#look at the flow on those grabby hands

[inkykeiji]

character: ryomen sukuna warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, rough sex, daddy kink, true form sukuna, size kink/size difference, oral fixation, lil bit of mindbreak, implied fem!reader, toxic relationship, dacryphilia, blood words: 1.2k

Sometimes, when Sukuna fucks you real good, past the point of coherency, when your words have turned to liquid, all garbled with drool as they ooze from the corners of your mouth to stain his sheets, and your bones have melted and your muscles gone to mush, body perfectly pliant (just the way he likes it), and the only concept your fucked-stupid brain can comprehend is his name and his title, he’ll give your empty, slack little mouth one of his wrists to gnaw on.

The grabby hands are cute, and they let him know that your cognition has been eroded by immense pleasure, intense pain, and that you need something to ground you. 

It’s pathetically precious, honestly, how unbelievably needy you become when he fucks you past the point of lucid thought and intelligible speech, desperate for something to occupy that pretty little mouth of yours, to serve as a point of reference, a heavy and sure weight that keeps you tethered to this world.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” 

Oh, he knows, baby, he knows. 

You prefer his wrist to his hand, claiming it rests better between your teeth, but he doesn’t mind either way—it’s easy to shove one of his free forearms in your gaping mouth, obedient and open, wide and waiting. His flesh muffles those pretty little huffs of cracked breath and the mosaic of whines and whimpers and mewls he’s continuously fucking from your chest, smothering them to little more than damp exhales slicking his skin.

It’s barely a hitch in his movements at all, to wedge one of his large wrists between your eager teeth, two hands curled tightly around your hips as they hold you in place, pinning you to the mattress, another hand splayed wide next to your head, supporting most of his weight. 

You alternate between sucking and biting, wholly dependent on how hard his hips are snapping, and he loves to feel those little stuttered sobs flutter against his flesh, exhaled in juddered hiccups. 

And, God, it’s so fucking pretty—he isn’t sure he’s seen a prettier sight in his millennium of years, he wasn’t sure something could even be this goddamn pretty—glittering streams of salt streaking your cheeks, their flow steady and constant as warm tears pool around the seal of your lips, soaking into his skin; your mouth stretched wide around his arm, teeth grinding over that prominent bone in his wrist, scraping over the bump in rhythmic motions, back and forth with each strong piston of his hips; saliva trickling from your bottom lip in heavy, viscous cords to smear across your chin in a thick coat and drip off your jaw, stringy and sticky, substance already gone cold by the time it drizzles over your collarbone. 

That thick black band encircling his wrist looks so gorgeous lacquered with your spit, gleaming in the dim light as he pounds into you. 

He’ll rotate it in your mouth a little, so you drench his entire wrist, coating him in one of your many essences. he loves the smell of you on him, his favourite scent to wear, makes his cock twitch with each whiff of it as your drool steadily soaks into his wrist, steeping his tissues and saturating his blood, dousing his wrist until his skin has gone puckered from the wetness. 

Other times you won’t ask for it, because you physically can’t ask for it, tongue gone sluggish and stupid from intense pain.

During instances such as these, it’s up to him to read you, to decode and decipher the beat of your sobs and the melody of your whines, to care for you properly like all good Daddies do, like all good Daddies are supposed to, eager to nurture his most prized possession, to give her want he knows she needs most.

It’s easy to tell, even when your face is buried in his bed, webby smears of saliva streaking his dark sheets as you sob into the mattress—ugly chest-wracking things that leave your ribs heaving and your entire body quivering, fingers curled so tightly in his silk pillow that they’re frozen stiff, aching joints creaking as he uses one of his four hands to uncurl one, then uncurl the other, fingertips pressing tenderly into your knuckles and massaging the numbness from them, the gentleness a stark contrast to the brutal snapping of his hips. 

His remaining two hands stay curled around your hips, keeping them hoisted high and held still as he rams into you. A flash of heat spreads throughout your spine as his body blankets yours, his broad chest pressed flush to your sticky, sweat-glazed back, his lips moving along the shell of your ear.

“Does it hurt, baby?”

“Uh—Uh-huh,” you wail out, head nodding in sloppy motions, turning your head so his lips brush your cheek. 

“You need Daddy to pacify you? Huh?” 

“Yes, Daddy, please, Daddy, yes, Daddy!” you’re crying, mouth already wide open and waiting, tears leaking past the corners to stain your tongue with salt. 

“Oh, my poor little princess,” he’s cooing as he wedges a thick wrist between your parted teeth, your jaw immediately flexing around it. “Needs Daddy to give her something to gnaw on while he fucks her,” he tuts his tongue, as if it’s such a shame, as if he genuinely pities you, but you can hear the notes of sadistic glee infusing his voice. “How utterly pathetic.”

The insult is spit in your ear, fading to a growl at the end, a singular sharp huff of air against the curve of your cheek. 

And then his hips are pounding again, fucking into you rough and ruthless, the hands on your hips an anchor keeping you from being jostled up the bed as your front teeth involuntarily dig into his flesh. 

“Is that better, sweetheart?”

An affirmative hum vibrates up his arm, your head nodding in quick little motions, glassy eyes desperately trying to glance up at him as weighted lids struggle to stay open.

But that just isn’t good enough. 

A large hand tangles in the hair at the back of your skull and yanks, your teeth latching onto his wrist tighter, the sudden motion forcing them to scrape against his flesh, a pleasured hiss slipping through the gaps of his teeth. 

“Fucking answer me when I ask you a question.” 

Yes! you yelp around the wrist crammed in your mouth, instant and instinctual. Yes, yes, yes! 

“Good,” he snarls in your ear before shoving your head back into the mattress, front teeth gouging into his arm in the process. 

And it’s real sweet, the way such a simple, primal action—a body part shoved between your lips, little tongue curling around the bones of his wrist, sucking it harder, further, deeper—can provide such an immense amount of comfort; sobs calming to sniffles, limbs gone languid and limp, whole form malleable between his large palms.

But he loves it just as much as you do. Because despite the fact that it muddles your pretty sounds, it also leaves the cutest little bracelet of indents around his thick wrist, something he wishes he could wear forever, something that fades much too quickly for his liking. 

There’s nothing better than when you break the skin, little pools of blood filling the notches of your teeth until they overflow, drops of crimson streaming down his forearm and along the lines of his palm, because those ones scab, which means they last a little longer, look a little brighter, leave a lingering reminder. 

One day, he hopes you’ll scar him with all your gnawing, carve something permanent into his skin just as he’s done to you countless times before, stamp him with your unique signature and claim him as yours, eternally. 

[marlsswrites]

Summer camp AU, part 31!!

July 31st, final part <3

Age - @jegulus-microfic - words: 1079

First part Previous part

Protective arms hung over his shoulders, moving his fingers softly and adjusting his arms onto the guitar in his hands into the perfect position. This had been his morning, the golden sun shone in lines through the blinds, every other second catching his eye and all he could see was sunlight for a few moments.

A breath so close to his neck flushed him from his shoulders to the tips of his once pale skinned ears.

"One, two, three." His favourite voice whispered. "There you go." As beautiful music flowed from the instrument. 

"Why did you bring a guitar?" Regulus snorted after a few seconds, looking up at James through adoring eyes and new found fantasies. 

"I left it in my car, thought I may as well bring it in." He shrugged, hands still around the younger man - who just hummed in response and continued to brush his fingers against the rough guitar strings. Normally he wouldn't persist this long, but when James had his arms around Regulus like that, he'd stay here forever and do anything James asked of him.

Shortly after, the arms unwound themselves and he instantly felt full of empty and cold. He let out a whine of annoyance, twisting his head up and glaring at James. "What?" James laughed. "You've got the hang of it now."

"No I haven't." He lied, attempting to play a horrible chord on the guitar. "I need more help."

An eyebrow raise. "Do you?"

He only nodded, placing the guitar down on the floor and folding his arms stubbornly as he watched the smile become harder to fight away from James' stunning face. 

He finally broke, tackling Regulus into a hug and knocking them both onto the bed behind them, laughs and giggled breaking out between the two as Regulus smiled more than he feels he ever has in his life. 

Kisses tattooed his neck, hands massaged his hip bones and lips smiled into his own. Eyes opened in front of his, hazel meeting grey in the light of the sun. Yet one could see the green decorating the brown, and the other counted every speck of blue in those grey eyes - every single detail.

-

A splash in the water snapped Regulus from his daze, James was grinning, hair wet and stuck to his forehead yet still looking perfect. Lips twisted around soft words as he beckoned Regulus to come and join him with grabby hands and an utterly adorable pout.

"Jamie-"

"You can hold onto me?" James smiled as he approached Regulus, who sat on the pier with crossed legs and a book in his hands, finally letting go and smiling the smile he'd been hiding behind built up walls since he met James. Those walls fell, crumbled, disappeared as he got closer to the brunette.

He sighed. "Okay." He spoke through his smile as wet James' hands slipped onto his waist and pulled him into the water, swirling him around and kissing his shoulder while Regulus laughed and wrapped his legs around his love.

Quickly, James plunged under the water, keeping a hold on Regulus' cold arms as he did so. The man tugged ever so slightly, encouraging Regulus to join him. As he sank lower into the water, he felt the ice liquid prick at every bit of skin on his body like needles, but that soon went away when he opened his eyes and felt a hand on his cheek.

Air bubbles shaped like pearls fell from both of their smiling, swollen, kissed lips as James laughed out a chuckle that was silenced by the water surrounding them almost like it was protecting the two men.

Pulling on the gold chain around James' marked neck, he kissed James like he was the only oxygen left in this world, the only healer for the pain that he once had, the only warmth in this cold arctic or the only light in a dark room that was Regulus Black. 

-

"Can we stay like this forever?"

"In this moment?" Regulus questioned.

James nodded, resting his head on Regulus' shoulder. Both gazed out at the sunset, at the way it reflected onto the water and bounced back into their wanting eyes. Regulus' eyes would flick between the actual sun, and his sun - he much preferred the second one. Because his sun had one thing the real one didn't have, a heart so loving it threatened to break Regulus in two.

"Yeah." He nodded. "Let's stay like this forever." Combing his hand through messy hair, he pressed a soft kiss into the brunette's waves and finally took a moment to look around at where they were.

This is the part of the pier where Regulus sat on his first day at camp, sulking and cursing at the sky, because why must this decide his fate? He didn't want it - he didn't think he wanted it anyway - turns out that there was always a part of him that loved James Potter, he was just too blind to see it.

But now, touching, feeling and loving the boy with the golden frames seemed to knock him off his feet in a way not even Shakespeare could explain. His view on everything, everyone, himself and James included, changed so much - certainly for the better.

He watched his sunlight breathe, he felt his heartbeat under his hands, his heat radiating like a replica of the sun on Regulus' bare shoulder. He would indeed take the sun in his hands, not caring if it burnt him, because the feeling in the moment was so amazing he doesn't think he's ever planning on letting go.

"I love you." He whispered into the breeze that blew on both of the boys.

"I love you more." The brunette lifted his head to look at Regulus, smiling a soft smile at the boys fond face. A pair of lips pressed into his, adoring, caring, careful, loving, healing lips.

He ran his tongue along James' bottom lip, stroking the older mans neck as he pressed their foreheads together with a tilt to his forever loved and joyed lips. "Not possible."

And this was it, he would forever keep this man. He never thought he needed much sunlight to survive, but James proved him entirely wrong. Now that he knows what it feels like to finally have someone as wonderful as James Potter warm his once slow beating heart, he would be ever so stupid to let that man go, not even after they're both aged and gone.

After all, James is his sunlight, and Regulus is his star.

[miheartsedthings]

Pole Candy

18+ Minors DNI

Modern!Billy x Stripper!Reader

Summary: Security guard Billy feels over-protective when a customer gets too handsy.

Warnings: Sex work, attempted assault, trauma, anal stuff. Angst + a little fluff.

(ps. I don't know what I'm doing with these warnings, please forgive me if I've missed something and be careful.)

Cherry Waves - Song I'd be dancing to, feel free to choose your own or use this one.

The flashing lights strobe to the rhythm of the music. Lighting up the stage in melodic hues of pink and purple that move across your skin in velvet pools. As usual, you're in your own world while you dance, in the flow of movement.  You watch yourself in the mirror, admiring your body and the new bikini you're wearing. It suits you perfectly and matches your platform heels. The pole is a tool, and you use it expertly, your every movement graceful and slow as eyes around the room watch. 

When you started dancing a year ago, the stage was the worst part for you. Even worse than the grabby, asshole customers or those certain girls who always got territorial. All the eyes on you gave you a rush of nerves and excitement you could barely stand. You preferred talking to everyone, moving around the room socializing, and hanging with the other friendly dancers. 

Today, you're starting to hate the stage again, when the man sitting up front whistles at you. You turn to see his greasy, grinning face as he puts the dollar between his teeth. You force yourself to smile and ease down onto your knees, crawling slowly over to him. You lean back, watching his eyes admire as you trail your hand up your stomach, caressing your tits a little before slipping off your bikini top. 

You lean down and motorboat him, but he doesn't give up the dollar. 

“C’mon girl. Gimme something.”

You smile, already annoyed. You slowly turn and put your ass in his face, swirling it around. 

“There we go,” he grumbles. 

You roll your eyes. Then he jabs you with the dollar, seemingly trying to shove it up your asshole. You jerk away, grabbing his hand. He's laughing when you turn, and you’re still smiling though you're officially annoyed. Across the room, another dancer catches your eye and you give her the SOS look. She trots off to find a security guard. For better or worse, she goes right to Billy. 

He's already watching, his focus sharp as a hawk. He’d only been working there a few months, but the connection between the two of you had been instant. You knew it was stupid to date a coworker, but you were falling for him quick and let’s face it; you didn’t always make the soundest choices. Still, he always made you feel safe. When the girl goes and tells him you gave her a look, it's all the excuse he needs to come over. 

It's just in time, too. 

The man keeps trying to wedge the dollar up your butt crack, making you scoot away. Billy grabs his wrist. Glaring down at the guy with fire in his gaze. 

“You new here?” He asks in a condescending tone, snatching the dollar.“Its like this” he looks at you. “May I?” he asks, and you nod, already at peace just having him there. Billy gently places the crumpled buck under the string of your bikini. “See that?” He says to the man, who's now scowling. 

“Yeah, I got it, buddy.” 

“Good.” 

You lock eyes with Billy for a moment, mouthing ‘thank you’ as you go back to dancing. 

After your set, the jerk asks you for a dance. On a better night, you'd say no, but it's slow and you can't afford to turn down money, even from a creep. You take his hand, smiling as you lead him over to the private dance area. Billy sees this, and you can tell even from across the crowded room that he hates it. 

Back in the private area you get your money upfront and start to dance, trying to be careful, though there's not much you can do. Try not to smile too much, don't give him the impression you wanna be touched. Then again some guys like touching people who don't want it. 

The way he looks at you makes you nervous and you avoid his eyes. It’s not the way a horny guy normally looks, the man looks like he wants to literally cook and eat your flesh. The song ends and you stand up, stepping away from him with a smile. 

“All done, honey.” You say, your voice dripping with sweetness. 

“Not so fast, sugar tits.” He waves another 20 in looks at you with his brows raised. When you hesitate he only laughs “C’mon. Make your money, dollface.” 

You’re reluctant, but you smile again, this time it’s so fake it hurts your cheeks. You take the money and start to dance. He keeps groaning and the sound makes you sick. Then, halfway through the song, he locks his arm around your waist and starts groping your ass. 

“That’s it,” he groans into your face. 

You struggle, trying to push away, but his arm is locked in place and you start to panic, your heart racing as you scramble to escape his violating hand. His finger trying to press into you.

Then, a fist shoots past your head, rocking the dude in his mouth. The guy yells and lets go, letting you scramble to your feet. Billy's got him by the collar and punches him again, his mouth bleeding now. 

“Billy, stop!” 

You yell this and miraculously, he does. He drags the guy away by his collar, fuming as he leads him out, the jerk stumbling over himself. 

“You okay?” Another girl asks. You wanna say you're fine, but you're shaking all over. She helps you collect your bikini and your money and you settle in the dressing room with your head down. 

You've had plenty of bad nights as a dancer. Plenty of times your self-esteem has been shaken and you've worried some guy was becoming obsessed with you. Nothing like this. You'd never been so scared before. 

Footsteps come stomping into the room and you don't have to look up to know it's Billy. You see him round the row of lockers and spot you. He's fuming, his face red, his knuckles bruised and spotted with blood. 

“You can't do this shit anymore,” he says. 

“It's just a bad night.” 

“That guy had you!” he yelled, rattling your nerves even more “If I wasn't watching the cameras he would've-”

“Stop yelling at me!” 

He falls quiet. You turn around on the bench, trying to catch your breath and calm yourself down. 

“I know what you're gonna say.” You kick off your heels. “But could you just…not yell? Could you like, comfort me for a second?” 

He lets out a breath and sits beside you, letting you wrap your arms around his strong torso as he tucks you under his arm, wrapping you in a hug. Like this, he can feel how much you're shaking and it only makes him more angry. 

“You can't do this anymore. I can't fuckin watch this every night.” 

“You could a couple weeks ago.” 

“It's different now,” he says, rubbing your arm. 

You scoff. 

“C’mon, Billy. I told you I wasn't gonna quit when we got together. You said-” 

“This type of shit wasn't part of the deal. And it's just gonna keep happening, baby. Maybe not every night, but it will.” 

You pull out of the hug, shaking your head, you stand and start getting dressed in your street clothes. 

“You know I can't leave. Tuition is due soon, rent just went up-” 

“So get a normal job.” 

“One that pays like this?” You're pulling on your pants, desperate to get home. Billy stands with you, a little pleading in his eyes. He takes your face in his hands, making you look at his handsome face. 

“You told me last night you planned to dance for a year. So. The year came and went and here you are.” 

You look down, your eyes stinging with tears. 

“Shit changed.” 

“So how long?” 

You're embarrassed and pull out of his hands. 

“I can't just drop it, Billy.”

“So, everything you said was bullshit?” 

You shake your head. 

“Of course not. I really like you, but I have a life. There's things I have to pay for.” 

You're picking up your duffle bag and purse, only to have him take the bag on his own shoulder. He stared down at you. Insistent. 

“Fine.” He says “Two more months.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Two more months. Pay tuition, pay rent, and both of us find something else. Anything else.”

Before you can argue he takes your face in his hands and kisses you. That's what got you in the end. Made you break your no coworkers rule for him. Those lips, the way he kissed you like he'd been dying to do it for years. When he pulls back you touch his cheek, staring at him hard. He’s frowning a little, so concerned. So certain in his desire to protect you.

Something occurs to you as you look into his eyes.   

“Are you trying to say you love me?” 

“Yes,” he answers with no hesitation.

You shake your head, grinning. 

“Falling in love at a strip club. Rookie mistake.” 

“I'm a rookie, then.” He says “So? Deal?” 

You sigh again, looking down you play with the zipper on your hoodie. 

“If you come over tonight and keep me company…then yes.” You look back up into his eyes “Two months.” 

His expression finally eases. 

“Say it again.” 

“Two months?” 

“No,” he says, “the other thing.” 

You smile. 

“You love me.”

He nods, slowly, his eyes moving over every inch of your face like he's trying to memorize you.

“Yeah,” he says “That.” 

You spend so long in the shower your fingers wrinkle, and still you wash. Scrubbing every inch of yourself with so much soap, until the water runs cold and you're forced to get out. But you can still feel that man’s clammy, calloused hands, his finger trying to force its way into you while you fought in vain to escape it. 

You get dressed for bed and still you're shaking. Pulling on a t-shirt Billy had left and a pair of panties. The clothes feel dirty. You feel dirty. 

Fuck. Why should it matter so much? He didn't actually…fuck, why is it still so scary, even now? 

You crawl into bed and fall into a fitful sleep full of the sensation of strange hands against your skin. You find yourself waking time and again to swat away phantom fingers slipping under your shirt, groping you through your panties. You swat at a hand on your shoulder, jolting away from the touch. 

“Hey, hey,” Billy says, getting into bed beside you “It's just me.” 

Relief rushes over you, letting loose all the tension in you. You scootch yourself into his arms, overwhelmed by fear. He kisses your cheek and then your forehead as you nestle closer, wrapping you up. 

“I'm sorry, baby.” 

He whispers. 

“I can't…” your breath catches “I can't stop feeling it.” 

He touches your cheek, wanting to look in your eyes. At first, you can't do it, you don't want him to see you like this. Then, you look. In the moonlight spilling through the window, you see him looking at you with so much tenderness and you feel so safe that it hurts.  

“Tell me how to fix it.” 

A hopeless sob escapes you. You know what you want, but you can't bring yourself to say it. Instead, you take his hand and place it on your ass, under your panties, pushing his middle finger onto the entrance itself. 

“Here?” 

He asks, rubbing the spot. You're amazed at what a difference wanting it makes. You nod, and he swirls his finger around, making a gentle moan roll up your throat. 

“This is where he touched you, baby?” 

His voice is tight, and you nod. It feels so good, you press your lips to his, letting him pull you in tighter. He spits on his finger and returns it to the spot, kissing your neck. You're moaning softly, your nerves finally softening.

“Inside,” you say. 

He pushes in, and a warm rush moves through you, forcing your eyes closed. His finger moves in and out, the rest of his strong hand cupping your cheeks while his middle pumps into your asshole. 

“God,” you sigh. 

“S’this okay?” 

He breathes and you nod, looking at him with drunken eyes. He kisses you, and finally, mercifully, your mind goes blank. All you can feel is him.

Thanks for reading ~

[simplykorra]

Ava wakes up sore, and not in the good way. Her bed sucks ass and she is long overdue for a new one. Still, it’s not all bad. The sun is bursting through her blinds and dancing across her face as she opens her eyes to the new day.

She rolls over, picking up her phone to check the time and see if she has any messages. It’s barely past seven and not a single text is waiting for her.

Which is good, she hates having any sort of responsibility before noon.

Dragging herself out of bed, Ava feels a bit of a cramp in her hamstring and groans, stupid fucking pole dancing has never ever agreed with her.

She crouches down, knowing that she probably looks like a cat taking a shit on the floor right now as she stretches out her left leg and uses the bed at her back to keep her upright.

Last night was a good night, sometimes it just works that way. The crowd was into it and the money was flowing and she only had three private dances.

Those are the fucking kickers really. They bring in good money but they can be so awkward sometimes. Ava’s good at being whatever she needs to be, but when it’s some sweaty dude who has grabby hands and bad breath - it can be pretty awful.

Sometimes though, like last night, you get lucky and she certainly did. The first two were pretty standard, both men and both of them were polite enough. The older dude was a bit too old fashioned and kept trying to get her to take off his tie and unbutton his shirt - she did and it was fine, but it was pretty clear he was hoping to seduce her.

Then there was her third dance. That fucking third dance.

Every now and then Ava gets a customer that she takes home with her. Not in the literal sense - not unless they’ve paid for it, but occasionally one of them will flood into her mind as she climbs into bed and she’ll pretend it’s their hands all over her.

Last night was one of those nights, and Beatrice, with her soft expressions and strong hands, was all Ava could think about.

So much so that when she’s worked out her cramp and feels her body start to warm up, she strongly considers climbing back into bed and getting off again.

[teenandbeyond]

Feel free to ignore this if you are busy but may I pls request a part 2? For Lord Beerus X God of Life Male Reader?? Just sweet domestic and romantic stuff, maybe the Z Fighters accidentally finding out about the relationship and shenanigans ensures??

Beerus x M. God of Life Reader pt. 2

And here I am. Making a part 2. I kinda lost my flow but wanted to continue xD

Leh goooo!

Want more from me? Masterlist, baby

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

🥢Chaos & Love🥢 (DBS or Dragon ball Super)

Warning(s): Fluffy as a pillow, Mxm (but duh bc the title), I DID not edit 😭😭

You just want to be with Beerus in peace, why must these earthlings bother your peace yet again?

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

It's a little ironic that you're the God of Life, but never found domestic behavior something you wanted to experience.

Well, until you met him.

The God of Destruction.

Something else ironic that you never thought you'd like.

Just this morning, you woke up to another body draped over yours.

It still takes a little getting used to after centuries of being alone, too busy to have an actual relationship.

And when you tried to get up to make a stop at your house, those arms weren't letting you go anywhere.

"Beerus. I need to go to my realm-" "-No. You're warm," he muttered in his sleep. You didn't want to be rude and make him cold with your absence...wow, he's making you too soft.

Not that you really cared.

You simply made a compromise. You took him with you.

His legs were wrapped around your hips, chin tucked into your shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around you as you navigated through your house. Grabbing what you needed with one hand.

"My clingy little baby," you mutter after a while, smiling to yourself. "Shut up."

He couldn't help that you were so warm and comfy.

"Hey [Name], can you grab my shirt?" Beerus half-heartedly mumbled, lazily pointing in a direction. "That's my shirt." "Same difference, I wear it more than you do anymore. Grab it, please. I want it," he whined with grabby hands.

At some point, he finally decides to wake up...

...only to hug your waist as you make lunch

You don't question his clingy-ness, usually, when you leave for your job for a while, he's extra clingy when you come back.

But you jump when his stationary hands begin to move.

"Beerus! D-don't do that when I have a knife in my hand."

"Lose it, then," he purrs.

Later that day, after those activities and lunch, Whis approaches you both in the woods.

You hardly looked over from Beerus's lap and he didn't bother to open his eyes from their relaxed state.

"Yes, Whis?"

"It seems Bulma has invited us to try Earth delicacies again. Would you like to accept her invitation?"

"Depends on what it is."

It was a good enough offer for Beerus to go.

Well, that, and you mentioned a curiosity about Earth food.

Beerus told you about it the whole way, quite pleased to feel like an expert.

Although the meeting was a little awkward.

Upon arriving, Beerus and Whis went ahead.

And when you caught up with them, you met eyes with Goku first.

Considering the last time you met, you weren't surprised he was suddenly tense.

Which made his other friends tense, one even rose their power level a bit.

Which made you laugh, loudly, "How adorable."

"L-Lord [Name]!"

You titled your head at the Saiyan a little shorter than him, "Ah, you know my commonly known title, young Saiyan?"

"Lord Beerus, look behind you!"

"You idiots, he's not a threat. He's with me!"

"I will not hurt you, earthlings, not unless you give me a reason to—Now, where is this pudding, Beerus spoke of?"

You tried a few dishes of Earth, though your speed of eating was much slower than the other non-humans. You preferred to savor your food.

And because Beerus kept feeding you some of his food.

"Here, try this, [Name]," he offered a...something.

"Sweetheart, let me try one thing at a time, okay?" but because you were whipped, you opened your mouth to try it.

"'Sweetheart'? Lord Beerus, I didn't know were with someone," Bulma hummed as she brought more food.

"Why do you sound like you're in such disbelief?!" Beerus growled.

"Wait-you both are together?"

"Goku, who asked you to snoop into our conversation?" Bulma barked across the room.

And after that...all hell broke loose.

"How did you guys...?" "When did you guys...?"

Beerus just yawned.

"I don't see Beerus being the date type."

"What even is a date?" He asked you. A shrug.

Cue the gasps from the ones who cared And now they were planning a date, great.

While they were busy planning some date, Beerus dozed off of you while you read a book.

It was peaceful until voices started to rise.

"You can't just ask the God of Life to spar with you, Kakarot!"

"But you said he's more powerful than Lord Beerus! I want to see that power for myself!" he whined.

"All you men want to do is fight!"

"But it'd be so cool!"

Your gaze flickered down when Beerus shifted, then up to the group ahead of you.

"Hey."

Their heads snapped over to you, the calmest voice of all, yet the most intimidating.

"Beerus is taking a nap. Stop all that yelling for no reason. If you wake him up I'm going to be pissed. And you don't want that. Even Beerus couldn't stop me if that happened."

"Someone's protective," Whis teased behind a hand.

"S-shut up," you scoffed, focusing on your book again.

Until you heard the words.

"We set up a date for you, two..."

[poetryandfluffycats]

One of Those Nights

A/N: this is the first fic I've ever posted on here please be kind 😭

Pairing: Leo Tsukinaga x fem! reader

Warnings: Maybe slightly ooc Leo, very mild cussing

Content: Leo has a habit of waking up with inspiration at weird hours, this is one of those times

Words: 625

Oneshot under cut!

"Wahahha! I'm a genius! Look (name), aren't I genius?"

Leo had a habit of doing this. Waking up at some ungodly hour of the night after inspiration hit him. Which was great, as his partner I loved that he was working so hard for his unit. Only problem was, these late night bursts of creativity often woke me up, and Leo would not stop blabbering until he fell back asleep himself.

I was laying ontop of the covers with my feet in the air as I watched Leo at his desk, papers sprawled out everywhere. His ginger hair was down from his usual ponytail and his green eyes sparkled with delight. He was beautiful, yes, but also quite a pain in the ass at times.

"(name) (name) (name)~ what do you think of these lyrics? Aren't they good? I can't wait to show everyone!" He flung some papers over at the bed and I barely managed to catch them.

"Yes darling, your a genius" I mumbled sleepily as I read through the scribbles on the paper. It was just a few random verses and a chorus thrown together, but it did flow nicely.

"Yes! Isn't it great! I wrote it about you, can you tell? It's a love song" He was bouncing up and down in his chair like a little kid. I couldn't help but smile at his antics.

I gently placed the paper down on the bed and rested my head in arms, creating a makeshift pillow for myself.

"Hmm" I hummed in response to Leo and closed my eyes, my tiredness slowly taking over my body. I could almost feel myself drifting into unconscious, until...

WACK!

"Ack! What-" I suddenly found myself with Leo sitting on my back, a pillow in his hand and a shit-eating grin on his face. Obviously, I wasn't getting away that easy.

"Hey! You can't go to sleep yet, I still have so many ideas to tell you about," he gave me the biggest puppy dog eyes, "Please?"

I sighed. There was just no way I could stay mad at him. Not at those eyes. Looking up at him, I smiled and caressed his cheek, rubbing my thumb against his soft skin. "Can you at least come to bed? I promise, you can still tell me all about your genius plans"

"Hmmmm" Leo leaned his head into my hand, pondering my question.

I gave him a quick peck on the lips, "Please?"

A small blush dusted his cheeks and his expression lightened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "okay, since you asked so nicely"

He sild off me and snuggled under the covers, making grabby hands at me to follow suit.

I rolled my eyes and sild in beside him, my chest flush against his and our faces inches apart. I wrapped my arms around him and lazily slung my leg over his, taking in the warmth of his body.

"So, tell me about these ideas of yours"

"Oh! Well I had this thought about-"

And off he went, rambling on about whatever came to his mind in the moment. I just laid there, listening to him and occasionally giving him a kiss whenever he stopped to breath.

Slowly but surely, his brainstorming slowed down, and I could see his eyelids growing heavy. He nuzzled into my chest and his speech became more slurred and incoherent as he continued, until he was nothing more than a blabbering mess.

I placed a soft kiss to his forehead, "Goodnight darling"

"Hmm, nighty night.."

With that, he was out like a light.

I smiled to myself, nuzzling my head into his ginger locs and sighing.

Maybe these late night brainstorms weren't such a bad thing.

[tired-biscuit]

thinking about stepbro!jotaro and how gentle and delicate he treats you.. his little love, sweet kisses and the scent of his cologne, beckoning you into his room when your parents are away so he can give you proper loving.. swears he’s gonna run away with you, far away from all this shit he didn’t sign up for..

i definitely see this for an older, more mature version of jotaro!! <3

cw: stepcest // 18+ mdni, fem!reader

like, when he's well into his early twenties and finally over the angst phase; ready to open up his heart a little and allow for love to seep in. surprisingly, the person he picks for it is the one girl who shouldn't even be an option. you - his pretty little stepsister.

it's all super cautious and slow at first. he starts smiling more; this faint twitch of a mouth whenever you look at him across the dinner table or enter his room to borrow a hoodie he all of sudden doesn't fuss about letting you wear anymore.

then, it moves on to little conversations in the middle of the night. these innocent chats that happen when you're both hungry or thirsty; rummaging through the fridge as quietly as you can whilst you search for snacks and juice, hoping it won't wake up your parents.

whispering and giggling in hushed little wheezes at how tousled his hair is, you never notice the way his eyes linger on your tiny pyjama shorts. or how the tiny droplet of juice that escapes the corner of your lips makes his green eyes darker, especially when it cascades down your chin and threatens to flow along the column of your neck.

and jotaro, well, he pretends he doesn't notice it either. doesn't dare reach out to wipe it off, even if it's the only thing that's plaguing his mind. goddammit, he wants to feel your pulse thrumming underneath his fingers, but he knows better.

so no matter how intense the want - the need, it takes him months to allow himself any actual physical contact. and he isn't even the one to initiate it first! he tries to hold back, he really does, but you've grown closer ever since he's become more easy-going, so avoiding you and your grabby little hands becomes a rather hard task to accomplish.

after all, you start hugging him whenever you leave to sleep over at your best friend's house for the weekend - just this new, seemingly innocent way of saying goodbye to your dear big stepbrother. start pecking his cheek and ruffling his hair just to provoke that placid demeanor; stepping on the tips of your toes and making the dark spikes stick in every direction as he tries not to look at you too much, to not breathe in your scent too obviously. you're just so fucking close, for fuck's sake. it drives him up the walls.

and you grow so close, too. it's a slow process, yes, but it's also a steady one and thus doesn't feel forced at all. he becomes your favourite person to go to for literally anything, and you don't even notice the change.

all of a sudden you're constantly in his room. telling him everything that crosses your mind, spilling gossip about your friends that he doesn't particularly care about, as well as the secrets that do intrigue him. you watch movies with him. play video games that make you pout when you lose. sleep in his bed when you're too 'tired' to drag yourself to your room, even if it's just down the hall. when you're too 'scared' because your parents had gone on vacation, and you're all alone and want your big brother to keep you safe.

and surprisingly, jotaro lets you. any excuse is good at this point.

so it's no wonder how those innocent nights of sharing a bed turn into something more. he tells himself it's just bonding, that there's nothing wrong with that, even if your leg is draped over his middle, and his calloused fingers are stroking your thigh. even if your hand is caressing the side of his face, digits tucked into his thick hair, and he grunts when you tug on it as a 'joke' that neither of you finds all that funny. even if your gazes connect in the dark then, and your faces are so close that the tips of your noses are almost touching.

everything is so smooth and sweet that he barely even registers the kiss you dip in to place upon his lips on the third night. it's careful and soft; it makes you feel so warm inside - blazing hot, actually - that the need to take your clothes off as an attempt to cool down feels right as he pushes you onto your back and takes control. that having his strong and burly body - christ, he's just so big - between your legs a moment after feels right, too, because it means he'll protect you from anything - even from the sudden heat to plague you.

you did say you wanted him to keep you safe, after all.

and you know that he will. he's just so sweet and gentle despite his intimidating size. eats you out like a man gone starved because he wants to spoil you, ignoring your breathless whines about how you're burning up as he flicks his tongue over your sensitive clit and sucks it into his mouth. smothers you in kisses that leave tingles all over your hot, naked skin. really treats you like a princess, he's all hushed groans and praises the moment he finally sinks balls deep inside your cute little cunt and makes your eyes cross from the pressure.

he'll protect you from the heat, all right.

he'll fuck it right out of you, actually.

[writingsofwesteros]

please make a part 2 of yandere/obsessive otto x innocent reader, maybe she already gave birth to her son and is pregnant again, and she takes her son to be with aegon (best friends) and asks Alicent and Otto the idea and go visit Rhaenyra because he misses his sister and wants to fix things but (possessive) Alicent and Otto say that Rhaenyra no longer sees her as a sister but as a threat for being with Otto and having his children? (otto and alicent mode handlers) (with smut please).

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

NSFW

“You know I can’t run after you.” You giggled to your son as his little one year old legs carried him faster than you could in your pregnant state. Your hand rested on your stomach as you waddled down the corridor. “Aegon will not disappear on you.” You couldn’t help but tease your sweet boy.

Your son only giggled as he rounded the corner. Your apologies to the servants and soldiers had them amused as they watched the scene. You were the Princess of hearts to them and the smallfolk. Your dress as ever was green and flowed behind you. The constricting gowns long passed after your pregnancy grew.

You heard the soft sound of your friend giggling and you realised your son had already ventured into the room. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t catch him.” You hummed with a shake of your head as you locked eyes with Alicent. She only chuckled some more with amusement dancing in those big eyes of hers.

“It’s nice to see them playing so well.” She hummed before opening her arms for the two of you to embrace. You only hummed and burrowed into her neck for a moment; enjoying the relaxing peace you both had. Your hand stayed in hers as she played with your fingers whilst you both watched the boys.

Aegon held onto your son’s hand tightly as they settled on their bums, laughing at each other. It was a picture perfect sight. “Are you well?” Alicent gently asked as she guided you towards the comfortable chairs and table. “Yes, it is a more easy pregnancy…for the moment.” You whispered to her.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Alicent hummed as she poured you both some water. The laughter of the two boys echoing around the room. “I thought I heard giggling.” The familiar sound of your husband moved into the room. Your son was instantly reaching for his father with those grabby hands of his.

Otto happily hummed and placed his son on his hip whilst Aegon was quick to move to his feet and follow. He raced over to your side for a moment and your fingers moved through those locks of his. “Are you being a good boy?” You hummed. “Yes..promise.” Aegon babbled as he tugged on your skirts.

“Good.” You hummed and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head before he quickly moved onto his mother’s lap. You looked up as Otto’s fingers gently moved through your loose, wavy locks. “Did you sleep well?” He whispered; his slender fingers moving down your cheek to stroke you.

“I did.” You hummed and leaned close; your soft lips finding his before you began to blush at such a public display. You watched your son burrow into Otto’s neck with a soft yawn escaping him. Your eyes softened as you moved to stroke his locks of his hair and watched as he fell asleep.

Alicent was making her way through some letters as Otto enjoyed the moment with his son. Peace and quiet moved over them all, for a moment. You chewed nervously on your bottom lip as you softly stroked your stomach. “I was going to send a letter to Rhaenyra.” You finally spoke. 

The silence that was already in the room seemed to only grow as you slowly looked up. “You were?” Alicent gently asked whilst Otto only watched. You nodded your head as you began to play with your fingers. “I wanted to see her. I want to see her.” You began to babble mostly to yourself.

“For her to meet our son.” You whispered and locked eyes with Otto who continued to stroke your son’s hair. His eyes were soft and dark that you could nearly lose yourself in. “I know, sweet girl.” Otto whispered and stepped closer whilst Aegon began to play with his own mother’s hair.

You missed the look they shared as Alicent only grew more tense. She wondered how her father was always so calm and collected. “I wish things were different for you…she just does not want to see you.” Otto whispered out and moved to gently cup your face as you only grew in confusion.

“I do not understand.” You whispered out. You knew your relationship with Rhaenyra was non-existent if you were being honest to yourself but you had thought you could heal the rift. “She does not like our marriage…our children.” Otto gently continued as he reached to gently place his hand on your stomach. 

“She has never met them.” You whispered mostly to yourself as you reached to play with your son’s hair. A comfort for yourself rather than him. “I know..I know she has not.” Otto hummed and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “She does not want to.” He lied so prettily as he comforted you.

Your heart broke as you wanted to cuddle your son closer; protect him from anything. Including your sister. You would burn everything for him. “My dragon has hatched eggs.” You moved to change the subject of your own accord. You missed the smiles dancing on the two Hightower’s faces.

“Have they?” Otto hummed in happiness; his children would have dragons. More for their side, he thought whilst enjoying the moment. “I wish I had more time to ride her…you got me pregnant quickly after.” You giggled and watched as your son began to shuffle from his father’s hold. 

“Can anyone blame me?” He purred into your ear and watched your cheeks flush even after all this time. He moved to press a soft kiss to your neck as a near whimper escaped you. His fingers moved into your locks for a moment as the kiss only grew in passion. “This is my room.” Alicent hummed.

“I have work to do….but tonight, wear something pretty.” Otto purred as he pressed another passionate kiss to your lips. You nearly whimpered as you moved to deepen it but he only lent away. “Would you like me to have the letter delivered..just in case she replies?” Otto gently offered.

“Of course..it’s in our room.” You hummed as you gently brought your son on your lap. A soft smile came over your face as you burrowed into his hair to calm yourself. You had no confidence your sister would reply..which worked for Otto as he had no intention of sending the letter.

~

“Otto…” You softly whimpered out into the dark room. Your eyes rolled back at the pleasure making its way over you. His mouth was attached to your clit again, sucking without pause. Your back arched into the touch as you continued to whimper his name. Your hands reach to cling to the sheets.

He’d already pulled orgasms from you and you could feel your mind already softening as you tried to hide from him. Otto only hummed in amusement; the vibrations moving across your weeping pussy. “Please..” You hardly knew what you were begging for now as you rocked against him.

Otto fucked his tongue into you. Your delicious wetness coming his way for him to greedily feast upon. His hold on you was tight but still so gentle. He continued to suck and nibble; sloppily kissing your clit before harshly sucking on you once more. He was driving you mad and you would follow so blindly.

Your pussy was completely soaked and sensitive as he continued to feast on you. Otto was completely drunk off you. You were his, his mind snarled as those dark eyes of his locked onto you. Your body thrashed beneath him and his hand slowly moved to cup your sensitive breasts and pinched your nipple.

“Oh gods…no!” You cried out. Your vision became blurry as you began to wiggle from him some more. It was completely useless as you surrendered completely to him. Your cries turned unintelligent quickly as you burrowed into the pillows to keep your cries from loudly escaping you. 

“Good girl..” Otto purred as you squirted onto him. His palm roughly moved over your clit and had your mouth opening in a silent scream. His dark chuckle only sounded out as he slapped your clit. Your body spasming as he prolonged your pleasure for his own amusement. He brought his soaked fingers into his mouth and began to suck. 

The sheets were completely destroyed as was you. You moaned and slowly curled up; a soft yawn escaping you. A dark smirk came over Otto’s face as he began to crawl over your body. No, you were never going to leave him now. His hand gently moved to your stomach. “I’ll fill you up so good after you have this one.” He promised and watched you whimper. Your thighs brushing together. “You like that idea?” Otto purred. His hard cock brushing against you. His fat head hitting your clit was enough to have your eyes flashing open. “Please..I can’t..” You babbled out. Your face screwed up in pleasure as he slowly pushed inside. Your eyes rolled back as he deliciously stretched you.

“Fuck, you are still so tight..so warm.” He continued to whisper dirtly into your ear and slowly rocked his hips. It was torture; sweet torture. Your soft breasts began to bounce as he thrust deep. He pinched your nipples and watched the milk fall. His stomach tightening at the mere sight.

[rayslittlekitten]

Crankypants

“Dad Will” Masterlist

A/N: I'm slowly but surely clearing out my WIP. This is also helping me get back into some sort of creative flow. I'm so grateful for all the positive feedback I've been getting regarding this series and all these snippets into this family's life. Thank you so much for all the love!

Rating: G

Word Count: 848

Pairing: Dad!Will "Ironhead" Miller & Daughter OC (Lucy) & Wife F!reader

Plot: Lucy throws a bit of a fit when she doesn't get what she wants.

Contains: banter, humor, cranky baby, breast feeding

"Ow! Lucy, what are you doing?" Will asks his toddler daughter who is yanking on his beard.

What started as father and daughter having a low key afternoon watching cartoons while she's sitting in his lap and mindlessly rubbing his beard with her small hands suddenly turned into her being fussy and agitated. Those tiny fingers can really get a good grip on his short hairs. Lucy proceeds to pull on it again, bringing his face closer to hers.

"Ow, stop! What is it?" Will follows her lead, mostly to prevent her from causing any more pain.

Lucy babbles as she continues to tug on her father's beard.

"W-what do you want?" Will asks.

She whines and pulls on his beard again. Will then rubs his face against hers and peppers kisses all over her face, but she whines, pushing his face away from hers. Trying to communicate to her father, she sputters and spits as she "talks" to him again. She grabs two little handfuls of hair on his face again, pulling it towards her.

"Ow! Lucy, stop!"

For a toddler, her fine motor skills and strength are pretty strong. He tries to remove her hands from his face.

"I don't know what you want. You want my beard?"

Lucy makes a noise that sounds like a confirmation while reaching for his beard, but starts screaming incoherently when his beard won't come off his face.

"Okay, I think it's naptime for you," Will tells her. "You're getting cranky."

Lucy shrieks and slides out of his grip as Will tries to scoop her up to bring her to her room, but she kicks and fights to get out of his arms.

"My child..." Will sighs deeply, watching her as she squirms and flails her limbs while laying on the couch, wailing so tragically.

"What's going on?" you ask as you walk into the living room.

"She's throwing a fit because I won't give her my beard," Will answers.

You only respond with the most confused look on your face.

"My beard won't come off my face. That's what it seems like she wants. She keeps pulling on it, and throws a tantrum when she can't pull it off of me."

"My silly girl," you laugh.

"I'd like to see you laugh when she yanks on your hair," Will throws back while scrubbing his face to soothe it.

"Oh, trust me, I know how that feels. Isn't that right, Little Miss Grabby Hands?" you coo as you effortlessly scoop Lucy up into your arms. "I think you need a nap."

"How the..." Will vaguely gestures his hands at you.  "She was fighting me when I tried to pick her up."

"Maybe she just wanted her mommy, isn't that right, sweetheart?" you coo at her again while gently caressing the top of her head.

Lucy is still crying and sniffling while laying her head on your chest but she's more calm, especially when her attention is now focused on your shirt. She starts pawing at it, reaching in trying to access your breasts.

"Okay, let's feed you and put you down for a nap," you tell her while rocking her.

"Is it feeding time already?" Will asks.

"It’s a little early but it's fine. She's hungry now it seems."

You sit next to Will on the couch and get Lucy in a comfortable position, cradling her head in the crook of your elbow while lifting your shirt. She's already grabbing at your bra and reaching with an open mouth before you can expose your nipple to her. She immediately latches on as soon as she sees your nipple. She coos and gurgles as the warm milk fills her belly.

"She was just hangry," Will points out.

As he watches Lucy feed, they make eye contact.  He playfully narrows his eyes at her, pointing two fingers at them, then turning them to her. She just continues to nurse while looking at Will dead in the eyes, unaffected by his silent threat.

"Will," you chuckle and roll your eyes. "Are you seriously competing with your own daughter - a baby, right now?"

"Nah," he replies, scrunching his nose.

"Maybe just competing with you," he laughs. "I see your game, Luce. You love daddy until it comes to feeding time. I see how it is."

"You're so silly." You roll your eyes again.

When Lucy is done, you hand her over to Will and clean yourself up.

"Oh, sure. I get burping duty."

"She falls asleep quicker when you're holding her. You know that."

"Yeah, when she doesn't throw it all up."

As if on cue, Lucy lets out a guttural burp right into Will's ear.

"That's not very lady-like," Will tells Lucy and then a giggle escapes from her.

Her fingers begin feeling around his face as her head rests on his broad shoulder. He gently rocks her and she finds the comfort she's been searching for. This time, no grabbing or tugging. Just her stubby little fingers rubbing his beard. He continues to lull her until her hand slips from his face.

[blackjackkent]

Rakha gropes her way back to her bedroll, feverish, half-blind. The limited confidence with which she convinced Lae'zel not to kill her seems to be bleeding out, moment by moment. She is more acutely aware with each passing second that the worm is, in fact, taking control.

She is no stranger to restless nights, but for once tonight it is not the dreams of blood that have her twitching in her bedroll, but something far worse and more immediate. She drifts into delirious half-sleep, sweating and anxious and lost and infuriatingly helpless.

And she wakes... elsewhere.

She is conscious first of the chill. The air in camp was humid and warm, with a gentle breeze blowing between the tents, but here (wherever here is), there is no wind at all, and the temperature is at least twenty degrees cooler. The half-moon light around the goblin camp has been replaced by a suffusing pale blue glow that presses through Rakha's closed eyelids.

A voice, unfamiliar and soft, speaks almost next to her ear.

"I came just in time. You are transforming."

Rakha jumps, her eyes flashing open. She snaps her head to the side with all of her remaining strength, and looks up into the gentle gaze of a woman she has never seen before.

(A/N: One of the little joys of this game, I have found, is that this scene comes just late enough in Act 1 for you to have likely forgotten exactly what you did with the guardian's face during character creation. XD So then it gets to be a fun surprise! In this case, good job, past Roz. She's pretty!)

She's slender and pale. Pointed ears like Shadowheart's poke from under waves of thick auburn hair. Her face bears tattoos similar to the ones Rakha herself carries on her own face. And she is glowing all over with a power Rakha has never seen before. The air around her is thick with it.

She reaches out and rests the tips of her fingers against Rakha's cheek. And with that touch, the power flows down along her arm and into Rakha's skin, through her face and into her skull. And where the power passes... the pain eases.

Rakha groans softly. For a moment she focuses inward, feeling the fever ebb away, the ache in her hands and her chest starting to fade. The worm, as if lulled by some unheard sound, rests dormant in her temple. The beast, worn by the last few hours' torment, sits quiescent as well.

The sense of unexpected peace is absolute. She is still. She is calm.

She sits up slowly, turning her attention back to the stranger who has - it seems - saved her.

This is a dream, she decides after a moment's thought. The calm is real, but this place is not. It is the first dream she has had that did not smell of blood. The first to bring her face to face with someone living.

Is it possible that this woman is the source of those dreams? The face of the dark urge that has already driven her so many times?

No. The beast still sleeps. This is something else, someone else, a new touch inside her head.

The thought makes her shiver uncomfortably. "Back off," she mutters gruffly. "I have enough crawling around in my head already."

The woman draws back at once; her touch on Rakha's arm pulls away and she stands up. "Combative," she says, with a slow smile and a hint of amusement. "Good. You'll need to be."

She extends a hand. "Don't worry. You will not become a mind flayer. Not while I'm around. I'll protect you."

Rakha feels the dark urge stir drowsily in her head, the automatic instinct to lash out.

Imagine hacking the grabby paw off.

Narrator: Though the thought crosses your mind, it doesn't hold you, doesn't devour you, as your thoughts too often can.

Somehow that realization is more unnerving even than the close brush with ceremorphosis. The beast's everpresent background growl has been a constant since the moment she awoke. Everywhere except here...

The woman looks at her with a slight, sad smile - as if she knows exactly where Rakha's thoughts have gone. "Your compulsions will doom us all, if you do not work to stop them," she says gently. It is the softest, warmest voice Rakha has ever heard. "I can help."

Rakha reaches up cautiously and takes the woman's hand, lets herself be guided up onto her feet.

For the first time she properly looks around and registers the dreamscape she is inhabiting. At first glance, it appears to be some sort of garden courtyard, a stone circle surrounded by tall, grand columns and lined with grass and plants of all sorts.

And beyond it... is an infinite space. They are floating in a sea of stars, among many other smaller floating rocks and some much larger ones. And the Weave...

Gods... it's beautiful...

In her waking life, she sees the fabric of magic everywhere, a prismatic ripple underlaying the very skin of the world. But here... it is much stronger, a heavy, undulating texture of hues beyond naming, so thick she could reach out and bury herself within it even in the blank and empty parts of the air. It presses on her skin, not quite solid and not quite liquid, a comforting warmth like a blanket wrapped around her.

"We haven't much time," the strange visitor says, bringing Rakha sharply back to herself. "So listen closely. There is great potential within you. It comes from that parasite. Your instinct is to resist the power it gives, but you must accept it, nurture it. I will keep it from consuming you - but for the sake of both of us, you must learn to wield it."

Rakha listens quietly. Her mind feels sharper, clearer than it has been in days, pulling together all the threads of this strange new development and weaving them together.

The visitor is here for the parasite. She knows about the beast, but that is not her primary concern - the tadpole and its transformation is.

The visitor does not want the worm to consume her - but she agrees that the powers it offers, of control and domination, are valuable.

She knows Rakha, too. That much is clear. She would not know about the compulsions, otherwise. And the tattoos... something connects them. Something reaching back into the abyss of her memory. That much is obvious.

A million questions surge to the forefront of her mind, every answer she has craved since the moment she woke up. But the visitor is not finished.

She gestures out into the starscape, and as Rakha follows the gesture her gaze comes to focus on an even more baffling sight - an enormous, skull-like form drifting among the other stones of that infinite sea. Around it, small forms of different-colored light weave and twist, striking out against each other with bursts of energy.

Gods. What is that?

"A fight for the fate of Faerun," the visitor says calmly, answering the question Rakha did not speak aloud. "A fight we are losing - for now. You can change that, but only if you embrace your potential."

Rakha's eyes narrow. We? She opens her mouth to ask a question - and then is cut off again by a low hum of energy that can be nothing other than a rising explosion.

The woman's face twists in something like a wordless curse. "I have to go," she mutters. "The enemy is closing in." A pause; her hand rests just for a moment on Rakha's shoulder. "I will be back."

Back where? Rakha wants to demand. Where are we? WHO ARE YOU?

But the blast surges up around them, and the woman's hands flash out, shielding them both and knocking Rakha backwards as her vision fades to white.

Wake now. You'll feel better. I promise...

-----

Rakha wakes, sitting bolt upright in her bunk. Her fingers press involuntarily to her face-- there are no tentacles, no changes at all. The fever has broken and her skin is cool. The threat has passed.

It was a dream, certainly - but it was also real. The visitor saved them - for despite her assertions to Lae'zel, they were surely on the edge of transforming. And if the visitor spoke true, she is also fighting some greater war. And she knows something about Rakha, about the compulsions of the dark urge.

"Fuck," she says with deep feeling, leaning her elbows on her knees and groaning. This was hard enough already without another new face in the mix.

And already, back in the waking world, she can feel the beast stirring again in her mind. We should have killed her. Should have ripped her apart when she offered her hand. We do not need her help or her touch or her war.

But she has answers... she must, she reminds herself firmly. We need to know what they are.

[chirpbudgie]

hay :-) so our discussion of gidget in rtaos… not necessarily canon to the au but i liked what we talked about a lot

cws: just food mentions, i think. and a lot of upset boys.

They’re back, they’ve got Their Narrator and they’re safe. Everyone’s somewhere on the verge of tears, triumphant and distraught in different measures. But the storm has passed, the clouds have cleared to a blue sky.

Spencer takes a deep breath. There’s just one more thing he needs to know. He checks all the small spaces first, around and under the couch and in the cupboards he should not be able to fit in but can. Gidget has a tendency to hide when he’s upset, after all.

Leigh almost instantly catches on, and soon they’ve got a small search party. A few minutes turns to ten, turns to twenty. There aren’t that many hiding places, are there? He has to be here somewhere—Gidget was the first to go through, right? Nancy sent him ahead early. By all accounts, it seemed that way.

Would he—no, Gidget knows better than to leave the house without his key. Right? But if he was panicking, then…

Spencer paces in his room, hands shaking. He’s a single category-0 event away from tearing the place apart. Gidget is nowhere to be found and he can’t handle that after hearing those screams. He slumps against the edge of his bed.

A whimper.

He looks around fast enough to give himself whiplash.

He didn’t make his bed, so the blanket is pouring off the side, but it’s also moving. Spencer pulls it away slowly, as to not startle his boy.

Gidget’s face is flushed from old tears, eyes puffy and brimming with unshed ones. He un-wedges an arm and makes a grabby hand. He says simply, “sssssduck.”

What the fuck. Spencer can barely squeeze his arm in that gap. A relieved laugh bubbles out, bordering hysterical.

“Found him!” Spencer calls down the hall.

It takes some tugging to get him out. Someone has to squeeze under the bed and help from beneath because his leg got stuck. They can’t pull the bed out, because that risks Gidget hitting the floor and manhandling him, and the boy won’t let go of Spencer anyway. Bruises have already begun to form where he squished himself too much, but the rescue mission is a success.

This is good. Spencer needed a distraction after everything that just happened. He has his boy to care for now, who probably hasn’t eaten yet. It’s been a rough day, so something gentle on his stomach. Some rice and maybe some veggies. A peanut butter granola bar if he’s feeling adventurous.

Gidget starts to whimper every time he’s alone, so they settle for a piggyback ride to the kitchen. Leigh holds him so the boy can watch Spencer move around the kitchen. He’s the only one who can make white rice how Gidget likes it. (Which is crazy, because he microwaves it. That’s not even cooking.)

The poor boy is exhausted, they can tell. His face is still blotchy, like he was crying when they weren’t looking. He refuses to eat unless it’s fed to him, and even then he takes longer than normal. At least he accepts water; they have to refill his cup twice.

“What’s wrong, little buddy?” Spencer asks gently. He could catch that wobbly lip from a mile away.

{I don’t feel good} Gidget signs. Tears are flowing like a waterfall again with no sign of stopping.

Leigh, still holding him, puts a hand on his forehead. His eyes go wide. Spencer checks too and has a similar reaction.

“Why don’t we get your bear? It’s past time for your nap.” Spencer’s just about out of words for the day, but he’d do anything for his boy.

Gidget whimpers a little. It’s as close to an answer they’ll get. He’s drooping like a dying flower.

It helps sometimes, being the same person in technicality. They can tell what pajamas he wants, how he wants to be tucked in. That he’ll get fussy if they leave before he’s asleep. And Spencer uses his special trick that always helps Gidget relax. It takes much longer than usual, but when his goodnight kiss comes, he’s out like a light and barely wakes until the next morning.

(The thermometer reads 102.4° Fahrenheit. When the sun goes down, it’ll be 103. Just how much contact did he have with Perry, anyway?)

[misscellophane-ao3]

And here it is~ the drabble based on the results of these three polls (extra poll) – A WangXian Soulmate AU ~ CW: Mentions of Allergies and potential Allergic reaction, WWX purposely ignoring an allergy (ex. Wei Ying wants to eat an almond joy but is allergic to almonds)

It turned into a crack fic 😅 I hope you all enjoy it ~ And hey, I ended up using all three quotes anyway 😂

--Start--

"Wei Ying! No!" Lan Zhan exclaimed as soon as he caught sight of his soulmate. Wei Ying startled at his sudden appearance, turning to him with wide eyes and a slightly guilty expression, his hand bringing the candy bar to his mouth froze in place.

"Those have real almonds in them, why would you eat that if you were allergic?" Lan Zhan asked, horrified as he took the opened almond joy away from his boyfriend, suddenly grateful he entered the kitchen not a second later, "Where did you even get this?"

There definitely shouldn't have been any type of almonds in the house, let alone anywhere Wei Ying could accidentally or purposely get to them.

"Huaisang keeps saying how good it is! I wanted to try it!" Wei Ying whined, making grabby hands at the candy bar, "Come on, just a bite Lan Zhan!" Wei Ying gave him his best pout, he could see his Lan Zhan waver briefly before his stance firmed back up.

"No."

"But I'm not even that allergic to it! I'll just get watery eyes and an itchy mouth." Wei Ying defended, "Plus it's my body not yours!"

Lan Zhan shot him a Look.

"It may not be my body, but it is a body that holds a soul I care for very much and can not live without. Even the universe agrees." He said, with a pointed glance at the soulmark clearly visible due to Wei Ying's choice of slouchy tank top, Lan Zhan's matching mark was covered by his t-shirt.

Wei Ying flushed slightly, "Lan Zhan."

Ugh, why did his boyfriend have to take them being soulmates so seriously? It makes Wei Ying's heart melt.

He could still remember the day they realized it, it was a business event he went to with the Jiāngs. Everyone was dressed to the nines, alcohol was flowing, people were mingling; and Lan Zhan had decked Wen Chao after he attempted to throw a drink at Wei Ying for a reason he can't really recall anymore.

Attempted, because Lan Zhan had swiftly stepped in front of the line of fire just as Wei Ying prepared himself for the splash of cold amber colored liquid. His fancy shirt got completely ruined even with Wei Ying immediately dragging the other to the bathroom in hopes of saving it.

Seeing the soul mark on Lan Zhan's shoulder was the cherry on top of the cake that night (the cake obviously being watching Lan Zhan giving Wen Chao a black eye....and maybe also seeing Lan Zhan wipe his bare chest and abs down with a wet paper towel).

Wei Ying couldn't deny the pull he had towards the other since even before that incident, though. Constantly following after the other, making excuses to see him, hanging out with him whenever he could, touching him and teasing him a ridiculous amount. Seriously, his thoughts practically consisted of Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan 24/7.

Finding out they were soulmates just made sense. And Lan Zhan loved to remind him of it every day. Wei Ying is honestly surprised he hasn't combusted from all the blushing he does when Lan Zhan says literally anything sweet or romantic. Or even worse, teasing.

Lan Zhan softened, "Wei Ying, my love, I would hate to see you in any amount of pain, almond joy is not worth it."

"How would you know!? You don't even like almonds." Wei Ying pouted.

"Wei Ying, please. I will make you a homemade almond joy without the almonds. Please, don't risk your health for a simple candy bar."

Wei Ying perked up, "You can do that? Would it actually taste like a real almond joy?"

"It will taste even better." Lan Zhan promised with no hesitation.

Wei Ying hummed, eyes narrowed in thought.

Lan Zhan was surprisingly good at baking. Maybe he really could find an almond-less almond joy recipe or even make one up himself. Either way, it was obvious he wasn't gonna get to taste the candy bar any time soon.

Wei Ying sighed, "Fine. I won't eat it."

Lan Zhan instantly relaxed, going to throw the candy bar in the trash, "Good. They suck anyway."

Wei Ying squawked in surprise, laughter rising up, loud and bright, a fond smile crossing Lan Zhan's face at the sound.

"Lan Zhan! Don't let Huaisang hear you say that! He practically worships them!"

"Mn." Lan Zhan washed his hands before coming back to the island where Wei Ying sat.

"Take a nap with me." He said, gently easing Wei Ying from the bar stool by his thighs, Wei Ying instantly wrapped his legs around Lan Zhan's waist in response, arms slipping over his shoulders

"Okay." Wei Ying rolled his eyes fondly, "You don't have to carry me, Lan Zhan. I can walk."

"I know." Lan Zhan replies, heading off to the bedroom without once letting go of him.

Wei Ying pressed a soft smile against his shoulder, right where their soulmark was.

Two bunnies (one white and one black) curled around each other, the same position they fall into as soon as they hit the mattress.

[quasar-concept]

Your Head on My Shoulder

Late Nights + Asexual, Polyamorous John

for @thunder-pride's bingo, and Asexual day!

Rating: T

Warnings: Mention of sex between OCs

------

It was well past midnight when John walked through the door of his apartment. He stifled a yawn, as he slipped off his shoes, and walked through the house. All of the lights were off except in the bathroom, which meant that Rin and Alé had gone to sleep.

John tiptoed into the kitchen to leave his coffee mug on the sink. Someone had gone and stuck a piece of paper on the fridge with a tacky magnet, adorned with scribbled hearts to let John know there was food in the fridge for him if he wanted. He appreciated the effort, but the exhaustion flowing through him left no room for food.

John yawned. He chucked his satchel bag on the lounge, and he groaned when it pulled the weighted blanket down with it. He decided he was too tired to care, and he threw his coat on top of the pile, too.

The soft sound of feet on the floor made John look up. Alé stood in the doorway, rubbing their eyes, curly hair tousled with sleep.

“Sorry, Alé, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Alé slipped their hand into his. “Nah, John. Just glad you're home”

John smiled. He wrapped his free arm around Alé’s waist, and pulled them into a hug. “Missed you,” John said, and kissed Alé’s cheek.

“Missed you, too darling,” They said. Their shirt hung loose around their shoulders, well below their waist. “Didn't see you this morning.”

John chuckled. “You were still sleeping.”

“You coulda woke us up, yknow?”

“Mm. Well, you deserved to sleep.”

Alé kissed John’s forehead. “You're sweet.”

John hummed.

“Wonder if Rin woke up,” said Alé, and tugged John down the hallway.

“Probably not,” John said. “You know it takes a lot to wake her up.”

“Well, we can wake her up to say goodnight.”

Alé tugged John into the dark room, where the large queen bed was tucked beneath the window. Rin and Alé’s clothes were strewn on the floor, and the lingering smell of sec clung to the room’s edges. John and no desire for sex, but not worrying if his partners were losing something they wanted by being with was comforting. Besides, they both got cuddly after sex, and John was perfectly happy to do that for as long as they wanted.

“Rin,” Ale said, and shook her shoulder and tugged the sheets off her shoulders. “John’s home.”

She groaned, and wriggled under the sheets.

“Rin, say goodnight.”

John laughed at her muffled response. “Don't worry, Rin, I love you anyway.”

“Good,” she said, and rolled over to face them. “Welcome home, sweetheart.” She held out her arms and made grabby-hands. John folded into her arms “Time for bed.”

“Yeah.”

Alé threw a soft shirt at John. “At least get out of your clothes first, John.”

“Fine,” John sighed. He heaved himself off the bed and shucked his clothes while Alé crawled under the sheets, leaving a John-sized space between themselves and Rin.

“How was your day?” Alé asked, tucking their hand into John’s.

John sighed. “Hard.”

“That’s what she said,” said Rin, deadpan.

John rolled his eyes fondly, and crawled up the bed between the two of them “Sure, Rin.”

She shrugged, unapologetic.

Alé leant their head against John’s shoulder. “What about it was hard?”

“Dad’s plans are amazing,” John said. “He’s asking a lot of us, though. The days are long, and the planning for the ships is monumentally difficult.”

Rin hummed. “You have Dr. Hackenbacker helping, right?”

“Yeah, he’s doing the brunt of the engineering,” said John. “Honestly, he’s amazing. I’m handling most of the code for some of the systems, but what he’s doing with those ships is incredible.”

“You’re gonna help a lot of people,” Rin said.

“Yeah,” Alé agreed.

Silence swept over the room, and Rin cuddled up to John, draping herself over his legs, arms around his waist. “You look a little dead, though, Jay, you should go to sleep.”

“We should all go to sleep,” Alé said, pointedly.

Rin stuck out her tongue.

John chuckled. “You’re right.” John shuffled himself under the covers, and tucked his arm under Rin, holding her against his chest. Alé draped their arm over John, and their hands stayed joined where they rested against the bed.

“Love you Rin,” John said, kissing her shoulder. “Love you Alé.”

Alé kissed the side of his head. “Love you, too.”

Rin hummed happily. “Goodnight.”

“Sleep well.”

“You too, John.”

The silence of the late night draped itself over the three of them, where they were linked together, warmth cocooning them. Their breathing eventually evened out, marking the proper end of the day, and they wouldn’t wake up until well into the following day, still tucked against each other, with soft smiles on their faces.

[sminiac]

౨ৎ⋆˚｡ — Damage To Me ! Pt.1

⋆ Kim Jongseob + Reader

♫ — No Guidnce ‘The Way That I Want You’ and Kiss Of Life ‘Nobody Knows’

Ex — Just a lil tiny something for Seob’s m.list, because it’s looking pretty bare :,) This is very much swayed by my emotions, so therefore it’s open for interpretation!

The air surrounding you is confining with it’s inability to understand of your reasonings for coming back, it’s unpleasant, and overwhelming to the senses, but the gentleness of his mouth far exceeds any sense of rationality that you might have.

Your once negative thoughts were heeded, right before he had you locked in his embrace, his hands grabby and desperate like he’d never feel your warm skin against his again.

You came barrelling head first into the room before taking a minute to stop and fully take everything in from an observational perspective, one that wasn’t of your own hot blood.

Jongseob knows you’re more of a hands-on type of person anyways, it’s what he always found himself admiring when you spoke to him of your struggles, days later- like normal he’d follow up, asking if you’d figured out how to survive your latest hurdle in life only to hear that you’d dug it out right from the root. But this time, no matter how frequently your hands return to his body, digging down so deep you nick past his flaws and all, you can never quite get a sense of where your feelings for him precisely stand even as you scoop at the bits of Jongseob that make him whole until dirt is crowding under your nails and your hands are sore.

He’s never ending you find, the closest mortality would ever get to being eternal, he’s to be revered, untouchable by everyone, yet he allows you with a beckoning hand of his own that soothes at your wounds and brings to his face to rest gentle kisses across your knuckles, it’s a daunting conclusion to come to but even so you’re unceasingly determined to find what it is you’ve been searching for with a brave heart and a soft faced smile all this time, one he calls pretty with a ticklish breath before pulling your lips back against his.

Jongseob’s appetite is insatiable once he’s finally reintroduced to your taste after so long, the breaks from seeing each other are consistent, the no contact even more, but he still finds you all the same, well, the both of you. Normally you expertly maintain a steady stream of air flowing in through your nose out into his mouth, compared to how he subconsciously disrupts his own breathing by pressing his face as close to yours as possible, and the way your head dips to either side of his so smoothly he barely even recognizes you as moving sometimes, opposed to him, who struggles with leading because of how quick and impatient he gets, he still tries, when it’s what you need.

Not that those kind of rules apply to the two of you and what you do together, though. It would be hypocritical to assume there’s conventional rules you abide by with how deep the uncertainty is that you’re swimming in, but the shared impenetrable devotion keeps you afloat at least.

“Seob,” you whisper with closed eyes as he drags moist, comforting pecks to the corner of your mouth. “have to— wanna’ stop.” You plead, more with yourself than him. He’s never someone that needed convincing, he hears you, but there’s a hand cradling the back of his head, keeping him so close that there’s no space for him to settle back into.

He chooses to turn his head instead, lips brushing against yours with his every word. “Do you? You say that every time you come back, baby.” There’s a tender chuckle that his words melt into as he study’s your face before a hairsbreadth of silence ensues, your eyes are still shut, the muscles in your face taut in all the same places that he remembers from last time, and the time before that, and before that.

It embarrasses you, how he keeps note of your pathetic, weightless words that are only used as scaffolding for your rickety in-repair ego.

A whine times with the fall of your head, foreheads bumping with pouty lips being the furthest apart since you knocked on his bedroom door. He finds your habits endearing all the same, he can’t fight off a smile because of it.

“Yeah. Your roommates probably hate me for it too.” You say.

Your arms fall and cross loosely over your stomach the way a hermit crab retreats into their shell when scared, and Jongseob acts accordingly, wrapping you up in his arms alone, adding a layer to your comfort.

His fingers toy with the ends of your hair, knowing that you hate when other people touch it, but he’s not other people. “No. No, not even a little.” His hand waves side to side on your back, the friction giving you warmth, a tiredness you only feel in his room, surrounded by his belongings, his smell, his body. “They like seeing you here, they always ask when you’ll come and hangout again. Especially Jiung.”

Your head lifts, a confused lilt to your voice as you reiterate: “Jiung?”

He laughs again, a little bashful as the pressure on your back lessens. “He’s.. fatherly. He asks me how you’re doing more than he asks about how I am.”

This comes quite surprising to you, the mention of your name existing in their apartment even when you aren’t physically present. It makes your heart ache knowing your significance was enough for that, even if it’s minimal, it’s still something.

“So, who does ask you how you’re doing then?”

The words come to him easily, filling his mouth before they’re promptly, decidedly swallowed back down again.

“I mean, I’ve always wanted to tell you about my day when I come home.”

ᰔ sminiac’s P1Harmony M.list

Damage To Me ! Pt.2

[greatdreamlandtraveler]

5/?

The ebony bow, the Headwoman's final gift, flows into your hand, summoned just with a thought.

A voice echoes in your head, startling you.

"You summon me for the first time after months of neglect and its to shoot a bit of rope?"

You shove the voice down, not now, now is for focus and-

You step out into the light, just for a second. Loose the arrow. The tapestry falls.

You do not stay to see your handiwork, you're already running away.

You hear the tapestry fall, cups clattering on stone floor. Poison pouring from one and sizzling as it corrodes the stone.

Shouts of outrage.

And out of the corner of your eye, amber eyes immediately darting to your balcony.

Did he see you? It doesnt matter run, run, run-

Walk.

You have run two hallways over, to the broom closet and now you walk.

Bow hidden beneath your skin, a pile of laundry in your hands. A convenient excuse. No rush, no worries.

No rush. No worries.

You only start a little when a man comes barreling around the corner.

The second in command.

You are determined not to call him yours, even in your mind.

Oh no, hes striding toward you, grabs your shoulder roughly.

"Who are you? Why are you here? Who sent you?"

He's angry, and rude, rough.

Its a good thing you arent a true maid or youd be terrified.

It pisses you off.

Hes so- no, not now. Those thoughts can come later.

You have to be careful here. Theres a rumor around camp that he has elder blood, a grandmother that slept around.

You dont know if he can see lies.

Surely your power would have told you? But then again it doesn't tell you everything.

You carefully step around the question of who you are, the scowl on your face hopefully distracting enough.

"Im helping your Lady, for this one night. She asked for help from the camp. She sent me to take these linens to be washed before I can return to camp and never deal with rude grabby guards again."

You look pointedly where his hand remains on your shoulder, gripping hard enough to bruise.

He lets go. You tell the truth. He knows it. You know he knows it.

He doesnt apologize. Asshole.

"Did you see anyone leave the balcony?"

"No? Should I have?"

Its true. You cant see yourself.

He looks you in the eyes for a moment, finally taking in your face, looking close, leaning in, brow furrowing.

Fuck, fuck, fuck-

"Commander! Someone tried to poison the Prince!"

A stream of words escapes your amber- the commander in a language you don't understand.

You Know exactly what they mean. While humorous knowledge to hold, its useless.

It is heartening to know hes creative with his swear words, at least. Your taste isnt *completely* irredeemable.

He walks away, already talking to the guard in the same language.

No apology. Asshole.

[saintlike78]

HOPPER DIALOGUEEEEE

hmm maybe smth where he comes home late to find you touching yourself 👀👀 i can both see him punishing reader for it and just being super smug and teasing about how needy she is so im curious to see how you’d characterize him in that situation hehe

NSFW (16+)… HOPPER 😭😵‍💫 yeah… this turned out long, it’s actually not a dialogue anymore

Hopper felt red hot anger surge through him when the first thing he heard when stepping through the door of your shared home were those pretty whimpering moans he absolutely adored - except he wasn’t the one making those moans happen. He was just about to stomp over and break the door down, maybe fish out his gun from its holster and beat the shit out of some lowlife who thought they could pleasure you in his bed; that was until he heard the high-pitched whine of “fuck… Jim”, flow from your lips and out through the crack in the door.

A smug smirk crept up onto his face, crinkling his eyes and lifting his moustache. With a puffed out chest and confident bounce in his walk, he slowly pushed open the door to reveal the very thing he was expecting - you, on the bed, with two of your fingers disappearing inside your pathetically sopping hole whilst you simultaneously tried to rub tight circles on your clit with your other hand. Your eyes were shut tight, but he could still see the frustrated tears that wet your eyelashes and threatened to run down your cheeks; his pants suddenly felt very tight having to look at you struggle to bring yourself the same level of pleasure he could give you. Jim Hopper - the smug bastard - could apparently become smugger, thanks to you and your inability to touch yourself with those nimble fingers of yours.

Hopper cleared his throat loudly, which made your eyes snap open in shock. The shock, however, didn’t last long before an exaggerated pout pulled your lips down and your hands reached out to him.

“Hopper,” you whined and made grabby hands at him, frustrated tears now spilling from your eyes freely.

He smacked his tongue against his teeth, walking toward you with slow and controlled movements, “what’s going on here?” he asked, pointing at you with feigned disinterest.

“I know I’m not supposed to… but you were late and I couldn’t wait… and I- I… everything’s so achy, but it doesn’t f-feel as good as when you do it, please Hop,” you rambled through whines, clawing at his arm when he sat himself down on the bed beside you, still not showing any emotion.

“You poor thing, huh?” Hopper grunted, slowly crawling further onto the bed to hover over you. His eyes trailed down your body, taking in the sight of you in one of his shirts that drowned you in fabric, letting his eyes glide down to the glistening arousal between your legs and then up to your wide-eyed stare and tear-stained cheeks.

One of your hands found home on his cheek, caressing the rough stubbled skin gently, “please, Hop… I’ll let you do anything you want to me.. just help me, please,” you pleaded in a whispering voice.

Finally, the smug look he had been concealing bled onto his face as he let his hand wander lightly down your torso, pinching lightly at the flesh through his shirt.

“I didn’t know I needed your permission for that.”