#my precious little liar

[tojiscrack]

NO WAY i literally just read liar liar on ao3 and boom you’re on my tumblr feed! i love the story so so much omg and i absolutely ADORE how mc is a total menace! plusss the way u write megumi and the dynamic between him and mc ughhhhh like oh my god???!!! anyways yeah ur amazing mwah

wait i feel like i’ve seen this comment before but now i can’t find it? 😭 idk if i’m going crazy but i swear i was gonna respond, i’m just a little lazy with it 😔✌️ (cringing at the idea that if it wasn’t actually you, this is gonna sound weird to you LMAO)

anyway, it’s like tumblr just KNOWS who my beloved little liars are that my shit is then magically appearing on ur feed (we love to see it 😮‍💨).

our main character is a little unhinged (a little is probably an understatement). you’ve only seen the beginning really, i’ve still got multiple flashback scenes i need to write out because her shenanigans didn’t just stop there (megumi would know 💀). i’m flattered that you love her character sm! writing it was amazing knowing that people like you would take the time out of ur day to send me a message about how much you adore her <3

this leads me to talk about her dynamic with megumi, you’re gonna make me cryyy, i’m touched that you really like it 🥹 it’s a lot of effort trying to get his character to mesh well with hers, i have to rethink sometimes and ask myself whether he’d really do some of the things i’d made him do, but then i’d backtrack and delete everything, you have no idea 😭 now i just chalk it up to the fact that no, he wouldn’t do any of these things (prank-calling his dad, writing a step-by-step guide for a girl about oral hygiene, fighting over a seat that puts some distance between him and a disgusting-looking child, laughing about literal mommy milkers, etc) at all. but yes, he would do these things if he was around such an influencer like y/n (majority of the time, she forces him to do stuff. he does enjoy it though.)

sorry this ended up being so long, i just get very giddy talking about this story with anyone. i love you anon <3

[zukkaoru]

i support women's wrongs but i have to say i'm also a rather big fan of consistent characterization,,

[winnie-the-monster]

[whoskimii]

Nanami + ovulation he would treat us so well while fucking us hard and speaking sweet words <3

i love this request i feel like it's so nanami :3

⋆౨ৎ˚ notes > kento x you. filthy filth! i need me some of that :( he rails you but he's polite with it frfr. tell me if i missed anything!! ^^ ౨ৎ warning : you may have butterflies in your belly while reading this!! 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

your husband was handsome, to say the least. it was an undeniable fact. you were always attracted to him, no matter the time. but when you were ovulating ? don't even get me started.

you were all over him. clawing, pawing at him, you name it. of course he found it sweet. he loved that his pretty little wife could go that crazy over him just from the fact that he was simply existing.

when you were ovulating and he'd come home from work, looking all tired and exhausted, his tie a bit loose and his sleeves rolled up ? that was certainly a valid excuse to practically pounce on him.

it was nearly three in the morning when you came for the fourth time. the fourth time.

your stamina was always higher during your ovulation week but right now ? you were completely fucked out. but he found so pretty, you can't blame him :(

he gently nuzzled your neck with his nose as the tip of his cock literally bullied your sweet spot. "you're so pretty, my love, y'know that ?" the way he spoke and the way he moved created such a contrast that it was almost unbelievable.

he murmured such sweet words into your ear, like you were the most precious thing he had. which was the truth. you truly were his most guarded treasure. but he was also fucking you so nice and deep into the mattress, almost as if you were a cheap whore he found down the street. your husband was such a polyvalent man, and you couldn't deny you loved it.

"surely you can handle a bit more, right ? aw, of course you can..." your senses were all filled with him. literally.

your hearing, your sense of smell and more— literally everything. they were as filled with him as your pussy were. "ken, s'too much..." you mumbled, grabbing his forearms weakly.

one of your legs was hooked around his waist to pull him deeper, as if he wasn't already touching your soul. you could swear, right there and then, that you felt him in your liver. "it's too much, you say ? my love... i know a liar when i see one."

your pretty manicured nails, the ones he paid for, were digging into the sheets. "m'not lying, i swear..." he chuckled. "yeah ? you say you're not lying, mhm ? why's she sucking me in, then ?" you knew what he was referring to. of course you knew.

your pussy. your husband loved talking about it as if it was an individual, who was worthy of respect.

your sloppy little walls were making such lewd sounds, almost the same ones you could hear in many pornographic movies. "s'just... i can't..." you babbled. you were on the verge of cumming and your husband knew that. he intertwined his fingers with you and his other hand slid between your bodies to circle your throbbing little clit.

"you can." he insisted, punctuating his words with yet another harsh thrust. he chuckled as you choked on your own saliva and he pulled his fingers away from your clit, only to stuff your mouth with them. "why don't you suck on my fingers, honey ? just like you suck on my cock. s'been a while since you did, huh ?"

his fingers were coated in your essence as he forced them between your lips. the taste of yourself made your eyes roll back. "yeah, s'been a little while, mhm ? i just keep fucking you, now. maybe i spoil you too much." he kissed your cheek. "m'gonna cum..."

he hummed and gently kissed your forehead. "yeah ? really ? go ahead, baby..." he whispered, one of his hands playing with your nipple. he pushed your knees to your chest and you moaned loudly. "go ahead." he repeated. "i love watching you come."

his words, mixed with the way he was playing with you so freely, made you cum. "ken !" you gasped as you clenched around him tightly. "fuck, that's it..." he didn't stop, even as you were climaxing for the fifth time that night.

the way your messy cunt tightened around him made him cum right after you. he buried his face in your neck as your fingers tangled with his blonde strands. "i love you..." he murmured.

as he finally came to a stop, he collapsed on top of you, chest to chest. he gave your lips a sweet, short kiss before caressing your cheek. "you want to rest, my love ? it's already three." at your weak little nod, he smiled. "let me just clean you up a little." he pulled out slowly.

he just fucked you nice and hard, and now he was treating you like a fragile little doll.

yeah, your husband was truly a polyvalent man.

<33 do you guys like it ?

⋆˚࿔ kimi 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[rynbutt]

pierced. pt. 4 | spencer reid.

"Focus here, sweetie."

you can find the other parts on my masterlist.

cw: fem!reader, 18+ content, suggestive as fuck, making out, nipple stuff (my finger slipped), fluff

a/n: this made me feral

He had been gone for weeks. 

You hadn’t seen Spencer in almost four weeks after your little date at his desk. Case after case came through and he and his team were sent all over the country. You came to understand that Spencer’s job was hectic, wondering how any of them had social lives at all with how often they were called into work only to disappear for days or weeks at a time.

Spencer had called you a handful of times while he was in Illinois, telling you all about the UnSub they caught while you were half asleep working late at your desk. But after that, it was radio silence from Spencer and you could only assume he was neck deep in work just like you. 

You sat at your desk, leaning back in your chair with a loud sigh. You were sure your boss had it out for you, given how you were basically the last one in the office trying to finish up a project. You tried to take it as a compliment that they trusted you to handle these things but god you just wanted to go home, pour a glass of wine, put on a face mask and pretend to have your shit together.

The exhaustion made your eyelids feel heavy and your vision blurry. You let out a tired yawn, attempting to blink away the deep desire to crawl under your desk and nap. The sudden buzz of your phone kept you from nodding off at your computer.

Spence: Are you home?

You: Nah, I’m at work, sorry :(

Spence: Still? Isn’t it a bit late?

You: What can I say, I’m an ass-kisser

Spence: Have you had anything to eat?

You: Not yet, I’ll worry about that later

Spencer read your message but didn’t reply. You turned your focus back to your work, sipping on your cold coffee to hopefully bring you back to earth. After forty-five minutes and another two cups of coffee, you finally finished your project. You were in the midst of sending a half-assed email to your project manager when you heard the elevator ding.

“Is Y/N still here?” You heard Spencer’s voice and your heart fluttered.

“Oh yeah, she’s just around the corner,” one of your coworkers replied. You rolled your chair back from your desk, peering around the corner as a lost little Spencer looked around.

“Spencer?” You called softly. His eyes darted to the sound of your voice, his face lighting up at the sight of you. He looked so precious in his sweater, with his messy hair and mismatched colourful socks. He did a little run down the row of cubicles to your desk, holding a plastic bag of what you assumed was takeout. 

You stood up to greet him, the exhaustion suddenly dissipating, “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to bring you dinner,” he replied, holding the bag of the best smelling food out for you. 

You pouted at the gesture, “Spencer, you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. As a thank you for bringing me dinner the other week,” he said with a smile. 

“Wait… how did you know where to find me?” You raised a brow at him, staring at him sideways. Spencer’s face went red, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“I’m sure you told me,” he lied.

“You’re a bad liar.”

“Garcia maybe… did some digging,” he replied under his breath, staring at everywhere but you.

You playfully punched his shoulder, “you stalker,” you laughed. 

You pulled another chair over for Spencer, sitting down at your desk and finally pulling your dinner out. You don’t know where Spencer found this food but it was probably the best thing you’d ever eaten… but you also hadn’t fed yourself in 12 hours so maybe your judgement was slightly skewed. 

“When did you get back?” you asked, mouth full of food.

“Two hours and four minutes ago,” Spencer replied, playing with the little Hello Kitty figurines on your desk. 

“Spencer!” you scolded. “You must be exhausted!”

“I’m okay, really,” he quickly said. He let out a breath, shyly avoiding your gaze, “and… I wanted to see you.”

You smiled softly at his confession, reaching over to move some of his messy hair out of his face, “you’re cute.”

“Thank you,” he beamed.

The two of you sat at your desk for another hour as you ate your dinner and finished up your passive-aggressive email to your manager. Spencer helped you clean up your small collection of mugs and carried your bag for you while you cleaned up your desk. You walked to the elevator together, reaching up to gently grasp Spencer’s hand in your own.

“This okay?” You asked.

“Y-yeah, of course,” he replied quickly, feeling his hands going clammy and praying you didn’t notice.

You were lucky you lived within walking distance to your job, it proved to be very convenient for exercise and the price of fuel didn’t murder your already dusty bank account. Spencer opted to drive you home since it was late and he wanted to make sure you were safe. You tried to offer him cash for fuel but he waved you off (you hit twenty dollars in his glove box). 

Spencer pulled up outside your apartment building, the two of you sitting in a comfortable silence for a moment before you spoke, “you… want to come up?”

“Oh… yeah, yeah, sure I can,” Spencer replied nervously, clearing his throat.

“You don’t have to,” you laughed.

“No, no, I want to,” he said quickly, putting his car in park and taking his keys out of the ignition. 

The two of you walked up to your apartment, Tofu rubbing against Spencer’s leg upon his arrival. Spencer was delighted by this revelation (he’d done a lot of research on cats after finding out you had a cat).

“Did you know cats rub up against you like this as a way of putting their scent on you?” Spencer said, running his hand along Tofu’s back, “so other cats know you’re theirs?”

“I didn’t know that,” you lied, of course you knew. But you would never let Spencer stop talking. You shrugged off your coat, tossing it over one of the chairs at your kitchen table. “Make yourself comfy, I’m just gonna go change.”

Spencer watched as you walked to your bedroom, Tofu trotting behind you. He awkwardly shuffled around your apartment, admiring the polaroid photos stuck to your fridge of what he assumed was your friends from your hometown. He smiled softly at how happy you looked. A particular photo of you at a halloween party made his face heat up. You were wearing a white lacy bralette, a white skirt and angel wings. Your friend next to you was dressed like the devil and your other friend dressed as… the Pope?

But that’s not what caught his eye, it was the fact he could clearly see your breasts through your see through top. He could see the little gold studs on either side of your pert nipples, truly juxtaposing the whole angel costume. Spencer had honestly almost forgotten you had your nipples pierced (no he didn’t).

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” you almost scared Spencer out of his skin. He was so distracted by your… assets, he didn’t hear you leave your room.

“Uh, nothing- nothing… just this,” he grabbed the closest thing to him, which happened to be your toaster.

“My… toaster?” your eyes narrowed.

“Yup, love this model,” Spencer nodded, putting your pink toaster back down on the counter. 

You glanced at the polaroids on your fridge, deciding not to embarrass him further, “you want a drink? I have wine, wine and… wine?”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. I need to drive home,” Spencer waved you off before shoving his hands in his pockets. Spencer glanced at your outfit, the baby blue tank and grey shorts made a comeback and now he was rethinking the whole ‘wanna come up?’ scheme. 

“How bout a coffee?” you asked.

Spencer gave a tight-lip smile, “Sure.”

You made Spencer his coffee and watched as he almost emptied your sugar jar. You poured yourself a glass of wine before sitting down on your plush couch, patting the spot next to you for Spencer. He sat down next to you, taking a sip of his sugar drink. He looked positively adorable drinking coffee from your Kirby mug.

“You should tell me about your recent case,” you said, tucking your legs under your butt, giving Spencer your undivided attention. 

“...You want to hear about that?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“Duh, of course,” you retorted. “I like listening to you talk, Spencer.”

Spencer’s heart quickened at your genuine words, making him beam internally and his brain turn to mush. Spencer proceeded to tell you about the BAU’s most recent case, a string of seemingly unrelated murders of college students at house parties. Your heart leapt to your throat when Spencer told you how the UnSub started shooting at him and Emily before he was arrested. 

“If you get shot, I’ll be so mad,” you told him after he finished his story.

“Okay, I’ll try not to get shot,” Spencer grinned, “so you won’t get mad.”

“Correct answer,” you nodded, downing the last of your wine. Spencer watched you as you stretched your arms over your head, a yawn pulling from your wine-stained lips. His eyes darted to your blue tank top, one of the thin straps falling off your shoulder. Your apartment was cold and your nipples pressed against the thin fabric of your top.

Spencer reached a hand over, gently lifting the strap of your top back over your shoulder, his warm hands making the hairs on your skin prickle. You glanced up at Spencer as he retracted his hand, quickling reaching your own hand out to grab his wrist.

Spencer stared at you with wide eyes, so beautiful and brown.

“Do you… want to see?” You asked quietly, your voice low.

Spencer looked at you, unsure of what you meant, “See what?”

You smiled, “My piercings,” you clarified.

Spencer felt like he exploded. His cheeks went red at the idea of seeing your breasts and the tiny intimate piercing he had only seen through your shirt and in his mind late at night. Sure, he had seen breasts before but he had never seen yours and that’s what made him nervous. 

“I know you must be curious,” you said after Spencer didn’t reply. Spencer opened his mouth, attempting to form a single coherent thought. “Earth to Spencer?” you sang softly.

“I, uhm-”

“You don’t want to?” You asked.

“No, I do!” He quickly said before the weight of what he said hit him, “Wait, no… Y/N, I like you and I don’t want you to think that I’m only here to see… that,” he gestured vaguely.

You grabbed his hand gently, leaning over to kiss his cheek softly, “I like you too, Spence,” you muttered, his eyes finally meeting yours, “and I don’t think that you’re only here for that, trust me, guys have before and you’re not them.”

Spencer felt jealousy at the thought of other men seeing such an intimate part of you nag at the back of his mind. You watched his expression change, knowing his big genius brain was in overdrive. You reached a hand up to cup his face gently, bringing his attention back to you.

“Focus here, sweetie,” you whispered with a smile.

“Sorry,” Spencer whispered back.

“I don’t have to show you if it makes you uncomfortable-”

“I am curious,” Spencer interrupted, his voice nervous and quiet. You let out an airy laugh at his sweetness and let go of his face, sitting up straight.

Spencer swallowed the painful lump in his throat as you crossed your arms, fingers grasping the hem of your tank top. His eyes never left yours as you lifted the fabric over your heart, your breasts fully on display for him to see.

It took all of Spencer’s courage to glance down.

And god you were perfect.

Your breasts were smooth and soft, your nipples hard against the chilly air of your apartment. If Spencer were any less respectable, he would be drooling. His eyes stared at the gold jewellery threaded through your hard nipples. He had never seen anything quite as attractive as this and he was sure that nipple piercings were the single greatest thing to ever exist.

“...You’re giving me the wrong idea, Spence,” you chuckled after he stayed quiet for several minutes, simply admiring your beauty.

“I-I’m sorry,” he quickly said, “You’re just…”

“Bit weird, you think?”

“Perfect,” he said, looking up at you again. “You’re just… perfect.”

A small smile graced your lips, “Do you… want to touch?”

“I-I’m not very good at… any of this,” Spencer quickly replied, all he wanted to do was impress you and this was sending him spiralling. 

“I don’t care about that, Spencer,” you grabbed his hand, “I like you, I trust you and I want it if you do.”

Spencer kept his eyes on you, “I… Yes. I want to.” He let you guide his hand to your breast. His hand was warm and large, cupping the soft plush skin gently. His breath hitched in his throat as he felt your soft skin, curious and nimble fingers exploring your skin. His thumb came up to touch the cool metal of your piercing, your breath catching in your throat at the feeling, “Sorry,” he quickly said, pulling his hand away.

“No, no, it’s okay… they’re just sensitive. An added perk of nipple piercings,” you replied. Spencer nodded, taking a mental note as his hand reached back out to touch your skin again. 

You wrapped your hand gently around his wrist, catching his attention. Spencer’s beautiful eyes stared into yours and you lost it. Your hands reached out, pulling him in by his tie to plant a hard kiss against his lips. Spencer’s hand cupped the side of your neck, tilting your head back to kiss you deeper. Your hands came to hold the back of his head, fingers tangling in his soft hair.

He pulled away to breathe, thumb stroking over your cheek, “are you okay with this?” he whispered slowly.

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Then so am I.”

That was all the encouragement Spencer needed to kiss you again, pulling you closer until you swung one of your legs over his thighs, straddling his waist as you kissed him. You tasted slightly of wine and sweetness, the smell of your perfume sending him dizzy. Spencer’s hands came down to rest on your waist, his thumbs resting against your ribs. 

“You want to keep going?” You asked breathlessly against his lips.

“I don’t want to stop,” Spencer replied just as breathlessly, pressing a kiss to the underside of your jaw. You whined softly as one of his hands reached up to grasp your breast again, the pad of his thumb rubbing against your pert nipple. 

“Spencer,” you whined, your hands grasping at the hair on the back of his neck. He planted a kiss on the column of your throat, then another to the small divot of your collarbone, and another to your sternum. His fingers gently pinched your nipple, making you whine softly. “Not good at this, my ass,” you breathed.

“I have an IQ of 187,” Spencer retorted, “I remember a lot.”

“Clearly,” you replied, lifting his head back up to kiss him again.

a/n: i hope everyone is okay with the lack of smut, i just want everyone to feel comfy (i'll totally write it in a future chapter ;) if you want tho)

taglist: @crazycat-ladys-blog @cillsnostalgia @secretly-tumb1r @33-81 @elissanatok @outrunangelss @cultish-corner @666-gothic-bat-666 @evvy96 @littlemarvelstan8 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @meg-black

[kajibunny]

⋆🌷🫧⋆｡° intrusive thoughts 💭₊˚ෆ (hayato suo x reader)

collab piece for amor's event, ORQUÍDEAS

PENSAMIENTOS INTRUSIVOS - yesterday, today, tomorrow; unwanted thoughts oftentimes linger through your mind. after rough experiences with love, he's more than ready to show you how much he loves you to make those intrusive thoughts fly away.

✿ contains: very suggestive content (towards the end), mentions of previous toxic relationships, slight angst (with comfort), f!reader, suo being a hopeless romantic (fluff) ✿ a/n: first time joining an event (so honored to join, thank you amor!) and writing a full piece dedicated for suo ♡ for my suo girlies out there, ya'll are among the sweetest and nicest people! you deserve suo's unconditional love~ ✿ wc: 1.1k

yesterday ── ✧

you've never known a guy as mature as suo. in fact, all you've ever known are rowdy immature guys who have no plans, no vision for the future, and no idea how to treat a woman right. 

however, suo is a pure contrast to all of them. at first glance, one would say he's an absolute gentleman. disciplined, extremely intelligent, perceptive, and not to mention handsome. truly the perfect package.

the only catch? he is too good to be true. suo is the most mysterious and enigmatic person you've ever met. it also didn't help that he has a reputation for being a tease and a bit of a liar. 

it's true that he has lied quite a lot, but never about his feelings for you. 

suo professed his love for you months ago, and had started courting you for quite some time now. he knew you wanted him as well, even though you refused to give in to him out of your own personal trust issues with men in the past, which made it difficult for you to believe him.

you didn't believe suo when he told you he could treat you right, like the empress that you are. 

you didn't believe suo when he said he'd give you the world, make you feel special like you deserve.  

you didn't believe suo when he said that things would be different with him. he says that he would love you with his whole heart, and take you up the staircase to adulthood, whatever that meant.

"prove it to me." you challenged, with no expectations in your thoughts, as flowery words only meant so little to you. 

his reply was steady, full of confidence. 

"of course, darling. for you, i'll do whatever it takes." 

he calls you his 'darling' like he means it, and looks at you like you were the most precious rare jewel in the world.

suo’s words were promising, but you knew better than to fall for mere promises. you had been let down one too many times before. if he wanted your trust, he would have to earn it.

actions spoke louder than words, so he would have to find a way to convince you. you've been through so much heartbreak and toxicity that you just found yourself so hesitant to let anyone else in. 

today ── ✧

they definitely didn't call suo a "master of negotiation" for nothing. 

he showed up to your home with a large bouquet of flowers, a mix of reds and purples, which perfectly complemented his burgundy toned hair.

"what's this for?" you ask, perplexed at him suddenly gifting you with such an eloquent set of flowers. they seemed like they cost a fortune too. the bouquet was wrapped in embossed paper and high quality silk ribbons, because suo wanted only the best for you.

"these orchids are a symbol of your elegance and beauty, these roses are a symbol of my passion and desire for you, and the heliotropes represent my everlasting devotion." suo explains, handing the flowers over to you.

he is obviously well-versed in flower language. could this man be any more perfect? 

a mixture of wonder and disbelief were reflected in your eyes. "for me?" you admire each beautiful fresh flower, softly running your fingertips through the petals. 

none of your past lovers had ever gotten you flowers before, and one of them even once forgot your birthday. so this was something totally new to you. 

"you told me to convince you, so here i am, trying to convince you." he smiled, his charming, captivating, signature suo smile. 

you blush at his gesture. "thank you suo, you really didn't have to, but that's very thoughtful of you." 

"do i get a kiss as a token of gratitude?" suo asks, a playful grin spreading across his face as he leans in slightly.

you roll your eyes, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. "don’t push it, hayato." you reply.

suo’s eyes widen slightly, taken aback not only by the way you casually used his first name but also by the unexpected moment when you tiptoed and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

maybe suo really is a better negotiator than you thought. well, he certainly had his way of convincing you, that's for sure. 

tomorrow ── ✧

you weren't certain when you started to notice it, but the pain of heartache that had once felt so overwhelming now seemed like a fading shadow. gradually replaced by a quiet sense of peace, as if your heart was finally learning to heal and make room for something new, something better.

something like hayato suo. 

both of you were definitely ready to take the next step, imagining a future together. (maybe this was what he meant by the 'staircase to adulthood' that he kept talking about so much.)

he cherished you dearly, his kisses always so soft and gentle. he held you with tender fingers, like you were fine china. night after night, he lapped at you hungrily, like you were the sweetest tea he'd ever drank. in suo's bed the both of you lay, him basking in your beautiful afterglow. 

"you're so cute." he said, stroking your hair. "but you know what would make you even cuter? if i kiss you right now." 

"is kissing all you ever think about, hayato?" you sigh.

suo shrugs. "ever since i fell in love with you, yes, i believe it's all i ever think about."

"how did you end up falling for me, hm?" you nuzzle against his chest, hearing the faint sound of his heartbeat.

"i'm not sure, either. maybe you put some type of love potion in my tea?" he replies to you, his hand reaching for yours, intertwining your fingers with his. 

"stop, i did not, that seems more like something you would do, hayato!" you giggle, playfully giving him a light shove on the shoulder. 

he chuckles in response and leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "the ancient spirit in my eye says we should kiss now."

curious, you tilted your head and ask, "did it now? tell me, what's really under your eyepatch, anyway?" 

"darling, you already saw what's under my clothes and now you want to see what's under my eyepatch, too?" his gaze locks in with yours, a teasing glint present in suo's eye. 

before you could respond, he presses his lips against yours. afterwards, suo proceeded to place a kiss on your ring finger that is adorned with an antique promise ring. a matching set to his antique earrings, which he slid around your finger the moment you told him you were ready to accept his affections. 

you have suo totally and irrevocably wrapped around your finger, literally and figuratively. he has always promised himself to you since yesterday, today, tomorrow, and always.

© kajibunny 2024 / all rights reserved

[laylaplease]

So wet for master, aren't you?

ׁ ֶָ֢ ⏤͟͟͞͞☕️ ׁ ࣭ warnings ! ۪ ׁ ⊹ || Dubcon, virgin!reader, virginity kink, fingering, spit, fingers in reader's mouth, gagging, pet-names, Master x Padawan. MDNI.

"It's alright, sweetheart; just let me check." Anakin snakes his arms around you, his broad chest leaning onto your back. "I promise it won't hurt; I'll be careful, okay? You have to trust your Master." 

With his mechanic grip holding you in place by your waist, he's trying to glide the flesh hand inside your robes while you squirm in his grasp, like a hunted bunny about to be devoured.

"I-I'm— Master, please... I'm not sure it's a good idea..." You keep insisting on being spared. You feel your head spin as the coldness hits your upper chest. There is a tingle right at the lower part of your belly, and Anakin is sure as hell aware of it.

“Shh,” He scolds you quietly. “You have to be a good Padawan. I have to take a look; now spread your legs wider.” He pinches your side a bit too harshly, making you flinch. “It’ll only take a second.”

“I swear, I didn’t lie!” You grab his wrist, “I’m pure; I’ve been a good girl, I promise!” You try to convince him; you try to make him believe, and it’s so so frustrating because it’s actually the truth that he refuses to accept.

“Then why are you so scared, hm? If you aren’t a filthy liar and your pussy is still tight, why are you resisting?” His voice is more forceful now; he yanks your body towards himself to keep you still.

Anakin proceeds to push a knee between your thighs, kicking your feet apart. He finally manages to free you from the belt that was holding your robes together. He brings his fingers to your mouth.

“Open your mouth, baby. Have to lube it down there, wouldn’t want it to ache now, would we?”

He lets out a satisfied ‘mmm’ when you comply with his request. It’s better than having his digits forced into your mouth anyway. He glides his ring and middle fingers across your tongue, pressing on it and gathering spit. “That’s it, have to get a bit deeper.” He pushes past the major knuckles, and your throat spasms.

He pulls out soon enough after you start pathetically whimpering from the tears forming in your eyes. A string of saliva connects the pink of your lips with his fingertips. He holds you tightly to himself when his wettened hand slides down your abdomen into the sweetness of your panties.

“There we— Oh… Oh, honey…” He whispers into your ear as his fingers make contact with your slit; his voice drops way lower than before. He nuzzles the soft part behind your ear and takes a deep breath. “It’s already pretty creamy here, mmm?” He circles right at your entrance, juices mixing with spit, ruining your precious lace. “You want to tell Master something?”

“I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean it!” You start babbling excuses, not too sure yourself of how you even got so fucking drenched from your master violating your personal space. “Master, please, it doesn’t mean anything; I’m still chaste!”

“I know, I know, my sweetest... Maker, you’re so wet, so wet for master, aren’t you?” He consoles you, and you can’t decide which feels better, his cooing voice or the fact that he’s grazing your folds with such intensity. “Yeah…. Is my little Padawan aroused from me forcing my hand down her pants? You really want that tiny cunt stretched, don’t you?”

“N-no, stop… That’s— It’s wrong!” You try to pull his hand away, but to respond to your annoying whines, he presses his thumb onto your swollen clit and your knees buckle.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? I know it does. It’s okay; we won’t tell anyone.” You can feel his arm supporting most of your body, which is slowly going limp from the heat in your core. “Be quiet now and let master fuck a few orgasms into you, yeah?”

[mochi-owos]

Genshin men with a hot ass reader?!

Scaramouche, Kazuha, Childe, Al-Haitham, Cyno x Reader

I’m so sorry for the wait, and this isn’t as long, but regardless I hope you enjoy<33 @alizaneth (I can’t find your other @ 😨)

Scaramouche

He never thought he would be defiled by the shackles of beauty and romanticism but fuck, you were really hot, so fucking hot. He really wanted to look away but he just-- he just couldn't! Everything about you was so alluring, everything you did made him want to watch more. And just calling you hot would be an utterly impudent way to describe someone like you.

"Need something?" You smiled, he almost melted on the spot. Your smile was so pretty.

"Huh? No. I didn't need anything." Youd be a liar if you said you didnt notice his little blush.

You tilt your head, a hand moving to your hip, "Is that so? You were staring." You tried to bite back a laugh from the way he shriveled.

"You're pretty.." he mumbled.

"What was that?" You couldn't help but tease, he's too cute!

He walked closer to you, snaking an arm your waist, taking another hand and holding yours, then snuggling his head into your neck, "I said, you're really pretty, I like everything about you. I like your eyes and the way they sparkle, I like your cute hands, and I like your smile, I want to have them forever."

"Someone sentimental.”

“Shut up.”

Kazuha

To my dearest,

I'm sorry for my prolonged absence, I truly do wish to bask in your presence once more. But this journey is long, and taking lots longer than anticipated, I too-- had hoped to be in your arms by now. I miss your sweet scent, your loving embrace, your warm touch, the glisten in your star struck eyes. I wish for every second I have to be with you, if you long for more stars in the sky and I will shoot them for you, I would stare into your eyes everyday in hopes I go blind so you may be the last thing I see, I wish to breath nothing but you-- for you are my air. I hope to be home soon, please wait a little longer my love.

Forever missing you, your beloved husband

Childe

See, this was his first time, seeing someone so pretty-- I mean, he's most definitely very attractive people in his life, but by the gods, you were quite literally too hot to handle. After every encounter he was close to fainting, once, he got a nosebleed after you had snuck up on him! Your harmonic voice ringing in his ears.. oh gods, he was simping. But a poor soul he was, he had zero rizz.

"Hello there pretty thing." He smirked, attempting to lean against a wall, little did he know he was just a tad too far away which resulted in him almost falling, stumbling he manages to lean against the wall wiggling his eyebrows.

You laughed, shit, your laugh was really cute, "Hello, Childe. What brings around here?"

"I just wanted too see the PretTiest person eVer." His voice cracking in-between, fuck, has he always been this nervous around you?

You only laughed, walking forward, "Come, let's go for a stroll."

Thank god you had a thing for losers.

Al-Haitham

Al-Haitham is not one easily swayed by second class, biased, standards of beauty, except you, fucking hell, you defied all known logic of beauty and standards, you were the essence of ethereality, built by the most generous of god's, handpicked to be their hidden most precious gem.

The way the golden sun hit your skin the exact same one you always seemed to be glowing in, the way your voice was basically etched into his brain, the way it felt as though he constantly wanted to be in your embrace, always wanting you-- wanting to be nothing but yours.

So when the faithful day he finally had a chance to converse with you he knew he couldn't fail.

"Hello, you are.. er.. looking nice today." He was awkward about it, and so was his "smile"-- to be honest, you couldn't even consider it that, it's was more like his face was contoreted by a child, you weren't sure whether to run away and cry or ask him if his face is ok, never once had you seen the man smile.

"Oh! Uh.. Thank you, Grand Sage (?)." You looked down, picking at your hands.

Damnit, why did you react like that? He complimented you, just like the book told him to do (The book: how to rizz them up), was that you being embarrassed? No way, it didn't look like it, was his smile weird? You looked back at him up it took a few moments for you to actually say something.

Swallowing your saliva you spoke, "Uhm.. Mr Grand Sage, why are you staring at me like that..? It's a bit scary, Sir.." It was so hard to say that, that was your boss for goodness sake, he could fire you for anything if you did anything wrong, though, he doesn't seem like the type.

"Oh."

.

.

.

You think you’re about to faint, "Oh"?!

"I see, my apologies. I was trying to smile. I truly don't doubt my sincerity, you truly do look so uhm.. attractive (?)." He clears his throat, "I'm sorry, I'm not that best with this romantic predicaments. I would like you to dinner, would you like that?"

Cyno

Cyno has always found it easy to tell people "no", it was never a hard word for him. On a constant basis would be be using the word. But why, why is it though he simply cannot bring himself to say it to you?

Perhaps it was the thought he couldn't stand the thought of you being upset with him, your tears, or even perhaps your indifference.

This time, you need help with some commissions, but it was finally his off, he wanted to play TGC, could you blame him for his reluctance?

Your eyes soften, "Please Cyno? I can't do it without you."

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, fuck it all, shit. He froze, I think his pulse stopped, tighnari running up to him and playfully checking his pulse, "Uh-oh, we're loosing him!" He teased hitting cyno's shoulder.

How could he resist you? Fuck it all, "I- uh.." he signed, "fine."

"Ohh! Thank you, Cyno! You're the best! I'll pay you back promise!"

He only wanted you.

[mommypieck]

𑄽୧ panties with megumi 𔓘 ᰍ

kinktober day 30: sniff sniff !!!

✯⁠ megumi fushiguro x reader

✯⁠ warnings: panty sniffing, oral (fem receiving), pussy slapping, he fucks u over ur panties

Megumi feels like shit. It's the middle of the way when he decides to visit your room. The problem is that he knows you aren't there, he knows you have training.

The door opens with a creaking sound under his pressure, and he swiftly sneaks inside.

Your room is clean, just as he thought. The thing he desires the most has to be somewhere, but he's not sure where your closet is.

His hand pets the pillows on your head, and he thinks, what if he just… He falls head first into your pillow, sniffing the scent. They smell just like you, the essence of your perfume and hair shampoo. He turns his head around, his eyes meeting the treasured garment.

He grabs your panties off the floor, pressing them right to his nose. A whine leaves his half-parted lips at the smell. So this is how your precious pussy smells. The thought of your pussy being hidden from him by these panties makes his hand.

Megumi palms himself over his pants, your panties still pressed to his nose. he slowly moves his hand into the rhythm of his breathing. Too lost in the moment, he doesn't notice the door opening.

"Megumi, what are you doing?" your scared voice makes him jump on the bed. You caught him red-handed. Megumi shuffles so that he's sitting on the edge of the bed, his body facing you. The panties still lay on the bed.

"Were you sniffing my panties?" you ask him, eyes going wide, you can't believe the words that leave your mouth. It's obvious he's been doing something with your panties, but maybe all of this is just a little misunderstanding. Megumi shakes his head, looking everywhere but at you. He's a really bad liar.

"I didn't know you liked me," you mutter, blushing as you say so. He turns red too, he did all he could to hide it. But he can't deny it anymore, he's completely obsessed with you.

"I like you too much to let you know," he says. He straightens his back when you step closer to him. You stop right in front of the bed in between his legs. Your arms reach to tangle in his arms, and he leans into your touch.

"I can make your dreams come true," you whisper into his ear. His whole body stops, and he looks you straight in the eyes. Megumi doesn't see any mischief in your eyes, only pure lust.

You let out a yelp when he grabs your hips and throws you on the bed. he doesn't waste any time getting in between your legs.

"Let me look at the pair you are wearing right now," he says with a small smile, pulling your underwear down your legs. Your cheeks turn red at the gesture.

A deep exhale is heard in the room as his eyes lay on your pussy. You're just as he imagined - cute and wet.

"Did you like it when you saw me?" he asks you, and you know he's asking about the wetness in between your legs. To be honest, you did like it. You had a crush on Megumi for so long, but you've never thought he would find you attractive too.

"Do you want me to eat you out?" you get even redder under his question. You want him to touch you, but you want to leave it up to him. You just shrug, making him furrow his eyes.

"Answer me" he orders, slapping your pussy. You yelp, thrusting your pussy involuntarily to meet his hand.

"I do," you whine. You want him to finally touch you, to do anything to you.

He smirks at you before kitten-licking at your clit. Just this small touch is like lightning shooting through your body. His whole face is buried in your pussy as he eats out like a man starved. He has been craving tasting you for so long, he thinks he might cry into your pussy. It's just so delicious.

Megumi has never really eaten girls out. He's always found it disgusting. But for the past year when he's been obsessed with you, he dreamt about tasting you.

"Can I fuck you?" he asks you in between licks. He notices the worried look that's on your face.

"I don't have a condom," you confess. You want him to fuck you so bad, but you're not on birth control, and fucking without any protection is risky.

"I have an idea." he smiles at you, fetching your panties. He pulls them on you again, and you wonder what he wants to do. You wanted him to fuck you, and he's dressing you up?

He positions his cock in front of your panties, thrusting it against your clit. The rubbing of his cock against your pussy feels heavenly on both sides. As much as he wants to fuck you, it's pretty to see your panties get wetter and wetter just from rubbing. The garment is wet with both your juices and his pre cum, sticking right to your skin.

His cock bumps into your clit with every stroke of his cock, making you let the nastiest whines. The noises you make are even better than he could ever imagine, and he feels like he's in heaven.

It's embarrassing how close he is to his release when he leans down to kiss you on the lips. You kiss him back sloppily, eager for his lips. For him whole.

"Are you gonna cum with me?" he asks you, stroking your cheek. His heart melts when you lean to meet his hand. You nod your head, moaning in the process. Megumi holds both of your hands, thrusting his body against you a few more times before cumming on your panties. You follow him when you see the mess he made on your underwear and your tummy.

The room is filled with panting until you break it with your laughter.

"I didn't think my afternoon would end up like this," you tell him, fidgeting with your fingers. You want to do this again with him, but you're so scared to confess it to him.

"Me neither, but I'm happy it did. Now let me clean you up, and if you don't mind, I'm gonna take you out to eat."

Megumi's offer sounds appealing, and you're not even scared of gojo-sensei yelling at you for not attending your training.

Megumi feels like shit. It's the middle of the way when he decides to visit your room. The problem is that he knows you aren't there, he knows you have training.

The door opens with a creaking sound under his pressure, and he swiftly sneaks inside.

Your room is clean, just as he thought. The thing he desires the most has to be somewhere, but he's not sure where your closet is.

His hand pets the pillows on your head, and he thinks, what if he just… He falls head first into your pillow, sniffing the scent. They smell just like you, the essence of your perfume and hair shampoo. He turns his head around, his eyes meeting the treasured garment.

He grabs your panties off the floor, pressing them right to his nose. A whine leaves his half-parted lips at the smell. So this is how your precious pussy smells. The thought of your pussy being hidden from him by these panties makes his hand.

taglist: @mcharris747 @huuuuut30 @krispsprite @bejewelledd @cawwn @veryninjanacho @jamayah @dngerwayz @nwptune @universlypiratecolor @ffakegucci @merachannie @d1lf-luvr @th3girln3xtdoor @nobody289x @iheartpieck @gia999 @kawasgirl @st4rrlighttt @candyeyeroll @7haze @banchangsbbbg @nigthmar3moon @softlilpeachxx @d1gitalbathh @jaenniii @raeeesblog @satorustar @balenciagarette @erp1007 @herefor-tojis-tits

[leaderwonim]

LET THE BEST PLAYER WIN.

pairing: tennisplayer!sunghoon x film major!fem!reader

summary: everybody knew park sunghoon, the tennis player at harvard that was most likely going to go pro as soon as he graduated. determined to get closer to him to gather videos for her final, film student nishimura yn tries to find out more about the infamous tennis player everybody seemed to talk about.

warnings: mentions of excessive drinking and smoking (please don’t do any, your bodies are precious 🙏), they’re both lowk bad people LOL, nonconsensual filming (not sexually)

“Whoa there,” you say, camera loosely hanging around your neck as you watch Park Sunghoon slam his racket on the floor till the strings popped out.

“What?!” He screamed, eyes practically bulging out of their sockets. He takes a deep breath, realizing that he has too much of a reputation to lose it over too little of frustration.

“Hey, don’t mind me.” You lift your hands in surrender, “just gotta film something for my final, you know.”

“Film major?” Sunghoon scoffs, throwing his now broken racket to the side as he shuffles through his gym bag for another. “Funny.”

“Very funny,” you shrug. “When I get into a big studio and start making films that blows up Hollywood, Park.”

“I’m just saying,” Sunghoon doesn’t look at you, instead focusing on his footwork. “You got into Harvard and you’re doing film?”

“You got into Harvard by doing tennis.” You snark back. “I think we’re on the same page.”

Sunghoon laughs, and it’s the first time you’ve ever heard such thing from the boy. The only things you do hear is his groans of frustration and grunts as he hits the ball back and forth.

“Not bad,” he compliments you, finally deciding to turn over. “Want to get beer tonight?”

“I thought athletes don’t drink?” You sit up straight from your previous position on one of the plastic chairs placed near the players that oversaw the whole tennis court.

“Pft, which liar told you that?” Sunghoon packs away his things, and despite having played for 3 hours, he still looks as good as ever. “How do you think I keep sane in tennis? Medication? Fuck no.”

For the first time, you see a glint in Sunghoon’s eyes, one that wasn’t the competitive glint he wore like a blood sucking cheetah every tournament.

By the end of the night, you realize that Park Sunghoon can really drink.

He’s downed 6 shots already, but his face is still as bright as ever. In fact, he asks for three more.

“The adrenaline is similar to playing tennis.” He says with his oh so cheeky smile.

As soon as the server passes Sunghoon his drinks, he wraps one arm around your shoulder, cheering, “to Nishimura Y/N, the film major at Harvard!”

You laugh, pointing your camera at his smiling face. He’s too drunk to notice you recording, swaying you side to side as the alcohol consumes his living thoughts.

🎾 ⊹ ‧

You’re pleasantly surprised when Park Sunghoon invites you to one of his matches. It’s not a state competition—but it’s his competition that he invited you to nonetheless.

Your eyes rush back and forth from Sunghoon to his opponent, the ball stroke faster and faster until your head starts hurting from cranking too close. It was a match against Stanford, Sunghoon was playing against a girl named Kelsley Aptos, who was stunning enough to make your film pop.

You cracked your neck before taking out your camera, recording the two competing. As soon as Kelsley misses the ball, you stop filming, standing up to applaud Sunghoon.

The girl isn’t happy, in fact, she’s almost furious with the way her lip twitches. But she does as any good sport would do, shake Sunghoon’s hand and tell him good game.

“I like your skirt,” Sunghoon tells her, licking his lips which were now dry from all the playing. “It’s pretty.”

“Well thanks Park,” she replies. “I like your stance.”

You’ll never understand the way athletes compliment each other—and hell you probably never will since you’ve practically signed your life to the film industry.

He grins, then makes his way to you. “You see how I beat Aptos? She was great, stunning.”

You don’t know why your stomach churns at the way he describes her. Was it jealousy? It couldn’t be; you barely knew Sunghoon, so why the hell were you genuinely upset over him calling Kelsley Aptos stunning?

“C’mon,” he draws you to his side, way too close for two people who’ve only gotten to know each other in the span of two days. “I believe we have to celebrate with drinks.”

🎾 ⊹ ‧

If there’s one thing about Park Sunghoon that you’re utterly confused by is his lack of self control.

On the court, he’s insane, unbeatable, practically a God in the world of tennis. But after tennis, after the matches, he’s chugging down as many alcoholic beverages as he can take, which is far too many a person—much less a college athlete—should inhale.

Sunghoon liked it though. He liked the way the liquor burned as it went down his throat, he liked the way it cooled in his body and how lightheaded he felt everytime he’d drink. When he wasn’t drinking, he was smoking.

You two were perched on lawn chairs, on opposite ends of each other. The chairs oversaw the beach near Harvard, and you could hear the whoosh of the waves as it drew closer.

“Your coach would kill you,” you said, grinning as you watched him inhale the cigarette. He’s not sober, clearly, but his stamina is good enough that he could make out his surroundings and conversations.

“He totally would.”

You perch your camera up on your knee, secretly recording Sunghoon as he leaned his head against the chair. Although he claims he’s so out of it, he looks so beautiful.

“Will you teach me tennis one day, Park?”

He lifts his head up slightly, eyes making direct contact with yours. “Will you teach me film?”

You nod, and he does too.

“Then it’s a deal Nishimura.”

🎾 ⊹ ‧

Sunghoon is a bad influence.

You can tell now that you’ve known him for a month and by the way he drags you into parties, your little camera still dangling around your neck like it was engraved there.

“You know what they would say if they saw Harvard’s precious athlete partying his ass off on a Wednesday night?” Sunghoon yells over the music.

“What?” You yell back.

“How preposterous!”

The two of you giggle loudly at that, bodies so close to each other that it looks like you’re making out to anyone who wasn’t closely paying attention.

“Hey Y/N,” he says, and as you look up, his eyes are already meeting yours. “I like you a lot.”

You smile at that, letting Sunghoon lean in and kiss you right there and then.

It just felt right. So right. Like a missing piece of a puzzle was finally discovered.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

🎾 ⊹ ‧

It feels like you’re discovering a new piece of Park Sunghoon everyday as you get to know more of him.

He was no longer Harvard star tennis player Park Sunghoon, but your boyfriend Park Sunghoon.

It felt weird, but giddy. Girls who had thrown themselves on him before backed off with fury, wondering why a random film student of all people got with their beloved athlete.

You don’t mind that Sunghoon loves tennis, you really don’t. You know he wants to go pro, it’s all he’s ever talked about on your dates and calls.

“I’m gonna make it to the Olympics.” He says. “You’ll see.”

“I’m sure I will Hoonie.”

What you do mind is the fact that Sunghoon loves tennis too much. His fixation with the sport concerns you, but that’s just what happens when you’ve been playing since you were 3, isn’t it? The sport becomes one with you.

“Park Sunghoon! How was your match?” The interviewer asks, shoving his microphone into Sunghoon’s face.

“Oh it was great man, lovely weather.”

“Mhm, a great warm glow over Boston today! Have you always loved tennis this much?”

“Yes, honestly, tennis is my number one. It’s the reason I breathe and live today.”

He doesn’t mention anything about you when asked about what he loved. He never did. It was always the same thing.

Tennis, tennis, tennis.

If you hadn’t seen the red flags that were ringing before, you clearly were now.

“Are you seriously upset I didn’t mention you in my interview?” Sunghoon asks, biting into his apple angrily.

“Yes! It’d be nice for you to mention me once in your interview but you never do! It’s always the same bullshit Hoon!”

“I love tennis, why can’t I talk about it? It’s what the people want! They watch me for tennis, they don’t watch me for some stupid relationship.”

“Oh, so this is relationship is stupid to you now?”

“You’re twisting my words and you fucking know it.”

You and Sunghoon haven’t talked in over a week. All because you had practically begged him just to talk about you once. Was it so hard for him to show appreciation to his own girlfriend?

It didn’t help when you went to try and visit him on the court, practicing what you were going to say. He was already too engrossed in his conversation with Kelsley Aptos, their proximity dangerously close.

Fine. You think. If Park Sunghoon wants to play this way, we can fucking play it this way.

The next thing you knew, the headlines were filled with PARK SUNGHOON, HARVARD STAR ATHLETE CAUGHT EXCESSIVELY DRINKING AND SMOKING, blaring all over Boston, with the clips from your camera being right on the front page.

[cloudwisp]

𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 · 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

contents: tooth-rotting fluff. his favorite coat has gone missing, and he bets you have something to do with it. 1.3k wc.

You came to miss Wriothesley these past two weeks—so terribly much that you decided a small change in his morning routine was due to keep him from leaving your cozy little apartment so soon and make his return back to the Fortress before the sunrise.

He’s been working double-time recently, something about Fatui spies on his territory so you were patient and understanding while he handled the urgent matter to get it under control. But you quickly came down with an extreme case of the lover’s yearning syndrome because you haven’t spent any proper time with him.

And no, the few fleeting moments you’d both share where he carefully scoops you up in his arms when he comes back to you in the middle of the night, and him pressing a tender kiss to your forehead murmuring good morning to you before he disappears again hardly counts. But you suppose the underworld doesn’t run itself and you had to make do with what you were given until it’s no longer enough.

When comes the promised sunlight streaming through the windows laying a warm caress on your cheek, you peek behind your comforter at the sound of Wriothesley moving around in your home. He’s already handsomely dressed, except for the large missing coat which he’s searching for now. And he doubts it ran away on its own from where he last tossed it onto a nearby chair when he lets himself in. His suspicions are further confirmed when he catches a glimpse of you playing pretend in his peripherals.

There’s a knowing smirk on his face as his weight dips on the edge of the bed, and he watches you shift in your sleep in a cute mess of limbs with the blanket following your movements. “Sweetheart, do you have any ideas where my coat has gone?” He reaches out to push away the stray strands of hair from your eyes, and he’s a little amused at how you’re playing coy when you give him the same sleepy hum like you usually do.

Oh, aren’t you so adorable. Stealing the Duke’s coat and stowing it away somewhere safe because you just want him all to yourself, don’t you? Even if just for a few more measly minutes you’re more than happy to cherish every precious second, until you decide you want more of course. And now he’s running late, what’s he gonna do with you?

“You know, I’ve got a pretty good idea who the culprit is.” Even as he teases, there’s a gentle fondness in his gaze at your endearing display. Though that seemed to rouse you out of your peaceful slumbering state, and your eyes slowly flutter open offering him another hum with a tilt of your head.

“What’s this talk about culprit so early in the morning?” He chuckles softly, but he can reserve a moment to appreciate the soft glow of the morning light casting over you. He missed this and he missed seeing your beautiful smile that matches the warmth of the sun, even if there’s a bit of mischief along the curve of it.

“The culprit as in, I have my reasons to believe you’re the mastermind behind my coat’s disappearance.”

“What makes you think I had something to do with it? Didn’t we learn anything from the collection of law books Clorinde gave you where you need to provide evidence if you’re accusing someone?” You’re toying with the fabric of his tie and your avoidant gaze only adds to your guilty-looking form. He sighs in amusement, you are making this way too easy for him to see right through you—and he actually likes the fact that you’re one terrible liar.

“Call it a hunch,” he replies with a small tug of his lips. “Besides, there’s only you and I here so the evidence points to you. Now, will you tell me where it is, darling?”

“Oh, alright.” Since he asked so nicely. You pull yourself upright, crossing your arms over your chest with your teeth gently biting down on your index finger with furrowed brows as you try and recall where you had last seen it. “Hm, seems we have a little problem. I just can’t remember where I placed it. Maybe a kiss would help jog my memory?” There’s a teasing glint in your gaze as you look back at him with innocent doe-like eyes, but there’s no denying the smirk on your pretty lips.

Wriothesley’s laugh is soft and affectionate, unable to help himself at your words. So that’s what you’ve been scheming, wasn’t it? Cute. He didn't account for the fact you'd admit to your crimes so quickly. But there’s never a dull moment with the love of his life, and he wouldn’t have it any other way when you have a talent for small surprises.

“Time is ticking~ And Your Grace has places to be, doesn’t he?” He feels the clement pull of his tie and you eagerly close in on the distance between you and him as your warm breath fans over his skin.

“A kiss, you say? You drive a hard bargain.” He murmurs teasingly and his hand settles on your hip, giving you a light and playful squeeze. “And where shall I give you the kiss then? Here, perhaps...?” He presses a quick chaste kiss to your forehead. “Or here?” He says now while kissing your nose, and you giggle when he peppers two more on either side of your cheeks.

“Or even here…?” He draws back slightly, the pad of his thumb running over the supple flesh of your bottom lip. With the brush of his knuckles against your skin, his hand moves to the back of your neck as he leans in once more and gently coaxes your lips with his own in a blissful exchange. At the pleasant feeling of your smile against the kiss, his arm encircles your waist and he easily hoists you onto his lap and steals your breath away with a growing fervor when he’s reminded of how you taste.

It’s familiar and sensual and intimate. He exhales breathlessly with flushed cheeks when you both have to part to fill your lungs back with air and you notice the soft upward quirk of a smile at the corner of his lips as he rests his forehead against yours. He could never blame you for wanting a little bit more love because he has been missing you just as much, even when you think you were the only one with longing feelings for more meaningful and quality time with him.

And believe him when he says that he’d much rather have you right here where you are sweetly wrapped up in his arms to hold and kiss all day long if he didn’t have pressing matters that require his attention. But fortunately for you, the Fatui case was nearing its end and you’ll have him all to yourself to do with as you please and he intends to spoil you endlessly for being so incredibly patient with him.

“You are quite the handful. Just couldn’t resist, now could you?” He leans in for another lingering kiss. “I appreciate the thought of you wanting to keep me here with you a bit longer, but you know you could’ve asked… Or did you just want to make trouble?” He raises an eyebrow at you, and takes your sheepish laugh as your guilty admission and affectionately nips at your jawline.

“I’m just doing what I do best—which is keeping you on your toes.” You say with a playful quip, a bit mesmerized when you stare into those stunning blue eyes of his. “Oh, right… before I forget, your coat should be outside hanging from the balcony.”

[maybeiwasjustjade]

The amount of morons I’ve seen on twitter that insist ‘a son for a son’ is still owed because Jaehaerys wasn’t Alicent’s son, so Rhaenyra somehow has rights to Aegon’s head is baffling.

Actually, scratch that. It’s not baffling at all, because this isn’t the first time I’ve seen such braindead takes from that side of the fandom.

Last I checked, Aemond killed Luke. Not Aegon. Alicent served up Aegon’s head on a platter, without even once considering that should Aemond live then Rhaenyra will come for his head too. And not only did she betray Aegon, Alicent’s actions may very well lead to both Gwayne and Criston’s deaths. And Daeron, who has done nothing but be born to her.

As for the stupidity of the insistence on ‘a son for a son’, maybe Condal and Hess should remember that the last time Rhaenyra sought revenge for Luke, a toddler was beheaded in his bed because of her husband!!! And if that son wasn’t enough—the poor, innocent baby son of Helaena—and a debt still needs to be repaid, does that mean Aegon now has rights to kill one of Daemon’s children then?

Same logic right? Rhaenyra didn’t get Alicent’s son’s head for Luke, but Aegon lost a son. So if Rhaenyra has rights to Aegon’s head, then Aegon has the exact same right to murder one of her remaining children yes? Baela maybe, when Aegon claims Dragonstone. Or Joffrey even, should he survive till the end. Maybe Rhaenyra can even choose and then watch, like Daemon made Helaena.

But that’s not right is it. Aegon would be a monster if he did that. No sane person would do that. No good person should want that kind of revenge.

But when it comes to Rhaenyra, TB will justify anything right? She indirectly yet directly causes the deaths of nearly 100 dragonseeds—oh that’s fine, they consented to being in the pit knowing they could die! She’s not responsible at all! It’s not as if she ensured they couldn’t escape right? The death of a toddler wasn’t enough because it wasn’t the right son, so of course she gets to ask for another too.

As if Jaehaerys wasn’t worth a life at all. Then again, what can be expected when even after his death, in a fight about his murder, she only ever refers to him as ‘boy’, ‘child’, and my favorite: ‘it’.

Rhaenyra was always going to have to kill Aegon for the throne. And that was at minimum, unless she went for Aemond too. Daeron I could see being spared by being given to the Faith or the Maesters. It was very, very, very obvious to anyone with even a shred of media comprehension (which seems to be very little given the amount of stupid comments I’ve seen). The issue is that she had to go on and make it very clear that Aegon will die, not for taking her throne or whatnot, but as penance for Luke dying. That is where she crosses the line. She can’t and won’t spare Aegon, but the least she could do was not be a lying liar about it.

Also: I never subscribed to the theory that Alicent will be the one to poison Aegon in the end, because I never considered that a mother would be so cruel to do so. She ruined his life; placed him on this goddawful path to war that he never wanted. The least she could do was not betray her own son that way. But after today? Not a chance in hell she won’t be the one to kill him for her precious Rhaenyra. I hope when all is said and done, and she’s locked in a tower for the rest of her life, she knows that it was all her fault.

Because F&B made it clear that Aegon had a legitimate claim. Is it a usurpation if by all laws and tradition he’s the rightful heir? The show decided to go the idiotic route of making it an outright usurpation. The Dance was inevitable in F&B. Here, it seems to have been caused purposely, with one of its leading causes becoming a major turncloak. And it’s sad really, because the Dance has barely even started. HOTD could’ve waited to make Alicent a traitor. Wait until the Gullet and Jace and Rhaenyra’s inevitable fall to madness, to make Alicent’s plea more realistic because it happens when the Greens look like they are losing. Instead, they did this. Unbelievable.

[beevean]

Continuing my quest on finding good Charlastor content and I keep having Thoughts :)

because most of said content was, understandably, made between the pilot and the beginning of the actual show. And it's not only noticeable by the insistence of having Charlie and Alastor bond through dancing (since in the pilot that's the scene where the two seem to be having genuinely fun with each other), but also because the "creepiest" works (for lack of a better term) do indeed paint Alastor as Charlie's puppeteer, as the one who will push her to the dark side and unlock her demonic potential.

Part of this is still canon. There's all the heavy handed manipulations in ep. 5 where he presents himself as a better father figure than Lucifer and as the only one Charlie should love and trust; and also... well, the everything in the scene in ep. 7 where he finally manages to strike a deal with her lmao.

(you sure are unusually touchy with her :^) )

And this damning line:

Yes, Alastor desperately wants to have a hold on Charlie's mind if not heart. Even after he admitted in the pilot that he doesn't believe in her cause, he wants her to see him as a trusty mentor. And while the pilot is outdated in certain aspects, I can almost see traces of this... possessiveness? in the way he kept pushing Vaggie away: he clearly doesn't like anyone threatening his authority, and in that moment, Vaggie and her mistrust were an obstacle in his objective to ingratiate himself with the Princess of Hell.

I also noticed that Alastor is willing to make deals that don't require owning a soul: he cares about being the one in control even if he doesn't gain anything material. He struck a little "deal" with Vaggie just to do things his way, and he struck a more serious (but still not soul-binding) deal with Charlie so that she could owe him one favor. Alastor very much cares about having the upper hand in any situation, even the smallest one.

But then ep. 8 came along. And we get the confirmation that Alastor is bound by a deal. He hates it. It "clips his wings". He clearly blames this deal for limiting his freedom and causing him to nearly die for the sake of his "friends".

Alastor may be more of a puppet than Charlie is, at the moment.

And if the theory that this deal is what is forcing Alastor to protect the hotel... Charlie may be the one holding the strings, without even knowing it. While Charlie is not the one who directly owns Alastor's soul, she might have power over him.

It doesn't help that Alastor, as much of a self-serving liar he is, really seems to like Charlie...

(He doesn't need to offer her his precious mic that seems to be the source of most of his power. She already owes him a favor, and was shown comfortable enough to talk to him about her personal issues. This is Alastor showing his trust in Charlie.)

(again, he doesn't need to say this to Rosie, who clearly thinks the world of him)

(yes, this is about the entire hotel. But my point still stands that it's more earnest than anything we usually see from him)

So now we have a puppet in the hands of an unknowing, kind puppeteer that he actually be mildly fond of... and he wants out of every constraint possible because he wants to pull the strings, damn it all! And he will do anything to gain mental leverage on the one he's been forced to serve!

And I think this is what makes the dynamic even more interesting than a straightforward "manipulator/victim" :)

[justporo]

Still more fluffy relationship headcanons for Astarion and Tav

You guys seem to really like these, so I'm keeping them going for as long as I can. And - I know I said I couldn't do requests atm - but when (if?) I run out of ideas how about you can send me prompts for headcanons on specific topics?

Here we go though, more small ideas and moments for these two idiots!

Astarion is a tease, always flirting with you (for the most part), always kissing you or touching you, always whispering something dirty directly into your pointy ear; sometimes even doing that flat out while you're out in public... with people around.

Deep down he's always wondering though when the day will come that you don't want to be with him anymore; you know that and you try your absolute best to remind him every moment of every day that you want to be with him forever, slowly working to turn the "when" into an "if" and then making him forget altogether

You are basically a street cat, but Astarion? He's a man of culture! And he loves to take you out and frankly just goddamn educating you

He takes you to museums, telling you in incredible detail about the artworks and the displays because he knows his history, also - he's incredibly smart; you enjoy not only him enjoying himself talking about stuff he likes but also just eat it up, eager to learn about stuff you never had the chance to before

Dancing: That's another thing. He knows all the dances: from the silly court dances Wyll showed you once, to the much more interesting and intimate ones where you're flush against one another's bodies

He teaches you, being so close to him, you can't stop fawning, holding you like you're something incredibly fragile and precious while moving you ever so passionately

You've never done this and are incredibly insecure at the beginning, but "Don't worry, love, let me hold you and I'll guide you, you just look pretty" - but then you pick it up quickly and it becomes one of your favourite pastimes with him

You have artful skills of your own though: since you're a former thief and had to stake out targets and places sometimes for weeks on end, you had a lot of time on your hands and taught yourself to draw a long time ago and drew whatever you had to observe: a nice compromise between keeping your eyes on whatever mattered and still having something to do

So, you finally draw him, something you'd promised him a long time ago when you merely had started travelling together; you spend a whole night just to get the first portrait right and Astarion gets uneasy because can't you just let him have a little sneak-peek?

When you show him the drawing, he's just speechless - "What, even more magnificent than you remembered?" you tease him, but you see how his fingers are tensing holding the paper and there's a single tear on his cheek when he looks and smiles at you broadly "No, love, just flustered about how you don't seem to get my chin right"; you call him a liar softly and he sniffles and draws you in for a really long hug and he thanks you deeply

Ah, I also love using these to sneak in facts and ideas for my Tav and helping me flesh out a backstory and more details for their story and relationship. Also don't mind me sprinkling a little angst on there.

Of course, the drawing idea has been imagined many times before and rightfully so, Astarion deserves it. But it's... I haven't drawn really in a loooong time but he really makes me want to give a portrait ago. I had to get it out for personal reasons.

[frostbitebakery]

“After the war,” Doom parrots, grins down to the floor. “Had a clown for first meal, did you, Grey.”

“Sorry if I offended your sensibilities,” Grey snipes, delivers a kick to Doom’s protected thigh. “Move over, Sunshine.”

Doom reluctantly does as so politely requested and shuffles to the side with a groan. “Not my name anymore,” he reminds, doesn’t even try to make his voice gruff.

“Would fit better with the theme your Generals have going on.” Grey helps himself to the water bottle resting by Doom’s foot. “Answer the fucking question already, Commander Sunny.”

“The usual,” he says loftily, hides himself between his hands. “Fuck my way through Coruscant.” Ask, if not beg, his way into the Jedi Temple’s produce gardens. “Find myself a pretty thing to settle down with.” Maybe, for once, be on the receiving end of being cherished. “Probably have a bunch of tubies.” Create the perfect strawberry through care and studying and time. “Probably cheat along the way,” he adds. “You know me.” Holding something precious and fragile, something robust and nutritious. Alone in a little lab if he’s really lucky, with the Jedi’s knowledge and expertise right around the corner. Feeling the sun on his face, on the newly uncurled leafs. Feeling life when his fingers sink into the soil. “And die drunk in a gutter.”

“You’ve never been a good liar, Doom,” Grey remarks quietly.

[yandere-sins]

Hi, I saw that your request were open and that you want to write more ab Vil from TWST so I wanted to request him making his kidnapped darling try on the clothes he got for her or giving her a makeover if she wants more insecure before he took her (also I love your writing so much ♥️♥️♥️)

Thank you for requesting my little prince ♥ I hope you enjoy it!

Warning: Yandere, Sexual Content

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Vil thought for a moment as he watched you standing on the pedestal, surrounded by mirrors that allowed him to see all sides of you.

Stiffly, awkwardly, with your hands curled into fists. Tears ruined some of your make-up, your eyes puffy, and your lips chewed on. You strictly avoided any glance into the mirrors as if the sight of yourself was too much to bear. Instead, you stared daggers at him, the scowl creating wrinkles on your lovely face, yet Vil had no other choice than to describe you as utterly...

Beautiful.

If he had to guess, you had been over playing dress-up with him after the third outfit. But when you didn't show the proper excitement about your new wardrobe, Vil continued putting new outfits together regardless of your opinion. Now at number thirteen, a floor-length, purple, flowy dress with two high slits on either side of your legs and the sweetest of necklines, he had found his personal favorite for you.

"Stunning," he sighed, pleased with the gratifying view in front of him. Nothing he put on you had come close to how beautifully this dress accentuated your body, every movement accompanied by a flowing swish or draping of the fabric that left nothing and everything to one's imagination. He would have praised himself for picking out the right outfit to suit you, but Vil was no liar. It was you who suited the outfit, not the other way around.

"Are we done now?" you asked with gritted teeth, and Vil tsked at your raised shoulders and hunched back while you bottled up your anger.

His eyes snapped from your body to yours, the darkest flames of hatred burning in them, accompanied by... insecurity. True, you might detest him for the rigid regime of perfection he put you through. You were his new project, his muse, his obsession. But Vil had no problem fighting your fire with passion, your lips always soft, no matter how harsh your words could be.

However, he drew the line at your insecurity.

"Turn around and show me the back," he ordered, rising from his lavish, cushioned chair reserved only for him. To admire you, watch his most precious possession from the comfort worthy of the housewarden. But it would never measure up to the fluttering feelings in his stomach, the jittering of his fingers, and the faltering breaths in his lungs from being near you. No comfort was greater than the excitement of standing beside you, close enough to smell you, almost touching. If only you knew how much you were ruining Vil by simply existing, surely you'd have wholly and utterly destroyed him by now. He would have let you.

"I don't want to--"

"Turn. Around."

Your complaint fell on deaf ears, and it almost broke his heart to see you lower your gaze away from his in what Vil could only assume was defeat and fear. One of these days, he'd let go of the leash he held you so tightly with, but only when you were ready to stand next to him proudly. When you were ready to take the control from him—and he was ready to give the control over him up to you.

Not a day Vil thought would come soon, but one he would never have expected to anticipate quite so eagerly.

Until then, he'd be the one to guide you, fingertips slipping under your chin when you tried to avoid your reflection in the mirror. You gripped the fabric of the dress tightly, trying to hold on to something as your fear began to rake its nasty claws through your captivating mind. Vil knew he couldn't stop these thoughts from appearing, but he'd play his part in annihilating them. He couldn't understand how you could fear something as perfect and wonderful as you were, but he knew you well enough to see the signs of you slipping from your feisty self to the one you didn't like as much.

"Look at you, Darling. See how dazzling you are."

"I am not!"

"You are! Take a look—for me."

Your jaw remained firm against his fingertips even when Vil applied pressure. He saw no betterment of your posture or any tension slipping out of your shoulders, and he sighed. It wasn't his first time having to coerce you, and it certainly wasn't going to be the last.

Grabbing a tissue from a nearby box, he stepped around you, blocking your view of the mirrors with his body while wiping off the ruined mascara from your cheeks. Your lipgloss was always at the ready in his pocket, a little trinket when he had to be away from you and missed you and your lips.

You might have flinched back from his efforts, but even a smear of lipgloss was easily fixed by his skilled hands, the product evenly distributed with a kiss. It brought back that adorable scowl of yours, but at least for a moment, you were distracted enough to look up at him again.

And there you were, his perfect, strong-willed darling that could shatter his whole world.

He leaned forward, unable to hold back kissing that defiant mouth of yours even when you stemmed your hands into his chest. The cherry flavor of the lipgloss was exquisite, as was the flustered expression. There was nothing unlovable about you, his hands brushing along your sides with all the discipline Vil could muster to not rip that beautiful dress off your body and make you come undone until you'd see your own beauty in the chaos he'd create with you.

"Now, please, if you would," Vil mused, reluctant to part, yet set on his mission of proving your worth to you. Brushing his thumb briefly over your forehead to remind you of your wrinkles, he stepped behind you again, hands never leaving your curves. You tried to lower your face almost immediately to avoid looking forward, but this time, one of his hands wrapped around your chin faster than you could react, keeping your head locked in place. Your eyes darted side to side, up and down, but Vil was patient. This was a matter of patience to him, not a matter of effort.

You were beautiful without any effort applied. From the moment he met you, inside and out, he knew you were beautiful. Worthy to stand beside him. Worthy of ruining him. To break apart this carefully structured image of himself. Only you could allow him to truly be who he was—a lover. Obsessive and possessive, but a lover regardless. A lover of arts, beauty, and you. His only task was to make you understand your place in life and the power you had deep inside you.

"Please," he reiterated, shaking your head curtly to make you refocus your attention on what he wanted you to do. You inhaled deeply before finally caving to his demands. Beautiful and strong-willed as you were in defying him, you were just as exquisite when you ceased the resistance and relied on him, soothing that suppressed part of his that wanted to be needed and loved by you desperately.

"I look..." you mumbled, fighting against his grip on your jaw. For a moment, he could see the flames of fight in your eyes, and Vil readied himself with the tingle of excitement in his stomach. But then the fire dimmed before vanishing completely, your gaze slipping down your body.

"Okay... I guess."

"Okay?!" Vil couldn't help the appalled gasp escaping him as he repeated your judgment of yourself. No matter how many times he fought your demons with you, it never ceased to surprise him how cruel they were. There you stood, a marvel and a star reborn as a whole galaxy, and thought of yourself as just 'okay'?

You could have very well gouged out his eyes and rammed a dagger in his stomach with how much that hurt him.

"Look at you! Look again!" Vil demanded, and you winced, his sudden grip on your hair forcing you to look up as he pushed you toward the mirror. "This is a gift! You are stunning, marvelous, to keel over for!"

"It's fine! It's a nice dress! Vil that hurts--!"

"No, not the dress, love! You! You are stunning and beautiful, do you understand?"

Your face contorted into a pained grimace as you tried to brace yourself against the mirror with one hand, the other reaching to the one lodged in your hair. Drastic situations needed drastic measures, and Vil would never be too shy to do what he had to make you understand your worth.

"I- I understand!" you finally gave in, and his hand was gone before you knew it, the pained sensation replaced with a swift turning your body around and a kiss to take your breath away.

"Say it," Vil mustered in between kisses, caging your body between the mirror and his, his hands falling to your thighs, running higher, thankful for the slits in the dress. On second thought, he could never have you wear it in public—it was much too revealing. No one should ever look at what was only his. But for his private enjoyment, this was perfect, and Vil was happy to show you just how stunning you were with the help of the indulgent dress.

"I'm pretty."

"Beautiful."

"I'm beautiful."

"Gorgeous, mesmerizing."

"Gorgeous—ah!"

His grip on your ass made you lose your concentration for a moment, but when Vil's teeth grazed your lips in warning, you remembered the mantra he was going on about. "Mesmerizing..." you mumbled, breath hitching as he massaged your backside.

"You are, baby. So stunning, the most dazzling creature in this world."

Prying himself away from your lips cost Vil most, if not all, of his hard-earned discipline, but he was far from done with you. He knew that if he didn't burn these opinions into your mind, they'd disappear and leave another hole for you to sink into. He was not going to allow that.

"Look at you," he ordered, turning you around again to face the mirror, pressing your face against it until your hot breath fogged the surface. 

"Don't stop looking while I show you how beautiful you are."

You didn't seem to expect anything, much less to see the proud and proper housewarden sink to his knees behind you. But there was beauty to be shown in your most vulnerable moments, and a dress was so easily pushed aside, giving him access to the space he forbade you to hide with any underwear.

He checked one more time if you were looking, both pleased and angry, that your eyes had fallen on him instead of yourself, wide open and with a hint of surprised anticipation of what he was going to do next. But you'd be looking straight ahead soon enough because what he was about to do would make you forget all your hesitations and insecurities, leaving only room to realize your true, amazing, stunning self.

After all, his tongue could do much more than speak words you barely believed. It could also make you see what you truly were when you were most vulnerable:

Beautiful.