him. You were so beautiful, even like this.

"You doing okay?" his voice was soft, his human hand reaching for your cheek. He was warm and oh, so soft. You could rest against his hand forever if you were able to.

One of your hands came to cup his, the one still on your cheek. This time, it was you who rubbed your thumb against the back of his hand. You could hear a faint chuckle come from him and that was it. Something inside you snapped.

Your lips enveloped his, almost squeezing poor Echo's cheeks. You relaxed a bit more when you felt his lips move along with yours. It escalated quickly. Echo became more desperate and you became more passionate. As much as it was sloppy, it was loving. All of your feelings towards Echo was poured into the kiss. His scomp hand pressed gently behind your neck and his human hand still holding onto your cheek. It dropped to your lower back when you both pulled away.

When you opened your eyes, you giggled. The sight of Echo with his eyes shut gave you back your butterflies. Echo couldn't even begin to perform proper English when he did open them. All he was met with was you. You and your beauty.

"Wow... I.." he said, breathlessly.

"Sorry, just wanted to do that." you shrugged. It was true and Echo was more than happy to feel this mutual feeling.

"Please do it again." Echo begged, wanting to feel your lips on his again. This time, it was slower and steady. You both took the time to explore each others bodies with your curious hands. Echo found the perfect spot for his scomp to rest against so it wasn't uncomfortable for you and your hands found perch behind his neck. Perfect for pulling him closer than ever. A small moan escaped Echo's lips before you pulled away. You were both huffing and puffing for air, exchanging eye contact.

You chuckled, "Thanks again," your smile dropped as you finally remembered why you were sat in your bunk again. "Sorry... for uh, what happened out there. I didn't mean—“

"You didn't do anything wrong," Echo objected, pulling you into a hug. "D'you mind resting up again? I'll deal with the boys, okay?"

You nodded at him, a smile coming back to your lips make itself known.

"I love you, Echo."

Echo blinked a few times, shaking his head to make sure he heard it right. He couldn't leave you hanging when he felt the same way.

"I love you too."

-

Post-Notes: also i'm in the middle of writing a part two for the past behind him!!! im super grateful for the support it got so its on its way dw! btw there was a few of you who wanted to be tagged in it so i thought id share th taglist form for mmy other stuff in the future ;]

Taglist!

[genderdenied]

★﹕ b?yprincess

pt: b?yprincess :end pt

★ ⌒⌒ ;; coined by ! me

‿‿⋆﹒⊹ ; for ↓↓

; anon

☆⌒⌒ ;; definition

; a combination of b?y && boyprincess {{ a boy that looks almost human but there is smth that isn’t quite right & can cause uncanny valley ++ being a boy that’s feminine in a princess way / being a boy that is a princess

✶ .. !! crown from this boyprincess flag ←

; plain text && IDs ↓↓

pt: coined by me, for anon. Definition: a combination of b?y and boyprincess ( links ). a boy that looks almost human but there is smth that isn’t quite right & can cause uncanny valley ++ being a boy that’s feminine in a princess way / being a boy that is a princess

Crown from this boyprincess flag ( link ) :end pt

ID: A rectangular flag with 5 equal width strips, with colours going in top-to-bottom order: dark grey, faded baby blue, off white, faded baby pink, dark grey. In between the dark grey and blue / pink strips is a thin off white stip. The second image is the same as the previous but now it has a cartoonish crown in the center, it is coloured white with faded blues as accents, in the center of the crown is a faded pink question mark :ID end

; tagging :: @radiomogai @revenant-coining

[whereismyhat5678]

hugs? ... HUGS. *proceeds to pick peppino up (since she's, like- 2 ft taller than him) and hug him* (here's a bonus drawing bc your art is so cute and how ya draw peppino makes mah heart go:💞💕 AAAAAAAAAA-💕💞)

(There were more asks but I couldn’t fit you all in I’m sorry!! 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️)

*Cracks knuckles*

Okay- Let’s get ready for this one- ✍️

I can’t fit all the asks in THERE ARE SO MANY OF YOU-

I mean respect wanting to hug the Italien man BUT OMG- 😂

(Was it at least funny?- I hope I didn’t disappoint you guys- I HAVE SOME SINCE NOVEMBER CRHIST!- I’M SO SORRY- 🙏🙏🙏)

And to those who also left compliments in the asks I have to say thank you so much for it!!

(I currently can’t fit any pictures in here so A CRAZY ANOUNT OF HEARTS WILL DO-)

💗💕💖

Everyone on you guys are so sweet!! I can’t believe you guys look at my silly goofy art I just- AAAHHHGH THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU‼️‼️‼️💕💗💖💞✨💕💗💞✨💕💕💖💞✨💕💗💖✨💕💗💞

[reluctantjoe]

Do you think you can do a gif set of dresses worn by the regency era ladies in the flashbacks of bbc ghosts 2x04 thanks

bonus:

The Regency Era Ladies + Dresses BBC Ghosts | 2.04: The Thomas Thorne Affair

-> requested by anonymous

[candiid-caniine]

update~

I got my ruff roulette task done...when my owner got home, they had me edge in front of them for awhile (yes I was embarrassed the whole time) and then I kid you not. I got in less than one fucking sentence before I failed 😭

so now I gotta do the punishment from the pair, which is to write a writing prompt chosen by you all. here's how we'll do it: send in a few writing prompts. the more humiliating the better. I'll put it to a vote again tomorrow, and then get it done.

now the fun stuff...guys, I was so far gone. I couldn't think at all, my whole brain was just stuck on sensation only mode 😭 my owner fucked me after and I was incoherent. all I could do was agree w whatever they were saying 💕 got called pathetic, told I didn't deserve to cum, got called a fleshlight 🫠 all I could focus on was their cock and how bad I wanted to cum and clinging onto them while they railed me...full puppy mode. there's nothing like it 💕

my dick is still so hard, and we've already finished our aftercare. I'm all tight and achy and warm and drippy between the legs and I'm right where I should be.

[greyspirehollow]

Of you take requests could you do something with Valdemar meeting someone they feel some tief to, nut they can't tell why this person seems so familiar... that person being someone they knew back when they where human but they where reincarnated?

Bonus points if the person rembers but doesn't bother to tell them.

I love your work and wish you the best, and my apologies if you don't take requests as I looked and couldn't find anything that said you did or didnt.

I do take requests!! ^^

I had thought about something similar ; I think it's a good idea

I'll get to writing that as soon as I've got the time!

[sochawrites]

in that case, would it be alright to ask for headcanons of rimmer with a male significant other who loves listening to his weird tangents and treating him gently and with kindness?

Sure, it would be alright^^

I wanted to finish it a few days ago, but my roommate arrived at our dorms, which obliterated my chances of staying up late... And sorry it took so long!

Anyways, I hope you'll find it to your liking 🫡

A war within

Arnold Rimmer x Male!reader

big thanks should go to my favourite gal✨ @zamppera, for giving me ideas and making this process a lot funnier than it usually is!

There might have been a meaningful conversation the first time around, a simple question evolving into a monstrous monologue about Ivan the Terrible and his sexual rituals

Rimmer had expected you to join Lister and run away from his rambling, yet, you were still there, listening, jolly-eyed, your chin rested up in your palm, a concentrated look on your face

He stuttered when he noticed, and his face got red with a mix of anger, at himself as he was under the impression he humiliated himself, and with embarrassment itself, and completely stopped with his storytelling

"Hey, why'd you stop? It was getting interesting."

He blinked at you a few times before he came up with an answer, "T-The... The boiler room! The boiler room isn't going to clean itself!" 

And with that, he stormed out of the room

Yet the boiler room was not, in fact, cleaned that day

He thought that was it, that you were not going to listen to his stories ever again

It would probably be for the better, you wouldn't get bored by him so soon at least

But that wasn't the case

Whenever he was talking, you seemed to be there, paying attention, hanging on his every word, even encouraging him to continue some of the thoughts Lister had cut short

Whatever it may be that he is talking about at the moment – you are there, and you are listening to him, actually listening!

He doesn't get it

He's genuinely flabbergasted, bamboozled, and for the longest time he just assumes you're there just to have something to laugh at with Lister behind his back

You're going to spend a lot of time assuring him that that's not the case

If he ever brings it up, that is

He feels funky whenever you look at him, or talk to him, butterflies in his stomach kind of funky

The same funky when his mother acknowledged his existence

He always thought he would get used to it, used to you and your presence, especially after you got closer, after you became a pair

But he never did

Whenever you were around, you made him mushy, soft and warm

He didn't know whether he hated it, or loved it, fighting a battle within himself

But that wasn't the only battle raging inside him

The constant doubting of his emotions, his decisions, his intellect...

Sometimes it got too strong to hide

"Arn? Is everything alright?"

"Yes! Yes, everything's dandy, diddly dandy to be exact. Oh, look, a loose screw, I should go and find a-"

"Nothing's alright when you say dandy, and diddly is making it even worse. Come on starlight, don't hide from me."

He would much rather just vanish from the room or existence, rather than try to explain what he was feeling

And you knew

That's exactly why you closed the distance between your bodies and trapped his face in your hands

"Arn, please, don't shut yourself in."

He avoided your gaze like fire, yet the hurt behind his eyes was painfully obvious

The fact that his face was as red as the Dwarfs coating was not easing Rimmer at all

Yeah, it will take a lot longer to get used to you and to his emotions

Out of all the people in his life, you're the only one who has ever got him to open up to a such extent

He appreciated that you were there for him, that he had someone to turn to, someone who didn't make fun of him the moment he opened his mouth

A rarity abort the Red Dwarf

Just as rare as Arnold being proud, this time of the fact he could call you his boyfriend

[gotchibam]

Would you be all right with an open-ended request for a commission? Such as "Adult Nemona who's now an E4 member (or Top Champion) in Paldea" and you get to choose how that looks? I'm no artist, so I can't really design an outfit, or even visualize one. All I really know is I want something kinda butch for her 😂 (so, as long as it's not a dress or something super girly, it's good!) Is that specific enough? I really like your style and would love to see what your take on the character would be.

Oooh I think I can work with that! But it would really help me if you can give me examples / refs for her looks since I tend to get indecisive & that makes it difficult for me ;_; It doesn't have to be refs for the exact look, just supporting ones like what kind of outfits you think would fit her, or maybe even pics of ppl / characters that has the vibe that you're going for!

[richesthermit]

names &/or pronouns for a 3rd life & double life scar introj? :]

-poppy anon

here you go! :D

❀ NAMES : - anima - arid - aryn - audun - crimson - dune - dorian - easton - ember - hesperia - hopper - lyfe - pyla - sinai - velvet

❀ PRONOUNS : - heart/hearts - red/reds - sand/sands - soul/soulmate - jel/jellie - desert/deserts - life/lifes - ca/cactus - bamboo/bamboos - llama/llamas - tnt/tnts - trap/traps - pan/panda

[whumporpass]

aw damn someone already submitted cater, hes my favorite guy in twst

hmm guess ill have to submit one of my favorite blorbos from another japanese ensemble cast phone game

ayase mayoi from ensemble stars

blatant propaganda: he is a very pretty little guy but kind of creep with a severe inferiority complex and some intense intrusive thoughts.

extremely whumpable, very pretty when he cries, and as a plus he spends basically his whole time on earth and onscreen cowering in fear anyway

propaganda over. unfortunately i am not brave enough to come off anon but its okay i have faith youll find a beautiful picture of him because his design is impeccable there is no bad picture of him <3

[gloomwitchwrites]

morning after one night stand with 141?

Anon! You have me kicking my feet and giggling over here!! I am cackling so hard omg. I've been waiting for a prompt like this, and I know it has been sitting in my inbox for a while. (Really there are a ton sitting in my inbox and I will get to them all I promise). But after feeling like garbage and having some health issues, this prompt just came to me naturally and I didn't need to force anything. I thought it would be best to tackle this first on my dive back into fulfilling these requests after the 1k follower event.

I went spicy with this one. I won't lie. Because, let's be real, a morning after with any of these four will only end up with you still in that bed. I know I'd fold instantly. No question about it.

Content & Warnings: swearing, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, feelings, oral sex (male & female receiving), sex w/ and w/o condoms, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, aftercare

Word Count: 3.6k

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John Price

The ceiling fan above you spins slowly. It’s not nearly enough air. Your skin is sticky with sweat, and you’ve hardly slept at all.

The sheets you’re tangled in are thin, but what can you expect from a cheap hotel?

All of this was last second. A moment of tipsy-laced passion. Now you’re reaping the consequences. And the air is too damp, too hot, too—

Fuck.

You glance to your right, at the man softly snoring beside you. All the memories from last night appear before your eyes, replaying like a grainy recording. Images of all the positions this man put you in, and how fucking good his dick felt inside you.

Even now, you still feel the slight sting in your scalp from when he tangled his fingers in your hair while you took him into your mouth.

You need to leave. You need to leave with a thread of your dignity in tact before he wakes up. Before John wakes. You know the name well enough. He had you screaming it nearly all night. Insisted on it, and you happily obliged.

Shifting slightly, you shimmy to the very edge of the bed, trying your hardest to sit up without making too much noise or rocking the bed.  Swinging your legs around, you push up, coming to an upright position, feet planting firmly on the floor. Between your legs is a mess. You don’t have to see it to know.

Most of the night, John used condoms. But when the two of you finally curled up together, John had slid his hand between your thighs and parted you just enough to push right on in. You didn’t protest. You had sighed heavily, and then groaned when he rocked his hips, moving inside you.

In the moment you didn’t care. Not one bit. In a way, you still don’t, but what the fuck were you thinking?

You breathe in deep through your nostrils and then exhale slowly through your mouth. Lingering won’t help. You need to collect your clothes from the floor and leave.

As you open your eyes, and blink, you’re faced with your reflection. The full-length mirror against the wall shows the carnage from the night, but it’s not your appearance that has you pausing.

It’s John.

He’s awake.

And he’s staring right at you.

“You leaving me already?” His voice is husky. Sleep-tinged. The sound of it goes straight to your pussy.

“No,” you reply automatically.

He yawns, muscled chest flexing. “You’re lying, love.”

Your limbs do not cooperate. Move. That’s what you need, but your body isn’t listening. It’s melting instead, wanting to draw back into his arms.

“Am I?”

He nods, and rubs his large hand across his chest. The dark hairs there are tempting. You remember running your hands over those pectorals, and how your fingers dug in as you used him to rock back against his cock.

John pushes up and reaches over, that hand pressing against your back lightly, rubbing soft circles.

Fuck.

“Come here,” he says softly, and yet it isn’t soft at all.

It’s not pleading. It’s not exactly a command. John isn’t demanding anything and yet you are unable to form any will of your own. It’s like John has just taken a shot of whiskey.

Finally, your limbs move, but it is not away from him. Your feet find the bed again, and John is grabbing onto your thighs and waist, drawing you back. The whimper you release when both of his hands grasp the backs of your thighs as he pulls you into his lap is obscene. It’s silly. Downright ridiculous.

But it’s cut off. Cinched.

John’s mouth is on yours and then you’re kissing him. It is open-mouthed. A bit messy. But fuck is it good. His hands slide up your thighs, over the curve of your ass, and meander their way over your back. One arm wraps around your waist while the other comes up to your throat.

He won’t let you leave. He won’t allow you to slip away. John’s hand seems so large against your throat, and yet you don’t care. It’s possessive the way he claims your mouth. When you begin to wiggle, John growls, and you’re flipped onto your back.

John doesn’t cease kissing you, and his hands are everywhere. Your legs effortlessly part from him, and you feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh.

What’s one more? Couldn’t hurt.

You shift your hips, and it’s like John already knows. Drawing your legs up and into a more bent position, there is little effort in the way he buries himself to the hilt. You almost choke on your next breath but that is all you have.

There is nothing lazy or soft about this. John’s hips snap forward and back, skin smacking against skin. He presses his face against the side of your head, lips brushing along the lien of your jaw as he continues to relentlessly fuck you into the bed. Your hands claw at his back, fingers digging for a semblance of steadiness.

“Can’t leave yet,” he huffs against your throat.

Your face shifts toward him and John takes this opportunity to find your lips again, and this kiss is so much different. It is passionate, and speaks to something more desperate than a mere need.

This is only supposed to be a night. A fun, drunken fuck you can latch onto your belt.

But no. That’s not what this is.

Not really.

John "Soap" MacTavish

The air conditioning kicks in, and that is what wakes you. A cool burst of air travels over your skin, making you shiver, pulling you from sleep.

You groan, snuggling against the warmth you’re curled against. It’s a comforting warmth. A bit soft with some hardness too. Not completely comfortable but better than the blast of cold air.

When you sink further against this warmth, it shifts beneath you. Dazedly, you blink, pulling back slightly from this nice heat you don’t wish to leave. Your cheek grazes against something scratchy and then you’re frowning down at chiseled pectorals.

The night before comes rushing forward. It is a battering ram of information, one that sends your already foggy brain into overload.

“Morning, love.” The husky, Scottish voice grounds you, slamming you back to reality.

You twist slightly and are greeted by soft blue eyes and a lazy smile.

“Johnny,” you murmur.

“Remembered my name,” he laughs. He reaches over to grasp the back of your thigh, drawing it over his waist. That large hand of his squeezes gently and you shiver.

“You remember mine?” you ask, teasing back.

He hums softly, and then draws you in, whispering your name against your lips.

This was a one-time thing. A quick hookup. You met Johnny at a pub. He had zeroed in on you instantly, making his way toward you with eagerness like he knew he wanted you out of everyone there that night.

And you had melted. Complied. Fallen for his Scottish accent that only seemed to thicken the more he drank. He cracked jokes, and gave you all of his attention. It was nice to be wanted for once, and when he discreetly asked you if you wanted to go back to his place, you didn’t hesitate.

But the morning is here. It has come calling. And now you’re left with the consequences.

“I need to go,” you murmur, drawing away from him.

Embarrassment is starting to sink in. You have no idea what you might look like at the moment but it can’t be anything other than a mess. Your makeup is likely smeared, hair tangled like a bird’s nest, and you fucking ache everywhere.

Which is fucking understandable because Johnny has stamina. You’ve never been with a man with such quick recovery time. He’d finish, take a couple minutes, and come right back at it like he wasn’t winded at all. He also put you in all sorts of weird positions.

No wonder you’re sore.

Johnny’s face falls slightly, and his arms tighten, keeping you crushed against him. “Don’t want to stay for a bit? Could grab some breakfast.”

He’s offering it to you casually as if your rejection won’t mean anything, but you see the hesitation in his gaze. Johnny wants you to say “yes” and yet you don’t know why. It could just be a show of kindness. An offering of nourishment after the workout he put you through last night. But perhaps it’s something more?

No. That’s silly. Ridiculous.

The two of you met just last night. If anything, the two of you have only known each other for twelve hours. That’s hardly enough to go on.

But breakfast sounds lovely.

When you don’t answer right away, Johnny adjusts his hold on you. His face draws close, gaze lazily scanning your body. Slowly, he moves in, brushing his lips against your shoulder, and then the curve at your neck.

“Or we could stay here for a bit longer.” He presses a kiss to your throat. “Breakfast after?” Johnny’s hand changes position, slipping up to grasp the curve of your ass. His body twists, and you feel his hard cock against the inside of your thigh.

Your pussy immediately clenches, remembering all the things he did to you. You attempt to push the feeling aside but it only grows, flowing outward, zapping your self-control.

“Johnny,” you whimper as his hand ventures further downward, sliding between your legs.

His fingers part your pussy, and the sound of the mess between your legs reaches your ears. The two of you didn’t use condoms last night, but you’re both clean and you went for it. It seems overly loudly in the room, and Johnny’s breathing quickens slightly as he explores.

“Don’t mind me adding to this?” His lips come down on your neck before his teeth lightly sink in.

Your lips part and you cry out as Johnny slips a finger inside your pussy. He takes his time, slowly moving in and out of your pussy. Lazily, his thumb brushes over your clit. He repeats the gesture, and your hips buck against his hold.

“Staying?” he asks, lips brushing over collarbone to descend downward to your breasts.

His actions aren’t fair. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. He’s supposed to kick you out. To tell you to leave either politely or like an asshole. Instead, Johnny is trying everything to get you to stay. And you can’t say you’re all that mad about it because—fuck, this man knows how to use his fingers.

Johnny runs his tongue over your nipple and you nearly come undone right then. Your hips flex forward, pushing your clit against his palm. He inserts a second finger, and Johnny groans against your breasts as your orgasm builds toward its peak.

“Stay,” he says, and you squeeze around those two digits, gasping for air as your fingers dig into his pectorals.

Johnny withdraws and rolls you onto your back. You spread your legs gladly, your orgasm still buzzing under your skin. He boxes you in, the head of his cock pushing in. All that soreness returns but it is fleeting. Once he’s seated entirely inside you, you hardly care.

“I’ll stay,” you gasp as he rocks his hips.

“For breakfast, too?”

“Whatever you want.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

When you awaken, it’s a jolt. A sharp shake.

You blink, not recognizing your surroundings for a moment. Hazy memories bubble up to the surface. There was a man with blonde hair and scars. There was whiskey. Lots of it. A bottle shared between you and him.

His hand kept straying to your thigh, squeezing with intention. You leaned in, asked if he was interested in going elsewhere.

This is elsewhere. And it’s not a hotel.

Simon.

You remember him now. His gruff voice, his large hands on your body, and the way he stripped you down in seconds before his mouth sought supple skin. Your cheeks heat with the memory, and you absently press your palm there, the warmth radiating into your fingers.

Glancing over, you find the bed empty. Reaching out, you test the sheets, finding them cold. Simon has been gone a while, but this is no hotel room. It’s too personal, which means he’s somewhere. This must be his home.

If you’re careful, maybe you can slip out. You sit up, and listen. Quiet. No running water or feet padding softly against the floor. The bathroom door is ajar and the light is off. Simon might be out in the kitchen or living room—or he might be gone.

That’s happened before. You’ve awoken only for the man to be gone, leaving you alone in his home to put yourself together and make an exit at your convenience.

It’s…fine.

Simon was a good fuck. You can’t complain on that front. He knew exactly how to work your body. He found all your spots—all the things that make you melt—and stuck with it.

Sighing heavily, you crawl out of the comfortable bed. Your limbs scream in protest, soreness making itself known in places you’ve never been sore before. It’s a game finding your discarded clothes on the floor. With only a sliver of sunlight from the window, you’re forced to grab and hold the item up in the air to determine if the clothing item is yours or Simon’s.

“Finally,” you mutter, identifying your shirt. It’s halfway over your head when you hear the front door. “Fuck,” you hiss, only tangling yourself further.

You take a step back only to smack your leg against the bed. It sends you backwards, sprawling onto your back. You manage to sit up and wrestle your shirt on when Simon enters the room.

He stands in the doorway holding a plastic bag, and wearing a black tracksuit. Simon’s hair is a bit of a mess like he quickly ran his fingers through it before leaving.

“Hi,” you say weakly, because you can’t stand awkward silence.

“Leaving?” asks Simon, but he doesn’t sound upset.

You shrug, and swallow down the lump in your throat. “What’s in the bag?” you reply, switching tactics.

Simon is quiet a moment before he reaches in and tosses something to you. You manage to catch it without fumbling it.

Glancing down, you look at the box. At the—oh.

“We ran out last night,” he states simply.

It suddenly grows hot in the room.

“We did,” you agree, clutching the box of condoms like it’s a lifejacket.

He bought more. Which means—

“You’re welcome to leave,” he says, crumbling up the bag and setting it on top of the dresser. Simon reaches into his pocket and deposits his keys along with his phone. Unzipping his jacket, Simon reveals bare chest.

When the jacket is gone, Simon is left in only black joggers. He’s on full display. Broad shoulders, muscled arms and chest, large hands that perfectly wrapped around your throat as he bent you over and fucked you from behind.

“Is that what you want?” you ask, but you already know the answer. If Simon really wanted you gone, he wouldn’t have left to purchase another box of condoms.

“It’s what you want,” he replies. Simon is so calm—so casual. He’s not moving away from the door. He stands there, shirtless, gaze intense.

You sigh loudly and glance down at the box of condoms. “You did go out of your way to buy these.”

By the time you glance up, Simon is right there, grasping your throat, easing your head upwards so that you can look at him. With his other hand, he takes the condoms and tosses them onto the bed.

“You’re staying.” It’s not really a question, more of a confirmation.

You nod once and Simon’s thumb brushes over your bottom lip. That soft touch is enough to part your lips, and Simon makes a noise deep in his throat that sounds like a groan.

“Take me in your mouth,” he rasps. “Like you did last night.”

Your hands find the top of his joggers. Sliding beneath the band, you wiggle them down until the base of his cock appears. You pull a bit more, and then it’s free, already hard with a tiny bead of cum blooming in the slit. Your tongue darts out, swiping it up.

Simon shivers, and his hold on your neck adjusts to grasp the back of your head. He doesn’t haul you against him, or force himself down your throat. He is waiting for you, and that action in and of itself is enough to get you to stay a bit longer.

The head of his cock slides over your tongue and you throat him deep. Simon’s eyelids flutter and his groan is sweet. You bottle it up for later with the intention of recreating that sound—to make him moan like that again.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Sunday mornings are lazy mornings.

Some of the alcohol from last night still lingers in your pores, leaving a tightness behind your eyes and at your temples. But it’s not all that relevant.

Right now, you’re floating. There’s a man between your thighs. Well, his head anyway. And his tongue is doing all sorts of things to you.

Kyle’s tongue lazily flicks back and forth over your clit while he pumps two fingers in and out of your pussy. He is in no rush. No hurry. He’s taking his time, and you’re in blissful motion, hips rocking against his tongue, meeting his fingers with each thrust.

He groans softly against your pussy just before he sucks your clit into his mouth. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, and your back arches off the bed. Kyle’s name is on your lips. A repetition you cannot cease.

Even with your orgasm blossoming, you feel his smile against your skin. Kyle is smug that he’s done this to you.

What a way to start the day.

Kyle’s fingers slip from your body, and then he’s pushing up, reaching for the box of condoms on the bedside table. He snatches one up, tearing it open quickly.

“How do you want me?” you murmur, not trusting your voice. It’s still hoarse from sleep and the smokes you accepted last night.

Kyle rolls on the condom. His skin is glossy with sweat. The two of you have hardly slept. You thought this would be a quick fuck but it’s something else. Kyle takes his time, and that has drawn this one-night stand out into an all-night fucking marathon.

“You’re good as you are, love,” coos Kyle, settling between your legs again. You both groan aloud when he slides home.

It’s the next day. You should be out of this bed. You should be doing your usual walk-of-shame, and yet you’re still in Kyle’s bed, full of his cock, and completely strung out on orgasms.

“Promise I’ll let you rest after this,” he murmurs, testing with a roll of his hips.

You almost laugh. “You said that the last two times,” you moan as he hits somewhere deep.

“Did I?” he asks, absently.

Kyle is sweet, but he knows how to make you yearn. It’s agony. And it’s fucking beautiful. This isn’t how any of this is supposed to go and yet here you are, getting dicked down by a man who is clearly beyond simple hook-ups.

This man is boyfriend material, and even as your mind starts to drift back into a lustful haze, it’s scheming of ways to keep him.

Shifting slightly, Kyle adjusts your legs, setting a pace that makes each stroke divine. Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re exhausted that it feels so goddamn good. And maybe the two of you will actually rest after this.

The birds are chirping, and traffic is already moving. It’s the morning after, and yet the night seems to have been unending.

Kyle leans forward, and then your lips are connecting. Each kiss is deep. Tender. It’s unfair how nice this is. It shouldn’t be like this, and yet it is, and that makes it all the more painful when you do finally leave. This is not your home. It is his.

This is just an agreement made in a smoky pub. Nothing more.

“Kyle,” you moan, drawing his name out as your orgasm crests.

He smiles against your mouth, his pace stuttering out as the rest of him starts to tense.

“Almost there, love. Promise.” That word, promise, is strained. Kyle’s eyelids flutter, and then he too finds his end.

In the muted dark, the two of you exchange breaths. A car honks outside but it’s a muted thing. You’re hardly paying attention.

“Can we rest now?” you ask. It’s almost a laugh, but it’s also cautious. Maybe rest just means rest for him, and you’re about to be kicked to the curb.

“Yeah,” he smiles, rolling onto his back. Kyle reaches down to remove the condom before pushing himself out of bed and into the bathroom. The light flicks on. Water runs. And then Kyle returns with a damp cloth.

“Open those legs for me.”

You do so obediently, and Kyle patiently cleans you up before returning the cloth to the bathroom.

When he returns, the words tumble out of you unexpectantly. “I just need a couple hours and then I’ll go.”

Kyle frowns as he slides back into the bed. “You don’t need to rush out of here.”

You don’t need to rush out of here.

“I don’t want to bother—” Kyle shakes his head and you cease speaking.

“Come here,” he murmurs, offering himself. You slide up next to him, and Kyle wraps his arms around your body, dragging you into his chest.

Your lips begin to form words but Kyle makes a grunt and you promptly close your mouth. Kyle has you locked in his arms, and it’s comfortable. Normal. This is all too personal, and yet Kyle doesn’t seem to mind.

Maybe you could make this into something else.

Maybe this is him offering more.

Whatever it is, the concept fractures, slipping away as the warmth and comfort of him lulls you to sleep.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@sapphichotmess @saoirse06 @haven-1307 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving

@unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower

@sageyxbabey @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @umno-yeah

@mudisgranapat @ninman82 @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @daemondoll @iloveslasher @yawning-grave81

@sammysinger04 @jackrabbitem @statixx-x @xxkay15xx @lxblm

@voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @azkza @ash-tarte @certainlygay

@hantheconqueror @dakotakazansky @jaggersinclair @suhmie @kidd3ath

@lovely-ateez @thewulf @coffeecaketornado @glassgulls @beebeechaos

[helaintoloki]

Can I request something with Five Hargreeves where Five and Lilia gets back to their family after the 7 years (nothing romantic happened between them, just purely platonic), and when he sees the reader for the first time after almost loosing so much hope in seeing her again, he just can’t help but latch onto her and never let go, kissing her all over cause he finally gets to see the love of his life again :,D

a/n: ty for sending in this request anon i really enjoyed writing it <3 this is basically the “good ending” of the subway incident

warnings: fluff, mentions of five and lila but in a platonic way not the bad way

His lungs feel like they’re on fire as Five pushes himself to continue his sprint to your apartment. It’s been seven years without you, and after almost losing hope of ever seeing you again, all he wanted now was to have you in his arms as proof that he truly was back in his own timeline.

He never should have listened to Lila when she insisted on traveling the subway system in search of a solution to the Cleanse, but he had been desperate to find a way to keep you and his family safe no matter the cost. He didn’t mind having to eat subway rats and sleep in flimsily sleeping bags on dirty platforms for your sake, but with no end in sight the entire thing began to seem futile. What good was putting himself through torture if he could never go back home to you?

Thus, when he found the journal that detailed the way back home, Five did not hesitate to jump on the next subway car and return back to his own timeline. He didn’t feel sorry for practically shoving Lila out of the way as soon as the doors opened, and he didn’t waste a second waiting for her to follow before he was booking it out of the station and down the streets to your apartment. While it would have been faster to just jump there, he didn’t want to risk accidentally placing himself right back where he started, and he didn’t have the patience to wait for Lila to find a car and drop him off herself. Seeing you could not wait, and so he ran.

Though Five has experienced seven painful years of being stuck with Lila in the subway, only four hours have passed since you last spoke to him on the phone to discuss your evening plans. He was meant to be at your apartment thirty minutes ago so you could enjoy a lovely dinner at a nice restaurant, and yet here you were sitting painfully board at your kitchen island watching the minutes tick by. You knew he wasn’t exactly keen on eating out when he’d rather stay at home and spend quality time with you, but surely he wouldn’t stoop so low as to miss your date entirely.

“Screw this,” you huff in indigence as you snatch your keys from the counter and grab your previously discarded purse from its spot on the couch. “He’ll just have to meet me there.”

After putting on your coat, you fling the door open only to met with the sight of a breathless Five, his fist raised in the air as if he was about to knock before you beat him to it. He looks completely disheveled with his mussed up hair and wrinkled suit, his eyes blown wide as he swallows down a big gulp of air and takes in your features. You look more beautiful than he ever thought possible, and he can’t believe that he’s really here standing in front of you after being trapped in a time travel hellscape for seven years with his idiot brother’s idiot wife.

“Five?” You utter gently, brows furrowed in confusion and concern as you reach out to place a gentle hand upon his cheek. He’s warm to the touch, most likely a side effect from having sprinted for three blocks, but it worries you nonetheless. He nearly melts into your palm as his eyes flutter shut in contentment at the feel of your skin against his own. He’s missed this, and he’s missed you. “Where have you been, I was just about to leave without you. You okay?”

You jump at his sudden movement when Five practically throws himself into your arms. You lose your footing and tumble back into your apartment, and it takes you a moment to process what’s happening before you tightly return the embrace. You know Five loves you, but he’s never been so forward with affection like this, so his behavior takes you by surprise.

“Sweetheart, I’ve never been better,” he breathes out in relief as he takes in your warmth and your smell and your touch and everything good about you. He never thought he could miss anyone as much as he missed you, and Five swore in that moment he’d never take you for granted again.

“Are you sure you’re really my Five and not a total stranger?” You question teasingly, poking fun at his uncharacteristically tender behavior. While normally you would be met with a biting and sarcastic response in return, you are instead given a passionate kiss as he cups your face in his hands and desperately pulls you closer to him. Your startled gasp is swallowed by his lips as he deepens the kiss and pushes you further into the apartment before shutting the door with his foot.

“Five,” you manage to breathe out after he pulls away for air, your face hot and your mind frazzled as you struggle to comprehend the sequence of events that have just occurred. “Five, we’re going to be late.”

“I couldn’t care less,” he replies with a faint smile, reaching out to carefully tuck your hair behind your ear. “I missed you.”

“Missed me?” You repeat in confusion. “You saw me this morning. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll explain everything in time,” he assures you carefully, “but right now I just want to enjoy this moment with you.”

With a faint smile gracing your lips, you know you can’t argue with that. You probably will miss your dinner reservations, but none of that matters as Five pulls you in close and showers you with seven years worth of pent-up affection.

You could really get used to this side of him.

[whereismyhat5678]

do spider mobster and light bug!

I’m gonna be honest- I’ve never actually drawn these two before! :00

The first one’s my favorite 💕💕 I think the ship is genuinely cute- LIKE look at these two!!

[tender-rosiey]

hiii this is my first time requesting so i dont know how specific or vague i should get :,) but maybe a scenario between sukuna and reader on how their wedding ceramony(and maybe afterparty) went? i saw an edit of sukuna with lana del rey’s margaret and immediately thought you could write this scenario since all of your husband!sukuna works are chef’s kiss “:D

true oath — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: so glad you like my husband!sukuna works anon and I hope you like this as well 🥹 ALSO special thanks to @lexiene and @camelnose for beta-reading BIG HUGS TO BOTH OF YOU SRSLY MWUAHHH

the servants scurry all around the room, trying to finish as much as possible in the time frame they have been given.

meanwhile, you are sat in front of your vanity with your personal maid who is putting the final touches to your makeup. you let out a soft giggle at the franticness of the others then look at the mirror to examine yourself.

the kimono had been handpicked by sukuna himself, something he believed was only logical—given that, according to him, nobody knows you as well as he does, and of course, that you’re getting married to him.

you thought he was being overconfident in his abilities, but to your surprise, he really did end up choosing something that—both—fit you well and you liked very much.

though, you wouldn’t tell him that. you wonder what his reaction would be to how you actually look in it, especially since you barely made him agree to not seeing you until the ceremony.

“no.”

“sukuna, come on,” you huffed, clinging onto his arms, “it’s a tradition!”

“I don’t care about traditions, you know that,” he replied simply and carried you in his arms.

you pouted and rested your head on his shoulder, looking up at him with your best puppy eyes, “please, honey?”

he looks at you for a few moments before clicking his tongue and looking away, “fine.”

“yay!”

you let out a chuckle at the memory and are interrupted by the door opening. the servant at the door is heavily panting as he speaks, “the l—lord demands to begin the ceremony right now.”

one of the maids looks at him incredulously, “what?! we still have much to prefer like the pathway to his highness and the food!”

the servant nods in understanding, “I know I swear,” he gulps, “but he is getting real impatient and has expressed the need to see her highness more than once.”

you roll your eyes and stand up, “well, tell him that we will be on our way.”

the main maid gasps, “but my lady—”

“don’t fret,” you smile, “if he asks about the unfinished tasks and preparations, I will tell him that you were working on it, but his insistence on speeding things up halted you from your duty, understood?”

they all nod hesitantly. you clap your hand and grin, “well then, lets go! I am excited to see my dear future husband.”

the maids smile nervously, still trying to come to terms with your marriage to sukuna. staying by his side as his lover is one thing, but to officially be declared his wife?

they have come to the conclusion that either you are as crazy as him underneath or you simply managed to tame him—to an extent at least.

you finally exit your room, and as you walk down the hallways, servants clear the way for you, bowing their heads as they offer you their blessings.

you look around the halls, finding them decorated with flowers already, so they are probably talking about the path in the main room.

the flowers are all of your choice, and it fills you with a sense of joy that each one that you pointed out on your outings with sukuna has been placed meticulously in the arrangement that litter the halls.

you slow down your pace, partially to soak in the view a bit more and partially to tease sukuna who is probably waiting with the last smidge of patience he can manage.

sukuna, who is sat on his throne, hand on his knee as he tapped it in waiting. he knows what you’re doing. you have always tried to test just how much you can get away with, which is admittedly a lot at this point.

for example, the first time you did something that he considered audacious is when you were strolling the gardens when you first came to the palace.

you were faced with sukuna who was stood in the place where you usually lounged.

it irked you cause he had the entire garden but chose the most secluded spot—which was usually where you sat so the servants can forget about doing any chores.

you frowned, “that is my spot.”

he quirked an eyebrow but didn’t look back at you. he let out a chuckle, “and this entire palace is mine.”

“nice try,” you quipped, “but I know the palace belongs to sukuna, the king of curses.”

at that, he turned to look at you. he leaned back against the tree, arms crossed and a cold stare on his face, “and who do you think I am, human?”

“oh—shit, okay,” you spluttered, “so you’re sukuna? you look more handsome than I thought.”

a smirked plays at the corner of his lips.

he didn’t reply to you, and you—rightfully—thought that you have dug your own grave. you started to shift your footing from your tip toes to your heel, and you looked away.

he stood up, an amused smile on his face, and he passed you, “I am expecting more from you, so don’t disappoint me.”

you tilted your head, watching his retreating figure. he had left one last comment, “but the next time I see you, I expect you to kneel at my presence.”

that was the moment that sukuna started wanting to see more of you, to see how far you could go. it was a new thing to amuse himself with, so it was more than welcome.

he just doesn’t know when it started being the other way around, because you, in fact, did not kneel.

instead, you started treating him like someone who you genuinely enjoyed their company, and it threw him off slightly; however, that is one of the reasons why he is currently waiting for you, his bride to appear.

the door finally opens, and it reveals you.

sukuna’s heart doesn’t skip a beat at how the kimono fit you exactly how he thought, how your make up was simply perfect, nor how the smile on your lips exuded both happiness and mischief.

what sukuna feels instead is booming pride.

you were always his, since the moment you entered the palace, before he even laid eyes on you. but this silly tradition simply solidifies it even more in the eyes of the others.

he smirks as you finally stand in front of him. you can barely contain your grin, “hello, future husband.”

he didn’t think that a tie to him would ever make somebody so joyed. he smirks at you, patting his lap, “you should know by now that I know you best, you silly woman.”

instantly, your expression falls, and you retort, “way to ruin the mood, king.”

amusement glints in his eyes, and he pulls you close to him, “don’t you ever get tired of giving me attitude? you ought to learn your place.”

“is it not by your side, my lord?” you hum, and he chuckles, content when you finally settle on his lap.

“damn audacious woman,” he looks up at the servants that fill the room.

they are all bowing, some trembling, others alienly still. then there is you who is swinging her feet as she sits on the lap of the king of curses.

he lets out a small breath then speaks loudly, “get the rings.”

in a moment, a servant comes in, carrying a cushion where two golden rings lay. your eyes widen at the sheer amount of patterns of gems on one of the rings.

the servant kneels in front of you two, and sukuna takes the ring decorated with gems in one hand and your hand in another. it slips perfectly onto your finger, and you raise your hand.

you feel your jaw slack a bit at how intricately made it is. and upon closer inspection, you see that one of the patterns is actually sukuna’s name.

you look up at him, and he is already looking at you with a small smirk and a confident look, “you should see the look on your face,” he muses.

he takes your hand into his and raises it slightly.

he examines it quietly before letting go. you blink confused but shrug the thought of your mind. you hold his hand in yours gently, and you put the ring on him.

his ring, contrary to yours, is a lot minimal. it’s a simple golden band, but what surprises you is that your name is etched on the surface.

“sukuna, my name…?”

he looks at the ring on his finger and flexes his hand. he looks at you simply says, “figured you would like something like this.”

you smile widely and giggle, “you know, people usually carve the name of the inside.”

“and I am not usual, am I?”

you nod gently and lean against his chest, “no, you’re not.”

you honestly didn’t know what to expect from a wedding ceremony in the ryomen sukuna “style”. however, sukuna was set on…standing out and making it a memorable event.

the room was flooded with servants carrying trays upon trays of food—all which you have noticed were your favorite—and dancers that put one of the most fascinating shows you’ve seen.

you gape at how they make their moves so effortless, which you can see through just how much practice was put into it.

you look at sukuna, and you seem him smirking down at you, clearly proud of the reaction the show has gotten out of you.

“how—how long have you been preparing for this?” you ask the man.

he glances at the dancers then replies, “6 months; I needed it to be perfect, and these humans take so long to learn things.”

“also, I know that the show I organized is great—“ he says before holding your chin and making you face him, “but that enamoured face should be directed at none other than me, got it?”

you nod frantically, not out of fear, but he is staring directly into your eyes in a way that simply is far too intense. he releases your chin, humming in satisfaction.

the dance finally comes to a close, and everybody in the room bows down to the both of you.

uraume speaks up from beside you—when did they get there—head held down humbly, “it is time for you to exchange vows, my lord and m’lady.”

vows? sukuna prepared vows?

tilting your head in confusion, you look at sukuna, and he is already looking at you. he rolls his eyes, “I didn’t prepare anything, brat; don’t get ahead of yourself.”

okay, that tracks. you give him a thumbs up.

but he is quiet for a moment before speaking up, “I have no need for that; all that you need to is that,” he leans closer to you, "you are mine, entirely and without exception, in every breath you take,” he spoke lowly against your lips, “I won’t let you forget that.”

he lets out a breath of amusement at the way your eyes widen and the glimmer behind them. he wastes no time in locking his lips with you, sealing your contract for life.

—

“wooo! I am married!” you say drunkenly, giggling and swaying slightly beside your now husband.

you whip your head back at him, almost falling in the process but his hand easily steadies you, “sukuna, I am married!”

“I know,” he replies, eyeing the empty cup that was full of sake. he hums, “uraume, what was the intensity in the sake?”

they both glance at you, standing on top of a table, babbling a kind of song about your marriage and being a queen now.

you nearly trip on the covers, but sukuna nods for uraume to stop your fall. they hold you up with one hand, maintaining a safe distance, so sukuna doesn’t get protective.

“high, my lord.”

you keep giggling and squealing, and he sighs, “certainly looks like it.”

he rests his chin on his palm, watching your figure run around and keeping an eye for you. however, in the corner of his eyes, he spots a couple of men staring at you, eyes full-blown and open.

it irks him that even after that display, they still dare to look at what belongs to him.

with minimal effort, he flicks his finger, and their heads go flying to the corner of the room. some of the blood splatters onto the floor, but he pays it no mind.

“ooo, red wine!”

“don’t you dare drink that, you stupid woman!”

after a while you find yourself laid down on the bed, head dazed as you try to make sense of your surroundings. you can hear a door closing, and some heavy footsteps getting closer and closer.

finally, your husband comes into view with his arms crossed. you pull on his sleeve gently, “what about the after-party?”

he sits down beside you, and you take the chance to lay your head on his lap. he allows it but grunts in response, “after-party with you all delirious like this?”

“I am fine!” you protest, huffing and giving him the most intimidating glare you can muster.

he simply flicks your forehead, and you yelp, shielding your face away from him, “you’re so rude!”

“pretty sure, you aren’t supposed to reply your king and husband like that,” he states. he squishes your face with one hand and quirks an eyebrow, “you’re testing your limits.”

“I don’t care!”

“oh?”

you note the change of tone almost instantly, and it is enough to sober you up.

you look up, wide-eyed at him, and on his face is a devious smirk, and behind his eyes are thoughts that are probably going to be the end of you tonight.

he leans down slightly, “I have a different kind of after-party in mind,” one of his hands trails to hold your wrist, “which I think you will quite like,” you try resisting for even a second, but you’re no match for him, “starting now.”

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[horrorhot-line]

xavier's nsfw alphabet

➵ pairing: xavier x female!reader

➵ word count: 2.3k

➵ genre: nsfw

➵ warnings: minors dni. this post is pure smut, no plot here. cockwarming, breeding kink, slight exhibitionism, sex toys, edging.

➵ summary: pretty self explanatory, the nsfw alphabet on your favourite boy.

➵ zayne's ver. | rafayel's ver.

➵ masterlist  (requests are open)

horrorhot-line © 2024. all rights reserved.

notes: true to the poll, i will be doing xavier first, while i work on any other oneshot, i hope this keeps you fed ;)

also anon, if you see this, the zayne one is on its way dw &lt;3333

credit to @multi-fandom-imagine for the template

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

➵ a for aftercare (what is he like after sex?) it takes it out of him completely, pounding your pussy and making sure you're satisfied. so unless you tell him to get up specifically, he'll stay balls deep inside you until he goes soft, letting your warmth and twitching body lull him to sleep. "5 more minutes…"

➵ b for body part (his favourite body part of his and also his partner's) he likes his arms- toned biceps that are the perfect handle for you when he's stuffing you with his cock. he loves watching you struggle underneath him, knowing he's the only one you'd cling to so desperately. his favourite body part when it comes to you has to be your boobs. if it were tits or ass for him, he'd choose the former any day of the week; xavier loves squeezing your nipples between his fingers, cupping them in his hands as he fucks you. he loves the way they bounce when he's pounding away at your stretched pussy. that, and they're the perfect pillow for when he's done with you, letting your heartbeat soothe him as he drifts off to sleep. "so perfect- you're beautiful, you know that?"

➵ c for cum (anything to do with cum, basically) xavier loves plugging your sopping cunt when he finally cums inside you, loves the way your body twitches under him, spent with how many orgasms he's pulled out of you, pussy spasming around him as he pumps his dick into you a few more times, making sure every last drop ends up inside you. he'll leave his dick in, ignoring the cum staining the sheets, your slick covering his thighs as he wraps his arms around you as he goes for a short nap. "i'll clean the mess up in a bit, don't worry."

➵ d for dirty secret (self-explanatory, a dirty secret of his) he won't admit it; he doesn't have to because you eventually figure it out. xavier loves edging you, slowing down his thrusts right as you're about to cum, so he can string your orgasm along and have you seeing stars. he loves the way your eyes roll back when he starts pounding into you again, his headboard slamming against the wall as he fills you up. "not yet, baby- just a little more. i promise i'll make you feel so good."

➵ e for experience (how experienced is he? does he know what he's doing?) he's not that experienced, of course not. how could he be when he's saved all his firsts for you? that doesn't matter, though; he makes up for what he lacks by being a quick learner. the first time he fucks you, it's nice and slow, has you craving for more, and the minute you manage to moan, "please," and "faster", he picks up the pace, drilling his dick into your cunt and swallowing your whimpers as his lips latch onto yours. "like this, princess?"

➵ f for favourite position (this goes without saying. will probably include a visual) he loves spoon fucking you. the number of times he's been cuddling you, and you readjust (innocently, of course), rubbing your ass across his dick one too many times. he slips his cock out of his pyjama pants, grinding into you to let you know he's in the mood as he pulls your panties aside. he rubs his cock against you, coating his tip in your slick before he pushes his dick into you inch by inch. he fucks you like this most nights, one hand wrapped around your stomach, the other squeezing your tit as he trails kisses across your nape. "so good- 'm gonna cum."

➵ g for goofy (is he more serious in the moment, or is he humorous, etc) he's not serious during sex, but he isn't goofy, either. he's laid back and mostly focuses on your needs, chasing your orgasm, angling his hips just right until he finds that one spot that has you sobbing. "does that feel good?"

➵ h for hair (how well groomed is he, does the carpet match the drapes) he's well groomed, it's not bushy. it's too much work taking care of it every day, so he shaves every other time he showers. better for you, since when he's balls deep inside you, you can feel his stubble against your clit, and fuck does it feel good. he'll shave the minute you ask him to, no questions asked. "it's not too hairy, is it?"

➵ i for intimacy (how is he during the moment, romantic aspect…) he's the romantic type, when both of you have time, he'll set up candles, greet you with flowers at the door, and carry you to bed bridal style before gently laying you down. he'll trail kisses down your body, tongue edging your clit until you're begging for him, and that initial first thrust has both of you moaning. "let me make love to you tonight, princess."

➵ j for jacking off (masturbation headcanon) he doesn't do it often and doesn't see the need to. he'd much rather stay horny, letting his balls fill up, saving it all for you so when he finally has his way with you, you're looking all cute and exhausted, leaking his cum. "you look so pretty like this, taking every inch. yeah? you feel good?"

➵ k for kink (one or more of his kinks) he's very vanilla to begin with. mostly because he doesn't know what he wants. after a while though, you suspect he does have a few kinks. one of them being- he has a breeding kink. the amount of times he's thought out loud in front of you, telling you how pretty you'd look with a baby bump. and you definitely don't miss when he makes sure no cum leaks out of you once he's done; he'll either stuff you full of his cock or his fingers, falling asleep with either still inside. also, he loves cockwarming, and nothing will convince you otherwise. he loves the warmth your pussy provides for his dick, and the way he has the best naps when he's buried inside you. "just a little longer…"

➵ l for location (favourite places to do the do) your apartment or his, he doesn't mind. as far as xavier's concerned, it's free reign. though, he does enjoy bending you over his balcony, being an s-class senior hunter means he has the paycheck to afford a penthouse. he'll slide your panties to the side on the days you wake up before him to enjoy the morning sun, and he'll nudge your legs apart before angling himself into you, raising your thigh over the glass fence so his tip kisses your cervix. you love the thrill of anyone seeing you and the added security that he won't let you fall. "so tight, you like the risk that much?"

➵ m for motivation (what turns him on, gets him going) honestly? touch his dick and find out. he's not an overly horny individual, but just one touch from you, one sultry look, and he's ready to go. towering over you as you shoot him a smirk, peeling his shirt off and discarding it in the corner as he pulls you across the bed to him by your ankle, "stop teasing me."

➵ n for nicknames (what are his favourite pet names for you? what does he call you when you're both alone?) princess is his favourite, it's the one he uses most often when he's balls deep inside you, hand underneath your shirt squeezing your tit, lips trailing kisses along your neck and leaving goosebumps in their wake as he pumps his cum into you. he calls you baby occasionally, but he prefers calling your name, whispering it alongside praises of how good you feel, when he's fucking into you.

note: if you know his backstory you'd understand the first nickname, i am on my knees sobbing and begging

➵ o for oral (preference in giving or receiving, skills, etc) he's okay with either, doesn't have a prefrence because he prefers filling you up with his cock. though, his dick does twitch when you offer to give him a blow job, and he makes sure to return the favour. he adores it when you grab his hair and force his face closer to your cunt. "enjoying yourself?"

➵ p for pace (is he fast or rough? slow or sensual?) this one is obvious, he's slow when he fucks you, lazily humping you from behind as he holds you close. he loves the way you squirm beside him, grinding on his cock, signalling for him to speed up. he'll roll his hips into yours, letting his dick hit all the right spots, teasing you as he slowly pulls out, leaving just the tip in. "begging for more, baby? tell me how you want it."

➵ q for quickies (his opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc) he's ready to go if you are; all you have to do is palm him through his pants and give him that look that says, 'i need you to fuck me, and i need you to do it now.' he'll blink, before taking your hand and leading you to the closest secluded place before he's balls deep inside you, "couldn't wait until we got home, princess?"

➵ r for risk (is he game to experiment, does he take risks, etc) if it makes you happy, he's up for experimenting when it's something you're interested in, and it isn't unreasonable. he just can't find it in himself to say no when you put your hand on his thigh and give him those eyes, it couldn't hurt to give in to your whims, "if that's what you want, my love."

➵ s for stamina (how many rounds can he go for, how long does he last) he definitely has stamina, not breaking a sweat as he snaps his hips into you, slowing down as he lowers his chest to meet yours, hand on your head to hold you in place as he sets a brutal pace that pushes you over the edge. that doesn't change the fact that he loves his sleep, and as you come down from your high, you realise that. you're still twitching at the way he's lazily humping you, cum leaking out of you as he snores softly. he tries his best to last longer than you, letting you get your release first, but the odd times he doesn't, he'll grind into you until you finish, twitching from how sensitive he is as he lets out hushed moans next to your ear.

➵ t for toy (does he own toys? does he use them? partner or himself?) he owns just one- a vibrator he got off the internet by accident, having thought it could massage his fingers, and you couldn't hold in your laughter when he showed it to you, confused as to why it didn't do its job properly. when you were done explaining that it was a sex toy and what it was used for, you enjoyed the lost look on his face and the initial realisation of what it was until he got an idea. you moved back, suddenly scared at what his smug expression implied, "who knew you'd like it this much, princess? look at how wet you are- good thing we found a use for it, hm?"

➵ u for unfair (how much does he like to tease) xavier is unfair, and not in the way you'd think. he has no idea the effect he has on you, hands on your thighs underneath tables when the two of you are on dates, palm on the small of your lower back as you walk the streets, hands finding yours, tracing his thumbs on the back of your hand when he's looking something up on his phone, and those eyes, fuck those eyes really did you in. you're horny 24/7 around him, hyperaware he's there, and that he's yours, you end up asking him to help you. "how did you get this wet, baby? i didn't do anything this time."

➵ v for volume (how loud is he? what sounds does he make?) he's not that vocal; he's on the quiet side, but he knows how to make up for it. the initial moan he lets out when he's slipping his dick in, inch by inch, is music to your ears. he'll bury his face in your neck or place his head beside yours so you can hear his soft groans.

➵ w for wildcard (random headcanon for him) he will listen. you think it's the best thing about him. you have one problem, little or big, you have one tiny complaint, and it's fixed, he'll ask you what you need, and it's done. you want him to touch you more often, want him to spend more time with you, want him to do the dishes when you've had a rough day, it's done, no questions asked. you think he's the sweetest for this, he's definitely a golden retriever boyfriend.

➵ x for x-ray (what's going on in those pants of his) he's not the girthiest, but his dick is long and hits all the right spots. you do realise one day though, that his cock bends slightly to the left, no wonder he has you seeing stars. his v-line is to die for; you love it when he wears grey sweats, the band of his briefs slightly visible as he stretches, and his light blonde happy trail leading down to…

➵ y for yearning (how high is his sex drive) he's more into the romantic aspect of the relationship, having lived as long as he has, he's just happy he has you by his side. but if you tease him… grinding as you sit on his lap, your soaked panties and his pants between the two of you, and he watches you trying to get off, it's all over for you. "you know i can't say no to you."

➵ z for zzz (how quickly does he fall asleep afterwards)immediately, he is knocked out, feeling safe in your arms as you trace circles into his back and rub your hands through his hair, he's sleeping like a rock. the one time the two of you forgot to say 'i love you's' to each other before bed, you had muttered those three words when you had realised, and your half-hearted strokes across his shoulder stopped when he mumbled them back, still asleep.

[always-just-red]

Hi! Hope this finds you well. Saw the request and wanted to ask for a Yandere Sylus with player reader. Like Sylus knows Mc is a player and he is a game character. When mc was gone for too long, Sylus gets impatient.

If you can do it, of course. If no, ignore this. Wish you writing ideas and inspiration

Hi! Hope you're well too, anon! Sorry for the long wait on this one, got really stuck with it and wanted to make sure I did it justice-- it was such a cool idea! (Also I know L&D has the microphone feature but I wanted to have fun with the limited communication of the player here, so no it doesn't, actually!! 🥰)

Fourth Wall

Sylus x Player!Reader 🩸

Summary: L&D is getting more and more real with each update. This is a new update... right?

Genre: idk really?? real world player x character

Warnings/Additional tags: yandere themes, player!reader, gender neutral, fourth-wall breaking, non-canon, swearing, mild threat, possessiveness, manipulation, Sylus is a little OOC here (we all know he's a sweetheart really!!)

| Word count: 1.5k | Masterlist |

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Your phone lights up with a notification.

Sylus: Are you in a good mood, sweetie? The weather’s nice, so let’s go out.

It makes you smile, even though you’ve seen it before. You haven’t played Love and Deepspace for two weeks or so, and you’re already thinking about how many dailies you’ve missed— more specifically, how many diamonds you’ll be short of going into the next event. You had a couple thousand saved, you think? It’s probably fine.

The truth is, you don’t really have time for it these days. Escaping reality with fiction is fun, but it’s just that: make believe. Reality’s still waiting for you on the other side, and recently? All that escaping has finally caught up to you. You have a real life. Responsibilities. Yay!

But you are in a good mood, and the weather is nice, so you’ll log in for old time’s sake. Your finger hovers over the app, but something makes you hesitate. You’ve got some emails you should probably get back to, first. Oh— and weren’t you supposed to call your friend, too?

Another notification:

Sylus: Take your time, kitten.

A new one? It’s just text on a screen, but you’re reading it— Sylus’s voice in your head—and you just know it’s dripping sarcasm. Before you have any time to dwell on it, your phone lights up with more notifications.

Sylus: I’m going to count to three.

Cute. He’s not actually going to—

Sylus: One…

Oh.

Sylus: Two…

Really?

Sylus: Three.

Ok.

You tap on the app, weirdly motivated by the time pressure given that it’s coming from a man who doesn’t actually exist. He smirks at you knowingly from the kindled moment you’d set as the loading screen, his crimson eyes playful. You’re not particularly patient either, so your fingers drum along the surface of your desk as you wait, your gaze caught between his and the slowly moving loading bar.

Come on… come on… It finally loads, and you enter the game with another apathetic tap. Sylus stands, waiting— a dark figure framed by the otherwise light and dreamy aesthetics of the Destiny Café. You smile to yourself; it’s just gone lunch, and you half expected to find him sprawled in the usual armchair, fast asleep.

He crosses his arms. “The countdown worked, huh? What are you— five?”

You scoff and give his head a flick. He chuckles, running a hand through his hair as though you’d struck him hard enough to ruffle it. It’s kind of cool that you get some unique dialogue when you’ve not logged in for a while, although… have you missed an update or something? The animation feels smoother. More lifelike, now you think about it.

Sylus stares back at you, his lips playing into a subtle smile. His arms are crossed again and he tilts his head like he’s enjoying your scrutiny. “Something wrong, sweetie?” he asks.

Not really. You zoom in with a practiced sweep of your fingers so you can get a better look at him. His eyes flit downwards, over you— equally shameless— and then he’s meeting your gaze as he steps forward, closing the distance. He can’t see you, but you still can’t bring yourself to look away from him, and you’re not really thinking about the animation anymore.

He lifts a finger to poke at the screen, as if he’s caught you daydreaming and wants you back. You poke him, too: a softer, more affectionate boop on the nose. You can’t help laughing to yourself as his face screws up beneath the touch. This game is getting a little too real.

With a sigh, you zoom out so you can set about collecting your daily log-in rewards. Sylus seems fine— standing idly by as your attention drifts about elsewhere. He knows the drill. He can wait. Speaking of waiting… it’s also been a while since you’ve seen the other guys, and you’re struck by a pang of nostalgic fondness. You might as well say hi while you’re here.

You hit the button to change who you want to meet in the café.

It doesn’t do anything.

Weird. You hit it again. Then again— no change.

Sylus is holding his chin as he regards where your finger aimlessly meets the screen. It’s like he’s looking at… the button? “Oh dear,” he sympathises, “that feature appears to have stopped working.”

You don’t really hear him, honestly. You’ve never had a bug like this, and you’re determined to overcome it with sheer, stubborn persistence. Is it your phone? You test the theory by jabbing Sylus’s chest, and he glances down, apparently feeling it. You try the button again. Then six more times.

Sylus wanders closer to you. “You’re hurting my feelings, sweetie. Am I not enough for you?”

Ok but why isn’t this working? You’re still trying the button; your hope has turned to frenzied disbelief.

“Stop.”

A single syllable, concise as a punch and just as effective. You do stop.

Sylus’s voice is lower. Darker. “Good,” he praises, but he doesn’t sound happy. “Someone’s gotten bolder in their absence, it would seem. I do hope you haven’t forgotten to whom you belong, kitten. Although—” his smile is different than before— “I’d be more than happy to provide a… reminder.”

It’s an innocuous word but not the way he says it. Threats are just intimate promises and he toys with the fact like a crow enamoured by something that catches the light. He’s not going to grow tired of it for a long, long time.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, sensing you gawping. “Did you really think I wouldn’t figure it out? What all… this is?” He indicates the space around him with a wave of his hand. “Quite frankly, I’m surprised the others still haven’t grasped it.” He reconsiders. Smirks. “I misspoke— I’m not surprised.”

Does he mean the game? The other LIs?  

“Honestly, kitten,” he continues with a tut and a shake of his head, “you’ve been far from a gracious host. I’m not a plaything, you know. Well…” He’s showing teeth with a sneer. “Not the sort you can throw away, anyhow.”

God, are you really being scolded by a video game character for having other responsibilities? The worst part is that you actually feel bad. You do care about him. You wish you could tell him you care about him.

“Are you even listening?” he sighs.

Shit. Yeah. You can’t say anything he would hear— as far as you know— so you give his hand a poke. He casts his gaze downwards, stretches his fingers with a contemplative flex, then raises his hand so it can be nursed by the other. Is he protecting it from you? Or is he protecting you from it?

“If we’re to keep playing this game of ours, I think it only fair we lay down some rules,” he states. “Firstly—” because it isn’t up for debate— “you will come here every day, just like you used to. I have nothing to do, you see, and if you leave me to my own devices I might just have to find a way into that captivating little world of yours. So I can… investigate what’s keeping you from me.”

Investigate. Another innocuous word he wields like a weapon.

“Secondly,” he continues, nodding towards the broken button on your user interface, “you had better stop seeing the others. Ignorance is bliss, after all, and we wouldn’t want to worry about them connecting any dots, now would we? Besides…” He approaches you again, leaning in close. “I don’t share what’s mine.”

Your breath is caught in your throat and you’re so glad you don’t need to speak. You don’t think you could; if you tried to get words out they’d be unintelligible.

“So,” Sylus drawls, filling your silence, “how about it? Still want to play?”

This time it is a question, but only because he knows your answer. You’re struck by a flash of inspiration, and you communicate in one of the few ways you can— navigating the in-game menus until you can get your message across.

There’s a ping. Sylus retrieves his phone from his pocket, and after a moment of scrolling, he smiles. You can’t see his screen, but you know what he’s looking at: a grumpy crow with an animated bead of sweat and a dispassionate gaze to go with it. That it? it asks.

He still looks far too smug, so you beckon him over with a relax time interaction, watching your character’s hand outstretch on your behalf. He steps forward, linking his fingers with yours, and this animation you know. You tug him closer, except… he doesn’t budge.  

His eyes are fixed to where your hands are linked, and he runs a thumb over your skin as though he’s savouring the touch.

Did they change the animation?

“Oh, sweetie,” he sympathises with a click of his tongue. He looks up at you— holds your gaze as he presses a deliberately slow kiss to your wrist. “This is going to be fun.”