#never feel like my writing is good enough

[beskarandblasters]

Storm Surge

Neighbor!Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Summary: Moving to Florida means dealing with hurricanes. But when your first hurricane has you spooked, your neighbor, Frankie, offers to wait out the storm with you.

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: set post Triple Frontier, reader is able-bodied, descriptions of a panic attack, drinking, dry humping, kissing, hair pulling (Frankie’s), secret mutual pining, oral sex (M and F receiving), vaginal sex, pull out method, mentions of birth control, pet names (hermosa), no use of y/n

Author’s note: Combining two of my special interests; natural disasters and Pedro boys! If you know me you know I love all things earth science and weather related so this was super fun for me to write! I hope you enjoy! 🌪️🌴

Right before you moved to Florida everyone had told you, “Good luck with the heat and hurricanes!” which always made you roll your eyes. The heat was a given. But hurricanes always seemed like something that could never possibly happen to you. You just assumed that since you’re not on the coast they wouldn’t be a big deal. 

Little did you know you’d be eating your words by the time your first hurricane season rolled around. Let alone your first Category Three storm. You had watched the news with eagle eyes, hoping and praying the storm would turn the other direction and blow out to sea. But soon enough you were heading to the Publix, restocking your hurricane kit. It was a zoo, of course. But the demeanor of other shoppers is what shocked you. They were so calm like they were just fulfilling a routine.

Meanwhile, your heart dropped to your stomach as you lugged bottled water into your shopping cart. Before heading to check out, you made sure you had all the essentials– nonperishable food, enough water for seven days, a first aid kit, batteries, and a flashlight. The cashier, an elderly woman, noticed the panicked look on your face and asked, “First hurricane?”

You offered a meek “Yes” as you paid for your items, ensuring you get cash back in the event of a total emergency. It felt like overkill but you’re not sure what to expect. 

As she handed your receipt to you she offered a word of advice. “Think of it like this– It’s only July. By the end of this year, you’ll be a pro!”

Somehow that didn’t make you feel better. 

And now you’re in your building’s parking lot, not remembering the drive home. You look out your car window, thinking about how you’re gonna have to lug all this shit to the tenth floor. As quickly as possible, you lug your groceries out of your trunk and trek to your apartment. The heavy rain pelts your skin, making it hard to keep your eyes open. As you shield your face you notice the palm trees, whipping back and forth in the harsh wind. The hurricane hasn’t even made landfall yet and it’s already abysmal outside. You try not to think about the possibility of it jumping to a higher category.

By the time you get to the elevator, you’re already sweating bullets, stomach swirling with adrenaline. Your arms hurt from everything you’re carrying, cursing yourself for not buying a collapsible wagon when you first moved here. The building shakes with the wind as the elevator climbs to the tenth floor. Or at least you think it does. You’re not really sure. You’re too paranoid to think clearly. 

The elevator ride feels like forever, watching the dull light-up display illuminate for each floor you pass. At least it’s a brief refuge from lugging your haul. But once it dings at your floor you sigh, bracing yourself for the heavy load. You poke your head out into the hallway– there’s no one around. Perfect. 

With a pathetic groan, you traverse the hallway, your door at the end feeling like the finish line at a marathon. But a voice behind you causes you to stop right in your tracks. 

“Are you okay?”

Judging by the voice you know exactly who it is– your hot neighbor, Frankie. He introduced himself the day you moved in, shaking your hand in the mailroom. Since then, you developed a little crush but you don’t know much about him, just that he’s ex-military. Maybe the Army or Air Force. You’ve only shared small talk here and there in the mailroom and uttered a quick hello when you passed each other in the hallway, nothing more. You’ve always been too shy to take it any further. Besides, he’s always having friends over. You’re already too shy to work up the courage to ask him out as it is, but even more so when there are three men at his apartment most days of the week. 

But here he is, standing behind you as you’re panicked from the impending storm and sweaty from your ridiculously large haul. As much as you’d like to, you’re not able to hide your fear, not even in front of him. 

You turn around and exclaim, “There’s a hurricane!!!”

He lifts his classic hat, smoothing his hair back before replacing it on his head again, sarcastically saying, “...Yeah?” with a lopsided grin.

“Aren’t you worried?” 

“Of what… We’re in an inland high-rise.”

“But-”

“First hurricane?”

“Yeah.”

He steps to the side of his doorframe, gesturing for you to come inside. 

“Come on in. I’m a pro at this point.”

“You’re inviting me inside?”

“You seem like you could use a seasoned Floridian right about now. Plus, I have beers.”

God, you’ve been fantasizing about this for months, being inside his apartment. But certainly not under these circumstances. Any other day of the year you’d give just about anything to be alone with him. He’s always with his friends. You suppose he’s right, though. It might be nice to be with someone who’s dealt with this before. 

“Leave your stuff there. I’ll grab it all. Make yourself comfortable.”

You set your stuff down and creep into his apartment, gingerly sitting on his couch. The layout of his place is similar to yours, but it’s not as clean. There are empty beer bottles and dirty socks strewn about on the floor. But his couch is rather comfy, the kind you could sink into and never get up from. He sets your groceries down on the kitchen counter and remarks, “Did you buy out Publix?” he snorts.

“...Kinda.”

“It won’t be that bad. It’s only a Cat Three.”

“What do you mean only a Category Three?”

“It could be worse,” he shrugs, opening the refrigerator and grabbing two beers. He walks over to the couch and hands you one, plopping down beside you and turning on the TV. 

Your heart drops to your stomach again. The news anchor stands outside in the pouring rain, reporting from somewhere on the coast. The wind whips her face and she has to fight to keep her eyes open, talking about how Hurricane Debby has already jumped to a Category Four. 

“Frankie…” you whisper, trying not to panic. 

“It’s gonna be fine.”

“It’s already a Category Four!” you interject, turning and looking at him. Your hands shake as you clench the bottle of beer, reaching forward to set it on his coffee table. 

“Well… The good news is there’s only one more category to go!”

You place your hand in your hands, fighting a total meltdown. He scooches closer, taking a swig of his beer and rubbing your back. 

“Nothing’s gonna happen to you. I promise.”

“What if a tree falls on the building?” 

“We’re on the tenth floor I don’t think it’ll do much.”

Okay. Okay. That makes you feel a little bit better. But just as you feel yourself start to calm down you remember one crucial detail… You forgot to get gas. 

“Frankie?”

“Yeah?”

“...I forgot to get gas.”

“Overprepared for everything else but the gas, huh?” he snorts.

“It’s not funny,” you groan. “What if it gets so bad we have to evacuate?” 

“What do you even drive?” 

“A Corolla.”

“Yeah if it gets that bad your Corolla ain’t gettin' anywhere, even with gas.”

You groan again, feeling tears sting your eyes. He leans forward and whispers in your ear, “That’s why I have a truck. We’ll be fine.”

You nod but the worried look doesn’t leave your face. 

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll put something else on the TV. If at any point you want to leave, we’ll hop in my truck and go, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, picking up your head and leaning back against his couch. 

He turns off the news and opens Netflix, putting on Narcos as you listen to the wind howl outside. Your thighs are touching, thanks to how wide his legs are spread. You glance to your right, getting a full frontal view of the bulge straining the fabric of his gray sweatpants. 

But it’s rude to stare and there’s a sex scene on the TV, leaving you unsure where to avert your eyes. You turn your head and glance out the window, watching as the sky grows darker and angrier. Heavy, thick raindrops pound against the window, making a sound so loud it drowns out any noise coming from the TV. You swear you feel the building shake. Your entire body tenses up and Frankie notices, putting an arm around you. 

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, voice gentle and full of concern.

“I’m fine,” you reply, your voice small and weak. 

Your face runs cold, all the blood draining from your cheeks as the fear settles in. The hairs on your arms stand on their ends, goosebumps pricking your skin. Frankie says your name but it sounds distant and far away. Ringing in your ears soon takes over, the world distorting around you in your state of panic. 

His arm slides down your back, guiding you into his lap. You don’t fight it. His touch is comforting, a sense of calm in your time of distress. His strong arms wrap around your back, pulling you into his chest. His t-shirt is soft and he smells nice, like he’s fresh out of the shower. The warmth in the crook of his neck subsides your anxiety. He rubs your back, not saying anything while he does his best to soothe you. The rising and falling of his chest and the sound of his breath bring you back to reality and finally, you’re able to think clearly. Your thoughts are no longer racing a mile a minute and you’re starting to think he was right– You needed a seasoned Floridian to get through this. 

You lean back and look at him, his brown eyes with worry. You feel a bit silly, getting worked up over a hurricane and look away. Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you softly utter, “Sorry you had to do that.”

He reaches out, cupping your face as he directs you to look at him again. “Don’t be sorry.”

“I feel a lot better now.”

“You had me worried for a second there.”

You linger for a moment, studying his face before snapping out of your trance. 

“I can move,” you say quickly, wiggling out of his lap. 

“Or you could stay right here,” he blurts out.

“Oh?”

“Never mind.”

“No, you said what you said,” you say, a smile breaking out on your face. 

Maybe your crush was secretly reciprocated this entire time. Maybe this entire time he was pining for you behind closed doors, telling his friends about his crush who lives down the hall. Maybe he never worked up the courage to ask you out, let alone have a real conversation with you. 

“Was this your plan all along? Invite me to your place when a hurricane strikes?” you tease.

“No,” he says quickly. “I just heard you struggling in the hallway and figured I’d help.”

“Oh God. You heard me?”

“Yup,” he smirks.

“That’s definitely not embarrassing at all.”

“I thought it was cute.”

“Cute?? What’s cute about me sweating profusely while trying to carry a case of water?”

“It’s just cute that you’re so prepared for this. It’s easy to tell you’re not a local.”

“Is that so?” you ask, leaning forward. Something about having just an inkling that he feels the same way as you gives you a newfound sense of confidence. 

“Yes,” he breathes. 

He’s visibly flustered, his palms growing sweaty as he grips your waist. For once you’re able to forget about the raging storm outside, focusing only on Frankie’s touch. 

“I guess you have to show me how to be a local.”

“Starting now,” he says, leaning forward and closing the gap between you two. He presses his lips against yours, his scent and warmth filling your senses. You rest your hands on the back of his neck, tangling your fingers at the ends of his curls. 

You roll your hips into him, the bulge in his sweatpants rubbing against your cunt. The wetness seeps out of you, forming a trail in your underwear. One hand slides down to your ass and the other stays on your waist. He’s intoxicating, everything about him drives you wild. The rush of finally kissing him after fantasizing about this for so long leaves you with a buzz; a high only he can provide. 

He tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, eliciting a moan from you. He chuckles, soft and low before doing it again. His tongue brushes against your lips, asking for access. You part your lips and let him explore your mouth, noses brushing against each other in a sloppy but needy kiss. He tastes like the beer he’s been sipping but you don’t mind. You pull his curls and grind your hips against him harder. He lets out a deep and guttural moan, triggered by your grasp on his hair. 

And that’s when you decide his staple Standard Oil hat is in the way, tossing it on the floor behind you. You grab more of his curls, hands roaming his scalp as he moans into your mouth. This moment is perfect, making you forget all the stress and anxiety that led you here in the first place. The both of you melt into putty in each other's hands, the arousal almost becoming too much to bear. And all you’ve been doing is dry humping on his couch. 

He pulls back, his face still only mere inches away from yours, and whispers, “I need more of you.” 

“Oh yeah?” you tease. 

“Please,” he whimpers. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” he says quickly, without missing a beat. 

You get out of his lap and stand, tilting your head to the side as you watch his cock twitch in his sweatpants. He flattens his palms against the top of his thighs, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat. Your lips curl into a smirk as you sink to the floor, resting on your knees. You look up at him as your hand caresses his clothed cock. 

“How long, Frankie?” 

“Months.”

“Gonna have to be more specific,” you chuckle, pulling his cock from his sweatpants. You wrap your hand around the base but keep it still, refusing to stroke him until he gives you an answer. 

“Ever since you moved down the hall. I saw you in the mail room and I was done for.” 

You lean forward and trail your tongue from the base of his cock up to the tip. You slot your tongue in between his foreskin and his head, listening as he lets out a strained, “Oh fuck.”

Pre-cum leaks from the tip, coating your tongue as you swirl it around. His hands grip his sweatpants, knuckles pale in color as you tease him painstakingly slowly. 

You pull back and say, “Tell me more,” before returning your tongue to his cock.

“Uhh, fuck. Well, my friends make fun of me for being too chicken to talk to you.”

You hum as you take his cock in your mouth, sending a vibration down his shaft and a shiver up his spine. He curses under his breath and continues, “You just… intimidated me.” 

You flash your eyes up at him, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s true!” 

You hum again, thinking about how on earth he could be intimidated by you. You’ll tease him about it later, resigning to bobbing your head up and down as you suck his cock. You stroke the base of his shaft, your hand growing wet with a mixture of your saliva and his pre-cum. He throws his head back against the couch, closing his eyes as you work him closer to the edge. But when your hand cups his balls and you suck in your cheeks, he’s done for, coming with an explosive moan. He reaches out, placing a hand on the back of your head as he cums, spilling his spend down your throat. 

You continue sucking his cock throughout his high, prolonging it even further. But once he goes soft you take him out of your mouth, resting your head against his inner thigh and looking up at him. He reaches forward and wipes away a trail of spit and cum running down your chin.

“So I intimidated you, huh?” you tease. 

“Not so fast. It’s my turn to ask questions now,” he says, standing up from the couch. He gestures to where he once was and continues, “Lie down for me.”

You lie down on his couch, watching as he reaches for the waistband of your leggings. He hooks his fingers around the fabric, pulling them off with your underwear in one swift motion. He spreads your thighs apart and you wonder if he’ll comment on the sopping mess you’ve already become. 

“So wet for me already,” he teases. Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “And all you did was suck my cock.”

“And we dry-humped on your couch like a couple of horny teenagers.”

“Mhm,” he says, lowering himself in front of your pussy. His eyes are wide and filled with lust, his jaw going slack as he looks at your dripping cunt. You shiver with anticipation, desperate for his fingers, his tongue– anything. 

“Frankie, please.”

“Tell me, hermosa. How long have you wanted me?” 

“Same as you. Since the day we met in the mailroom.”

He licks one long, slow trail up your pussy and pauses, asking you, “Too afraid to ask me out?” 

“Frankie, you always have your fucking posse with you!”

“My posse?” he snickers, warm breath tickling your cunt. 

“Mhm. You’re just Mr. Popular, I-”

But you’re cut off by his mouth latching onto your clit, a moan forcing its way out of your throat. He circles your clit with his tongue, wrapping his arms around your thighs, pulling you taut against his face. He looks up at you again, watching your face intently to ensure he’s doing a good job. You reach between your legs and grab his curls again, eliciting a moan from him. 

You close your eyes, stars swirling around in the darkness. Frankie lowers his tongue to your entrance, leaving his nose to rub against your clit. And that’s when you cum, cunt clenching around nothing as your back arches off the couch. His hums and moans grow louder once he gets a taste of your release on his tongue. A warm, tingling sensation spreads throughout your body, originating from your core. 

You rest on your elbows, looking down at Frankie who’s still lazily lapping at your pussy. He looks up at you, a furrow in his brows almost as if he’s begging you. 

“What?” you chuckle. 

He pulls back and whimpers, “I don’t want to stop.” You open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off, pleading with you even more. “Please don’t make me stop, hermosa.” 

You settle back into the couch and sigh, “Keep going, Frankie.” 

He eagerly licks your pussy again, tongue swirling around your sensitive skin, making figure eights between your clit and your entrance. His fingertips sink into your thighs, holding you tight as he works you up to your second orgasm. You flicker your eyes down at him again, admiring him and how much he wants to please you. His curls are matted from his hat. His pupils are blown wide, leaving only a thin ring of brown showing. And his nose is buried in your cunt. He looks at you again, mouth latching onto your clit, reveling in the feeling of your wetness coating his face. You moan and squirm, letting your second orgasm rip through you. He moans as he tastes more of your release, eyes wild and full of desire. You ride out your high, rocking your hips against his face until eventually slowing to a stop. 

He rests on his knees, looking down at you with glistening facial hair. The bulge in his sweatpants is back, along with a stain from his pre-cum. 

“Frankie?” you tease. 

“Yes?” he asks, voice dripping with arousal. 

“Do you want more?” 

“God, please,” he says, lowering his face above yours. 

You wrap your legs around his face, pulling him into you. “Then fuck me.”

“Yeah?” he asks, visibly excited. 

“Mhm.”

He leans back again, pulling his cock out of his sweatpants before hovering over your face again. He aligns himself with your entrance, the head of his cock teasing your drooling pussy. 

“Fuck, hermosa. You’re so wet.” 

“Mmm all for you,” you respond, tightening your legs around his waist. 

He thrusts into you slowly, letting his cock expand your walls. He places his hands by either side of your head, looking deep into your eyes as he fully sheathes his cock. He stays there for a moment, studying your face, watching as your chest rises and falls with your quick breaths before drawing his hips back and slamming into you. Your grip around his waist grows looser with each thrust he makes, the couch shaking due to the sheer force he’s using. 

He lowers his head into the crook of your neck, kissing along your jawline and trailing down to your collarbone. You tangle your hands in his hair again, tugging on his locks whenever he hits a particularly pleasurable angle inside you. 

“Don’t stop,” he moans, reveling in every second you’re pulling his hair.

You feel your pleasure building, an impending orgasm threatening to spill over. Everything feels fuzzy around you and a tingling feeling in your core starts brewing. 

“Frankie, I’m gonna cum,” you whine. 

“Let me feel it, hermosa,” he murmurs against your neck. 

With one last thrust, you come undone around his cock, pulling on his hair and moaning in his ear. You relax your legs and let yourself fully take in the moment. Your orgasm rips through you much like the storm outside rips through the sky. The exhaustion of three big orgasms settles deep within your bones. Frankie holds off his climax for as long as he can before pulling out. He rests on the back of his heels, stroking himself to completion. He finishes on your tummy, warm ropes of cum coating your skin. 

“I, uh, wasn’t sure where to finish.”

“That’s okay,” you chuckle, your voice still breathless. “Next time you can cum inside. I’m on birth control.”

“So there will be a next time?” he asks. The hopefulness in his voice is adorable. 

“Of course.”

He sits on the couch, letting you crawl in his lap. He wraps his arms around you as you look at the storm raging outside. Nothing’s changed. The panic starts to creep back up again. 

“Just as long as I get through this alive,” you half-joke. 

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he reassures you, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him, not out the window. 

“You promise?” 

“I promise, hermosa.” 

Middle Frankie gif by @pedgito

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

Tag list: @fishingforpike @trulybetty @penvisions @yourcoolauntie @burntheedges @yorksgirl @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @clawdee @baronessvonglitter @sawymredfox @joelmillerisapunk @msjarvis @maryrhodalouandted @remuskinniesblog @canadianfangurl-95 @drunk-and-capable @annieisverybored @pedrostories @rosegnome

[erodasfishtacos]

steer clear - roommates!abo pt 2

summary: and they were roommates… word count: 6k an: more parts up on my patreon and they are next to be updated.

you can subscribe for $3USD here and get access to 350+ exclusive writings & I update every one to three days !

this is a follow up to this +++ YN will fully blame her pre-heat, looking back at the events of the morning.

She cannot believe that she walked around an angry alpha barely dressed, taunted him, and casually bared her neck.

It was starting to worry her that she didn’t put enough consideration into the idea of how her alpha roommate would affect her heat disorder.

YN was only a week and a half into her month of preheat but she feels like the symptoms were stronger now that his rich, deep scent lingered on every inch of the apartment.

She truly despised this knothead, know it all alpha.

YN also desperately wants to be held tightly in his arms.

She needed a nap.

++

YN decides that she needs a night out with Niall.

She breaks her own cardinal rule of not drinking during preheat because of the way she acts.

YN’s become aggressive in the past, not necessarily physically but just like how she gets during heat, she almost becomes a feral, wild creature like their ancestors instead of the normal, calm, sweet girl she was.

Niall wouldn’t have agreed to go out with her or at least offered her shots if he knew that she was in pre-heat so she purposefully failed to mention that was one of the reasons she had been so stressed out recently.

The bar is fine, it’s not crowded because it’s a work night.

Niall didn’t care if he had work the next morning, he was always down for a good time and swore that he’s not once experienced a hangover.

By the time that Niall has walked YN to the hallway of her apartment, he watches from near the elevator to make sure that she unlocks the door and gets inside safely before he turns to get back in the lift to go home.

YN wasn’t as drunk as she was at the bar but she would still deem that she was over the line of being buzzed as she shut the door a bit too harshly before fumbling to lock it with a bit of a struggle.

It takes her a moment, as she rests her hand up against the wall to unstrap her heels to realize that there are new scents in their apartment.

Not only that but a distinct semi-sweet scent of an omega, who YN doesn’t recognize by scent nor wants it her home, let alone the other betas.

The film of fury starts to develop over her vision, only exaggerated by the tequila still pumping through her veins and altering her state of mind, on top of the hormonal changes as her body shifts to go through her cycle.

When she steps further into the apartment, YN spots a small group of people in the living room with drinks, snacks, and everything swiped from her coffee table.

It was nicely stacked and set aside near the television but all YN could see was that her safe space had been fucked with.

She couldn’t even smell Harry that well with everybody in the mix and that triggered her even more into a sense of insecurity.

Though logically YN wouldn’t call Harry her alpha, her omega has already identified him as hers or at least a potential alpha for her for heat, and the fact that his scent was not currently oozing through every inch of their living space was alarming.

They were playing a somewhat complex looking board game that YN had never seen before, all laughing and joking easily, having a good time.

YN focuses on the omega instantly.

She’s has thick-framed glasses that took up most of her face, tangled curls thrown into a messy bun, and tattoos that covered nearly every inch of visible skin.

Her scent was mediocre at best, at least to YN’s nose, and though this girl had never done anything to her - YN already felt a strong sense of anger and jealously that she even had the audacity to step into her apartment, her safety from the world.

The omega wasn’t even sitting near Harry.

Harry had two betas on either side of him, their shoulders bumping casually from trying to squeeze in around their coffee table but any physical contact with her alpha- with Harry was just completely unacceptable right now

Everyone’s eyes dart up to YN, most of them have friendly smiles on their faces.

YN realizes that Harry had been smiling and it had really been the first time she had seen that from him, he surprisingly enough had dimples.

However, when he looks up from his stack of cards, the smile fades into something stormier, something she was much more used to seeing.

YN vision feels blurry for a moment, blinking harshly, and desperately trying to simmer the rage that was starting to boil over.

When the omega slips her glasses up into her hair, she leans over to hand Harry a card from her deck, and she whispers something low enough YN can’t hear.

If she was in her right mind, she would realize that it had something to do with the game that they were playing but it felt like a threat.

YN’s voice is tight, shaking because she wants to get physical but knows she can’t, knows it’s not right but she’s never gotten this hostile before.

“Get out of my house,” YN hisses and even though it’s directly at everyone, her eyes are glued onto the omega who rightfully looks startled.

Harry stands up, chest puffed and shoulders as broad as possible, and looking a hundred thousand percent like the alpha of her dreams.

“YN,” His voice is firm, not quite at an alpha timbre but not too far off, he sensed the true threat, and realized this could go very bad.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” YN screeched louder, her chest was heaving and she knew her eyes were wide and erratic as they darted around to keep an eye on every person in her house.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice warns, stepping out of the group and closer to her, “I will have everyone leave but you’re not going to be aggressive like this. They’re not doing anything to endanger you.”

YN bares her teeth at him, upset that he’s not protecting her safe space for her.

How could he not see that they’re ruining everything?

“Get them out!” YN waves her hand toward the door sharply, kicking a pair of shoes in their vicinity for good measure.

“Settle down now,” Harry booms louder, finally in his alpha tone, and it’s something that quite literally flips a switch in her mind to obey.

YN blinks at him, suddenly feeling heavy like there were weights in her limbs as she stills snarls but doesn’t emit any noises further towards the guests.

The anger dissipates and is fully replaced with despair.

It’s not something that has ever happened before but then again, this was the first time that she had ever had an alpha in her life.

YN doesn’t melt though, not when Harry wraps his fingers securely around her wrist, and tells his friends, “I’m going to take her back to her bedroom. See yourselves out. I’ll contact you all in the morning to reschedule.”

YN doesn’t want to go to her room until they’re fully out of her house but when she hesitates in the entryway, Harry tugs at her, still gruff and alpha when he snaps, “Let’s go, now.”

She follows, albeit unwillingly and still fucking too buzzed to fully process anything that was going on in these last minutes.

Harry opens her bedroom door, nostrils flaring whether it’s from his disdain for her scent or just agitation - most likely a mixture of most

“Stay here until I say so,” Harry demands, in his typical bossy alpha way as he nudges her into her now open bedroom door.

“It’s my apartment,” YN nearly growled at him, eyes narrowed.

“It is also my apartment as well,” Harry points out, calm and emotionless as ever, “And you acting like a feral, unregulated little pup isn’t going to fly with me.”

YN feels like it’s an insult to her value as an omega.

It makes her want to shrink and become unreasonably small.

She already felt that way compared to him.

When Harry moves to shut her door as he leaves, she can’t help but bite out, “Knothead.”

Harry shakes his head in annoyance but only reminds her once more, “Stay here.”

YN ignores him, after he shuts the door, YN decides it’s time to change out of her form-fitting outfit and into something much more comfortable.

All she can think about though is that the feeling that her apartment, her safe space for her head, has been disturbed, and she’s going to have to fix it or she won’t be able to sleep.

She didn’t get a good enough look to know what’s out of place or not but she can guess things were moved around and touched.

YN changes into a soft pajama shorts and a cropped tee, nearly bouncing on her feet for the confirmation that all of the intruders have left her house.

If she wasn’t buzzed and in pre-heat in the presence of the first alpha she’d ever really known, she would have probably joined in the game or conversation.

All bets were off during the lead up to her cycle.

Once the door cracks open, Harry doesn’t peek his head in or anything but simply rumbles, “Everyone is gone.”

He doesn’t say anything else before she can hear him walking the few steps to his bedroom and shutting the door harshly.

YN feels like a live wire is in her veins as she exits her bedroom, eyes trying to go everywhere at once but instantly focus in on the game that’s still laid out on the coffee table.

She doesn’t care in that moment that she might be messing things up as she starts to shuffle all the pieces back into the box with a bit of unnecessary urgency.

But before she even gets half-way done with that, she realizes that someone has moved Beatrice’s box of toys to the wrong corner of the room.

Her little metallic crinkle balls, her fish on a string, all of them were splayed out over the floor, and not nicely tucked away as YN had left them.

Then she realizes that the visitors had been using her throw blankets which means they automatically had to get rewashed first thing tomorrow.

YN threw the three blankets in a pile near the entryway, she didn’t even realize that there were tears streaming down her cheeks instantly.

Harry pads back down the hallway as she is re-entering the living room, that same annoying scowl on his face, and tense body language.

“You don’t have to prove this point to me. I would have cleaned all these things up once you went to sleep,” Harry huffs out as YN moves a chair back to its original place at her dining room table.

YN isn’t proving a point though

She’s trying to fix her safe space that he had so carelessly destroyed.

Harry moves towards the coffee table to clean up the rest of the board game but YN snaps at him first.

“You already disrupted enough! Let me clean this up! Don’t touch anything else!” YN is half yelling, half begging at this point.

“Why are you being so fuckin’ difficult with me? Ever since you walked in the front door,” Harry throws his arms up, “Is it because I had people over without asking? I didn’t know I needed your permission.”

His tone is triggering, his stance, his scent.

YN was starting to think that there has been great reasons now to steer clear of stupid fucking alphas. YN bristles at him because there’s something about the way he’s acting that makes her skin itchy.

He was the alpha, she was the omega.

They’ve established that and he should know that this isn’t normal for any omega without some type of disorder.

YN wonders if Harry has any mate-like instincts or if he truly is unbothered by the way she acts because he doesn’t give an ounce of care about her.

She decides the best thing she can do right now is ignore him completely as she continues to tuck the decorative pillows back in their spots.

Harry is waiting for a response but realizes after a moment of heavy silence that he wasn’t going to be receiving one from her.

“If it was an issue, I am not a fuckin’ mind reader,” Harry continues on, volume loud enough that it pricks at her ears sharply, “If there was a problem with it, you need to be an adult and communicate.”

YN drops the pillow she was just about to place, eyes burning near fire as she snarls at him, loudly and frustrated now.

“I did tell you!” YN raises her voice, vocal cords straining because yelling for her was a rare occurrence that almost never happened, “You should have have some fucking alpha instincts or is there just too much testosterone in you to have common sense?”

Harry growls louder than before, at the insult of his secondary gender, no alpha wanted to be questioned on their abilities.

YN keeps on before he can respond, “I have been in pre-heat for the last week and a half. You knew that! You knew that I was struggling to sleep, feeling restless, and upset. Did you not?”

Harry’s jaw twitches, his throat bobbing as he swallows, his eyes darting guilty to the side for a moment before focusing back on her, “I did.”

“You knew I’m struggling through my pre-heat and you brought a group of people here? Unfamiliar people? An omega in my home?” YN breaks down, the rage leaving her body and tears flooding in instead.

The tension in Harry’s body starts to fade as he realizes what he’s done and he has the decency to look properly remorseful as she cries.

“My safe space doesn’t feel safe anymore,” YN sniffles as she pulls the collar of her shirt to cover her face, her vulnerability as she sobs, “You took away my safe space then yelled at me for being upset about it.”

“YN, I -“ Harry begins, his tone had softened ten-fold and his shoulders were relaxed, chest not as puffed up and intimidating.

YN shakes her head, wiping her eyes with the fabric before letting it drop again, “I need to go to my room. I need to be in my nest unless you’ve invited them to lay in there too?”

It was rhetorical and she didn’t give him a chance to reply either way as she storms passed him, avoiding his shoulder just barely to get to her room.

YN shuts her bedroom door, making sure that he can hear the lock distinctly as a warning, and relieve floods through her when she looks at her bed.

Her nest is perfectly as she left it if Beatrice was curled up to the left corner, and probably had been the whole time the group of people were here.

She had already been in her room when Harry marched her in here but she had been so frazzled that she could only think about getting out there to clean, not a thought to her nest.

Beatrice was the friendliest cat once she warmed up but until then she was anxious and tended to tuck herself somewhere away from noise.

YN’s already dressed for bed and readily crawls into her nest to bunker down under the layers of soft blankets and comfy sweaters.

She hates that it reaches underneath her pillow for Harry’s shirt that still had a decent amount of his rich scent on it to make her feel warm and fuzzy in a different way.

YN’s mind starts to wander, when he brought her back here, did he look at her nest?

Alphas should know that it is highly disrespectful and inappropriate to view an omega’s nest without their expressed consent and permission.

However, Harry was the rudest, most off-putting alpha that has ever walked the face of the earth which leaves her anxious that he did look.

If YN would have known that Harry would see it, she would have spent hours building a much prettier one, more constructed, bigger.

Her pre-heat and heat nests however were more about comfort than ability and appearance.

They were sloppy, hastily put together, and usually a wreck from how much YN tossed and turned in her sleep during these times.

YN surprisingly sleeps well once again because of her nose being tucked into a fabric carrying the most delicious scent she had ever smelled.

But she wakes up earlier than usual, especially because she was off work for the rest of the week because of the issues at their office and it was Tuesday.

She should be sleeping in.

YN doesn’t forget that Harry gets up earlier than her by a long shot and is out the door by the time her alarm goes off but she checks her clock.

She staggers to her door, moving to unlock the knob but when she glances down she notices her door is already unlocked.

YN doesn’t remember getting up at any point but with how much alcohol she had consumed the night before, she wouldn’t be surprised if she had gotten up to pee.

YN is dreading walking into the hallway to be met with the disappointing smell of all the random betas that had been over here.

Worst of all, the omega who’s scent would likely linger, and be more sensitive to her nose because of the insinuated threat of competition.

However, when she steps out, most of the lights are still off and it’s still completely dark outside which makes the dim lamp in the living room give some illumination.

YN doesn’t smell anything but Harry.

Like insanely, all encompassing Harry.

It was the best thing she’s ever woken up to.

When she pads into the main area, she notices that the apartment is a hundred percent back to normal, everything rearranged perfectly.

Not only that but it was even more spotless than before.

Most importantly, Harry must have rescented the whole apartment and marked it as his territory which maybe should make YN mad but it just brings her back to the feelings of being safe.

YN is blinking rapidly, eyes watering from relief as she runs her hand across a neatly folded throw blanket on the back of her couch.

It takes her a minute to realize it hasn’t just been scented but washed completely along with the other blankets that were tucked neatly into their basket by the couch.

“I should have asked before I marked the entire apartment. My…alpha went into a bit of overdrive after our conversation last night,” Harry’s voice interrupts the silence from the kitchen, it was low enough that it didn’t make her jump.

YN turns her head to look at him, he’s dressed in gym gear with a loose fitting black tee that doesn’t do justice to his defined body shape, mid thigh black running shorts, and black tennis shoes with crew socks.

He looked big, intimidating, and every bit of the angry alpha that he has shown in the past to her but he wasn’t posturing, he was leaning against the counter and sipping a protein shake from his shaker bottle.

“I…” YN shakes her head as she looks around, in awe that the alpha actually listened and did something kind for her that maybe he wasn’t the complete knothead she thought he was, “It’s okay. It feels safe again.”

“Even with my scent?” Harry clarifies, wariness in his expression as he watches her, eyes always focused and clear from under his dark lashes.

“I've never had an alpha in my proximity. It makes me feel safer and I like your scent. It really upset me when I could barely smell you when I got home last night,” YN doesn’t know where this honesty is coming from and isn’t sure whether she should regret it or not.

Harry has the same flash of guilt cross his face and that’s when YN realizes just how exhausted he appears with puffiness under his eyes, darker than usual coloring.

“It must have taken you a long time to do all this. You even did laundry and I know it takes ages for those dryers to actually dry anything heavier than a sock,” YN murmurs as she gives another glance around.

Harry rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, his hair was in a high bun, and his jawline was like something of a sculpture.

YN was still struggling to come to terms with the idea that this alpha was her flat mate, Niall never mentioned how impossibly handsome he is or devastatingly all dominant, primal alpha.

Maybe as a beta he truly didn’t notice.

Niall could be quite oblivious.

“I let my emotions get the best of me sometimes. I wasn’t thinking about how new scents in the house would affect your pre-heat,” Harry admits, his voice is still somewhat flat but it seemed genuine enough, “I am a good alpha.”

YN is a bit taken aback by his words.

It was the cadence of the way he spoke them.

Like he was trying to prove it to her.

“You should get some sleep before work,” YN defers the topic and from the twitch of Harry’s jaw - his annoyance too because he wanted validation.

He was being a good alpha but it was a little too late in this scenario.

“I have to get to the gym to train,” Harry shakes his head, swigging down the last of what was in his bottle before moving to wash it out.

“You can’t take a day off?”

“No,” Harry replies, simple and firm, “You should be the one getting back to sleep. You don’t have work today. You should rest, your body has been incredibly stressed out.”

“I’ll probably sleep the whole day now,” YN laughs but it’s the truth, she almost wants to move to the couch after he leaves to be more more enmeshed in his scent.

“The striped knit blanket in the basket, you might want to not use that one,” Harry tells her before he directly focuses on scrubbing his plastic cup.

“Did you not wash it?” Maybe it still smells like omega or beta.

“I did,” Harry blinks at her, frowning like he doesn’t want to answer but is being forced, “I just…it’s drenched in my scent. My alpha was unsettled so probably want to let it air out and lose the scent a bit first.”

“Okay,” YN replies easily because that means that after he leaves it will be the first one that she’s going to wrap herself into like a burrrito.

“Okay?” Harry repeats back, skeptical and sharp, “I don’t understand how all these betas and one omega triggers you so incredibly much while I can just stink up and claim this whole apartment with no issue.”

YN almost physically sees Harry start to put his guard up, hackles up and brows knitting downward to cause the wrinkle above his nose.

“It makes me feel safe, you…um, make me feel that way too,” YN admits, all to honest again, and she wonders why she is opening up to a brick wall.

Harry’s jaw twitches, eyes unreadable as he nods, “Okay.”

YN wants to laugh at his robotic, stiff response to such a major compliment.

She may be taunting a bull but she has to try.

Harry had just hung the dish towel back on the oven handle when YN walks into the kitchen and straight at him, not giving him a chance to move before she’s wrapping her arms around his middle and hugging him.

A major part of her expects him to push her off, scoff at her, or to even just stiffen up to the point that it would feel like hugging a scarecrow.

But Harry, she was learning was absolutely full of surprises and he doesn’t do any of those things.

He doesn’t exactly soften but he does something that nearly stops her heart, he puts his hand on the nape of her neck which is a very intimate thing.

“You’re fine. You need to figure out how to control your disorder, it must be miserable living like that twice a year. Go get some sleep now,” Harry rumbles as he administers the lightest squeeze to that spot his hand was on.

YN purrs.

Her eyes widen and she flinched.

“Did you just-?” Harry begins to ask, voice getting rougher.

“Have a good day at the gym and work!” YN squirms out of his hold and hightails it to the bedroom, shutting the door quickly.

On her retreat, she swears that she hears Harry huffs out in a mixture of annoyance and humor, “Silly pup.” ++++++++_

[grace-williams-xo]

RAMBLING THOUGHTS AFTER FINISHING PART TWO. GONNA ADDRESS MY P1 THOUGHTS FIRST. SPOILER WARNING.

1 & 2: I think Debling could’ve worked in the second half, and I’m kinda sad Cressida didn’t get a happy ending. The Creloise fell of a CLIFF after ep 5 but I think it could still be saved

5: no cishet man has ever loved his wife more than Anthony Bridgerton I’m gonna be ill

6 & 12: kanthony’s absence was felt BAD in the finale, I think their reactions to LW were sorely needed. Also Jonny and Simone have both said they’ll be at every sibling’s wedding and stick around for years but they missed Francesca’s??? Also felt their absence too much then. They’re both booked and busy I think we’ll continue to only get a couple episodes a season from them

8: Francesca did get to thrive happy in pt 2 my baby I love her

9: I think they managed to disconnect the mondrich plot even further like 😭 once again, I don’t mind them their plot just feels very empty

10: Pen and Delacroix CONTINUE to be my fave duo I love them so freaking much and they can never get rid of it

13: Portia’s growth this season continued to be 10/10 I loved her and Penelope’s relationship it really showed what it’s like to be closely related to people you oppose and the process of needing to forgive and understand them for your own peace of mind

14: that was not how I was expecting Colin to find out about Whistledown

15: Marcus felt a little rushed in part two but I think I need to watch the whole season together to fully decide

17: this was indeed the longest 27 days of my life I got Covid day after it dropped lmfao

MY ~NEW~ THOUGHTS:

We finally got character development from Cressida and if they write her out I’ll be inconsolable (as will Jessica Madsen)

I hope they paid Golda Rosheuvel good for her feet exposure. Worth more than titties in this economy

I feel the need to tell everyone that £5000 in 1815 is in the realm of £500,000 today and we cannot brush over the fact Penelope has made herself the equivalent of a literal millionaire

Anthony has two moods ‘I’m obsessed with my wife’ ‘I want to win this game’ like it is comical how drastically different his facial expression is in the game of charades compared to pretty much every other scene

Anthony saying the marriage is perfect and not hard work and Kate being like BOY I will humble you,,,, doing the lord’s work I love her so much

At some points I felt like Francesca was fighting Anthony for ‘Violet’s least favourite child’ award lmao

John saying he’s off to look at the wainscotting was unfairly funny

Cressida in the red dress is even better than I imagined fuck even if she’s not gay then I am

Peneloise back together the universe is healing I love my babies all we need now is creloise lovers and peneloise friendship simultaneously I don’t like it being one or the other sue me

However much Brimsley is getting paid isn’t enough,,,, Hugh Sachs the man that you are

I adored Penelope’s wedding dress so much and as bitter as I am still about no kanthony wedding in s2, it felt kind of right somehow for Polin to be the first wedding we properly see in this show

Most of the costumes and makeup feel like they got worse,,,,, big ‘I hired a 14 year old’ energy. I don’t need historical accuracy but I would like a modicum of care and the costume/hair/makeup dept looking at a single historical reference from before 1850,,,, please

We all got the bi Benedict we’ve been asking for and I appreciate it, and recognise that he needed Tilley to explore that, but I still would’ve preferred if they first main queer experience was not a threesome

If they go straight into benophie in s4 (which idk, I’m so torn bc I feel like F, E and B all could work well next season) then I also feel like bi Benedict was just them throwing a bone for 5 mins but meant nothing

The CONTENTIOUS Michaela Stirling,,,,, I was undecided until I saw it but that was the definition of gay panic from Francesca and it worked so well I am so excited.

As your resident peerage expert, it is much easier for women to inherit titles in Scotland than England so I wonder (not that anyone on this show knows anything) if that was a reason they chose Francesca to be sapphic [general peerage info and female inheritance info if you care]

On the above, if they can canonically end racism with one marriage then they can end homophobia with one marriage as well

We all know Eloise was the easy and obvious choice to be the queer love story but part of me does kind of like them not taking the easy route, and them going something more unexpected, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want Creloise/Sapphic El like they had eight children let’s be honest

Finch’s sneeze and Phillips’s “now Varely! The bugs!” were unfairly funny

Everything Lady Danbury said to Penelope about suspecting her and what not felt very in character and you can fight with the wall idc

Did they tell us the name of Polin’s baby boy???

Hyacinth saying she thinks of Gregory as the family pet,,,,, girl you an icon walking amongst mere mortals

Predictions I got right:

Anthony didn’t kill Colin, but “are you gonna duel your own brother” lmao I was on the right track

I knew Polin would win the Featherington baby race and I love that for them (but why were Prudence and Phillipa pregnant most of the season, barely showing, Kate was showing almost immediately, and then in the epilogue the sisters all had baby’s similar-ish ages???? Give the writers room a calendar please)

I SAID FROM DAY DOT THAT THE FURNITURE THEY BROKE FROM SEX WAS A CHAISE I CANT FIND THE POST BUT I KNEW IT I FUCKING KNEW IT WHERE DO I COLLECT MY PRIZE SOME OF YOUR GUESSES WERE TRULY FUCKING COOKED

Okay that was too long if you made it this far I’ll make you cookie ily

[gay-dorito-dust]

hii, sorry to bother!! but if ur requests are open could you do something w the reader having a nightmare and the batboys having to comfort them? Kinda like the opposite of ur other post please, TYSM!!

Another request that i write while half asleep, I tried to think of something for Dick but I might’ve used the last of my brain juice tbh, today at work was defiantly…something to say the least.

Jason

‘You’re okay, you’re okay sweetheart I’m right here, nothings going to get you.’ Jason would reassure you as he held you tightly in his arms, keeping you pressed to his chest as close as he could.

‘It felt too real Jason.’ You cried into his neck, clinging onto him as though if you’d let him go he’d disappear, you recently had a nightmare of Jason leaving you and you were too helpless to stop him from doing so that you woke up in a fit of tears, clinging onto him in desperation.

‘I know sweetheart, I know but you know that I’d never do anything like that, ever,’ Jason started as he pressed a couple of kisses to your forehead to sooth you, ‘you’re unfortunately stuck with me chipmunk.’ He adds and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of being with Jason for the rest of your life.

‘Sounds like heaven.’ You sighed, kissing his neck as he chuckles.

‘You sure you won’t get bored of little old me?’ He asks teasingly but his eyes looked at you as though to ask if you were being genuine about being with him. He wouldn’t mind being with you forever for that was his own personal slice of heaven in of itself.

‘I’m very sure I wouldn’t because you always make every day worthwhile.’ You tell him as you nuzzled your head further his neck and intertwine your legs with his own, trying to get closer to him as your physically could.

‘Good because that’s how I feel about waking up to you every morning sweetheart.’ Jason said suddenly serious as he rubs his thumb against your side softly. ‘That me in your dream? Isn’t me because why would I run away for the one person who has ever made me feel truly…alive…the one person who didn’t treat me as though I was on the cusp of snapping.’ He then moves his head so it could rest against your own and pressing a small kiss to your nose. ‘You’re all the more reason for me to keep doing what I do if I am to ever get that forever with you sweetheart.’ He adds in a low whisper as soon enough you were both fast asleep, cuddled closely to one another as though terrified to first apart from one another, akin to that of a pair of otters going downstream.

Damian

‘Those nightmares won’t get to you anymore my treasure.’ Damian said as he held your hand firmly in his own, squeezing it periodically while giving you the space to control your breathing and focus on the reality in front of you, rather than the fantasy your mind took when you slept. ‘They cannot affect the reality of which we live in.’ He adds on.

‘It still felt all too real to be a dream.’ You tell him after having only gave him very vague responses to his questions about what it was that you saw in your dream, or rather nightmare was the more fitting word.

Damian sighed as he guided your hands to hold his face and keeping them there by having his hands cover your own, his thumbs caressing your writs as his emerald eyes looked deep into yours. ‘What about this?’ He asks.

‘What about this?’ You replied, confused.

‘If what you say is true, then does this feel too much of dream to be real?’ Damian said as a silence befell you both as your eyes flickered across his face, taking in every one of his features that you adored so much and found yourself slowly being to relax.

‘No,’ you began, thumbs stroking his cheeks, as the nightmare seemed to get further and further away from you the more you focused on the man right in front of you who’s presence alone was enough to make you feel safe and comforted, ‘it feels…right.’ You finished as you felt the last of your nerves calm down.

‘Then this is what we’ll do from now one when one of us had nightmares.’ Damian said as he allowed your fingertips to map out the expanse of his face with featherlight touches that left him wanting to melt into your hands. ‘Reminds each other of what’s real and what’s not.’ He adds as you cuddled into his side, head resting against his chest to listen to his heartbeat as it lulls you back into a peaceful slumber with Damian watching over you.

[yandere-sins]

Not really a request but if you have any yan wuwa thought, pls share bestie I am STAVREDDD

i am constantly thinking about Scar!! man is not leaving my head!! i‘ll probably write something properly for him tomorrow but here are my late night (unedited lol) thoughts just for you ❤️

> Scar gives a lot of nicknames like his favorite follower, little lamb or sheepy (also depends on the situation but he might call you his sleepy sheepy—he do be silly like that). Either way he rarely uses your real name, so you know shit is about to go down when he does.

> He drags you anywhere and calls it a date. Given, most places are really dangerous but although the situations might scare you, Scar is there to protect you and play hero (even though it‘s his fault you turned out to be a damsel in distress, pretty sure he angers TDs so they‘ll go after you and then get rid of them to make himself look better). He wouldn‘t let you get harmed, and the poor soul who put a scratch on you because they are in for a bad bad time! No one gets to mark you—except Scar (;

> Ultimately he‘s super clingy though. He may distance himself to scare you but he‘d never leave you anywhere, sticking to you like gum to your shoes even if he sends you on errands. He isn‘t subtle about it either and likes to touch and grope you in the middle of the city while you wait for your order to be ready. You‘re just too adorable when you‘re flustered! And hey, the coat he put over you didn‘t allow anyone to see anything, it‘s just for Scar‘s eyes after all ;)

> The clinginess totally transferred into nighttime as well. He just won‘t leave you alone even as he mumbles into your ear throughout the night (I think he sleep talks! Most of it doesn‘t make sense but oftentimes it‘s your name or whimpering from nightmares.) He also gropes while he‘s asleep and drapes himself over you. Sometimes you doubt it‘s unintentional… Boy needs your warmth and comfort so he can get some sleep :((((

> Destroys all your clothes so you have to wear what he gives you. Need I say more? And yes, the onigiri returns 🍙

> Will get really calm and serene if you pet his head, comb through or play his hair, or really show any kind of physical affection. Good for calming him down if he gets upset and you are scared for your life. It takes a lot of time until he‘s satisfied though, so you might be in an awkward position for a long time.

> Strangely possessive when around his colleagues. Wonder what he‘s so afraid of that he won‘t let them near you at all.

> Punishment includes locking you in his ✨space✨ ( I forgot what it‘s called) making you run from illusions and his monsterform. You only get released when you cried and screamed enough, terrified out of your mind. Scar actually enjoys feeling you shiver in his arms for hours after, knowing he put that fear into you and he can be there for you.

> Now that I wrote it out, he‘s a fucking bully isn‘t he. But you are so cute when you are distraught, scared, or everything at once! How can he help himself when his little sheep learns that they are only save in his arms?

Thanks for asking for my thoughts, ana! Hope this satiated you a bit!! Have a good night ❤️

[sugurism]

WANNA BET? ౨ৎㅤ suguru geto.

synopsis / premise ♱ㅤ when a lustful spirit comes across suguru geto’s path, the curse user must sacrifice his pride and dignity for a chance to obtain its power. but you won’t make it easy for him, will you?

featuring ♱ㅤ cursed spirit!FEM!reader X suguru geto (2017 / jjk 0 ver.)

warnings ♱ㅤ NSFW ♡︎ ㅤ spectrophilia ! monsterfucking (?) ! DEATH (not on any of them) + BLOOD ! EATING HUMAN FLESH (not cannibalism!) ! dub-con (both consent, but it involves a dangerous bet, so just to stay safe) ! sub and dom dynamics constantly changing (both switchers) but reader is usually domming ! unprotected sex + unrealistic portraits of sex ! creampie ! power dynamics ! rough sex / “hate” sex ! degradation + praise ! WORD COUNT: 4990.

author’s note ♱ㅤthank you for everyone who's enjoying and supporting my work! i love you all and i hope you like this piece as well. this is inspired by the poll i made a long while ago. the people asked, and they shall have it! despite it not being yandere character, be sure the next fics will fix that! <3

p.s — i write smut very rarely. i feel it's a little bland and ill probably avoid writing it for a little while lol. despite that, i hope you enjoy it nonetheless

BETTING WITH CURSES is always a dangerous ── not to say stupid ── idea. their conceptions are more violent and sadistic than those of humans, and they have little (or no) notion of mortality. they revel in the gushing blood, the failure, and the deadly despair that initially gave rise to them. therefore, it is uncommon for even the most experienced curse users to engage in this type of activity. but geto doesn’t know the meaning of fear. it became unfamiliar to him, like he always wished. curses are just the accumulated filth of non-sorcerers. and a god fears neither the insects beneath him nor the remains they produce.

the cult provides a good amount of spirits, with that rotten taste that is impossible to disguise. no matter how much spice or food is eaten afterward, it is always terrible, but today it goes down his throat much more easily. as much as it’s a good facade, gathering followers and getting a good reserve of curses to form the night parade of a hundred demons, it’s not enough.

all the spirits he consumes recently are mediocre grade 4s. sometimes a grade 3, or if he is extremely lucky, a grade 2. but it has become a rare occasion, and the spirits of non-sorcerers are as weak as their mediocre progenitors.

he doesn’t have enough, and if things go this way, he will have more of an amalgamation of weak and useless spirits than spirits strong enough to distract the sorcerers and help him fight his true goal. therefore, his free days, when not spent with his daughters and his fixation on crêpes, are used to hunt cursed spirits. usually, his followers help with this. the loyal sorcerers see each other as family, and are willing to work for the new world as much as he does. it doesn’t matter how much blood or sweat it takes, it doesn’t matter if he’s not alive to see it all, after all. no more being oppressed by insects. the true species must rise, and the time is coming.

patience, he tells himself. but haste is a curse of its own that affects every man at some point in his existence, making him lose himself in his tasks and concentrations. as he reclines on himself in what could be called the throne room, suguru watches as some of his fellow sorcerer help one of their own. he quickly approaches the confusion.

a woman with a flushed face and heavy breathing, one hand on her chest as if she was about to have a heart attack. sweat pours off her in a rush, as if her body is burning from the inside out. it’s rare that they don’t come back with even one spirit (as mediocre as it is, a curse is a curse, and he can’t afford to be selective at this point). then, suguru frowns. part of him genuinely cares, in a way he never could, if this woman didn’t have a technique.

“what’s the matter? i thought you were going after the spirit near shinjuku.”

“we were.” one of them answers. “but that thing is a beast. you can’t get close without feeling completely lost and attracted. it’s like a fog that enters your nose and mouth and consumes you from the inside. we nearly died. we can’t handle that, master geto. we apologize.”

he sighs, looking over at the poor woman. there’s something visibly wrong with her right now. her heart seems shaken by a powerful force, and this makes geto think that he shouldn’t underestimate this curse in question.

she looks around and practically latches onto any man she can see — even kissing a guy’s neck while he blushes and gently pulls her away. is it some kind of spirit that manipulates attraction? this is particularly dangerous for him. even though he is, well, him, suguru is still a man. the flesh is weak, and perhaps this curse will become a huge headache to deal with.

however, it could become one of his best weapons.

if a spirit like this keeps causing problems in kyoto, he will have more time to do what needs to be done in tokyo. he can already think about it — whatever form this spirit has, having sorcerers under their thumb. crushing their heads and buying him precious seconds to take care of his business. he can only imagine how the poor sorcerers will react, attracted to a beast.

“don’t worry about that anymore.” he assures the cult members, which turn their heads to him. their leader, their god. the one who’s going to make them rise to a new world. his voice is filled with the grace and confidence he usually has on his tone. but also something else.

determination. raw and pure.

“i will deal with the cursed spirit in shinjuku myself. please watch over mimiko and nanako while i’m gone. i will need just a few hours.”

while humans are extremely annoying, they have their uses. somehow. spirits like you, of thunderous strength, also have thunderous desires. technically, curses don’t need to eat, sleep, or reproduce like humans do. your existence and body made of pure cursed energy coursing through your veins transcends the need for these chores. but like everything that is unnecessary, it is not necessarily impossible. that’s why, as a curse, you know how to use what you have to attract victims. legends about women who attract men with their beauty and turn on them like vipers are very common. the idea of comfort turning to horror ── resting in the arms of a beautiful goddess only to discover that she is a beast shaped like a beauty ── is something that has generated many curses. just like you.

your long tongue curls around your fingertips, trying to absorb the blood that rests there. the body of the last unlucky person who came to try to get you rests at the foot of the motel room bed. it’s not difficult to blend in with humans, and sorcerers come to you like bees looking for honey. while sucking the blood from your fingers, your eyes look up to the dim lamp in the room. the moths accumulate, beating against the light and surrounding it desperately. your body stands up and walks out of the room while arranging your kimono sloppily over your shoulders. if you turn off a light, the moths are lost, without hope. their lives are all about chasing dangerous things. they are attracted to the light of a flame, following this wonderful source of illumination without knowing that it will lead to their death. just as mortal men (and women) allow you to do.

the body stays behind, not that it’s important. the others can’t see you, which means all they know is that a man walked into a room alone, and died inside. eviscerated and devoured as if destroyed by a modern movie zombie. your steps guide you away from cheap construction, and that’s a relief. the reception smells like mold, and the employee is more focused on playing solitaire than looking at whoever enters. the cold night air hitting you would be a problem if your stomach wasn’t full and well refreshed with warm blood. and, at the entrance to the parking lot, a man approaches. so he can see you. it wouldn’t be the first time a young guy approached you, hungry for some. you try to hide the blood in your hands.

you devour the hearts of humans, just as they would like to devour you (in other senses). however, he looks… different from the usual men you see around. high energy levels, as well as clearly being a sorcerer. he doesn’t look very old, maybe in his late twenties. this means that he doesn’t have as much experience as older men, but he is no amateur at sorcery. just as you fill yourself with meat, he also consumes something. you can’t tell just by looking, and it’s as disturbing as it is interesting.

okay, you’re full. but there’s always room for another one. especially a looker like this.

“mm, hey, handsome.” you purr, smiling cutely as you rest your hand on your waist.

“spare me. i know what you are capable of and what you really want. i’m not going to be your next meal, curse.” he smirks, circling around you.

well, that’s a fascinating twist. it reminds you of how many sorcerers have said the exact same thing, and in the end it ended up just becoming your dinner. however, this man seems less— consumable than the rest, but no less attractive.

the idea of eating him saddens you, because then you would lose him forever. not being able to see that pretty face after you eat it out of spite… it would be tragic. but maybe there’s a way of having fun, while still getting something out of him.

you lick your lips at the thought.

okay, this could be the opportunity you’ve been waiting for. a tall, handsome man with a large amount of cursed energy? he’s the kind of guy you don’t let get away. after so many snacks, a careful look always captures a good and complete meal. but perhaps you can do much more than devour him. it’s the kind of chance every girl dreams of ── in your own twisted and sadistic way, of course.

“can i get your name, handsome? or do i have to keep on the petname basis?” you tease, smirking softly.

he walks around you like a shark circles tasty prey. this cat and mouse game would scare away any other curse, this sorcerer doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to play with, which makes the interest you have in him doubled. your eyes follow his every movement.

“and while we’re questioning each other, what do you want? a fight?”

“i’m suguru geto. and what i want is very simple.” he steps closer, but you don’t budge, instead raising your chin despite the attitude. that makes his eyes widen softly and suguru scoffs. was he expecting you to be intimidated? “you.”

okay, that answer itself is not unusual for you ── many others have said the same thing to answer the very same question ──, but the new dynamic and opportunity this man presents is. an idea blooms in your mind like a poisonous flower: beautiful, but lethal if touched. it doesn’t look dangerous, it looks attractive and vibrant, but it is. and you are about to apply this in the most intense way you can imagine. a new thing, a new idea.

and like every creature beyond mortality, routine is boring and boring is despising for you. new things are exciting, captivating. he’s interesting.

“why don’t we make a small bet, hm? geto.”

he raises one eyebrow, interested. “i’m listening. and, please. call me suguru.”

the motel isn’t a very suitable destination — apparently, it’s not proper to go to a place where a corpse is —, but an empty apartment that a cult sponsor bought for him will do. suguru and you walk around while pulling up casual conversation and flirtation. everything seems surprisingly chill. maybe in another life, you two could be friends. maybe even with benefits? or— perhaps something else.

he doesn’t think your personality is bad, per see, but again. you seduce and eat mortals easily. maybe you’re just tricking him into lowering his guard. maybe in another life, you’re a pretty little thing who hugs his arm and allows him to take you home with genuine, good intentions. maybe in another life, you could like him genuinely. and he could like you back.

but you two don’t live another life — only this one. so, he’ll settle.

you’re barely past the door and he feels your lips on his. he smirks, grabbing you by the hair to pull you closer. it’s supposed to be an easy tatic — seducing you. he can absorb curses of grades that are at least two lower than his, or… any curse that surrenders.

as your tongue swirls around his, suguru feels a shiver run down his spine. you taste so— unbelievably sweet. nothing like any other one he’s every tasted. the sound of kissing takes over the apartment as you stumble over your feet to the bed.

this might be harder than he initially thought.

the bet is simple, somewhat. you will compete in something, your choice. whoever wins has complete control of the loser. which means — he wins, you’ll become one of his curses. you win? he’s yours. forever. whatever that means, you made that clear. you both explained your expectations and what you wanted from the other, deciding for a biding vow.

the competition you chose was sex. basically, whoever cums first loses.

and for some reason, suguru feels like he shouldn’t lose. he’s not sure what you’ll do with him once “he’s yours”, but he feels like it wouldn’t be a very opportune time for him.

you move to kiss his cheek, jawline, and neck. suguru sighs while throwing his head back. “you’re— eager.” he murmurs with a soft hiss. “i’ve never been with something like you, so, forgive me if i’m shy.”

he can feel the way you smirk against his skin, before you start sucking down and biting. he grabs you by the hair to pull you away, relishing in your flushed expression and how your voice sounds when you yelp.

“no hickeys, no bites. i’m not yours to mark, curse.” his fingers wrap themselves around your hair tightly to get the message across. your tongue slips out, long and eagerly licking your lips as you watch him. like a lion watching a zebra, about to feast.

“yet.”

your answer just sets him off. and the way you smirk, that damned, arrogant smile that he intends to rip off your face as soon as you get into bed — adamant on being a goddamn brat. oh, you’re going to be a handful.

in a way, he likes it (although suguru prefers to bite down his tongue, rip it off and swallowing it before admitting anything to you). there are those who say that victory without effort is just a poorly deserved achievement.

dragging you by the hair, geto’s eyes are following your every movement as you stumble on your feet. you’re having fun with this, he can tell. something twitches on his chest, and — he can’t decide on anger or attraction as he gets rid of his clothes. why is his body so hot? you haven’t even done anything yet.

“keep your word if you lose, curse.” suguru mumurs, looking down at you while pushing you to bed and moving to be on top of you.

“could say the same, suguru. and don’t call me that.” you spread your legs slowly, smirking as he helps you undress. “i have a name, you know.”

the fun thing about men for you is how predictable they are. they keep denying it over and over — i don’t love you, i’m not a bad guy for cheating on my girlfriend, you’re nothing special — while they’re devouring you with their eyes. someone once said the eyes are the window to the soul. you believe that to be true — after all, no one has interest in a meal they cannot see first.

his desire is palpable in the way suguru’s hands rush, pushing away layers of fabric that’s keeping him from actually seeing you. it looks like he wants to rip the clothes off your body and see what’s underneath, because his heart needs to he. he needs it, he needs you.

the words rushing through his mind make him stop for a moment. what is this thought? he needs you… ? he breathes heavily as you grab his wrist and guide it to your chest. suguru can feel it under his fingers and palm.

the soft feeling of your skin is truly inhuman. it sparks something inside of him — he can’t remember a day where he wanted someone this much.

“you’re staring, suguru.” you tease.

“shut up.” he grits his teeth, moving down to cup your breasts, his thumbs caressing your nipples.

“you like this, don’t you? dirty whore.” geto murmurs, his hands snaking down and grabbing your hips harshly while leaning down, latching his lips to your nipple. his other hand massages your breast and pinches it, and the vibrations of his soft moans make your skin shiver.

he shouldn’t like this so much, he knows that. but the way you taste — it’s not fair. he’s rock-hard after some kissing, pinching, teasing. mere foreplay is making his cock twitch on his pants. the way you moan is divine, and your hand comes down to play with his hair as he sucks on your chest.

your legs wrap themselves around his waist, and he presses you down against the bed, hovering above you eagerly. the stupid buddhist robes he uses as a disguise are falling off his body, and all he wants to do is rip the fabric off and set it on fire because it prevents skin-to-skin contact. he bites down your nipple, and you moan, moving your hands to tug off his clothing.

“do you have condoms on you?” he asks, and you snort.

“no. i can’t be affected by mortal diseases. i don’t need those.”

suguru murmurs something against your skin, feeling himself grow addicted already. a small piece of his brain is already wishing you were his, but not to send you to battle — to get you sat on his lap all day, as he kisses and sucks on your chest. you tug at his hair, watching the black strands falling down his back gracefully as he moves to kiss down your underbust, then stomach. lower belly. his purple eyes look up at your face as his lips part. the cult leader’s hands caress your body as if yearning to memorize the flesh with each touch. here or there, he gently squeezes or pinches to see you squirm. they pass through his arms, shoulders, down his sides and finally meet under his thighs, guiding them to rest on his shoulders.

the first contact of his mouth with your pussy is messy. a bit lewd. generally, younger men like this like to act slow, a bit torturing, to be certain of what they’re doing (and mostly, they’re not). but suguru dives in as if your cunt is the last meal he’ll ever put his mouth on. his attention is mostly driven to your clit, and you gasp, playing with his hair and squeezing his head between your thighs with a smile.

he’s good. you’ve experienced sex mostly using it as a weapon — men in particular are more susceptible because they’re not expecting it, but women also don’t expect to be eviscerated while they’re pleasuring you. but sometimes, when you do enjoy sex for fun, you gained experience enough to tell this man between your legs knows what he’s doing. his hands move to grab your waist and keep you from running away as he kisses your clit. suguru’s tongue draw out and he moves is head up and down slowly, teasingly.

you enjoy the sensations, shiver trailing up your spine and the pleasure already pooling on your lower belly. your body relaxes slowly against the pillows, and you chuckle.

“mm, enjoying yourself down there?”

he doesn’t respond, instead humming against your cunt. the feeling causes your body to tingle, and your fingers curl around his strands (which tells suguru he’s doing something right). he’s finding out how heaven tastes.

you’re more determined than ever that he’s yours, and he can see it in your eyes. the fire in your eyes rivals the fire in both of your bodies.

the flavor is indescribable. geto is no amateur at sex, although he feels like one now. exposed, naked and excited, he feels about to lose the bet that will define his destiny. a lot of people have passed by his bed, and he’s already received a lot of compliments about what he can do with his mouth, but the feeling of all those people feels like a weak breeze compared to what he feels with your taste on his tongue. it is divine.

he’s never experienced anything like it, and the idea that sex could be this good makes him feel like he could do it for hours, every day, all day. it’s almost invigorating, energizing, when he experiences you. his hips move here and there, thrusting softly every now and then. the flushed tip of his cock oozes with pre, and he believes he never got so turned on before.

it’s like he’s a college kid, a desperate virgin trying out pussy for the first time. his arms move, hooking them around your thighs, trying to spread your legs as he sucks on your clit.

you tug at his hair again, hissing.

“not fair, jerk. we need to compete in a way both of us can lose. quit it.”

he would deny it, but denying it would make it obvious geto could cum untouched just from eating you out. he complies, leaning back, your juices making his lips and chin glisten under the room’s lights. “alright, curse.” you tug at his hair again, and he groans. “stop that.”

“you need to get used to it. i’ll do it all the time once you’re mine. i'm going to make you eat me out everyday, like the good boy i know you are.”

he moves up, kissing your stomach and between your breasts while looking up. “don’t claim victory before it’s time.” his voice murmurs, pressing his lips against yours and hugging your waist. “lay back.”

you smirk. “no.”

you grab his shoulders, using your unnatural strength to surprise suguru. changing the positions, you get him to be under you, throwing each of your legs to the sides of his body. his hands move to grab your waist, and his eyes narrow as he frowns.

such a handsome, tall man — even when he frowns. once he’s yours, you promise yourself, you have a lot of fun.

“what are you doing?” he hisses, moving to sit up. your palm lays against his chest, pushing him down again as you raise your hips to rub your wet cunt against him. “fuck, fuck— you slut, what are you doing?”

both of you moan softly at the contact, and you lift your body with spread legs and a smirk that tells him: you’re going all in to win this bet. this is worrying.

once you sink, slowly and surely, he throws his head back with his eyes narrowing. a groan escapes his lips, and his muscles clench. geto’s fingers curl around your waist, sinking his nails to your skin desperately, leaving small, red half-moon marks that heal immediately.

if heaven exists, this is what it feels like — his mind is sure of that. your pussy clenching around him, the pure warmth and tightness from your hole, it drives him insane, speechless. his eyes almost fill with water, and the urge to explode is immediate.

he gasps, holding you down and trying to breathe properly. the sew attempt proves futile, deadly and failed. it’s like the air can’t reach his lungs properly, and for a second he thinks he’s going to die in this pure bliss and smiles to himself. but the charm disappears when he remembers the bet. it was a very, very close call that he didn’t came as soon as he felt you around him.

the want awaken in his body is primal. dirty and impure, there’s no other word for it besides carnal. he wants to grab you and pin you down, thrust into you and cum inside until he dies from exhaustion. this power is — dangerous. it scares him and pleases him in equal measure, being under such a powerful spirit. suguru’s concentration is split, divided, and growing weaker as you speak again.

“what’s wrong, suguru? i can feel you twitch.” you giggle softly, leaning in over him.

your next move throws him off guard. the sadism and fire in your gaze makes him raise an eyebrow, and before he can react, his hips move. down and then up, just to slam back down. it knocks the air off his lungs, and he moans loudly.

“oh, god.”

“no, baby, it’s just me.” you chuckle, staring to set a pace as you lean back. “mmm, sugu. you feel really good, you know? so hard and nice to ride. and so good for me.”

instead of resting against his chest, your hands grab his knees. your stunning, divine body that makes his insides curl and melt is leaned back, exposed in all your glory, and he forgets you’re a curse for a moment. convinced you’re an angel, he grabs your hips to help you ride, thrusting up against your movements.

suguru smiles softly to himself as he hears your soft moans. the sounds is delicious, drowning every worry out of him. he only remembers you’re a curse two minutes seconds later, when your tongue slips out your mouth to lick your lips, as if you’re enjoying a meal.

he feels like an animal, capable of thinking about only one thing: copulating. having sex and reproduce and if he fails in the latter, have sex again until every drop of semen is squeezed out of his body.

he tenses up, groaning. god be kind, he has no idea how he managed to hold on for so long.

“what’s your deal?” another moan quickly scratches his throat, and the heat is almost becoming unbearable. pooling in his lower belly, making his abs and muscles clench as he grinds against you, desperate.

“what are you talking about?” you chuckle, leaning in again and moving your hands up to play with your nipples. slowly — both to tease him and to avoid you cum too early and lose. softly.

“stop— smirking like that. it pisses me off.”

you lean in, playing with a strand of his hair and tugging on it gently. suguru tries to sit up, but you throw him back down, not willing to guv up your advantage. he’s close. you can feel it, see it, you can enjoy the way the head of his cock hits your g-spot sweetly.

the only surprise you feel is when a hand that’s not your creeps and settles between your legs. his thumb moves in small, fast circles against your clit, earning a moan out of you and making your chest inflate as you breathe in heavily.

there was a chance you might lose. if you weren’t you, you might’ve lost.

you pick up your pace, and his heavy breathing mix to yours. it’s fun, you think, you only breathe as heavily as mortals when you’re engaging on sex. it’s cute, it makes them think you’re like them. human. weak-willed, like the man twitching inside of you, urging for release.

but you can’t blame him. his touch drives you insane, you light up like a keg of gunpowder being ignited by flames. he needs to explode. he needs to. you’re settled by that.

suguru starts grunting, his thrusts into your warm, inviting cunt growing more eager and erratic. he thumbs at your clit, looking up at your expression. you smile, moaning his name lewdly.

“suguru.”

and— he feels it. rising so quickly his body has no reaction against it. his orgasm is hard, harder than he ever had it with any warm body or his desperate hand, alone on a corner. he sighs, pausing in between breaths to groan and moan. his eyes close, and his browns furrow up as he stares at the ceiling, gasping softly. his abs clench, he grunts

perhaps this is the true feeling of nirvana, of ascending. suguru believed he and the other sorcerers were true gods walking among earth. that sorcery was the only and true path to the ascension of humanity as a species and as individuals. but this? the feeling of thrusting his cum into your warm, wet velvety walls is the closest he ever felt to a god.

he breathes heavily, scratching your hips as reaction to pain — the overstimulation is hitting him as hard as a truck when you don’t stop moving your hips, eager for your own orgasm as you notice your victory. he grunts again, watching you fall apart on his cock as your turn finally arrives.

riding off your high, you enjoy yourself using him as a toy and personal dildo, you stop slowly to get off him. some of his cum spills out your cunt, fat drops falling to his abdomen.

suguru’s breathing calms down slowly, but his eyes widen in realization. he uses his elbows to prop himself and sit up, murmuring — his voice weakened and a bit desperate. a hint of fear creeps into his tone.

“wait. no, wait.”

you grab him by the neck, and he hesitates, looking up at you. his skin burns and a sinister chill runs through his body while his arms seem to be on fire, next to his neck. stunned by the intensity of his orgasm and what it means, he doesn’t even act while you help him rest his head against your chest. suguru stares at himself, shaking as he notices new marks on his forearms.

black, strong and serpentine, these marks against the skin form quickly, marking him now and forever. like tattoos he can never remove. he looks up, and you twirl a strand of his black hair around your index finger.

“you lost, suguru.” your voice coos sweetly, as if you pity him. but you don’t. you don’t have that mercy on you. “and you know what that means?”

you giggle, and he shivers again as he feels your lips gluing to his ear. you murmur lovingly, as if you’re not deciding his fate.

“you’re mine.”

thank you for reading <3

[lenoraslament]

hey! love your work. could you perhaps try writing like a list of turn-ons for the slytherin boys? or a short story about a dance for each of them?? tysm and have a good day.

Slytherin Boys React: Dance With Me

Fluff, Suggestive 16+, Angst, toxic relationship (lol with guess who TMR).

Not proofread because I’m sick.

Mattheo Riddle

“Matty, I don’t care if you win,” you say rolling your eyes as you both walk towards the Quidditch field, “I’m still not giving you a lap dance”. Mattheo reaches an arm over to tug your waist closer. He presses a kiss to the side of your head.

“Come on, what do I have to look forward to after I crush Ravenclaw?” He asked with that teasing grin that left you wild.

“The merits of your victory? Spoils of butterbeer?” You chime in sarcastically and he only shakes his head and kisses you before the game.

It was brutal. Ravenclaw destroyed. Their lead was apparent within twenty minutes, they never let up. The whole time you cringed, hissed in anguish when they made point after point. When the Ravenclaw seeker caught the snitch, you knew it was over and Mattheo would be pissed.

“FUCK!” You could hear from outside his room, then a crash. Then a bang. You sighed and quickly opened the door. Theo and Enzo gave you a weary look as they tried to wrestle the chair out of Mattheo’s hands. Being team captain was a source of pride and chaos for him. Ever since he took on the role the pressure had been insurmountable and Mattheo’s way of handling it wasn’t what you would describe as healthy.

The look you gave his two friends was cautioning. Theo set the chair down not the ground and Enzo patted Mattheo’s shoulder as they walked out of the dorm, leaving you to tend to your boyfriend.

“Not now Y/N, just NOT NOW”. He said and sighed. You saw his frustratation just as much as you sensed his resistance to take it out on you. So you walked to him, looking up at him as you pushed his shoulders softly guiding him to the chair to sit. With a sigh he complied.

His defeated glance morphed into mild amusement as you straddled him on the chair. He raised his eyebrows as you pulled out your phone and put on a sexy song. Slowly your hips grinded into his, you dropped your phone on the floor and hooked your wrists behind his neck.

His lips fell open, your hips moved into a figure 8. Keening against him until you stood up and turned around. You felt his fingers dig into your waist, pulling until you were back on his lap. His fury melted into lust. One free arm thrown around his neck as you arched your back and rode his clothed erection.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t give me a lap dance?” He whispered in your ear tentatively.

“I said I wouldn’t give you one if you won”.

Theo Nott

Theo’s sat stoic in the midst of the thumping party. His eyes latched onto your body, ten feet away you danced with your friends. The way you writhed, the slow figure eight movement of your hips caught him in a trance. A trance that was broken my a smirking Mattheo, sitting on the arm of his chair and passing him a blunt.

Theo took it mindlessly taking a big hit and holding in the smoke. His eyes never leaving you as you twirled. After three more hits he could feel his edges dissolve. It would have been enough for him to stay watching you, feeling light headed and aroused by his beautiful girlfriend.

It was a party but it felt like a private show for him. He didn’t even notice Enzo at first, standing behind you. Probably cross faded as his hand landed on your hip. Pulling you close. Mattheo raised his eyebrows as he watched this exchange and looked down at Theo. The slow rage bubbled beneath the surface and Theo stood up a little too fast.

He was making his way towards both of you only to be cut off by Mattheo who beat him to Enzo. Mattheo nearly ripped drunk Enzo’s arm off as he dragged him away. You were so far gone, swimming in vodka that you missed the chaos. You lifted your hands up above your head and guided them down your body as you swiveled your hips.

Next thing you know your boyfriend was pulling you close, spinning you to face away so he could grind onto your ass.

“Going to keep you close cara mia,” he whispered in your ear. You only nodded with a grin, his breath on your neck as you danced heatedly together driving your crazy.

Lorenzo Berkshire

You both needed a break. School had been stressful, drama and rumors had culminated into more fights, less fun. It felt like it had been weeks since you two had shared anything but resentment.

But you and Enzo had been together for a long time now, one bad month wasn’t enough to break you up. Every now and then the nagging feeling hit you. When you saw him flirt and joke with other girls just for him to be cold and short with you. You got his worse. And in return you gave him hell.

Finally he said no more. You two were going to go on a date this weekend. Talk out your issues and most importantly have some fun. Hand and hand you walked around the black lake trying to find a spot for a picnic. He dropped the basket down as you silently spread out the blanket. It was quiet. A little awkward.

You looked up at the sky darkening above. When you made eye contact with him he immediately got defensive realizing he hadn’t checked the weather

“Don’t start,” he grumbled and you only grimaced and sighed. You sat down together, pulled out your lunches. Neither one of you wanting to be the first to speak. Thunder broke the silence.

The downpour hit before you could nag him. Through the rain you could see him looking at you intently. His hair was sopping wet, your sandwiches ruined and drinks watered down. So you did the only thing you could do. You laughed. So did he.

Enzo stood up and held his hand out to you, just when you thought you would both make a run for it he pulled you close. Together you swayed softly in the summer rain, he hummed a song as you both giggled. Only stopping to kiss and look into each other’s eyes with a renewed sense of adoration.

Draco Malfoy

The Malfoy Ball. Christmas time. The two are nearly synonymous. You wore a pretty white gown with gold sparkles, red lips. They could have placed you top of the grand Christmas tree that stood in the ballroom. Twenty feet tall, adorned with white and gold bulbs. Sprays of silver tinsel and enchanted candles surrounding it. Snow hung above the dance floor, magically dissipating before it touched the throng of dancing couples.

All night your feet hadn’t touched the ground and Draco hadn’t stopped touching you. His hand possessively held the back of your neck, the other hooked around your waist. Lips grazing your forehead as he showered you with praise. The most beautiful thing, he’s ever seen.

“Draco, your parents,” you whisper as he pulls away from his millionth kiss of the night. He only grins and pulls you even closer making you flush. Slow dancing making you feel heated and breathless. Every now and then the gentle brush of his hips on yours makes you gasp.

“My parents are drunk, as are yours,” he teased back, “they won’t notice this” he says as he cups your bottom and squeezes making you smack his arm. He’s in good spirits and laughed as you do. Draco pulls away a little relenting but takes the moment to look in your eyes.

His hand drifts from your neck to your hair, pushing it off your face and behind your ear. His gaze a mix of adoration and lust as his eyes trail past your face to your chest. Your eyes fall to his lips and the hunger that’s been slowly building between the two of you makes your head spin

“Then they won’t notice when we sneak away?” You ask with a smile. Draco raises his eyes brow and takes your hand pulling you off the dance floor and out of the ballroom so you two can steal away to his room.

Blaise Zabini

Three years together. You mulled over this as you slipped the silky pink dress you chose for the night. Then you slipped on your heels and walked towards the door, Blaise was there hand raised in mid knock forcing you both to laugh as you locked eyes.

“Hey babe,” you said with a breathy laugh.

“Ready for tonight?” Blaise asked as his hand cradled you jaw so he could give you a brief kiss. Your head tipped back with a smile, “You know I love when you surprise me”.

He led you to his car. Even made you wear a blindfold until you arrived at a small dance studio. It was there he revealed he signed you both up for salsa dancing lessons. You giggled and squeezed his hand as you lined up with other couples.

It was charming watching how seriously he watched the instructor. Trying to match the steps to the beat of the music. Only stopping to turn and smile at you teasingly. Throw you a wink. Reach over and softly pinch your side while laughing when he saw you miss a step.

After thirty minutes of instruction, you were instructed to pair up so he held you closely. It was a shock to see how smoothly he moved, he held the small of your back pushing your hips into his. Following the steps was easy for him, but keeping his hands off of you was damn near impossible.

“Watching you move your body like that is killing me,” he muttered into your hair as he looked down to smirk at you. You had to admit, he was pretty damn good.

Tom Riddle

He never wanted to go to that stupid Yule Ball in the first place. Tom had told you a million times that he didn’t dance and didn’t feel like having to be “on” for something as stupid as a social event. Even though many saw him as popular, charming, headboy; it was for manipulation purposes only. He knew you knew that, so why you drag him to such a droll event was beyond him.

His eyes slipped down your figure, the dazzling gown you bought. He thought you looked angelic, ethereal, a work of art he’d like to pin to his bed instead of hang off his arm. Tom had his warmest smile on as he talked to Regulus and Theo; as you talked to their dates. Only one hour down, this was tedious.

He began to get into a heated debate with Theo about a potion that they had been trying to develop. It was like an ear worm that nestled into his brain and after a while he couldn’t stop thinking of it. So when you went to get punch and dance with one of your girlfriends he left. He didn’t do it maliciously, he went to his dorm and studied the potion for hours. You, the dance, everything slipped his mind.

By the time he had charged out of his room with the sole intent of throwing it in Theo’s face he didn’t even realize that hours had passed. You were sitting in the Slytherin common room, alone. Like a weeping angel, looking forlorn. The dying fire cast a warm glow on your face.

Damnit, he knew he wasn’t a perfect boyfriend. Not tender, emotionally available but he never liked to see you cry. The urge to start a fight, to yell, to push you away so this uncomfortable guilt biting in his chest would go away was heavy. But your dazzling gown, the way it hung off your body. The tears on your cheeks making you look even more beautiful, it choked his usual toxic habits.

Tom raised his wand, the record player in the common room began to play. La Petite File de La Mer. The music startled you, making you turn your head towards it when you saw Tom standing there. Your gaze was fire, burning into his. Rage and disappointment cut with heartbreak because of course. He let you down again.

There were no words for you from him. His stride was ever confident, his hand held out for you to take. Music flooded the room, weakness flooded your heart. When you were in his arms, tears spilled as he swept you away. Was there a flicker of compassion in his eyes? You couldn’t see it past the water. Quick, quick, slow. You moved. You glided. The waltz. Because Tom knew how to dance; he was very talented indeed. The truth was before now, he simply didn’t want to.

[ayannatv]

hii love your emily fics!! 🫶🫶

i have a request of singer! reader x emily where reader is singing at her sold out concert and dedicates a song to emily

Melt | Emily Engstler

You had just got back from a long day at the Studio working on your new song Melt that you had made for emily.You love Emily with all your heart ever since you met her you felt like you where on cloud nine.

“Am Home!” Emily yelled from the door “Am in the bathroom!” you hear heavy steps coming up the stairs “Hi baby” as you saw Emily all your worries went away you loved how she had that effect on you “Hi Em how was your day?” you ask smiling at her softly “It was good how was your day you look tired?” She looked you up and down observing you “i just had a stressful day at work you know working on my new song” “You never did tell me what the song was about” “it’s a Secret you just have to wait any see like everyone else’s”

Weeks later it was the day of you’re Concert all of the tickets had sold out less then days.It’s was around 9pm as you started the concert the crowd roaring with screams as you come out you being to look in the crowd for Emily as you finally saw her to see her already looking at you with a smile on her face as you started to smile back at her and wave.

“Hey New York today I will be singing my new song Melt that I made about my girlfriend Emily who has show me what love is I hope y’all enjoy the song thank you”.Emily stared at you amazed that you had took time out of your day to make a song about her as you started to sing she couldn’t help but to fall more in love with you.

I can’t tell where your hair ends and my begins

If I ain’t have all These tattoos I would think that it was your skin

As you continued to sing you started to make your way down the stage to all your fan’s.

If I move too quick quick past you, I would think it’s my reflection

Being this close isn’t close enough

You could tell every time we touch every time we, oh

You finally made it to Emily grabbing her hand leading her to the stage with you as fans started to go crazy at the action.Emily was now flustered and smiling the whole way up to the stage.

Wish I could build me a cute apartment

One bedroom right where your heart is

Inch of space feels broken-hearted

Across the bad feels way to far and

I wonder when they see just one, do they see us two?

Ooh, oh

As you finished your pre-course you started to bring you hand to roam Emily arm as you slowly went up to her hair as you looked up at her with love and admiration in your eyes.

That's when I melt into you, oh-oh-oh

I melt into you, oh

That's when I melt into you

Melt into you, melt into you, oh

Finishing the song Emily wrapped her arms around your waist hugging you as she put her head on your shoulder.You brought your arms to wrap around her neck quickly hugging her back .As y'all continue to melt into each other not caring about what going on around y'all just caring to be in each other embrace “I love you”Emily mumbled against your neck “I love you too baby”.

That's when I melt into you, oh-oh-oh

AN:This is my first time writing something that isn’t headcanons i hope y’all enjoy send in more request for me to do.

[edgeray]

mygod that siren Arlecchino fic you did is *chef's kiss* IMMACULATE!!! might i request a continuation, mayhaps? Arle mentioned that she'd follow the reader as they sail, so maybe she misses them and either tries to climb onto the boat or the pier where they're docked to see them again? either hurt/comfort or fluff, the rest is up to you!!! love your work and thank you for fueling my Arlecchino obsession :] also i might pop back in here once in a while, may i be moth anon?

The Sea's Calling Pt. 2

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N - Part 1 link here. Yes, you definitely can be a moth anon! Hi :D. I already added you to the anon list. To other anons that have requested and I haven't gotten to, I do see your requests and if you gave yourself an emoji/name I already added you ^^. Anyways, back to moth anon. <333 I'm so glad you enjoyed my siren Arlecchino fic! As my first request I was kind of nervous about it but I'm glad that you enjoy! I'm also really glad that you sent this request! I did always want to write a part 2 but didn't have the opportunity until now. Thanks moth anon, for the reuqest and for enjoying my works!!  If you couldn't tell, I love the idea of found family pirates. One Piece did this to me. The ending turned out to be self-indulgent, forgive me moth anon ;) Even though it's short, this ended up being one of my favorites. Hope you like this one! Content warnings / info - monster x human, arle is ooc bc she's a siren, fem! reader bc pt.1 has fem! reader, suggestive at the end, 1.2k words

You used to think that the most beautiful thing out there was the sky and its stars–to you, nothing was more mesmerizing than them. They are so alluring despite holding this mystique, and they've guided humans on their naval journeys and inspired all kinds of stories of their origins. The stars were all that kept you company, even on the lonliest and coldest nights.

Now, however, the stars aren't your only company. 

“Guys, I'm going to go back to the ship. Don't wait up on me too much,” you to your fellow pirates as you stand up from the stool. You drop off some extra coins on the baa counter, in order to compensate for the plate that you will be ‘borrowing.’ You pick up the plate of your half-eaten slice of meat pie and sandwich and head towards the exit before one of your crew mates stops you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Turning in already? C'mon, stay a little bit. We've got enough money for a few more rounds of beer,” he says with a boisterous laugh. You chuckle lightly but shake your head. 

“No can do, sorry. Got something to do.”

“Uh huh, like your little siren girlfriend?” Another crew member states, her teasing smile widening as you flush. 

“One more? Jackie hasn't finished his story!”

“Let the darned woman go see her darn girlfriend, Goldie,” another gruffed with a shake of his head. 

“Fine, fine, go on ahead. Tch, when will I get my own smoking hot siren girl?” Goldie huffs, and you snort. Likely never, but you don't tell him that.  

“Thanks, I'll be back,” is all you say before rushing out of the door, nearly tipping over the plate before you balance it again. You wave them off and you make your way back to the docks. The walk is both short and long, and each step you take is filled with the excitement that buzzes through you. 

Even after these months, being able to spend time with her feels like bliss, like you have just found treasure. Sometimes, you forget she's a siren, she's ever so endearing and follows you around like a puppy. Oftentimes, when you're on the boat, you talk to her as she lingers by. The night after you first met the siren your crew had banned you from jumping into the waters because you had developed a cold which infected a good chunk of the crew; the cold wasn't severe for anyone but still. Since you can't be in the water, you often just talk to her from the railings and she answers. 

It's only when you're docked when you can finally touch her, but those times come rare. It can take days, sometimes weeks to reach an island to dock at, but when you do, you always take the time to sit by the shore. 

Finally, you arrive at the pier. “Arle?” You call out, and you see a ripple in the water. Grinning, you walk to the ends of one of the docks, setting down the plate a bit away from you. You remove your shoes and set them far away. Perching on the dock, your feet dip into the cold waters and you shiver.

You see something gleam in the corner of your eyes, the familiar shine of her scales. You then remember the food, and you start. “Wait, Arle don't splash–”

Too late. Something erupts from the waters and launches into you, a cold, heavy weight thrusting into your body making you tumble on your back on the dock. Pressed between the wooden planks and the creature that straddles you, you can't help but laugh and raise your hand up to her face, the now drenched food forgotten entirely. 

“Hey gorgeous,” you say as you stroke her cheek gently. She's the most beautiful treasure that you found among the seas. Arlecchino gazes down on you, her red pupils glistering as her arms wrap around your torso. She purrs, little fangs apparent as the tip of her tongue peeks out with her open-mouth smile. 

“Missed you,” is the first thing she says, before she leans her body against you, nuzzling her face into your neck. Your clothes get soaked from her, but you pay no mind. You stroke her wet hair, carding your fingers through her strands before kissing the top of her head. 

“I missed you too. Did you eat recently?” 

Sometimes she'd disappear for a few nights to search for another wandering ship for her meals but she never fails to find your ship again. You haven't seen her for a couple days before you docked her. 

Arlecchino nods. “Human food?” She questions. Her tail flicks, thumping against the wood out of eagerness. Although she enjoys the taste of cooked meats, beef especially, you don't believe it's as nutrition dense as… well, the main source of her diet, and it's hard to serve her cooked meat while on sea due to the issue of storing meat on ships. So, cooked meat has always been a treat for her. 

You nod. “You want to try?” 

She lets out an affirmative purr, and you help her sit upright in your lap. It's always a bit difficult considering she has a tail instead of legs, but she maneuvers her tail to encircle your waist, and you support her back with one of your arms. You silently mourn for your now soggy sandwich as you reach for the plate, using her tail as a flat surface. 

“What is it?” 

“Meat pie and a sandwich.” You take the fork and dig out the meat from the meat pie. Balancing the tender piece of beef on your utensil, you carefully guide it to her mouth. 

“Careful, it's hot. And don't bite the fork this time,” you gently warn her as she eats it. She squirms a bit in your lap, an indicator that she's pleased with the taste. 

“More?” You chuckle, adoring the cute plea in her eyes. 

You scrape out more of the meat until she's eaten all of the pie filling, leaving you to eat the pie crust. You're still peckish, so you start eating your sandwich, but not before fishing out the thick slice of ham from it, and giving it to her. If it meant you could watch the way her expression lights up again forever, then you would endlessly eat ham-less sandwiches and savor every cheese and vegetables sandwiched in between wet bread. 

“Did you like it?” You ask in between chews as she leans her head against your shoulder. She nods, and leans up again to place featherlight kisses on your neck. With the cold droplets of water and her frigid lips, it tickles you and you giggle. So adorable. 

You freeze up when you feel her fangs prick your skin and she looks up to you for permission. Another mating bite? You nod, wordlessly giving her permission, and you suck in a harsh breath as you feel her teeth sink in. Purrs vibrate coarse through her mouth as she pulls away, lapping at the mark and the texture of her tongue invokes a throaty groan from you, your body trembling with pleasure. 

Arlecchino leans away, but in her eyes, hunger burns in them. Her hands take purchase on your hips and she pushes your back against the planks. Her tail unwinds around your torso and instead coils around your ankles, securing them together.  

“H-here?” You question, flushing. Her hands wander lower, the sharp nails trailing lower to your thighs, where faint scratches scatter. 

The night that you first met her, she sang so beautifully for you. Tonight, you repay her back, singing out her name so tastefully. 

[togamest]

Can we have this https://www.tumblr.com/togamest/753100660074020864/its-getting-crowded-here-hold-my-hand-x?source=share but without the anxiety part with windbreaker boys? They just worry that they might lose the reader in the crowd 👀

-> it’s getting crowded. here, hold my hand. | gn!reader, no warnings just fluff. inspiration: (x)

author’s notes: this is by far one of my favorite tropes! it's a little short since i don't really have the brain power to sit down and write something for each of them in-depth, but if you'd like me to do that, then please feel free to submit a character for it and i'd be happy to dive more into one of them! thanks for submitting <3

SAKURA would be one of the best in a crowd, which seems strange due to the fact that he likes being a loner. But in a way, a crowd is an easy way to hide; and he seems to enjoy sifting through and blending in amongst the bodies. He does keep a hand on your back, keeping you in front of him as best he can, and if he loses you he’s perceptive enough where he can find you relatively quickly. Not to mention, he’ll shove his way through a crowd for hours to find you if he needs to.

NIREI would be a mess. He’s all nerves, and you’ll have to lead him through if you want to get to the railing or anywhere near the stage. His grip on you would be insanely harsh, because as soon as he lets go, he can’t bear the thought of losing you and not knowing what to do about it. He’s all thumbs when it comes to navigation, so he relies on you. So if you’re stressed out as well from the crowd, it’s probably best to hang on the sidelines instead with him.

SUOU would be able to carve through a crowd like a fish in water. He’s facing sideways, gently moving people around with a soft smile and a “thank you” mouthed at them. He’s taking the lead, your hand in his, and he never lets go even when you want to go get a drink or some food. Besides, he’s paying for it all despite your annoyance, so he should go with you everywhere, right? If you do get lost, he’s able to spot you easily given where he knows you’re going next.

SUGISHITA has angry dog privilege, and he’s so tall that he’s able to stand above everyone anyway. In an effort to make sure he doesn’t lose you, he’ll have you sit on his shoulders, and his large hands on your thighs will keep you there as he shuffles around. Everyone gives him a good amount of space anyway, given how big and intimidating he is, and it works out to both of your advantages. He’s also, surprisingly, the one to ask around and see if anyone has seen you. Given how he looks, most people are ready to help him out.

HIRAGI would probably not be caught dead in a crowd given how bad his anxiety can get, but he actually ends up buying a backpack with an attachable leash to make sure you don’t get lost. It’s quite a funny sight, and you don’t mind; the attachment helps you to not get as worried about losing him, and he has a way to snatch you back to him if you stray too far. If he does lose grip on the leash, he’s the one sending you very descriptive markers that you can use to find him again.

UMEMIYA has his hands on your shoulders the entire time, so he’s stuck to you like glue. He also has “parting the crowd” privilege, but not in the sense that he’s scary; it’s just his presence, which is so commanding even with his pretty smile that people automatically move out of his way without realizing why. When you do stray too far from him when he’s not paying attention, he’s blowing up your phone so you can follow the virtual crumbs to find him again. He’s giving very vague ideas of where he is, though, so it does take some solving before you stumble over him eventually.

divider credit: @/cafekitsune networks: @interstellar-inn @themovingcastlez

disclaimer: DO NOT copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!

© togamest 2023-2024

[anundyingfidelity]

SENSE OF DOUBT — Dean Winchester

Summary: Dean is gone, but one day he shows up at your door to see you one last time before it's over.

Pairing: Dean x female reader.

Word count: 596.

Notes: this is part of @artyandink Jensen's drabble marathon!! Also I'm barely on season 8 of spn but he died on a hunt in this fic (sorry for killing him again😩), also heavily influenced by 'The Winchesters' because it was the first thing I ever saw and now I'm hooked up with the whole spn universe, so thank you to that show and because Dean looked so fucking good

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

The knock on your door startled you for a moment. You were not expecting anyone at this time. It was night already, and you were going to bed soon, just to wait for another day of your miserable life. Ever since he was gone, keeping up with the future was an unbearable pain that you had to learn to control. For him.

Or else, you knew you'd be dead by now, because you were brave enough to kill yourself to die by his side.

It was a hard hunt you got into. Dean wasn't able to get out alive and for months you blamed yourself for it.

Sam used to be there for you, before he got married, letting you cry on his shoulder and cling into his arms. You mourned together, until somehow you were able to go through the sorrow together.

Your eyes filled with tears and a soft gasp left your lips once you opened the door. Seeing him there almost got you thinking it was a dream; one of those you used to have when the rain was pouring and the sadness and grief took over the most.

"Hey," he said, smiling softly. He had the same soft look on his eyes you loved so dearly. Dean noticed you froze in place, and walked even closer to you as you reached his hand to confirm he was real.

He was there. As if nothing happened.

"Dean?" you whispered, feeling the tears sliding on your cheeks. He cupped your face with his hands, wiping them off your skin as he nodded, pressing his forehead against yours in a lovely gesture. You sobbed, smiling through. "How?"

He pressed his lips on yours with love and care. "Just a last hunt."

With bright eyes, you were startled at him, watching every freckle and wrinkle on his face, memorizing his bright green eyes, just to think this was how you would have ended if things were different.

Maybe you would have retired already from hunting. You could have married, then have a family just like Sam did, visit him and his son and wife every weekend, have what neither you or Dean and his brother never had. A real family; something to protect and take care of. Too sad 'what ifs' were not real and all that was a long gone dream buried deeply in the back of your head.

You started to doubt for a second. You had very vivid dreams before, but this was different. You could feel the warmth coming from his body, his heart beating, and his touch was exactly how you remembered. Dean was exactly how you remembered him. And you accepted he was finally there.

"I missed you so fucking much, you don't have any idea," you mumbled, kissing him anew.

You pulled him inside your apartment after breaking the kiss, closing the door behind your back.

"You're gonna tell me everything," you said, hand on his stubbled cheek. "How much time you have?"

He arched a brow. "Being honest, I don't know... I've been around for some time, I guess I lost the count."

There was a glimpse of sadness in your eyes he noticed, but you swallowed the pain and nodded.

"Then we gotta take advantage of it before it's over, right?"

He nodded this time, softly grabbing your wrist as you continued to caress his cheek. "Yeah, we'll do, sweetheart."

Dean taglist (some of them can't tag them sorry 😩)

@thesilmarillionblog

@onlyangel-444

@daisy-the-quake

@jackles010378

@cassieriddle713

@deans-spinster-witch

@feyresqueen

@drasticemotions @stoneyggirl2

@sapnaploves

@k-slla

[copperbadge]

So the algorithms have informed me of a White Collar reboot: https:// variety.com /2024/tv/news/white-collar-reboot-willie-garson-1236028159/

Which hope is more futile: no more Nazi loot, or canon OT3?

Oh, no, it's like running into an ex you dumped years ago because they were awful but they look amazing and are obviously flirting with you. Oh, no, White Collar, I cannot allow you to break my heart a second time.

I feel like...Jeff Easton did not react super great to the entirely justified yelling about the badly mishandled Nazi Loot plotline last time, but I do think he maybe learned that Nazis are in fact a real thing and not a plot point that you get to play with however you like. And the climate vis-a-vis fascism in 2024 is very different from what it was in 2011. I think any production or distribution company would give him much less of a free hand in terms of "Let's do a lighthearted dramedy plotline about the lasting ramifications of intentional and industrialized genocide. Oh, we will mostly ignore the genocide part, don't worry."

Fuck, I hope. I never even watched the last season of the last run. I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Maybe I'm a sucker, I've been a sucker before, but even though I probably won't watch it, I want to believe that "no more nazi loot" has strong odds. As for a canon OT3...yeah, awful as it is, I want that to be the futile hope, because if it's between "no nazis" or "my OT3 but nazis" I'm going with "no nazis" and if folks feel differently they should quietly walk away from me right now.

Not that you can never write a story with nazi loot in it and make it good and meaningful, but you have to first realize that WWII was not just a setting for an Indiana Jones movie. I'm not confident a lot of people in the White Collar writers room have had this realization.

Man, you either don't get renewed for a third season or you live long enough to become a villain. (Or you are John Rogers. John Rogers, please do not let me down.)

[suzukiblu]

TimKon bellybulge but specifically with the use of Kon’s TTK, writer’s choice for who’s getting stuffed with the TTK dick under whose orders

welllll haven't gotten to belly-bulge territory YET, but apparently my attempt at writing a kink snippet has turned into me having a new WIP to torment me, haha, so here's the start of that!

“Hm,” Tim says idly from between Kon’s thighs, his eyes intent and assessing on his hole. Kon’s just trying not to either lose his concentration or psych himself out before they get anywhere. 

His TTK works on anything he's touching, is the thing, and he's always touching himself. There's nothing he's more familiar with than his own body. He could map out his own veins and nerves from memory. 

This is definitely not something he's done with it before, though. 

“You’re giving me a nice view,” Tim says conversationally, still not touching him. Still leaving him to do this himself. Kon bites his tongue as hard as he can without quite tasting blood and uses his TTK to spread his cheeks open a little farther as he tilts his hips up, because–because Tim thinks he’s giving him a nice view, so he can't do anything else but give him that view.

And he also uses his TTK to spread his hole open a little farther, too. 

Tim smiles.

He doesn't look up to meet Kon's eyes or even glance at his face, even though Kon's on his back and it'd be easy for him to do, and he still doesn't touch him. It makes Kon feel a little weird and a little gross, like Tim doesn't even care it's him here and he'd have just as good a time doing this with any random stranger. But “any random stranger” couldn't actually do what Kon's doing to himself right now, and also he just really, really doesn't want his face involved in something in his life for once. He doesn't want to be–recognized, for once. 

Obviously Tim recognizes him. Obviously Tim knows it's him. Tim would know him anywhere, especially when it's this obvious. 

But Kon just wants recognized by something that's just his, for once, and not something that was stolen from somebody else. His face isn't just his and neither is his voice or his body and neither are most of his powers, but his TTK–

That's his. Just his. He had it first. Nobody else had it before him. 

It's him Tim is recognizing when he sees it, and not anybody else. Him that Tim thinks of first. 

Kon maybe had a few less issues about his Xerox-copy of a face and body before he physically matured enough for the media to start one-to-one comparing them to Clark's when he was first starting out as Superman, but that is totally besides the point and not relevant and not something he's worrying about right–

They have different fingerprints, he reminds himself, curling his fingers into the sheets. They have–he knows they have different fingerprints. Clark told him that himself. 

A version of him, anyway. 

“Nice,” Tim says approvingly, and something in Kon’s chest . . . uncoils, a little, and lets him breathe a little easier. “You can take a little more for me, though, can't you?” 

Even if he couldn't, for Tim's approval, Kon would find a damn way. 

He doesn't actually answer with his voice, though, because it's not really his voice. What he does is push his TTK up his ass like somebody else would their fingers and work himself open, and burn alive over Tim's little hum of approval. 

He's never actually done this before, fingers or not; to himself or with anyone else, from either side of it. This is–this is a new thing. 

But it's Tim, so–so it'll be fine, Kon reminds himself, covering his face with an arm for just–just a moment. 

It's Tim. 

It's Tim, so it'll be fine. 

[crees-a]

You know I actually like the idea of New Moon going insane because of too much pressure. The whole "You should have been better than Old Moon" thing. I understand that since this show kinda writes itself there weren't any hints before but now we (or I) can write them in

New Moon woke up with random people around calling themselves his family. I imagine that he would watch old episodes of his and Sun's show thinking about what a shitty person his past self was and making a promise that he must be better than him. He would convince himself that his only purpose is to be a perfect version of Old Moon, the one that would never hurt his family and would be able to protect them. But as soon as he'd get angry or yell at someone, they would immediately to compare him to Old Moon (*cough cough* Eclipse). That would lead New Moon to hide his negative emotions

Solar, unlike others, was the only one who never had any established relationships with Moon. He never knew Old Moon and didn’t have any expectations from New Moon. He could be the one Moon would feel safe sharing his real feelings with. Thus, with Solar's death, Moon finally snapped

"I used to be just not good enough, just not good enough for my family, but now I'm not good at all"

[laura1633]

I can't stop thinking about 8. with Omega Max and Alpha Charles, except that it's not slick but milk. I'm just a little obsessed with his chest and the thought of him lactating around his crush, oh my

First up for the omegaverse prompt game (I do have lots of your prompts and I will pick through as many as I can)

This was a wonderful adjustment to the prompt anon 😍. I do firstly have to apologise because this did turn into lactation kink which I have no idea how to write 😂

These omegaverse prompts are mostly just going to be rough and ready rather than fully fledged fics so hopefully you will all forgive me for that and still enjoy them for what they are (this one was was a little longer than intended)

Tags: Lactation kink

The first time it had happened Max had assumed it was a coincidence. 

He had been chatting to Charles in some fancy bar when his nipples started tingling and his breasts felt as if they were slowly starting to swell. It was strange. Not strange enough to concern him immediately though. Charles always made him feel funny. Butterflies in his stomach. Slick in his panties. It was only when noticed that there were wet patches forming on the front of his shirt that he had squeaked and scurried off to the bathroom to clean himself up. 

He’d been expecting his top to be damp with sweat so the discovery of milk trickling from his nipples had set off a whole array of alarm bells that resulted in a mad dash down to a late night pharmacy to get his hands on a pregnancy test.

It had come back negative which he really should have known. Other than letting one of his pit crew go down on him after his win in Vegas he hadn’t engaged in any sexual activity for at least the last nine months.  Still, he’d only ever heard of omegas lactating when carrying or nursing a pup so it was worth ruling the possibility out. 

He’d hoped it had been a one off. A bizarre experience that he would laugh about one day, but it kept happening. Over and Over but always around Charles. The Monegasque would only need to smile in his direction and Max would feel slick dripping from his pussy and milk leaking from his tits. He may as well have been melting into a puddle on the floor, it probably would have left less mess. 

He had tried his best to get things under control by himself.  He’d taken to wearing extra layers and using nursing pads to soak up the worst of it. It was only ever masking the problem though,  Charles was still making him leak even if it was now happening under four layers of clothing. So, after much deliberation Max had hauled himself off to a doctor’s to get check out.

He had been expecting a complicated diagnoses. What he had received was an elderly beta doctor looking him square in the eye and asking him if the alpha in question was one he would like to be bred by.  Max had of course, like any self respecting omega, shook his head vigorously in response but the flush of crimson on his face was seemingly more convincing an answer.

It was true. The image of Charles breeding him was one he’d conjured up many nights whilst laying out in bed with a silicone knotting device pushed up inside him. He’d just never expected his fantasies to make his breasts leak. 

The official diagnosis:  On set lactation resulting from an urge to be bred by a particular alpha.

The cure : to talk to said alpha.

The prognosis : Not good. There was not a single chance in hell Max was going to tell Charles that his tits leaked milk whenever he came close. 

And so Max had tried his best to carry on as normal. He joked around with Checo in the garage. He played padel with Lando in Monaco. And he leaked fucking milk out of his tits around Charles.

It had been absolutely fucking fantastic. It had never been as bad as right now though. 

Max fidgets around trying to make himself comfortable as he tries to ignore the fact that he’s been placed right next to Charles at the FIA gala ceremony. Despite all of the omega’s successes he really was starting to feel like the universe hated him.  There seemed no other logical reason why his white shirt was darkening against his nipples as he waited to go up on stage and collect his trophy. 

It really didn’t help that watching the ceremony was about as interesting as watching paint dry.

“You okay?” Oscar leans in from where he’s sat on the other side of Max and gives the Dutch omega a look of concern. 

“Fine. Why?” Max tries to keep his eyes focused on the stage ahead. He’s almost certain that he’s blushing but right now the colour of his cheeks are the least of his problems, Charles’ alpha scent is filling his nostrils and making his tits feel like they’ve swollen to the size of footballs. If it goes on any longer Max’s chest is going to feel so heavy he’ll probably tip over if he tries to stand up. He supposes he will at least have two pillowy breasts full of milk to cushion his fall.

“You’re whining” Oscar says gently as he lets a hand rest on Max’s thigh and gives it a reassuring squeeze, “Are you sure you’re fine?”

“Just nervous” Max tries his best to smile. If he was going to speak to anyone about his little problem then Oscar wouldn’t be such a bad choice. He doubts the younger Omega would make any huge dramatics out of the situation.

“What’s going on?” Charles leans right across Max to join in the conversation, his earthy scent flooding Max’s nostrils once more and Max is sure that the fabric of his shirt stretches in response to his expanding chest.

“Nothing, just nerves” Oscar gives Max’s thigh another reassuring squeeze before turning his attention back towards the stage.

“This never gets any more interesting does it?” Charles giggles. The alpha is so close that Max can feel the warmth of his breath as he laughs, “We have another hour before it’s our time.” Charles inches himself back in his chair much to Max’s relief. Most of the damage has already been done though, Max’s panties are soaked and he can feel milk trickling down his chest all the way to his stomach. As he chances a glance down he realises that his shirt has turned see through where the material is damp. 

The omega pulls his jacket around himself and tries to hold it across his body. He has at least had the foresight to bring a spare shirt with him to change into before he gets up on stage but he’s determined not to slip into it yet or that will also be drenched by the time his moment in the spotlight arrives. 

It’s starting to feel uncomfortable though. His nipples itch as his shirt rubs against them and his breasts feel heavier each time Charles talks to him. As much as he was hoping to avoid the indignity of having to try and milk himself in a bathroom stall he’s not sure he has much choice. If his breasts swell any further his shirt is going to rip at the seems. 

“We should maybe go for some food or something afterwards?” Charles mumbles quietly against Max’s ear. Unfortunately Max’s response is a lot less discreet, the omega keens happily but his happiness is short lived as he feels another gush of milk leak from his left breast and he’s quickly brought back down to reality. He can’t sit opposite Charles in s restaurant in this state. 

He’s pretty certain that other people must have noticed something odd going on. The milk doesn’t have the strongest smell but there is something rather soapy about the aroma and the scent is starting to spread outwards. The omega jumps up from his chair and sprints out the room as quickly as he can as he bolts towards the bathroom and shuts himself away in a stall. 

Shit.

When Max slides off his jack and looks down to see what the damage is he finds his shirt soaked at the front. None of this seems remotely fair.

“Max? Are you in there?”

Max yelps as he hears Charles’ voice and his breasts tingle and expand on cue like some unwanted new party trick.

“Did I upset you? Sorry I didn’t mean to. We don’t have to go out, I just thought - “ Charles trails off and Max realises its because he is whining loudly from where he has shut himself inside the toilet cubicle, “Max I think you need to let me in or I need to go get Oscar or - “ 

“No” Max whimpers, “Please, it is  just - “ The omega sighs as he tries to work out what he can possibly say that will explain this all away. There isn’t anything though.  He’s a complete and utter mess. There is one thing he is certain of above all else, he can’t go on like this. The thought makes him want to sob. The omega steels himself before opening up the door and coming face to face with Charles. 

“Max -“ 

“I had a sort of accident.” Max mumbles. His jacket and bowtie still hung on the back of the door leaving his crinkled wet shirt on full display as it stretches wet across the broadness of his chest. 

“Oh my god” Charles immediately shuffles himself into the stall and closes the door behind him, “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“It’s milk” Max keens helplessly.

“You’re pregnant?! Who got you pregnant?” Charles’ eyes darken as his chest puffs out. 

“I’m not pregnant!” Max reaches out and runs his hands over his stomach to show how flat it is and then, because he can’t hold it in any longer, he blurts out the secret he has been trying to hold in for so long, “This is because of you.”

Charles freezes. He looks surprised, startled, confused. 

All of which Max thinks are perfectly valid repossess to an omega telling you that you are the reason they are currently lactating. 

“Me?” Charles’ mouth opens and closes a few times as if he’s trying to elaborate on his question. Instead he just settles on repeating himself “Me?”

“I always do it when you are close to me. Always with the milk and the swelling and the tingling,“ Max pauses before starting to babble to fill up the silence once more, “My body wants you to breed me.”

It’s not an eloquent explanation. Nor is it the way Max had wanted to explain his little affliction to Charles. 

“You want me to breed you?”

“My body wants you to breed me?” Max tries to draw some sort of distinction between his brain and his body. In reality they are both pretty much on the same page, Max goes all mushy brained whenever Charles is close and he’d quite happily let the alpha fill him with one or two tiny Leclerc pups if Charles was up for it.

“I don’t understand.” 

“Whenever you talk to me or smile at me or come near me this happens” Max looks down to the ever growing wet circles around his nipples, “It is because I want you.”

Max’s breath catches as he hears the low rumble coming from Charles. The alpha’s scent has shifted again, it’s not sour notes this time, it’s thick and warm enough to make Max want to melt right into Charles’ arms.

And Charles - 

Well, Charles doesn’t look immediately put off by all this. 

“Does it hurt?” Charles lifts his hand and reaches towards Max’s chest but stops short of actually touching the omega much to Max’s dissatisfaction. Max lets out an unhappy little sound and tries to push his chest towards where Charles’ hand is lingering. It’s in that moment that Max finally accepts that when it comes to Charles he has almost no control over what his body does. He’s just a walking ball of hormones falling apart every time he is close to the most handsome alpha he has ever seen. 

Charles cups his hand against Max’s breast and the omega tries his best to bite back a desperate whine as his shirt rubs agains this erect nipple. 

“Shhh it’s okay” Charles coos softly, “You want me to help you get cleaned up?”

Max nods meekly as he lets Charles slowly start to unbutton his shirt. There is a steady rumbling coming from the alpha now. Louder and louder. The vibration like an engine revving. Max is sure that the only time he’s ever made an alpha rumble this loud before was when their cock was inside him.

“Fuck” Charles growls as he eases the shirt off and soothes his hands over Max’s breasts . There’s still milk trickling down, his skin sticky and wet. Yet far from looking disgusted Charles is licking right across his lips. Max tries not to let himself get carried away by trying to work out what exactly that means.

“This is all because of me?” Charles growls again, low and possessive. The alpha’s hand cups and squeezes against Max’s right breast and the trickle of milk starts to build in to a stream. 

“For you” Max mumbles but the words come out as little more than a breathy moan as he sees the milk dripping down over Charles’ fingers and hand, white liquid splashing against the Monegasque’s jewellery. It feels so obscene yet Charles’ eyes are just widening in fascination and he’s bringing his own fingers to his mouth to lick them clean.  

Max holds his breath. The milk tastes sweet. Sugary even. Max knows because he tasted it in one of his weaker moments. Charles’ tongue licks over his fingers again, lapping up the last few drops that have dripped down to his knuckles. 

“You taste beautiful” Charles looks up, his eyes flickering as they meet Max’s gaze, “so good.”

Max feels his skin tingle. His chest tight. Body vibrating. He tries to hold as still as possible. Nothing feels real.  The lactating. The sight of Charles licking milk off his fingers. The sound of clapping and cheering filtering in from the room next door. It’s like a fever dream. 

Charles puts his hand back on Max’s tits, massaging and cupping the flesh and watching the way the drops of milk form and then drip down. 

“This is - “ Charles squeezes again and watches another bead of milk form, “Fuck you’re so pretty. Such a pretty omega.”

Max’s legs shake as Charles leans closer and starts to lap up the milk that is falling down over the curve of his breast. The alpha’s tongue is warm and wet against his skin. 

The omega arches his back and pushes his chest closer to Charles’ mouth. He has never been an overly dominant omega when it comes to sex, he prefers to encourage rather than demand but his hands are twitching by his side as he considers tangling his fingers into Charles’ hair and pulling the alpha down on to his nipple. 

“All for me?” Charles looks up and grins excitedly as he runs his tongue around where Max wants it. The movement slow, deliberate, in control. 

It’s too much. Not enough. Max isn’t even sure anymore. He’s leaking from more than just his chest, his panties are soaked and there’s slick racing down his thighs. 

“Please” Max’s voice is breathless, his cheeks burning red as he watches Charles’ mouth close around his nipple. The alpha latches on and Max groans happily at the sudden rush of relief and pleasure he feels. 

Charles sucks the nipple in his mouth and pulls off with a wet slurping popping sound, his lips now glistening wet. 

With milk.

With Max’s milk.

With Max’s milk that he’s just sucked out of his body. 

“Alpha!” Max whimpers and arches his back as Charles dives back in, this time massaging his hands against the flesh as he purses his lips and sucks more firmly. Over and over until Max can feel the milk spurting right into the alpha’s mouth. 

It makes him feel light headed. His nipples seem to have a direct line to his pussy. Each time Charles sucks and flicks out his tongue Max feels the sensation go right through his body until there is more and more slick gushing out of him. His tits throb. His clit throbs. His toes curls in his shoes. The sight of Charles attached to his tit - lapping, sucking, wet and filthy - makes him whine unashamedly. 

Charles pulls back to take another breath, the alpha panting, milk dripping down off the roughness of his stubble. When he goes back in he goes for the other breast, mouthing around the area before wrapping his lips around the nipple and sucking it into his mouth.

Max almost buckles this time, his legs barely keeping him upright. 

Charles is growling around him. One of the alpha’s hands cupped to his breast and the other - 

The other is - 

Oh 

Max moans and throws his head back as Charles’ hand dips below the waistband of his trousers and down into his panties. The alphas fingers brush lightly against his clit. The faintest and briefest of touches before Max is coming, his whole body spasming as he feels another spurt of milk shooting into Charles’ mouth and sees it drip down from side of the alpha’s lips. 

His body feels lighter. Floaty. Wet. So, so wet. 

Charles groans as he pulls back. His pupils blown. Face damp. He look stunning. Hair ruffled. Cheeks red. 

Max lets his own instincts take over as he gets his hands into Charles’ hair and pulls the alpha into a kiss. It tastes sweet as he licks up and into Charles’ mouth and tastes his own milk. 

Charles is hard, the alpha’s cock pushed against Max’s leg. Nice and big as it presses into the fleshy part of the omega’s thigh. Max can’t help but wonder how much bigger it gets when it knots. The thought alone makes his breasts tingle. 

“Forget going for dinner” Charles tugs at Max’s bottom lip with his teeth, “Come back to my hotel with me.” 

Max nods without hesitation. His body is already dripping all over, his pussy slick wet and ready to take the alpha’s knot, milk still dripping down over the curves of his breasts and down the contours of his body. 

He’s not ashamed anymore though. How can he be when he sees how much it’s turning Charles on. If anything he realises that maybe it’s been some sort of courting ritual all along. His body providing something his alpha wants. Because Charles is surely his now. Fully and completely. 

“Perfect little omega” Charles praises, his eyes wild as he goes back to smothering Max’s chest with warm wet kisses. 

Max closes his eyes and purrs as he hears the low possessive growl Charles makes as he continues to lick up the milk made solely for him. 

[okaylikesmomo]

Waterbomb you say? I think whatever version Eunbi is in your head, you'll still end up with a pretty hot Eunbi fic

A lot of idols in smuts don't match with their IRL personality anyway, which could be exactly what makes it fun. Some are exaggerated aspects of their image (given by the public or the company). Everyone consumes content differently too so between readers there are multiple versions of the same idol.

Just like fans going crazy their "On stage vs Off stage" aura, smut version of the idol could be anything. As long as the writing is good that makes you immersed, the sky is the limit.

Chaewon is a lovely leader who tried her best to lead the group but actually just a soft and cute loser, 😂 especially when playing games.

Guess where did she learned her leadership skills?🤣 Eunbi is also a a soft cutie

and a cute loser... Woolimz our loser duo!😊😊

Nothing stops you from making her a sex crazed dick drainer though

mommy

POV:

When you've cummed inside her then pulled out, remaining spurts painting her ass and her lower back. Thanks goodness to surface tension, instead of dripping straight down onto Eunbi's expensive bedsheet, you've got enough time just to take in your cum tracing her curves of her ass before moving down to her thighs. Just enough time reaching for the box of tissue, wiping off the excess cum on her thighs (leaving her ass and lower back marked).

She's turns to the left while still in position, admiring your work in the mirror, wiggling her bare ass decorated with you cum. Eunbi is already urging you to put it back in.

"When I said harder, I really mean it. PLEASE! I can take it."

Omg Frisky I LOVE YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS <3333

You're 1000% correct when you say you can make their personality however you want, of course the personalities I give idols in my fics aren't true to their real lives (I'm not that delusional haha), I'm just playing to it in part with some quirks and whatnot! I guess it's more along the lines of needing to have a solid opinion on the personality of the idol before I feel I can commit to writing about them!

For example, I don't know IU "that" well, but I have some general idea of a fic version of her that I'd wanna play around with, and just like that my Photographer fic was born! Same with Karina and Winter, I don't really know them because I don't watch their content, but I've seen enough to have my own versions of them in my head and that's enough for me to write a fic about them.

I'm glad you mentioned Eunbi + Chaewon because a good chunk of my Eunbi knowledge comes from binge watching clips of the two of them. I never really followed IZ*ONE closely back when they were around, other than listening to their music, but I did end up going back just to watch clips and I absolutely LOVE the dynamic between Eunbi and Chaewon!