#poke or stab his spine

[screwpinecaprice]

I know it’s not a question but i can’t help but appreciate the fact that you draw adult Steven as a chubby guy! We big boys need some positive representation in here. Also, i’ve been following you for almost a year now!

Btw sorry for my English lol.

Hi! It's very pleasing to know you've been around for as long! 😁😁😁 I absolutely appreciate the appreciation! And no worries, your English is super fine! 😁 (Relatable actually. I am also apologizing in advance if I can't exactly have my point clearly across because I'm not well at English myself! lmao)

It took me quite some time to learn how to draw chubby characters but it's so satisfying to have eventually. ( *`u*) (I mean, there's still so much to learn, but still.)

Having a chubby main protagonist is so wonderful to have. And a good kid at that. (Ngl I'm attracted to kindness. haha So of course it's very important to me that he's fat AND kind.)

Also design-wise, I personally think it fits his character so well. Soft and huggable, shaped like a friend. Thick arms to hug people with snuggly. Body wide like a shield. etc. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

And I just really like to capture these elements when I draw him as an adult. Also that it's just fun to draw.

Simply personal thoughts about it, nothing against any other ways he's being portrayed by others of course.

[ddejavvu]

Hi, saw you said stranger things requests and I have one !! Steve and reader going to a party, and he accidentally spills his drink on her short and he panics because he thinks of what happened with Nancy and reader ends up having to comfort him with vodka all over her shirt :,) thank you

From the minute the bronze liquid comes in contact with your cream top, Steve's already reacting strangely. It's like a live wire stabbed through the base of his spine, shooting heated sparks towards his shoulders that tense.

"Hey, I- I'm sorry," He stammers, trying to set the now half-empty cup onto the counter. It doesn't work, and the cup falls to the ground, splashing this time over your feet. You take a hasty step back, and Steve's hands reach out to catch you with too strong of a grip.

"No, don't- I'm sorry," One glance into his eyes and they're alive with the same fever that's tripping up his words, "I'm sorry, don't go, please. Just- just come into the kitchen, please?"

"It's sticky here," You raise and lower your foot a few times, music not helping you assess the situation as it booms in your ears, "Steve, you're-" You grimace at the tight hold of his large hands, "You're squeezing a bit, Steve, let me go."

You try to pull away from him, but that only makes it worse. He holds tighter, pulls harder, and you have to grab his own arm to maneuver him a different way around the island.

"Okay- okay! Just- come this way, god," You hiss, "Steve, 's starting to hurt."

Then you're the only one holding up the embrace; he's dropped you like you're on fire. You don't have time to ponder why, you just keep dragging him through the sea of partygoers and into the semi-isolated kitchen.

"'Kay, can you get some paper towels?" You turn on the faucet, water running cold as you assess the damage to your shirt. When no reply comes, you turn back to Steve, finding him lingering right where you'd left him, his face pale.

"Steve? The paper towels?" You try again, to no avail.

"Steve," You shut off the faucet, feeling liquor slosh through your socks as you step over to him, "What's the matter? Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry. For- ruining your shirt, and squeezing.. too tight."

"It's okay," You hum cautiously, "I can wash it. And it's not like you bruised me. Paper towels?"

"I didn't mean to." He promises, his big brown eyes still blown wide open, "I really didn't. And I can pay for the- for the shirt, like- dry cleaning. I promise. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," You promise, "Steve, it's just a shirt. It's okay, I just need paper towels."

Your prolonged reassurances seem to set him straight, and he looks like a robot rebooting. His eyes flash with something unreadable and he snaps to attention, stumbling backwards and trying to maneuver the unfamiliar kitchen.

"Right. Right, uh- paper towels. They're- here!"

He brandishes the roll towards you almost aggressively, and you wet three beneath the water you've turned back on. He takes the wad from your hand before you can apply it to your stained shirt, dabbing gently at the remains of his solo cup.

"Sorry," He breathes, tongue poking out from between his lips as he focuses on rubbing the stain away.

"It's okay." You remind him, craning your neck up to kiss at his chin. He still looks pale, like he's recovering from a brush with death, but at the feeling of your lips against his chin he looks up at you, and the corners of his lips quirk up into a weak smile.

"It's- uh, not coming out." He murmurs, "I'll have it dry-cleaned, um, tomorrow, I'll take it, and-"

"Okay. We'll figure something out." You keep your voice soothing, although you don't know why you need to, "It's okay, Steve. Hey, do you wanna just go home? We could do a movie night instead - get away from the noise and the people, and I could change my clothes."

"Yeah," He flounders slightly, hand still working to scrub the alcohol off of your shirt, "Yeah, uh- where...?"

"Your place," You decide, "If you don't mind me wearing your shirt?"

His eyes shine now, and his smile seems less rickety, "Yeah. No! No- I don't mind it. My place, and- and my shirt."

[bangchansdirty-slut]

Bangchan stabs a knife into the mattress and makes you ride the handle

(please..)

Drive Me Insane

Paring: Top!Bang Chan x Bottom!Male reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: Chan hates it when you act like a total slut for attention.

More: Masterlist

A/n: Sorry that there's not that much dialogue. I find it a little hard to write dialogue for smut (But I'm working on it) 😅. Requests are open!

Bang Chan's fingers danced over the laptop keyboard, his brow furrowed as he tried to focus on his boss and other employees in front of him. His mind, however, was elsewhere. His gaze kept drifting to the bedroom door, where he could hear the unmistakable sounds of their mattress creaking and his husband's breathy moans filling the air. The tension built up inside him like a pressure cooker, and he couldn't help but feel a mixture of anger, frustration, and desire.

He glanced at the clock, noting that they still had another hour left in the Zoom meeting. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't take it anymore. With a deep breath, he ended the call abruptly and stormed into the bedroom, his heart racing and his blood pumping. There he found his husband, his back arched and his hips thrusting rhythmically on his own fingers, his other hand tangled in his own hair as he moaned Bang Chan's name.

The anger inside him boiled over, and he grabbed the sharpest knife from the kitchen, intent on teaching his husband a lesson. He stormed back into the bedroom, holding the knife above his head, and plunged it deep into their mattress. It went in with a satisfying thud, the handle poking out at an angle, ready for someone to ride it. He stared at his husband, chest heaving, waiting for the realization of what he had done to sink in.

You looked up at him, his eyes wide with shock and confusion. "Chris? Wh-What did you do?" you slowly slid your hands down the bed, still looking at the knife handle poking out of the mattress. Your cheeks flushed red, and a shiver ran down his spine.

Bang Chan felt a surge of power course through him. He couldn't believe his husband was actually enjoying this. "I did this because I'm sick of you doing this," he growled, gesturing to the bed. "I'm sick of you being so needy, so slutty. I want you to feel what it's like."

You swallowed hard, looking conflicted for a moment before your expression hardened. You slowly climb over to the knife, straddling the knife handle. your cock is already hard, and you begin to grind against it, moaning softly. "Is that what you want, Chris?" you pant, your eyes locked on Chan. "You want me to ride your little knife?"

Bang Chan's heart skips a beat at the sight of his husband's cock throbbing against the knife handle. He wants to tell him no, to make him stop, but the sight of his husband's submission, his desire… it's too much. He can't look away.

You lean forward, his hands gripping the bed sheets, and begin to ride the knife's handle. your hips move in a steady rhythm, your breath coming out in ragged gasps.

Chan watches in awe as his husband takes control of the situation, asserting his dominance over the knife and the bed. It's a power play that he never knew his husband was capable of, and it's driving him wild. He can feel his own desire building inside him, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. He wants to join in, to feel the knife handle thrusting inside him, to feel his husband's weight pressing down on him.

Your breath comes out in ragged gasps, Your body tensing as you are near climax. your hips buck wildly, the knife handle digging deeper into the mattress with each thrust. Bang Chan can't take it anymore. He goes onto the bed, takes his husband off the knife, and places the knife on the side table, which you whine at.

Their bodies are pressed together, sweat glistening on their skin. You lean forward, their lips meeting in a hungry kiss. Chan's tongue darts out, seeking entry into his husband's mouth, and when it finds purchase, he thrusts it deep, tasting his husband's desire. Their hands roam over each other's bodies, seeking out pleasure, finding it in the other's touch.

Chan groans into the kiss, his hips grinding against his husband's. He reaches down, gripping his erection, and gives it a firm stroke. You gasp, arching into the touch, and Bang Chan feels his own desire surging forward, desperate for release. He breaks the kiss, panting, and gazes down at his husband's body.

You watch him with hooded eyes, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You reach down, unbutton Bang Chan's pants, and pull them down his hips, revealing his erection, already leaking pre-cum. Chan takes it in his hand, stroking up and down the length, feeling the warmth and the moisture.

Chan groans the sensation is exquisite, and he can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within him. He reaches down, gripping your hair, and pulls him into a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue darts out, tangling with yours, as your bodies move in perfect sync.

You groan, your hips bucking against Chan's hand. You feel so alive, so desired. The power play they've engaged in has only served to heighten your desire, and you want nothing more than to feel Chan inside you.

Chan reaches out, gripping his husband's hips, and guides him down onto his cock.

There's a moment of resistance before you are fully impaled on his length, but then he feels the slick heat of your body envelop him, and a shudder runs through him. He buries his face in your neck, feeling your heart racing beneath your lips. your hips move together, a slow, sensual dance that soon picks up speed.

The mattress squeaks beneath them as they writhe together, their bodies sliding against each other, chests heaving. Your nails dig into Chan's shoulders, leaving little trails of pain that only serve to heighten the pleasure coursing through him. He looks down, taking in the sight of their joined bodies, and feels a wave of possessiveness wash over him.

Chan's eyes meet yours, and in that moment, he feels so connected to you. It's as if you two can communicate without words, your bodies speaking the language of desire and love. He reaches down, grasping your ass, and squeezes it, urging you to move faster, harder.

Both your movements grow more frenzied, their breath coming in ragged gasps. The sweat that coats their bodies serves to heighten the sensation, making every touch, and every caress more intense. You arch his back, pushing yourself deeper onto Chan's cock, and a low groan escapes your lips. You can feel his release building inside him, the familiar tension coiling tighter and tighter.

Chan's eyes never leave his husband's face as he watches you lose control. He feels his own orgasm building, threatening to overwhelm him, but he wants to savor this moment, wants to share it with his husband. He leans down, kisses his husband's neck, sucking on the skin as he thrusts harder. His hips buck wildly, finding a rhythm that matches his husband's, and he feels the hot release spill from him, coating their stomachs and thighs.

You arch your back, crying out as you come, feeling the intense pleasure wash over you. Your body shudders with the force of your orgasm, and you collapse against Chan, panting heavily. For a moment, they're both lost in the aftermath of their passion, their bodies still moving together, finding a rhythm in the quiet aftermath.

Chan's chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, his heart still racing. He looks down at you, feeling a profound sense of love and connection wash over him. He gently kisses your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before pulling out of him. Their sweat-slicked bodies slide against each other, leaving trails of wetness on the sheets.

Your eyes flutter open, and you smile up at Bang Chan, the afterglow of their passion still evident on your face. "Thank you," You whisper, running a hand through Chan's husband's sweat-dampened hair. "That was… incredible."

Chan leans down, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. "I love you," he whispers against his mouth. "So much." He rolls off of him, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at his husband's face. The room is still, the only sound is their ragged breathing as they lie entwined in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

You smile up at him again, your eyes half-lidded with contentment. "I love you too," You say softly, your voice still thick with desire. "You make me feel so… wanted, so loved."

Their gazes lock, and at that moment, Chan can feel the weight of your words. He reaches down, cupping your cheek, and gently kisses you, wanting to convey all the love and adoration he feels in that single touch. Their kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, as they express their feelings for each other in a language that needs no words.

[diejager]

Hello! I hope you’re doing well!! I was wondering if I can request more of percht König! If not that is totally okay!! Thank you ^^

Cw: blood, gore, injurie, inaccurate medic stuff, violent shift, tell me if I missed any.

He couldn’t remember much, after a rough and impromptu shift, his bone cracking and spine reshaping, snapping back together after his fat and muscle stretched along his back, his body rippling and shuddering, howls ripping through the stormy sky. Urgent shifts had always been painful, his body hastily and roughly shaping into the beast he was born as, leaving the ground beneath him bloody and his limbs shaking and throbbing with agony. His mind was a blur in the moment after it, every shape muddled, smell enhanced, his hearing filled with the loud beat of his heart, gurgling screams and booming shots, and his mind blurry. 

The last thing he remembered seeing was the insurmountable number of enemy, a trap they’d fallen into and left surrounded and caged, only knowing that he and Ghost had fallen into a stupid trap. Like a fly stuck in a majestic spider’s web, the intricately woven lines spun and interlaced to build the trap, unsuspecting and invisible until they flew into it; buzzing and squirming against the sticky web while the spider, big and dangerous in it’s beauty slowly crawled over, long and delicate legs threatening to stab the fly. They had stupidly fallen for an embellished trap by their backstabbing ally.

And when he woke up, laying in the biggest bed in the infirmary, the thick taste of iron lingered on his tongue, the disgusting flavour of rotten human skin and fat, the muscle fibres breaking so easily under his sharp teeth and eyes heavy with a bone-deep exhaustion. He was glad the lights were dimmed, the air sterile but gentle on his sensitive nose and the sheets soft around his rough and scarred skin. He layed naked, body tense under the blanket in his private corner of the infirmary, a thick, grey curtain hiding him from wandering eyes or other patients.

He relaxed when he saw you poke your head between the wall and curtain, a mask hooked under your chin to flash him a gentle smile, slowly approaching his bedside without spooking his frantic and confused mind. He tried to smile back, but his balaclava would barely show it with how subtle the curl of his lips was, his tired eyes fleeting over the heavy bags under your eyes and the worried air that oozed off your shoulders as you sat on the chair beside his bed, a clipboard placed on your lap. 

“How do you feel, König?” He loved how soft your voice was, the quiet rasp of it to not worsen his pulsing headache, but he caught the worn tone. You probably stayed up the whole night, stuck by his bedside and leaving only to shower and get another cup of coffee. 

“Tired,” he sighed, closing his eyes and slumping into the comfortable mattress and sinking deeper into his assigned bed, “Everything hurts.”

He heard you nod, scratching something on your clipboard, probably writing down his symptoms and noting down what you’d plan to give him for his pains.

“Headache?”

”Ja.”

The pen scratched again.

“Muscle pain and exhaustion.”

“Ja.”

You already knew that, he hadn’t heard you write anything, only the subtle sound of a page flipping.

“Do you want coffee or lunch before I give you painkillers?”

“Coffee.”

You placed the clipboard down, your boots quietly thudding against the slick floor and the click of a door letting him know you left his side. He appreciated your care, your tender affection to provide for him when he felt sickly or worn out. 

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami 

[the-californicationist]

he buys you jewelry

The incessant whir of the tattoo gun was droning on as you watched Price’s freshly-shaved shoulder and back take on the sweeping artwork of a huge dragon. It had arching wings and a terrible snarl, and its long tongue breathed fire out onto his spine. You weren’t sure why he was getting a dragon, or what the symbolism was, but it was beautiful work. It fit his body perfectly. 

You’d been dating the soldier for about two months now, and he was very intense. He was apparently a captain of some sort of special forces group, but he hadn’t burdened you with the details. As you spoke with him and shared more things about yourself, he would leave little breadcrumbs about himself along the way, opening up slowly like a tight bud, blooming right in front of your eyes. 

His violent career was probably why he was taking this tattoo like it was a massage, chatting happily with you and his artist, Jana, totally unfazed by the repeated stabbing pain of the needles. Price was laid across the black chair, shirtless and hatless with his chest down and his back exposed to Jana. She was working away diligently, and you were in a prime location to drool over his body.

You’d been naked together already, and he was a damn fine lover, but his huge frame still made you hot, bothered, and unquenchably thirsty. You let your eyes drag over his hulking shoulders, gazing at the banded muscle in his back, his huge lats fanning out like wings, leading down to a trim but strong core. His skin was dusted with thick hair and a starfield of freckles. Old and new tattoos lay nestled around his body, telling a story you were slowly unfolding. John Price was gorgeous. 

“Mm,” he groaned, “Back of the arm is a bitch.”

“You need a break, John?” Jana asked him, “‘Cause I could use a smoke.”

“You bet,” Price smiled in agreement, letting her clean him up and wrap the skin to keep it safe. 

You handed him a bottle of water and grabbed an orange from your bag, following him to the back of the parlor. He dusted off a bench for you to sit with him, and he lit a tin cigar. You started to peel your orange, handing him a segment at a time, sharing it together as his smoke rolled out of his nose and mouth, spiraling up from the glowing embers. He offered it to you, and you took it.

The smoke was warm and filled your mouth, heating the sensitive skin of your cheeks. The tobacco and vanilla notes blended with the sweetness of the orange creating a pleasant taste, and it was satisfying to blow it away from you. More satisfying, however, was the indulgent expression on Price’s face when you did so, his bearded grin turning almost smug when you looked up at him to return his cigar. 

“Does it hurt?” You asked him, getting a peek at his dragon. It was nearly finished.

“It hurts in a good way, ya know? Pain…” he paused for a moment, thinking, his gaze focused on something far away, “Pain requires fear. If you can move past it, you can overcome it. I just try to find something I’d rather feel than fear.”

“What do you usually feel?” You asked, biting into another juicy slice of your orange. 

“Rage,” he smiled a little sadly, staring down at his hands, “I’m quick with my anger. Comes too easy for me, sometimes.”

“Do you feel rage now?” You probed further, handing him another shining lobe from the fruit.

He looked at you, brushing your hair over your ear gently, 

“No, love. Not rage. Something else, though.”

For a moment, his stark blue eyes drew you in, turning into pools of endless, cloudless sky. You thought he might kiss you. You might have a chance to taste the mixture of tobacco and orange in his mouth, feel his slick tongue slip against yours. You wanted to be pressured by his jaw to open up to him, to allow him to taste whatever he wanted to taste, to take whatever he wanted to take. 

“Hey, mate,” Jana poked her head around the corner, “You ready to finish up?”

“Yeah,” Price replied, his eyes not leaving yours, gripping you without using his hands. 

“Looks brilliant, Jans,” Price admired his dragon in the mirror, inspecting the fine details of its black scales, “You’re the best.” 

“You like it?” She smiled, admiring the work as well, pride shining on her face. 

“Yeah, I’m proper chuffed. Now it’s her turn,” he nodded over to you. 

“What?” You gaped, surprised at the sudden focus. 

He let Jana place the protective film over his tattoo and pulled his shirt back on, commenting,

“You wanted to get some work done, yeah?”

“Oh, right,” you said, remembering you’d told him how badly you wanted a tongue piercing since you were a teenager, “Not sure I have the funds, so -”

“No,” Price shook his head, “It’s on me, love. Whatever you want.”

“Really?” You couldn’t believe he would just drop money on you like it was nothing. Jana’s studio was one of those invite-only, get-on-a-waiting-list type of places. Very posh. This wasn’t going to be cheap.

 He nodded, fixing his shirt and sliding over to give you a chaste kiss, 

“Anything for you, sweet girl,” he grinned, lowering his voice, “You gonna pierce that pretty tongue for me to play with, hm?”

You could feel your cheeks grow hot from the way his comment made you feel, bellowing the fire that was growing in your core. You turned to Jana who was cleaning up her station,

“Are you able to do a tongue piercing today?”

She smiled, 

“For John’s girl? Anytime. Have a seat.”

She brought over some bars for you to choose from. You worried about how sensitive your skin was, but tried not to be picky. When you asked about hypoallergenic options, she brought out a whole tray, watching as you and Price perused the selections. 

“This one?” You pointed to a polymer style. It was bright fluorescent pink, and it almost glowed in the container. 

“Very safe. The PTFE will be the easiest to avoid infection,” Jana told you confidently. She really knew her craft. You watched as she prepped the needle, and you started to get nervous. 

Price noticed of course, and he reached out for your hand,

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you smiled up at him, grimacing a bit, admitting your nervousness. 

The captain reminded you, squeezing your hand, 

“Don’t think about the fear.”  

“What should I think about instead?”

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, and your heart froze in your chest as you listened to his words,

“I can’t stop thinking about how it’s going to make me feel when you lick my cock. I want you to rub it against my head, underneath, in that bloody spot that I like.”

“Ready?” Jana asked, interrupting your salacious thoughts. 

Price backed off, smirking with a proud look on his face, knowing he had made your blood run hot, straight to your belly. You nodded, giving her your tongue. You expected to be nervous again, but you weren’t. You were, however, extremely horny. 

Then, the clamp. A few seconds later, the sting. Your eyes wrenched shut, and Price squeezed your hand tighter. You opened them to look up at him, and his expression had darkened. He was staring into your mouth, looking at the piercing, obviously getting turned on by it. You watched him, sitting behind Jana, adjust himself in his pants, grasping at his growing shaft, trying to calm down. 

“All done,” Jana smiled, showing you a hand mirror, “and look - ”

She shined a blacklight over it, making it glow even brighter, 

“Pretty!” She exclaimed. 

She explained the aftercare, giving you plenty of products, and glaring at Price, making sure he followed the hygiene steps, too.

You left the shop sore, but you were distracted by the feeling of the wetness between your legs. John hugged you tightly before opening the passenger side door for you to climb into his car, 

“Poor darling, want to go for ice cream? Something to soothe that tongue?”

You nodded, looking at him expectantly, knowing he was still half-hard. His thickness made it impossible to miss. 

“Yeah, John, that sounds good.”

“After a few days, she said you’d be back to fighting shape, hm? I can’t wait.”

His laugh was dark and full of promise. He leaned over the center console to kiss your neck, and you felt like you might melt through the seat. He pulled out of the parking lot, and as the lights from the city glittered over his windshield, you held his hand, feeling like his precious pet, something to be cherished.

[rainyapricotcreatorparty]

Pain Relief

GIF not mine

Loki x Reader

Warnings: Wrong grammar, pure smut, Minors DNI, oral f receiving, slight praise kink, fingering

Summary: You are on your period and Loki finds a way to relieve you from your pain.

-----------------------------------------

Cramps you hated it, it was like someone was stabbing you multiple times without mercy. Plus the mood swings that you couldn't control was frustrating. You lay in bed in a fatal position, your knees touching your chest, your arms around your legs pulling them close. You wanted anything to take the pain away. It was hard to move and your lower back was killing you, your breasts felt swollen. You just wanted to dig a hole and die in it. You wanted to take a medicine but you were afraid if you ate something your stomach would turn against you and throw everything out as soon as you put something in your mouth.

A groan leaves your mouth you were in so much pain. You turn around on the bed trying to find a good position to stay in to make it less painful but alas the stabbing pain was still there eating away at your lower stomach.

You hear the door opening. "Are you alright darling?" Said a deep british voice that sends shivers down your spine. you turn your head in the direction of the voice, there he stood Loki god of mischief your lover. He stood tall with his soft black hair sleeked back it. He was a sight for sore eyes that's for sure. You loved admiring his features from his gorgeous greenish blue eyes, to his high cheek bones, to his rosy lips.

"No, the cramps are killing me.." your voice barely audible. worry shines through his eyes as he walks up to the end of the bed and climbs next to you, He picks you up to sit in his lap, he wraps his arms around you to cuddle. "What can I do for you to feel better love?" he says softly in your ears. "I just need to my pain medicine but I can't take it on an empty stomach." You whimper as an another stab of pain hits you. "Would you like some tea? A hot drink might help with the pain." He says and you just nod your head. He placed you on the bed softly and kisses your forehead before he heads out.

Worry seeps through his veins as he makes your cup of tea. He didn't know what to do in this situation. He put the water in kettle while he waited he searched on how to help with period pain on the phone he was still new to all the technology and he hated how he could't use it, but he tries to remember what you taught him about searching on the 'internet' after searching how to soothe period cramps.

Get a message.

Heating pads.

Hot drinks.

he kept scrolling until a sentence stopped mid swiping.

Reach an Orgasm.

He raised an eyebrow at that, orgasms can help with cramps?

The kettle whistled breaking out of his trance, he added the tea bag and added the hot water. He grabbed the cup and walked back to your room.

He gently opened the door to your bedroom poking his head inside, you were still lying in that same fatal position. He walked up to the bed and gently placed the cup down on the nightstand beside the bed.

"Love, I made you tea." He whispered as softly stroked your arm. You groaned and moved to sit up to drink. He sits down beside you and grabs the cup and hands it you. You slowly took sip of the hot liquid. He puts his arm around you, as you put your head to his neck. After drinking he grabs the empty cup from your hands and places it down. He picks you up and places you between his legs as you rest your back to his front. He messaged your abdomen remembering the instructions he read.

As he continued to message you, a groan leaves your mouth in pain and relief, his hands worked magic at your lower stomach. His hands started to go up your upper stomach and down to your thighs. "I read that orgasms helps with the pain" Your eyes widened at that, blood rushed to your cheeks. "umm, Yes, that is true but you don't want to, there is blo-" He shushed with his finger to your lips. "You think I care about a little blood? If it takes the pain away I will gladly do it. Besides I love the noise that comes out of your pretty lips." He says. Heat rushed between your legs at his words.

His hands roams down your stomach feeling your body until it came over your covered center. Rubbing over the fabric of your pants. He adds pressure and continues rubbing, you move your hips grinding to his hand. Moans left your lips at the sensation. Pain still ate at your lower stomach but mixed with pleasure it was a heavenly feeling to you. His hand slid under your pants and panties straight to your core. Your face flushed goosebump all over your skin it was such a beautiful feeling. His fingers found your slit your sweet juices covered his fingers trailing down his hands you were so aroused. Moans left your lips as he pushed a finger inside of you his fingers were long and had the perfect about of thickness as he stretched your pussy out.

“You are so wet darling” he said with his deep voice in your ear as he sucked at your earlobe, shivers ran down your back at the action. Your wetness and blood covered his fingers he kept thrusting his finger inside of you. Pleasure builds up in your lower stomach, his fingers kept hitting your g-spot perfectly, his thumbs finds the pearl on your clit. Moans leaves your lips. Your legs started to shake at the sensations you tried to close your legs, but Loki's hand came down and held them in place and kept thrusting. Loki can feel how you tighten around his fingers, you were close.

"You are not allowed to cum until I tell you." He whispered in your ear, you whined at his words you were so close to the feeling of bliss, his fingers keeping a constant pace bringing you over the edge. After what seemed like forever in this hard teasing he finally whispered. "Come for me love." On command your orgasm came crashing on you. Your back arching forward shaking uncontrollably. Loki with his fingers still inside of you continued to thrust his fingers inside you while you rode your orgasm.

You sigh in relief and pure bliss, your body relaxes against Loki. Loki's fingers coming to a stop. Your cheeks now a pretty red from the event that just happened. Loki pulls out of you, his fingers stained with red and your juices and brings it to his lips. your eyes widened at the action.

"Loki, what are you doing?" you try to catch his hand but his fingers were already at his lips as he sucked on them. Embarrassment fills your chest.

"There is nothing for you to be embarrassed about love, You taste delightful" He smirks at the red in your cheeks. Suddenly he starts to pull your pants and panties off.

"You don't actually think we are done now are we? I know you can give me one more my love." He discards your pants to the floor. He gets up from under you and crawl to.

"What? no-" He grabs your knees and pulls to him. He pushes your legs apart as he started to kiss your inner thighs. "I want to take your pain away and listen to those sweet noises you make my love" You shiver when his soft lips reach your center. You look down at instantly make eye contact with him his intense greenish blue eyes.

You jolt when his tongue played the pearl of nerves at your center, soft moans left your lips at the sensation, you were still a little sensitive after your last orgasm. His fingers moved up down slowly at you opening collecting your wetness on his fingers. He pushed his middle finger inside at a painfully slow pace. Your mouth falls open as you throw your head back. With his finger he makes a come motion hitting your g-spot perfectly, building up your orgasm. He teases you with his fingers suddenly moving fast and as heels you clench around his finger he slows down. You whimper in agony. "Look at you whimpering such sweet sounds you make. Look at how you clench on my finger love" He pushes in another finger inside you filling you up. The sounds leaving your mouth get louder with each passing minute. Soon he pushes a third finger completely stretching you out. Your eyes widen he stretches you out beautifully. Your hands come down and pulls at his tall black silky hair. He groans into you as you pull his hair. The mixture of his fingers and tongue which was still working on your pearl of nerves.

"Loki, please" you moan out. "Tell me what you need love" He says. "I want to come please." you say. "As you wish love" He continues his hitting your g-spot each time with a perfect pace. Finally your orgasm came crushing down on you, moans leaves your lips as you rise your orgasm. your body becomes mush as you relax into the mattress. Loki covers you with a blanket and pulls you to his chest.

"How are you feeling now love?" You smile at him "much better, so much better" He kisses your lip softly while cuddling with. "You did so well for me love, rest now I will clean up." he kisses your forehead and you close your eyes.

[klausysworld]

Could you do another part of my queen where the Scooby-Doo gang kidnaps y/n thinking she is just a random normal wolf that Klaus cares about like a pet, but then Bonnie finds out what she is and so they try to use her against Klaus with the help of Esther so they turn her into a human?

My Queen PT2

PT1

Since realising I was the wolf that saved him so many times a thousand years ago, Klaus had become much more eager to spend time with me. He seemed to believe he needed to take care of me, as though he owed it to me because of how I watched over him in the past.

He began to leave steaks outside my den and often tried to bring me into his house but I always refused him. He was the kind of person to not let me leave.

I was a wolf, not a pet dog.

And he became very aware of that when I bit his wrist so hard he nearly cried after he attempted to put a collar on him.

His siblings found the situation bizarre and I don’t blame them. Elijah often sighed when Niklaus tried to lure me into the house.

It seemed the Mikaelsons weren’t the only people who thought me to be a pet.

Salvatores, Gilberts, Forbes and Bennetts did too.

So much so that they had caged me and belittled me. They mocked and tormented me while I paced back and forth thinking of a way to get past. I could force my way out, break the bars and bite them all but I had so much wolves bane in my system that I probably wouldn’t get very far at all.

Besides the stupid witch was doing tests on me which weakened me by the minute and the vampires had buckets of wolfs bane mixed water ready to drown me in if I stepped out of line. Which I figured out wasn’t a bluff when I attempted to bite their precious human.

I remained as calm as I could for as long as I could. In fact I only really became more aggressive when a scarred Esther showed up with an arrogant Finn at her side.

She and Bonnie conversed and before I knew it my entire body was screaming at me in absolute agony.

It was as though my blood was on fine and burning me from the inside out, my limbs all bent the wrong ways and my spine snapped out of place.

I forced myself to my paws on shaky legs and began to bolt, I weaved past the witches. The others had left assuming it would take longer for the spell to take place.

I could hear them yelling and my teeth sunk into Finn’s leg when he lunged forward to grab me making him topple over to the ground and his in pain.

Everything hurt as I dashed through the streets alarming the locals and causing havoc and disaster as cars began to crash and people screamed. My senses were going haywire as my insides were stabbed at.

My body became off balanced as my back legs become longer than my front. I rolled forward and my paws fingers got tangled in my fur hair. My yelp sounded softer than usual and my breathing was heavier. I laid still on the ground for a moment when I saw two arms infront of me. I could feel my heart beating faster and I could feel my skin touching my skin. My fingers twitched and I lifted my hand in horror. I rolled onto my back and with far too much effort, pushed myself up with the palms of my hands.

What the fuck.

I looked down with wide eyes and my lips parted when I poked at my knees, I stretched my toes out with a look of disbelief on my face and hesitantly reached up to touch my nose. My teeth were blunt and and my snout was nonexistent and neither were my whiskers. I could hear my breathing quickening as I frantically looked at my new body.

My hair kept falling infront of my vision, it was as white as my fur but much longer and messier. I had little to no fur hair on the rest of my body making me feel weird as I slowly stood up. I grimaced at the feel of dirt and sticks against my feet, they hurt much more than when it was against my paws. I took a step forward only to return straight back to the ground due to leaning too far forward and having to push myself back up. I got onto my hands and knees before dragging myself to a nearby tree and pulling myself up.

This is not fun.

I basically hobbled through the woods, every step caused a horrible sting in the bases of my feet and the bark of the trees scratched my hands and my breasts if I got too close which hurt much more than I had thought. Thankfully the sky was getting darker so people shouldn’t be around. Stupid hikers and campers.

Thankfully only one guy saw me and he was clearly not in the right mind as he just gave me a thumbs up and walked off with a low whistle.

This would be the only time I am grateful for Klaus bringing me to his home so often because now I had memorised all of the ways there. It took way too long to get here but I made it.

I stared at the door blankly and hit my hands against it harshly making me wince as the sting that spread over my palms and pads of my fingers.

I heard a loud grumbling and a string of curses from Niklaus before the door opened making me stumble slightly as some of my weight had been against it. I fell against his chest and his arms circled me instantly.

God inside here was warm. It was absolutely fucking freezing without my fur and his body radiated heat like an open flame would.

His throat cleared but I didn’t look up at him, only stayed against him somewhat awkwardly, not really knowing what to do in this position. I heard footsteps and turned my head to see Elijah with a frown on his face

“Niklaus…why on earth are you hugging a naked girl in the middle of the night?” He asked getting nearer. His eyes locked on mine before glancing at my hair and back to my eyes again, his brows raised and he cleared his throat before turning his head and walking over out of my sight line. He returned within a second and a soft material was brought over my shoulders. I was guided away from Niklaus’s arms.

“You didn’t let anyone know that your little friend here could turn human” Elijah muttered quietly but not quietly enough apparently.

Klaus looked at me with wide eyes and an open mouth as his hand reached out in front of my face making me bare my teeth. His brows furrowed and I frowned before realising I didn’t exactly look very threatening like this.

“I wasn’t aware either” he whispered as his eyes dragged down my body making me pull the blanket around me and give him a dirty look. He blinked at me before apologising breathlessly and looking to Elijah in utter confusion.

He turned back to me with a hesitant look on his face, “my Queen…how long have you been human?” He asked, his tone almost nervous as he stared at me.

“For gods sake you two, look at her, clearly not very long” Rebekah’s voice came from my right before she was right beside me. “Come on flower, let’s get you washed and dried” she told me, her hands grabbed my arms and she pulled me along. I had not idea what to do. I didn’t know how to talk and I wasn’t able to just bite any of them. My cuts weren’t healing and I felt uncomfortable with everything about me.

My eyes widened at the stair case and my head shook quickly. “Come on, it’s okay” she tried as her hand pulled at mine, she tugged harder and my claws nails dug into her wrist and she let go with a curse. “Why you little-“

“Rebekah! Leave her be” Klaus growled before I felt his hand in my hip making me shift “it’s alright sweetheart, I’m going to lift you and take you up okay? We’ll figure this all out as soon as possible” I said nothing only stiffened and looked at him as I was carried up the stairs, one of his arms went under the back of my knees and the other against my back. I kept as still as I could until I was carefully put back down on my feet.

I looked around in confusion at the cold floors and shiny walls. My eyes widened and I stepped back when water began to blast against a big glass box.

“In you go love, into the shower” he directed while pushing me forward, the blanket was taken from me and I was under the hot water. I looked to him in slight betrayal and he gave a faint smile. I looked at him helplessly until he sighed and pushed his pants down and stepped in behind me. “Alright my Queen, everything’s gonna be okay, I’ll get you all clean and we can get some rest. I’ll get a witch out to help”

I tensed when he mentioned a witch but he didn’t comment on it and instead brought his fingers into my hair while the water poured over it and foamy soap fell to the base of the shower. His hands slid down my back and to my hips making me swallow thickly and turn around to look up at him. He was much taller in human form compared to our wolves.

I had seen Niklaus without any clothes many times after he turned but never had my body reacted the way it was now. Everything felt much hotter and my lower abdomen tingled. I looked up to see his brows risen as his head tilted to the side with a growing smirk on his lips

“Well you certainly are different like this aren’t you?” He hummed making me growl quietly in my throat though it sounded much softer than I had hoped and he chuckled. “Not quite the same affect hm?” His hand cupped my face and his thumb rubbed over my lower lip making my brows furrow “not so strong now are we little wolf?” He cooed at me like I was a child’s, so I did the only logical thing I could think of and bit his thumb.

He hissed and snatched his hand away making me see my opening and rush out of the shower, I was dripping wet as I ran out the bathroom and through his room only for him to appear directly infront of me at the doorway. I let out an ‘mph’ as I knocked into him and winced at the impact against my breasts.

I shoved at his chest but was lifted up and tossed onto his bed making me yelp. In a flash he was back on top of me and my face was heating up significantly as his naked body pressed to mine. My body reacted on its own to him and I was starting to get annoyed with myself. “You need to calm down love” he whispered lowly and a delightful sensation ran along my spine. My breathing picked up and my thighs squeezed together. His fingers brushed over my cheek and he gently kissed the corner of my mouth. “I shouldn’t have belittled you, I got carried away with how adorable you are as a human” he murmured and I let out a breath. “I never expected you to be human my queen, I didn’t think about how desirable you’d look” he whispered “but you’re all confused at the moment and clearly been through something so for now, I will get you something to cover up your stunning body so that I don’t pounce on you…again” he smiled and I gave a weak one in response.

With much reluctance he got me into a shirt and underwear, him self in a similar state and beckoned me over to his side of the bed. I shuffled closer and he brought an arm around me, my nose pressed to his chest and i breathed in his scent. He didn’t smell as strong without my wolf nose but he still smelt nice.

His hand stroked the back of my head pleasantly and I sunk into the bed, being a human wasn’t awful per say but I sure as hell hoped that those stupid witches burned for it.

[constesplanetarium]

☼⚠︎ Yandere Stalker/Kidnapper x Gn! AFAB! Reader

Darkness rating ) 7/10: “Feel that shiver up your spine?”

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

ya, thats it :) i wanted to write smth on the darker side

might make another part, this was pretty fun to write (ya it was fun. IM CRAZY!!!)

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT.

This work contains potentially sensitive content to some. Please be careful.

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

CONTENT WARNINGS!!!

Knife play, blood play, blood consumption, kidnapping, sorta dacryphilia(?), mentions of stalking, drug use, and cannibalism.

Word count: Around 1.5k

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Cold steel drags down your neck slowly, making your heart race as the point of the knife pokes into your Adam's apple. You would try to plead with him to stop, but you know it wouldn’t do you any good in this situation. The blindfold feels like it's stabbing your eyes, the way darkness envelops your sight. Are you in a basement? It’s so cold. The ropes rub harshly on your wrists and ankles as you squirm in the chair, making your skin burn. You just have your undergarments on, making your whole body shiver. Of course he stripped you down. All you can do is hear the idiotic mumbling of a man who is so obviously not in his right mind.

“Baby, you look so beautiful, oh my god…” He whispers quietly, making you miss the silence that was present a couple seconds ago. His voice shakes as he speaks, and his breathing is heavy. “I finally get to have you like this, isn’t this incredible…?”

How did you get here? You try to recap every single memory following up to this, but everything comes back in fragments, and it’s all nothing but a blur in your head. You must’ve been drugged, by the way you feel so sluggish and drowsy. You can’t remember anything at all.

His knife drags down to your chest, then all the way down to your stomach. You try to press your legs together in vain, the ropes on your ankles holding you back. He chuckles and presses the tip of the knife into your inner thigh, making you wince in pain as a small drop of blood trickles down your leg. You have to bite back your tongue to prevent yourself from screaming, once you feel his hot tongue lick the trickle of blood up to the wound, and he plants a kiss on the piercing. “You taste so good, I could eat you up right now…” Why the hell does he sound out of breath? Is he going to kill you?

Before you know it, that exact question spills out of your mouth.

“Huh, kill you? No, no, baby…” His cold hand rubs your inner thigh, smearing blood all over. His hand feels so rough. “I wouldn’t ever do that, please believe me.” His soft lips kiss your wound, and at this point, you’re starting to feel sick. “... But I want to taste you so bad, it’s tempting.” You jerk your head away from him as he whispers in your ear, and he starts to laugh. “I’m only kidding baby, relax!” How the hell can you relax? “Mm, but I dunno.” His knees hit the floor, and he lays his head on your lap, feeling around your stomach. “Maybe I could start here, and work my way up.” Two of his fingers press on your clothed cunt, and you flinch. “Should I go to your intestines next?” He cooes sweetly, almost like it’s just sweet nothings he’s whispering. “I would save your heart for last, baby. It’s your best part.” Your body trembles as he reaches up, and kisses right above your heart. Your racing heart. “I was listening to your heart while you were asleep. I’ve wanted to do that for so long, it sounds incredible…” Why is he doing this? Does he just want to fuck you? Is this a sick fetish? You feel your throat tighten up, about to cry. Your tears soak the blindfold on your eyes. His breathing is becoming frantic. What is he going to do? Oh my god.

“I’m sorry baby, I can’t help myself.” He whines and a hand pushes your waist forward, then both snake behind to unclasp your bra. You finally try to scream a refusal, and shake violently in your seat, apparently scaring him off, since his hands immediately retreat. “... I’m sorry. You still need time to, uh, get used to being here. I’m so sorry, baby.” Yet he didn’t care when he cut your thigh? What kind of morals does he have?

Oh yeah, none.

There’s no point in screaming for help, you already know no one will hear you.

“Will this make you more comfortable? Yeah?” The blindfold is ripped off your head, and you blink away the tears forming at your eyes, and squint at rhe sudden brightness. You finally get a good view of your surroundings, and you were right. You are in a basement. A cold basement. The stairs on the side of the room are leading up to a freedom that seems miles away. But upon a better look, this place… It looks more like a room. There's a neatly set bed in the right corner of the room, with a tall lamp and a nightstand, alongside a tv set and a couch not far from it. In the corner of your eye, you can see a chair propped up against a table. Probably a dinner table. You can’t see what's behind you, but from the soft whirring, it might be a fridge. You don’t even want to look him in the eyes, but you take a small glance up and see a small mark of your blood on his lips. You look back down at the floor. He should invest in some sort of carpet, instead of these hard floors.

You try to run through your memories to see if you can recognize him but you don’t. Everything is still so blurry, damn it…

“Is that better, darling?” He smiles and outstretched his arms, exclaiming happily. “Welcome to your new home!” Not if you have anything to do about that. “I’m sorry for my, uh, behavior earlier. I was too excited. But I just…” He sighs dreamily. “I finally get to have you here with me, baby.”

…God. Might as well ask him some questions.

“Hmm? Why did I bring you here? He messes with the knife, in his hands, staring at the bloody point. “So I can have you here with me, baby…” He brings the tip of the knife to his mouth, licking it up and down. You watch the blood become planted on his tongue, nausea filling your stomach. It’s even worse once you can really see it. “I-I’ve been admiring you for so long, for months now, baby…” He tilts his head and seemingly stares into your soul, grinning. “I didn’t think this far into it, I’m not even sure what we’re going to do today, hmm…” His eyes become lost in yours as he looks at you thoughtfully, but you wince and break the contact you two had. A small snap of his fingers brings your attention back to him. “Oh, how about I make your dinner, right now? I-I’ll even make your favorite!”

You don’t want whatever he’s going to make. You don’t want to even be in the same room as him. Your throat tightens up with anger and the tears start to flow down your cheeks. His eyes stare down at you in pity, and a certain sadness.

“Oh, you don’t need to cry now…” He leans down and kisses a tear off your cheek, and you jerk your head away. His laugh makes you sick, it sounds so sinister. “You’re so funny darling, you don’t have to fight me you know.” His tongue laps up the tear that had just rolled down your cheek, up to the corner of your eye. He kisses you again and again on your cheek, to the point where he can’t get enough of you. “You’ll get used to it anyway, we can- Ah, no. We will be so happy together…” He purrs and plants a kiss on the top of your head, petting it softly. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to go upstairs and make dinner, it won't take too long, okay?” He rubs your inner thigh, taking a glance down at the dripping wound. A small pool of blood has dripped down onto the chair. “I’ll… I’ll get a bandaid for that too.” He seems hesitant to look at the cut, but he suddenly drops down on his knees again and sets a rough hand on your thigh, “Let me help you clean up, okay?” He has a short fit of his insane chuckling as you stare at him lick up your blood, refusing to touch the wound this time. Is he scared of infecting it? Ah, no, he was just licking up the dripping blood first. You watch and feel his tongue swirl around the cut and you wince at the small stinging feeling. How disgusting.

Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting. What a horrible fucking man, how sick.

You have to fight the urge to throw up again once he sticks his tongue out, showing the bloody mess all over it. Some of it is even on his lips. He kisses your inner thigh, leading to your cunt, and he leaves a small, bloody kiss mark. With a small lick of his lips, he stands back up, brushing his pants off, and a dreamy groan leaves his mouth, seemingly involuntarily. His hand rubs your cheek affectionately, and you try your best not to go ahead and bite him. I guess it's true that you can’t bite the hand that feeds you. At this point he decides whether or not you get to eat or drink.

But not your fate. That's up for you to decide.

“I’ll be back with dinner, okay?” He chirps happily and bounds up the stairs, giggling to himself like a stupid schoolgirl. “I won’t take long!” You watch the door to freedom open, the light streaming ever so slightly into the basement, before the only way to freedom is shut off again, with a couple loud clicks of the several locks he set in.

He couldn’t even tell you his fucking name, my god.

part 2 is here!

[gardenoflupins]

AU where Sirius is a king and Remus is brought in as a prisoner

TW: violence, slightly toxic characters

Remus swallowed down vomit as he moved jerkily with each press of the silver spears against his back. The king’s men didn’t even have to physically touch him to hurt him. They could burn him just by placing their spears close enough to his body.

His wrists were shackled with silver in front of him. Each time his wrists moved, it sent waves of fiery anguish through him. The only reason he stayed upright was to avoid a spear in his back.

People nearby gasped and moved backwards when they saw him. Remus isn’t sure if they’ve put it together that he is a werewolf or if they think he is some dangerous criminal being guided by soldiers. Most people knew nothing about werewolves, just that they were lethal murderers.

Remus had never murdered anyone.

He’d never even hurt anyone. He made sure he couldn’t.

But the king’s soldiers were always on the hunt for dark creatures and they had located him through his howls of pain. The men sighted him just as he was turning back into his human self. They almost made Remus walk naked until he heard them say that they didn’t want to disturb the general public. After weakening him with silver they decided to bring him directly to the King. Remus doesn’t know if it’s for imprisonment, execution, study or torture.

When they reached the gates, the guards stationed there gave them all doubtful looks but let them through.

“We’ll keep it in the prisons under the castle until King Sirius is made aware of this discovery,” one of the men said in a gruff voice.

Belatedly, Remus realised they were talking about him.

“It will be well contained,” another added.

Remus discreetly eyes his surroundings. The halls were littered with large works of art and the chandeliers made his eyes go wide at the beautiful complexity.

They are intercepted a few minutes later. A young, lean man with curly dark hair strided towards them and frowned through his glasses. Remus knew immediately by his neat and regal attire that he was someone important. Was this the King?

“Explain what I’m looking at,” he demanded with clear disapproval. Remus’s eyes flickered restlessly towards him.

The guard made a respectable gesture before signalling to Remus. “This one is off to the prisons until the King gives orders on what to do with it.”

The wealthy man furrows his brows, looking directly at Remus. Remus looks at his feet because he was not used to people staring at him without recoiling away. Remembering himself, he looked into the other’s eyes.

“Does the King know of this?”

“Not yet.”

Agitation passed the man's face and he began walking away, urgency in his steps. “You will follow me.”

“My lord—“ the guard began but thought better of it. They poked Remus with the spears, making him hiss out in pain and stumble in the Lord's direction.

Two people opened double sided doors for the unnamed Lord and the rest of them. Remus felt the guards around him hesitate but they didn’t dare question the Lord with glasses.

“Sirius,” the Lord snapped and Remus flinched at his tone.

Remus quickly understood the hesitancy around him when he walked into what appeared to be the throne room. There sat a man with long jet black hair. Stomach giving out on him, he realised the ornament on his head labelled him as a King.

King Sirius.

Fuck.

Reflexively, he tried to pull back and this time somebody really did stab his spine. He muffled a moan and stumbled forward on uneven footing.

“Here is yet another one,” the Lord spoke without waiting for acknowledgement. “Starving probably. Is it really fair to throw a young man like this into the prisons? He is hurt, Sirius.”

Given the informal use of the King’s name, the Lord must be very close to him. Unless he was stupid.

The King didn’t bother to look at anyone but the Lord who spoke.

“Another complaint?” the King asked warily, a half smile playing on his lips.

His companion huffed and gestured aggressively to Remus. Remus shrunk back. He was pinned down by grey eyes and Remus knew from his eyes alone that the King was someone resilient, fierce, and merciless.

“My King, this is not another thief situation,” the guard behind Remus argued.

Remus braced himself for the reveal.

“It’s a werewolf. We were taking it down to be restrained but Lord James insisted we come here.”

King Sirius and Lord James stared at Remus sharply. Remus is sure he looked a mess with his hunched shoulders and defensive body language. Even with the declaration, their faces were almost impassive.

The King leaned back on his throne in a casual and aloof manner. “That’s no werewolf. It’s merely a man.” He gives them all loathsome looks. “Have you come to waste my time? Are my men truly so dim they cannot recognise a bloodthirsty wolf from a man?”

For a moment, the King is met with shocked silence.

“My King,” a different guard starts uncertainly, “rest assured this is a werewolf. We found him in his cursed form and waited to bring him like this.”

Lord James visually tensed at that, eyes scanning Remus up and down. The King appeared to be doing the same.

“You’re certain?” King Sirius asked. Remus’s wide eyes drew to him solely and they held eye contact. Remus wondered what the King saw when he looked at Remus who was wearing the King’s official colours because the guards didn't want to bring him in bare.

“Most certainly,” came the reply, sounding calmer. “We’ve weakened it with silver so you needn’t be afraid of harm. We will take our leave while you decide what to do with it.”

Remus didn’t ignore the way they only referred to him as an it.

King Sirius held up a hand to stop them just as Lord James opened his mouth angrily. “This is a boy. How is he a boy?” the King asked.

The question confused Remus. When the others don’t reply, he addresses Remus specifically. “You. Explain it to me.”

Remus startled. Had the King really addressed him?

“I would not waste my breath,” the same guard said. “It cannot speak English.”

The King looked disappointed. Seeing his window closing, Remus rushed to say something.

“Untrue, I can speak English.” His voice was hoarse from the previous night of screaming.

The knights around him stiffened and the air became cold and unwelcome. At all the hard stares, Remus worsened it by speaking because he never worked well under pressure. “I can read and write too.”

His body hit the marble floor roughly when somebody from behind kicked him down. The shackles on his wrist moved terribly with the movement, causing him to wheeze out in pain.

“Do not lie to the King,” the guard snapped and held Remus’s head down with his boot.

Remus groaned, regretting everything. He should have let them continue thinking he was a daft, witless creature. They never once asked him to speak when they found him and Remus was too scared to talk to them. He knew they looked down on the poor and the cursed.

“Is that necessary?” came Lord James’s voice, tinged with alarm. Remus heard footsteps approaching.

“Its looks are deceiving. It looks like a man but is not one. Don’t waste your concern on it.”

Remus didn’t move an inch. He was not going to do anything that would endanger him quicker.

“Remove your foot off him.”

Remus swallowed thickly at the sound of King Sirius’s voice. Still unreadable in his emotions.

“Sire—“

“Do not make me repeat myself. I am agitated as it is.”

The foot leaves his head but still Remus does not move. He hears more footfalls and prays the King isn’t coming his way to behead him. He catches sight of his shoes near his face.

“Rise.”

Remus hesitates and after a moment of contemplation he hesitates again. Very slowly, he raises his head a fraction, afraid he is going to kick Remus’s teeth in.

The King only looks at him with something resembling curiosity. He is at least pleased that Remus stays close to the ground in a non threatening manner. It does nothing to ease the others.

“As I asked before, how are you a man?”

Remus does not reply. Instead he watches the King, eyes glued on his face for signs of incoming violence.

“Do you have a name?”

No response.

“Can you only speak a bit of English?”

Remus’s eyes flicker behind him at the guards.

“Ah,” the King says with realisation. “They are not allowed to stop you from conversing with me. Speak.”

He continues to say nothing.

He almost wasn’t surprised when a knight stomps on his spine. Remus cries out as his burns rub against his shirt and the offending boot. A sob leaves his mouth and he fails to hold in a whimper. He lets his head stay on the ground. If they were going to kill him, let them. He was too tired to be tortured.

“How dare you,” Lord James bristles, facing his fears and walking closer to Remus. “Get back,” he snaps when they try to shield him from Remus.

“You hurt him for speaking and then hurt him for not speaking,” comes the King’s cold reply. “Do not interfere again or I will spike your skulls on the gates.”

The ice in his voice makes Remus shiver.

“Stand, Lycanthrope.”

Unsteadily, Remus does as he says. When he is on his feet, his upper body is hunched again from the burning sensation. The King’s eyes fall to his burnt and shackled wrists but says nothing.

For awhile, all three of them stare at each other. At first, Remus is met with detached looks from both the royal men. Then, they regard him with a look almost akin to pity.

Lord James side eyes King Sirius.

Remus’s head drops. He knows they are not impressed with what they see. The loathed lycanthrope. A scrawny young man. The horrors.

Another tense silence passes before Lord James can’t hold himself. “Surely you can’t kill him. Look at him. He’s….”

The King sighs. “He’s a danger, James.”

Remus already had no hope of surviving this, but this killed him further.

King Sirius takes a step closer to Remus and everyone, including Remus, freezes. This time, nobody tries to second guess the King. He takes another and another step until he is right up against Remus.

Remus looks anywhere but at him, feeling caged and very small in his commanding presence.

“This thing…” he begins, “like a puppy. Mutt. This is a werewolf?”

Remus’s stomach churns with anxiety. What would he do to him?

“My King,” a guard warns in a strained tone.

“You’ve frightened it,” is all King Sirius says.

Taking a risk Remus finds stupid, he tilts Remus’s head up with a strong hand. Remus’s eyes widen and his body aches from how still he tries to hold himself without shaking. Touching a werewolf was inexplicable. Nobody would go anywhere near a werewolf, let alone talk to or lay a hand on one without the intention to kill.

His brows raise at Remus, studying him. “Submissive.”

Remus is shocked at the word that leaves the King's mouth but knows it’s because he is viewed as nothing more than a wild dog. A skinny and petrified one at that.

Lord James moves slowly to stand next to the king, a frown upon his face again. “Sirius,” he begins, “this is unsafe.”

The King doesn’t remove his eyes from Remus, insisting on trapping him in his gaze. “You wanted me to show mercy,” he states.

“That was before—“ Lord James huffs, running a hand through his hair. “You’re too close. He may bite.”

Horrifyingly, this makes the King tilt his head with curiosity. “Is it true that you can only spread your curse on the full moon?”

When nobody answers, Remus gives a small nod of his head.

“You can turn into a man?”

Remus bites off his angry words. King Sirius’s eyes gleam. “Go on, permission to bite— verbally, that is.”

Remus doesn’t go for the bait. His shoulders fall a bit and the other clicks their tongue. He had no reason to be displeased by Remus’s lack of anger.

“Refusing to answer will get anybody in trouble, regardless of who they are. Can you turn into a man?” he asks again.

“I am a man,” Remus whispers.

He hears no reply.

King Sirius is amused, curious, and disbelieving all at once. He grabs Remus’s chin to tilt his face left and right, looking for signs of animalistic features. His gaze snags on a few wounds Remus knows are there and Remus swallows thickly. Nervousness thrums through his system, making his heart race. The King’s gaze falls to his wrists again but doesn’t make the command to release him.

“I think you will teach me a lot of things, Lycanthrope,” he says softly.

Dread pools in Remus’s gut.

He’d be kept for study then. There was no gaurantee that torture would not be involved, especially because the King would not be prepared for how stubborn and unwilling Remus was going to be.

[jakescakeislateforourdate]

What the Sully Boys do when they find you crying

Neteyam, Lo’ak, Jake,

⚠️WARNING⚠️: crying, talks of injury

Pleas enjoy this garbage

….

Neteyam: Distraction

You’re along on the shoreline, crouched in the waves and poking at the sand. Fat tears are rolling down your cheeks as you repeatedly stab your finger into the soft wet sediment. Neteyam has been looking for you for about an hour now. You’d disappeared after dinner, visibly upset and oddly quiet. He was unfamiliar with the island still. He did not know the rocky alcoves or tide pools like he knew the forest. It’s no wonder you’d sought out solitude here. The lay of the land provided perfect little nooks and crannies to hide oneself and find some peace and quiet.

Neteyam does not speak as he approaches; making sure his footsteps are extra loud so as not to startle you. You hardly glance at him. He squat next to you and places a firm hand on the small of your back. He watches your finger jab and carve at the sand for a time. He doesn’t know what’s gotten under your skin and why you don’t want to tell him but he will wait. His fingers begin to trail up your spine.

The smells of salt and fish permeate the air. The waves lap haphazardly in their lazy dance against the shore. Wind is rustling through the fronds and trees. In the distance an ilu whistles to its rider.

“Do you want to go for a swim with me?” He finally looks at your, surveys you year stained face. “I’ve been wanting to practice diving and you’re better than me.”

You nod and straighten up. At least in the ocean he won’t see your tears. Neteyam loops his fingers through yours and begins to stomp through the oncoming waves. You squeeze his warm palm, feeling the scrape of his hard earned callouses.

Neteyam hasn’t known you for too long. Only just meeting you when his family arrived at the Metkayina’s doorstep. He’d caught your eager eyes studying him through the crowd of people gathering on the beach.

You lingered on the azure tint of his skin and the set of his eyes. While you’d known of the Na’vi you’d never met anyone from the jungles and forests. When it came time to teach the foreigners the way of water, you’d diligently set to helping Tsiyera.

The ocean rose up over your knees, salty water licking at your thighs. You school your lungs into sucking oxygen and your body dips forward. Neteyam dives in after you, limbs still a little unsure of the proper stroke. The sandy seabed brushes along your belly as you peel away from the shoreline. The sky is darkening but you can still get in a few dives.

Neteyam trails along by your side, struggling to match your speed. You peer over your shoulder and analyze his technique. You edge closer to him. Fingers and forearms touch occasionally.

You’d always thought he was boyishly cute but recently, his maturity has shown through. He’s more compassionate than you’d have thought and his dedication as a good friend has made you want him to mean something more.

Whether or not he feels the same way is unclear. But he doesn’t seem to mind being alone with. He did seek you out. Minutes ago he’d had his hand on your skin and you could still feel it’s phantom presence.

You’re still bothered. Wanting to cry, still crying. He can see in your downturned expression that you’re shaken. He shifts closer as subtly as he can manage. You slow down as a school of brightly scaled fish rush by. Neteyam’s knuckles brush against yours. He points to the surface. His face looking a little purple. He needs a breath.

The ascent is quick and before long your heads break the waves. Neteyam soaks up the oxygen and his skin returns to its normal shade of deep blue.

“Can I ask why you’re upset?” His arms swing through the water as he treads.

“Just… a little trouble at home. Don’t really wanna talk about it.”

Neteyam tilts his head kindly and nods. His hand catches yours mid tread and he yanks you closer. His arms wrap around you as you both sink. He nuzzled his nose into your cheek and plants a small kiss along the underlying bone.

When you lets you he’s kicking back to the surface so he can prepare for another dive.

“What was that supposed to mean?” You ask him.

“Haven’t you figured out already that I like you?”

“Oh-“ the thought was only a hope and a wish, nothing more than a fleeting longing. But you no longer feel like crying and Neteyam is already disappearing beneath the waves again.

Lo’ak: Confrontation

Your feet dip up and down with the roll of the water as your ilu coasts along the reef. You watch the stars glimmer in the sky. Their light so faint next to the reflection of Jupiter. The wind nips at you skin, skewing your angry tears all across the bridge of your nose and cheeks.

Tsiyera has been impeccably kind to you since you arrived. Helping you out with diving and swimming and other practices around the clan. The others, Aonung and Rotxo and even some of Tsiyera’s close friends, have been doing all they can to chase you out.

Your parents had been killed in the war with the humans. Trampled by the merciless machines and ruthless bastards. Neytiri had grown up alongside your mother, and was kind enough to assist Mo’at in raising you.

You and Lo’ak weren’t exactly best buds growing up. You fought all the time and his attitude always drove you crazy. But you’d become fond of each other in recent years. He talked your ear off the whole way to the Metkayina islands, venting all of his frustrations about his family and the move.

You still bickered on occasion and Lo’ak often said stupid things he didn’t mean. But now he’s made the effort to actually apologize. It’s because he likes you, or so Neteyam says.

The sound of an ilu breaking the surface a feet feet behind you disrupts your brooding. You smear away the tears and straighten up. When you turn to meet the intruder, Lo’ak beams.

“Thought I’d never find you! We’re just about to eat, you should come joi-have you been crying?” Lo’ak’s head tilts to the side as he glances over your face.

No sense in hiding it. Better to change the subject. So you nod, “Let’s go get dinner.”

“Wait,” Lo’ak scoots forward. You adjust the direction you ilu faces and dive. “Wait!”

Lo’ak, ungracefully, dips beneath the waves and trails along behind you. His ilu is faster and he gains ground quicker than you can run. His hand snags your elbow and jerks you upwards. Both ilus tilt to the sky and breach.

When you catch a breath you’re ready to chew him out. But the concern etched in his expression holds your tongue. He’s still clutching your elbow. “Why are you crying?”

“It’s nothing, Lo’ak. I swear.”

“If you’re out by yourself, crying, it can’t just be nothing.”

There’s something in his eyes that makes you wonder if Neteyam is right. Lo’ak brings you closer, grabbing onto your other arm. “You can’t tell me anything. I know I’m an ass sometimes but I don’t ever want you to be upset like this.”

“Just Aonung and his friends. Please don’t do anything stupid.”

“Someone has to stop them.”

“Just— won’t you stay with me for a while?”

Lo’ak freezes up. He wants to hear you ask again and if the situation were different he would tease you. But there are still tears threatening to spill down your sweet face. Killing the chief’s son can wait.

Your ilu squeals unhappily as Lo’ak pulls you closer. His arms wind around your shoulders and his forehead meets yours. His bright amber irises flicker left and right as he watches your reaction.

You reach for him, feeling the lean muscle of his torso under your arms as you leave his forehead and rest against his cheek. You can smell the salt in his hair from the hours in the water. The roughness of his palms against your back. His rapid heartbeat faint between the skins of your chests.

“Next time come to me first.” He whispers, squeezing your shoulders and pulling away. “This way justice can be dealt faster. Now let’s go before mom gets mad.”

Jake:

When you and Neytiri are assigned the job of educating Jake Sulley about the Na’vi, you aren’t happy. This dreamwalker is nothing but an imbecile that Neytiri should have shot when she found him.

But over the weeks of his company, you find the charm in his ruggedness. Jake is rough around the edges. It’s pretty obvious. But he likes to please. For him, learning your ways isn’t a mission anymore. It’s his purpose.

Not because he wants to see your people moved. But because he wants to see you happy. He watches your face light up whenever he gets something right. The smile that spreads across your face brings him some clarity.

Once he realizes he’s competing smitten, he decides he can’t hide it anymore. He needs to tell the clan about what’s coming.

You’re heartbroken to say the least. He lied to you. He’d been lying to you for months. The image of your eyes glazing over with tears is burned into the synapses of his brain. It nearly kills him when you turn away and run.

It’s one disaster after another. He’s kicked out and tied up. The home tree is burned. The people perish. And then it’s all over. He defeats the unites the clans and defeats the sky people. But it all happens so fast.

Your mind whirs. You crawl along the thick vines the link the floating mountains. Seeking a little refuge and peace of mind. An ikran screeches in the distance. You slip into the trees. The ikran call is louder, closer. There’s the familiar WHOOSH of strong wings beating against the air. Jake’s echoes through the foliage. The ikran lands on the vines, squawking and squealing as Jake dismounts.

You hardly been able to speak to Jake since the war. You’re just so jarred with everything and you don’t know what to do. You sought solitude through hunting, giving to your people whatever you brought back. Your ikran had been killed in the war, shot out of the sky.

You remember the fall. The winding swallowing you up as you careened towards the jungle. Another hunter had snagged you. The force of the catch dislocating your shoulders when the talons of the ikran closed around your arms. The pain felt through the bond still resonated in your nerves. You were forced out of the fight.

Looking at Jake now, as he turns to the thicket you’re hiding in, makes the memories come back. The tears come without warning. Choking your throat and stinging your skin.

Jake knows right where you are. He hears the sniffling and choking. His hearts breaks a little more. This is his fault. He’s turned your life upside down and he doesn’t know if he can ever make it right.

“Please, come out.” Jake finds a lump in his throat. “I—“

Can’t go on without you.

Can’t breathe without out you.

You emerge from the bushes, helplessly restraining tears. Jake takes you in his arms, squeezing you so tight.

“Come for a ride with me?” He knows now is not the time to try and smooth things over. You’re too hurt and he doesn’t want to dig. “Just for a bit.”

You bury your face in the crook of his neck. His voice rumbles against your cheek. You nod and allow him to pull you towards the ikran.

The ride is quiet, you sit behind him and rest on his shoulder. His heartbeat thunders in your ear, calming your own and the tears stop all on their own.

[forestshadow-wolf]

Part 1 || Part 2

Cw: (slight) drinkin/ smoking/avoidance as coping mechanisms, slight angst

it was odd to see soap walking to the table 30 minutes before breakfast ended.

usually he was first in-first out, his 'hawk perfectly gelled to stay right where he put it. not today.

not today when soap slumped down in his seat, almost too late to grab up a tray of cold eggs and sausage. not today when soap's hair flopped into a dishevled strip of hair on the top of his head, and it looked like he wanted to throw up the moment the tiniest morsel of food touched his tongue.

Almost everyone had already fucked off to start on their daily obligations by now. Ghost should have been gone by now as well, but he'd gotten worried when soap hadn't shown up. Breakfast was the most important meal of the day, to quote a certain scot.

To be fair Ghost couldn't say he'd be in the best of spirits if he drank half the night away with a bottle of scotch that he smuggled onto base. And he didn't even know what to think about why he'd felt the need to.

Soap wouldn't even look up at him, even when he nudged his foot with the toe of his boot. Ghost couldn't tell whether it was the hangover, or if he was embarrassed about the night before, or from the news that lead him to drinking last night. He barely even poked at his food, didn't touch his full cup of rapidly cooling coffee, either.

"Sergent."

All he got in return was a disgruntled sound, and a vauge wince from the man. He stabbed a piece of egg and pushed it into the corner of his tray.

"Soap"

Soap huffed an almost pained breath.

"What?" He rasped.

Ghost held the silence, letting it speak for itself. Soap huffed another irritated breath.

"I don't want ta talk about it."

Ghost frowned. "Johnny."

"Fine! what?! what do you want me to say, Ghost?" Soap, snapped at him with a wince. that surprised Ghost, he doesn't think he's ever had soap snap at him like that in all the years he's known him. "I said we can forget last night never happened, why can't you just accept that?"

"you remember that?" it was honestly impressive, drinking most of a bottle of scotch alone and still remembering the night? that's not something Ghost can do.

"'course I remember." he grumbled bitterly, "and I said to forget it."

"right, because that's so healthy, is it?" ghost rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, and you're the epitome of health." Soap snapped harshly.

Ghost chose to let that be the end of it. For now. Soap was in a shit mood, and he was more than likely hungover, and it sounded like he was having some issues.

The remaining time of breakfast rolled past quickly, and it was like a switch had flipped, how fast Soap became that image of perfection. next thing Ghost knew, the scot was striding away to take care of morning recruits.

he didn't see soap for the rest of the day. or that evening. in fact, he really only saw soap again when he was heading out for a late night smoke while he was taking a break from his giant load of paperwork. he was sitting on the ground outside, leaning against the wall next to the door.

"I'm not gonna have to drag you back to your bed again, am I?" he said, rolling up his mask, and sticking a cigarette between his lips.

"nah. not this this time." Soap, huffed a humorless laugh, taking a sip of amber liquid. but there was no bottle in sight, that was a good sign. but he did have a lit cigarette of his own between his fingers.

"you know, you really shouldn't smoke."

that elicited a scoff from the man beside him.

"it's bad for your lungs."

that made a deep chuckle escape the man, and Simon had to tamp down the shiver that went down his spine. they lapsed into silence lone enough for them to both finish their lights.

"you really should talk about it, you know. doesn't have to be with me, but..." he lit up another cigarette, offering the pack to Johnny as well.

"I'm fine." he said, the words short and clipped, as he took his own cigarette.

"you just seemed really torn up about it, that's all." he said.

Johnny let out a long breath of smoke, "It's all just... fucked." he sighed. "And I don't know what to do."

Simon stays quiet, letting Johnny think through his words.

"I want to go see him before he... ya'know, I think I have to, really. I don't know- it's just... I don't know." his words seemed to die on him, and Simon watched him lose steam.

"Last time you saw him, wasn't on the best terms." he finished for him.

"yeah." he whispered, polishing off the last of his drink and setting the glass to the side.

"I think you should go. if that's anything to you." Simon offered, blowing out a puff of smoke.

Johnny was quiet for a moment, "I know. I just... I'm scared, truthfully." he said quietly. "what if it goes wrong, and he doesn't want to see me, or- or he tells me he still hates me, and that it should be me that's dying and not him." he looked down at his hands.

"what if he doesn't though? what if he tells you he loves you. that he made a mistake. what if you get closure?"

"isn't that worse, though? to finally be accepted by him, only to lose him again?"

Simon shrugged, "you tell me."

they were quiet for a long time then, letting soap think about it. "what if I don't want to go alone?"

"all you gotta do is ask." he said, snubbing out his cigarette butt and walking back inside, he still had paperwork to finish.

[denaliwrites]

Who Are You Supposed To Be, Criss Angel?

Peter Vincent x Fem!Reader

Summary: (18+) Reader does Peter's eyeliner because he's too hungover to do it himself. Or so he says, anyway.

Warnings: Peter Vincent's idea of flirting is... it's not fucked up, necessarily? But it's... it's somethin'. Also, Smut Lite. Diet Smut, if you will. Definitely smutty language, at least. And use of Bitch as a term of endearment.

Requests: Open!

"Oi, watch it!" Peter growled, glaring up at you through heavily lidded, hazy eyes.

You hadn't even started yet.

"Shut up, you child," you hissed back, snatching his glass of Midori and taking a shot-sized swill before he had the chance to take it back. "I haven't touched you yet!"

He grumbled into his drink, taking a drag even bigger than your own. "I just know," he started, pointing a warning finger your way, "by the way you're holding that pen, that you're gonna poke my eye out."

"If you don't shut up and let me do my work, it'll be on purpose," you shot back, your glare withering. He shrank back with another bout of grumbles. "That's what I thought, you little shit."

He took a remarkably reasonably-sized sip of his drink before you began manhandling him, his lips pouting as you roughly tilted his head straight and up for a better angle. "Move and I'll stab you," you warned him.

"Fuck, fine," he growled back, settling to the best of his abilities. It wasn't perfectly still, he wasn't the kind of man who could ever be that still, but it was enough for you to get his eyeliner on at the very least.

"There," you finally stated triumphantly, grabbing the hand mirror from behind you and holding it up for him to see.

"You really think this is enough?" he asked, annoyed.

"What, you want more!?"

"Of course I want more!" You could tell he was simultaneously not really angry with you, while also trying not to yell -- mostly for effect. He was dramatic like that.

You rolled your eyes with a groan, only for those eyes to zero in on him as he grabbed you roughly by the hips and pulled you into his lap. You went down with a yelp, barely managing to arrange yourself so that you were straddling him.

"What the hell, Vincent?" you asked with a pointed shove against his chest.

"Oi, don't act like this isn't your favorite place to be," he growled, the sound grinding out of his chest and sounding remarkably different from his earlier growls. His knee bucked up, sending a pulse of electric pleasure up your spine.

"Fuck you," you whimpered in weak protest.

His teeth connected over your clothed breast, delicately squeezing in just the right spot. A hand trailed up to your unattended breast, greedily palming the whole thing.

"Vincent, I can't --" you gasped, body all but melting into him as his knee jolted again. "I can't... do your makeup like this."

"Just a quick fuck." And though his tone was casual, annoyed even, you knew him well enough to know when he was begging.

You felt a thrill travel up your spine, this time with the knowledge that you had such delicious power over him. "No."

He pulled back immediately. It wasn't in anger or frustration, though.

Peter Vincent was many things, an asshole was one of them. But he cared about consent, and he cared about you, though he had a funny way of showing it sometimes.

"I will wreck that pussy," he declared good-naturedly as he settled back into his previous position, stilling like a good boy for you.

"Don't flatter yourself," you told him with a smirk. "You can't even find my clit."

"Oh, so I wasn't just jamming my knee up against it a minute ago? What was I doing, then, bitch? What was I hitting, darling, your spleen?"

You bit your lip in annoyance, and instead of answering him, you set back to work on his eyeliner. The rest of the time passed in companionable silence, to the point where you almost thought he'd fallen asleep.

"There," you finally exclaimed, standing up and grabbing the mirror. When he looked into it, he looked satisfied. Proud, even.

"That's the shit, baby!" He moved to a stand, pulling you into a passionate kiss. And then he was walking away, smacking your ass as he passed.

"Wait, come back!" you called after him.

Peter Vincent would say, of course, that he was beholden to no woman. That he wasn't whipped. But like a dog, he came when he was called. "What is it?" he asked with a roll of his eyes.

"Who are you supposed to be?" you asked in amusement, delicately smudging his eyeliner. "Criss Angel?"

You'd never seen him look so offended. It was delicious.

"Twiggy little emo prince. Go do your little vampire show," you teased. "Your Twilight fanfic."

"I -- you little --"

"It's cute, you know. That you pretend to be this badass vampire hunter, when you can't even track down the female orgasm. Like it's hard or something!"

"Bitch." he whined, and it was maybe the sexiest sound he'd made all day.

[13as07]

Sweet Girl #1

(Shikaku Nara Smut)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to Sadakiyo]

Requested by: My hormones

Word Count: 4,324

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Cheating

Name Calling: Sweet Girl, Commander, Cock Sleeve, Leftovers, Fuck Boy

A like 20 year ago gap (boyfriend's dad)

Voyeur (watching others having s*x)

Unknowingly being watched during s*x

Emotional manipulation (technically, but meh)

Titty/Nipple Playing

Degrading

Praising

Fingering/Oral (Female receiving)

Overstimulation

Pleasure Kink (cause I fully believe Nara mean live to serve their lovers)

Choking

Manhandling

Creampie

Begging

Part two? ;)

———————————————————————

"Shika!" I call, tugging the key to his and his father's apartment out of the lock. After the loss of Shika's mother during the war, they downsized to a two-bedroom apartment and gave me a key so I could come and go as I pleased.

"Shika!" I call again, hanging my purse on the rack next to the door. "I'm home early!" I continue, straightening my sundress. It's Shikamaru's favorite, a loose-fitted muddy green dress, with the skirt coming down to my mid-thigh. "My mission ended early," I start explaining, walking through the combined living and kitchen area, beelining toward the bedrooms.

Shikamaru's door is closed, which sticks in my mind a bit. The only time I've ever seen his door closed is when he's... well... taking advantage of the easy excess my sundresses give him. "Shika?" I call softly, knocking on the door as I turn the handle.

As I push the door open, his radio blaring music is the first thing that filters out. The second thing that filters out is the mix of Shika's routine praises and the moans of someone who isn't him and sure as hell isn't me.

My heart drops when the door finishes swinging open. Shika stands facing his headboard, deep bruises decorating his back and neck, his hair loose and flopping in turn with his thrusts. The girl in front of him is arched in doggy style, the top of her blonde hair poking out over his shoulder. What the hell? Who the hell?

My breath picks up as my heart shatters to pieces, the shards of it feeling like they're stabbing into my chest. My breath hicks as I watch the scene in front of me, tears threatening to spill out. "Wh... what are..." my voice is stuck in my throat, refusing to spill out unlike the water leaking from my eyes. The sound of the girl calling for my boyfriend, asking him to go faster, and him praising her only makes my tears storm out faster.

"Hello, Sweet Girl," a voice echoes in my ear, sending fear and more sadness down my spine. The nickname gives way to who it is. It's Shikaku, my boyfriend's dad, my future father-in-law... who was going to be my father-in-law.

Shikaku has always had the habit of calling me 'sweet girl', the name being a sort of praise every time I do something for the household; Cleaning the dishes, making them dinner, helping them pack for their missions. Every helpful task has been followed by a "What a sweet girl the clan has gained," or a "Lord, Shika, how'd you manage to catch such a sweet girl".

"Commander Nara," I whimper, voice still soft and broken because my eyes refuse to pull away from Shikamaru's infidelity.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm sorry, Sweet Girl," he hums in my ear, his hands sliding around my body, wrapping me up in his embrace. "I am so sorry. I raised my son better than this."

"It's not your fault," I sob, my tears finally blurring my sight enough that I can no longer make out the scene in front of me.

"I know, but still. I tried raising Shikamaru with a sense of respect, a sense of honor, a sense of loyalty. I'm so sorry that he didn't turn out that way," Shikaku whispers in my ear, the sound of his son's name pulling another sob from my lungs. "Hush, hush, hush," he coos, rubbing circles into my stomach, his fingertips clinging to the material of my dress.

The feeling of his fingers toying with me makes me tingle, both in good and bad ways. Shikamaru's father shouldn't be sparking these feelings, shouldn't be making me tingle in the areas he is. But... on the other hand... Shika shouldn't be fucking someone that's not me, and he is. Right in front of my eyes... so if Shikaku and me...

No! How could I even think about that? He's Shikamaru's dad! I've known the man my whole life. How could I think of Shikaku in that way? How could I miss read him comforting me in such a way?

"Let me apologize on Shikamaru's behalf," he husks in my ear, his hands sliding up to cup my breasts.

     Okay, maybe I'm not as perverted as I thought I was. "C... Commander?" I ask, my breath already picking up.

     "Sweet Girl?" He purrs, his tongue softly coating the shell of my ear. Shikaku's hands grip my chest as he slowly makes them in circles. His fingers are rough, tempting bruises to form on my boobs. "Please let me apologize. It's the least I can do for raising such a disloyal brat."

     "Commander?" I race out, using the name to push down my moan.

     "Damn it, Sweet Girl," he groans, using his hold on my tits to push me against his growing bulge. "Keep saying my title like that. Keep calling me in that breathy tone. You're going to drive me crazy. Drive me crazy, Sweet Girl."

     "Commander?" I call again, trying to keep my tone as even as possible. "We really... we shouldn't... You shouldn't... Shikaku?"

     "I shouldn't what? Fuck my son's girlfriend? Why shouldn't I?" He taunts, his hands releasing my chest to crawl down my body. His fingers slide over my knees, gripping the hem of my dress before he tugs it up. His hands and the end of my dress rest against the band of my panties, making me tingle even more.

     "Look at him," Shikaku orders, using his chin to shift my sights back towards his son still thrusting into the blonde bitch on his bed. "Do you think he gives a shit about you right now? Do you think he's thinking of you as he fucks that blonde girl? No, he doesn't. You're the last thing on his mind."

     "Commander," I whimper, fresh tears starting to flow down my cheeks.

     "Hey, hey, hey," he hums, pressing kisses behind my ear as his fingers toy with the waistband of my underwear. "I'm sorry, my Sweet Girl. That was mean of me. All I'm saying is that I'm here, I'm thinking of you. Let me enjoy you, Sweet Girl."

     "You... you're just... you're just going to use this as... as a less for Shikamaru," I whimper, the sounds a mix of his fingers toying with me and my sadness.

     "No, I won't. This is all about you. Let me apologize to you," he hums, hands tightening around my hips to tug me down the hallway. Shikaku's lips brush against my neck in time to his fingertips teasing me, poking under my band, and sliding across new skin before pulling back up.

"Commander," I moan out, the feeling of him everywhere setting my nerves on fire. He lets a hum out, hands falling down my panties, poking at my hole. "C... C... Comman... Commander," I stumble out, snapping my knees together.

Shikaku lets out a chuckle, his fingertip ringing around my entrance as his free hand messes with his bedroom door. "Sweet Girl? When's the last time you were fucked? Hmm? When was the last time Shikamaru paid your pussy any attention?"

     "I... um... I don't..." The answer sticks in my throat, my mind going fuzzy with lust because of the finger toying with the edges of my hole and Shikaku gently guiding me toward his bed. "La... last month... I... I think."

     "Aww, you poor thing. A whole month without any release? My poor, Sweet Girl," he coos as my knees bump into his mattress. His fingertip dips into me, no further than the first knuckle as he gently stretches me out. "Lay down. Spread yourself nice and wide for me."

     "Yes, Commander," I mutter, my words coming out hazy. I do as I'm told, curling up on all fours on top of the bed before I crawl up his bedsheets.

     Shikaku's hands slide down my hips, tapping my ass before letting me go. "What a Sweet Girl. How did the Naras get so lucky?" He praises, the feeling of his eyes bouncing over me as I move.

     My pussy aches the soft touching and coos getting to me. Slowly I roll over, my head propped on the chief's pillows as I let my legs fall open. "No, no, no. Wider, Sweet Girl," he orders, his calloused hands clinging to my knees and spreading them apart. "Look at that," Shikaku says, his voice soft as he shoves the skirt of my dress up. "Lacey panties. I bet your bra matches, huh? What a wasteful son I raised."

     His head dips down, pressing kisses into my inner thighs. The whole time his eyes stay locked on me, intense and slit as he reads my reactions. "H... h... hey," I moan out, the word broken up in my throat as it bubbles out. "What are... Commander?"

     "Sweet Girl?" He whispers against my core, his tongue slithering out to run across the material already starting to get soaked by my arousal. Shikaku lets out a hum of approval, eyes rolling back as he enjoys sucking on the mess I've made in my underwear. "You really are a Sweet Girl, huh? You taste so sweet. How could Shikamaru waste something so tasty out?"

     His fingertips slide under the middle of my panties, slowly pulling them down my legs. "God damn," he groans, eyes locked on my pussy as he moves my legs apart again. "Is there anything about you that isn't sweet?"

     Shikaku's head ducks between my head again, nuzzling against my thigh for a second. "What the hell are you doing?" I yelp, the feeling of something wet and warm pressed against me.

     His head tips up, eyebrows scrunched together as he looks at me in confusion. "I'm... going to eat you out, Sweet Girl. Have you not... Has Shikamaru never gone down on you?"

     "Um... no..." I whisper, embarrassment crawling across my face as I look around his room.

     "What the hell," he mutters, wrapping his arms under my knees before tugging me closer to his face. "I can't apologize enough, Sweet Girl. I've always told Shika that a woman's pleasure is more important than ours. I knew he was lazy, I didn't think he was that lazy," Shikaku murmurs the last part, dipping his head between my thighs again.

     His tongue slides through my folds again, pulling a long moan from my lungs. A sharp whisper cuts through when Shikaku's tongue slithers across my clit. "There it is," he murmurs to himself, full focus on my nerve bundle. The Commander laps at me, tongue flat and slow as he runs over the same spot over and over again.

     "Hey," I whine again, hands shooting down to cling to the ends of his ponytail. His eyes bounce up again, locked on my face, taking in my face I'm sure is a mess. "Shikaku," I call, tugging in his hair as my thighs clamp around his face, squishing his cheeks.

     He pulls back for a second, spilling a chilled breath over my slick as he catches his breath. The air sends shivers up my spine, making me squeeze his face harder. "Come on, Sweet Girl. I want you to finish for me. Again and again and again," he mutters, tongue slamming into my hole.

     "Fuck!" I yelp, back arching as I tug on his hair again. "Commander," I groan, the feeling of his tongue sliding in and out of me pushing my orgasm forward. The man chuckles at me, tongue jumping up to my clit again.

     Shikaku's fingers skirt over my thigh, quickly walking their way back up to my hole. Soon his fingertips are ghosting over my rim again, gently tugging on it to continue stretching me out. Two fingers dip into me, slowly sliding against my walls before they're as far in as they can go.

     An almost purring moan, tumbled around my throat, my closed mouth not letting the sound out. "Don't do that, Sweet Girl. I want to hear those noises. They let me know I'm doing a good job. Let me know I'm doing a good job."

     With the soft order, my mouth falls open, all my noises spilling out as Shikaku's tongue and fingers work in time with each other. "Shikaku," I hiss, my fingers starting to hurt from pulling his ponytail so hard. "Shikaku!" I repeat louder this time, the feeling of my cum gushing out and costing my thighs in my juices.

     Soft chuckles fall from the man, fingers slowing down but still thrusting in and out of me. His tongue falls away from my clit too, busying myself slurping up my mess from my folds, and my thighs. "I'm so sorry again, Sweet Girl. You deserve this treatment all the time. You're so pretty glistening like this, you taste so sweet. I could just eat you all day."

     "Than... thank you... but, Commander... I..."

     "Oh, I know, Sweet Girl. You're all worked up and sensitive, but your legs look so cute shaking because of me," he coos, nibbling at my thighs before his tongue slides over my clit again.

     "Commander," I whine, my voice pitched high. "You're... I'm... Shikaku!"

     "Sweet Girl?" He calls back, fingers picking up their speed again.

     "Ah, ah, ah," the chipped moans chirp out, the sound on repeat as my next orgasm builds up quicker than the first.

     Shikaku looks amazed with himself, the bottom half of his face dripping in the juices as his eyes jump around my body. "I want to see your titties, Sweet Girl," he tells me, laying out a flattened lick to my pussy in between each word.

     "Yes... yes, Commander," I mutter, dropping my hold on his hair long enough to tug the top of my dress down. The material settles under my boobs, the lack of a bra being a good plan today.

     "Damn, Sweet Girl. You drive me crazy," he groans, eyes snapping closed for a moment before snapping again. His dark eyes lock on my boobs, rolling over them, following their movement as I come undone on his tongue again.

     Another round of chuckles rings through the room, Shikaku's cockiness growing with every orgasm he pulls out of me. “My pretty, beautiful, Sweet Girl,” he mumbles, dipping his head again.

“Wait,” I whine, trying to push his head away. “I can’t.”

“Yes you can, I know you can. One more and I’ll let you rest. Sweet Girl, can you cum for me one more time? Just one more,” he encourages, tongue poking at my hole.

“Just… just one more,” I babble, letting my head lull to the side. “Fuck,” I cry when his tongue slides over my clit again, the pleasure quickly chased by sparks of pain.

“Don’t cry. Just breathe, in and out, deep and slow,” Shikaku walks me through, fingers sliding back into place as his tongue crickets my clit, the pain daring to outweigh my pleasure.

I repeat his words in my head, trying to model my breathing how I was ordered. The more he licks at me, the harder it is to keep control of my lungs. “Please?” I whine, knotting my hands in his hair again, trying to tug his mouth off of me. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. I know you can. You can do it, Sweet Girl. Cum for me again, please?” Another round of jagged moans stick in my throat, struggling to come out.

Shikaku’s words roll around my head and his watchful eyes scanning me push me over the edge again. The pain of the overuse is twisted in with the pleasure of my third undoing, the unknown of whether it’s pain or pleasure coated in my whines that spill out alongside my cum.

“See? I know you could do it. You did such a good job. You’re so good for your Commander,” Shikaku coos, sitting on his knees before tugging his shirt off. “You’re doing great, amazing. You’re perfect. I’m so proud of you,” he tells me, the praises flowing out as he uses his shirt to gently pat at the mess in my thighs.

My watery eyes jump over the older man, sliding over the scars on his face before jumping down to his chest. His knotted undershirt clings to him, making my pussy pulse with more needs. “See? It’s not that bad,” he continues to soothe, throwing his shirt to the ground before leaning over me.

Shikaku rubs his nose against mine, hands clinging to my dress as he lightly rolls it off of me. “You are gorgeous. The most beautiful diamond in the world.” Compliments continue to spill for the older man as he coats my neck in kisses, hands pawing at different parts of my body. “You deserve admiration, praise, attention,” he mutters, sloppy kisses tumbling down to my breasts.

His hands scoop up my boobs, squeezing and toying with them like he did earlier. “Is that what you want, Sweet girl?” His thumbs ghost over my nipples, rubbing circles into them to encourage them to perk up. “Do you want me to continue to admire your body? Continue to praise you? Continue to give you the attention you deserve?”

Now that my nipples are perky, Shikaku holds them between his fingers, pinching down on them. “Come on, Sweet Girl. Please answer your Commander.”

“Ye - ow,” I whine, mellow pain echoing through my chest as Shikaku pinches harder. His eyes are trapped in my boobs, watching as he tugs on them, pulling my breasts toward himself. As he pulls, his hold starts to slip before giving way, my boobs jiggling as they fall back in place. “Commander,” I whine again, arching my back as his pinches return. “That hurts.”

“You’re fine, Sweet Girl,” he hums, tugging until his hold gives out again. “You’ve been driving me crazy the past couple of months. Do you know that?”

“No,” I whimper, trying to arch more and take away some of the pain blooming through my chest.

“You have been. All those short pretty dresses you wear. Walking around my house with no bra and your nipples poking through your shirt. Listening to those pathetic whimpers Shikamaru pulls from you. God damn, Sweet Girl,” he grumbles, twisting my nipples now instead of tugging on them.

“Ow, ow, ow,” I whimper, wrapping my hands around his wrists and tugging on them.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, that was a little much, wasn’t it? I’m sorry, my Sweet Girl,” Shikaku coos, hands soft and massaging my boobs as he litters them in kisses. “Sweet Girl?”

“Yes?” I slur out, my head shifting back and forth as I soak in his soft touches.

“Please let me fuck you. Let me enjoy you, let me worship your body like it’s supposed to be worshipped,” he whispers into my skin, his kisses trailing back up my body.

“Oh… okay… okay, Commander,” I murmur, the feeling of his hands snaking down my body setting my skin on fire again.

“Thank you, Sweet Girl,” he whispers in my ear, his hands leaving me kind enough to finish undressing himself. “You’re so good to me, so good to us. That’s why you deserve this, you hear me? You deserve to be cared for in the ways you care for my household.”

“I do?” I mutter, my eyes flickering down to Shikaku’s length. My cheeks flush at the sight, the man easily being the biggest of the two men I’ll have taken in my life.

“You do,” he hums out, leaning over me as his hands slide across the bed. “Lift your hips for me, please.”

Again, I fall into obedience, lifting my hips. Shikaku slides a pillow under me, adjusting it before pushing on my stomach until I lay on top of it. “You are a beautiful woman,” he mutters, a hand fluttering over my hips as the other lightly rests on my neck, the pad of his fingers dipped into the sides of my throat. “You’re so young, so pretty, and I get to enjoy all of it. The sweet taste of your pussy, your tight little cunt milking my cock, your soft skin, the fruity perfume you were.”

Shikaku slowly sinks himself into me, taking his time feeling me wrap around every inch of him. A deep moan rumbles out of him, his balk sack tapping against me once he’s bottomed out. “You are the perfect little cock sleeve,” he mutters against the shell of my ear, brushing kisses against it as he tugs himself back out to me.

He never pulls fully out, leaving his tip dipped in me as his thrusts keep their slow rhythm. “Commander?” I whine, wrapping my arms under his, my nails clinging to his shoulder blades.

“Ya? What is it, Sweet Girl? What can I do to make you feel good?”

“Move faster. Please?” I ask, dragging out the last word. Shikaku gives me what I want, his speed picking up. “Fuck,” I hiss, nails digging into his back as he fucks me into the mattress, the bed squeaking because of his pace. “Shikaku!”

“Sweet Girl,” he huffs out, lips roughly pressed across my face. The pillow arching my hips up makes it easy for the Commander to reach parts of me never touched, and I’m sure the bodies spilling from me let him know. “Hold… hold on,” he mutters, tugging out of me.

I let out a disappointed whine, being left empty upsetting me. I want him back in me, I want him to touch more new parts of me.

Shikaku uses his grip on my throat to manhandle me, his hand tightening around my neck. I’m tugged around, the two of us being repositioned. He settles underneath me, my knees resting next to his thighs, my back arched and shoulders pressed to his chest. Commander’s hand slides up my neck tipping my head back so it’s pressed to his shoulder.

“Look how pretty you are,” he praises, lips brushing against my temple and his free hand shoving my hips down roughly.

“Shikaku!” I yell the sudden fullness pulls his name and a whimper from my lips.

“Oh, oh, oh,” he hums, bouncing me on his dick as his lips slide across my jaw.

“Dad?” A voice calls from the doorway, tugging Shikaku’s attention from me.

His hand jumps up, wrapping around my eyes, and keeping my head pressed to his shoulder. “Shikamaru,” the Commander answers, his pace picking me up, causing my titties to bounce to the beat of his thrusts.

“What… what the hell are you doing? Tell me you’re kidding. You… you’re not… that’s my fucking girlfriend!” Shikamaru’s voice rings out, distress and anger coating his words.

“Ya and?” Shikaku mutters, his lips present on my body again, littering my neck in kisses.

“‘Ya and’? ‘Ya and’? You’re balls deep in my God damn girlfriend! What the fuck, Dad?”

“Why do you care?” He asks, nibbling on my shoulder. “You were just in some girl’s sandbox, what? Twenty? Thirty minutes ago? Why the hell do you care if I’m fucking my Sweet Girl? Do you care?” He asks, shaking his shoulder to get my attention.

“What?” I whimper, Shikaku’s nimble fingers newly drawing circles against my clit making it difficult to focus.

“Are you upset I’m fucking you? Do you want me to stop?” He asks, his thrusts stopping with his dick still buried deep in me.

“What?! No! Please don’t. Commander, please, please don’t!” I cry, wiggling in his hold to bounce myself on his penis. “Shikaku, please.”

The vibrations of his chuckles run across my back, his laughter followed by him thrusting into me again. “The fuck are you upset about, Shikamaru? You were just cheating, fucking Temari as ‘your girl’ was away serving our village. ‘Your girl’ that you never gave head to. I raised you better than that. I raised you to be a loyal partner, to serve your lady, to be a good man, and now what? You just go around pretending to be some kind of fuck boy?”

“Dad, it’s not… that’s not… so what if I did? That doesn’t give you the right to fuck my girlfriend!”

“Last time I checked, she’s an adult, and I am an adult. She wants it, I want it, seems like I have every right to fuck her.”

“You know what, whatever Dad. Fuck my leftovers, I don’t give a shit.”

“Stay right fucking there,” Shikaku grumbles, his thrusts losing their pace as the order spills out.

“I’m not going to watch you - ”

“Fine, leave. See how quickly I strip you of your Shinobi rank,” Shikaku says, cutting his son off as his huff for air fills my ears, the air tickling me as he breathes.

“You can’t do that!”

“Ya, I can. How the hell is the village supposed to trust someone who can’t even stay loyal to his girl? How am I supposed to know you won’t betray the village when you’ll betray her?”

The two fall quiet, the sound of my noises and Shikaku’s breathing being the only sound in the room. “Fuck,” Shikaku groans, slamming me down on him once more. “That’s it, Sweets. Milk my cock, take all my cum. Thank me for it, thank me for cumming in you.”

“Thank you. Thank you, Commander,” I murmur, my hands moving up to cling to his wrist.

“Thank you for what? What are you thankful for?”

“Thank you for cumming in me. Thank you so much, Commander. Please… please do it again. Pretty please, Shikaku?” I beg, rotating my hips, trying to perk his dick up again.

“Fuck you. Fuck both of you,” Shikamaru says, his words shaky and broken before the sound of the door slamming fills the room.

Shikaku’s laughter roars out again, his lips coating my sweat-covered body, eagerly cleaning up the salty water from my skin. “What a Sweet Girl. Sweet, Sweet Girl.”

———————————————————————

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[hongjoongscafe]

I noticed bitch hours were open and thought I'd ask if you could do one for hwa 🤭🤭 recently my brain has been just absolutely melting for soft dom hwa with a size kink (both reader + hwa) and praise kink (giving+ maybe receiving? idk go nuts author wldjpdhdlsj) in an established relationship (say what you want but established relationship best trope ever 😍😍😍😍) I absolutely love your writing btw ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ tysmmmmmmmmm

Hello! Thank you for sending in your request! I appreciate it so much. I agree! Established relationships are so cute and promising 🥹 Also, thank you for such sweet words🥰🥰. They mean a lot to me. Love you too!💓💓 I'm sorry if this is not that good. I tried.🥺

3 AM

Bitch hours

Pairing: Seonghwaxreader

Warning: established relationship, praise kink, size kink, unprotected sex, cream pie. (Did I write soft dom Hwa or did I not? I am kinda confused with my own writing.)

...

You spent the whole night at your boyfriend's place after coming back from the weekly dates. You weren't planning on staying but his clinginess and cuteness made you stay.

Although you had some of your clothes in his closet, he always made you wear his t-shirt. You were not complaining. The scent on his t-shirt calmed your nerves and you fell asleep easily.

You had your toothbrush in his bathroom, pair of slippers, and basically everything you need from underwear to make-up. If someone sees his house, they might think that you two are living together.

It was three in the morning and you woke up. Seonghwa was a big spoon and you almost disappeared in his embrace. Being the short person that you were, it was only a perk. You enjoyed getting disappeared in his embrace.

Your mind was fresh and active when you felt something poking your thigh. Knowing fully well what it was, you moved a little lower and aimed your ass at his hard cock. Grinding back and forth against his cock made Seonghwa moan in a sleepy, deep voice that sent shivers down your spine and your pussy.

Getting worked up, you slipped your hand in your panties and inched towards your clit all while grinding your ass on his cock.

But before you could even start, the hand that was draped on your waist held your wrist and pulled out. “Being a bad girl? Hm?” his morning voice made you clench around nothing, thighs rubbed against each other. “We are supposed to have a good girl, no?”

“Mm,” you whined. “Hwa…” you whispered.

“Yeah?” he made you lay on your back and got on top. “Wanna be my good girl, baby?”

“Yes,” you said without any hesitation.

“Good girl,” his nose was tracing on your cheek as his hands slid under your t-shirt and grabbed your boobs. He rolled your perky nipples between his thumb and finger.

He finally captured your awaiting mouth with his. His lips felt hot against yours. Lips lapping over in a hungry need.

Seonghwa removed your panties and held your thighs apart. “Remove your t-shirt,” he commanded.

While you were removing your t-shirt, Seonghwa licked a long strip on your greedy cunt. “Fuck,” you moaned and looked down after throwing the cloth somewhere. He was looking up at you with a smirk.

He then went straight into stuffing his face with your pussy. His nose stroked your swollen clit as his long tongue slipped its way into your dripping cunt.

“Hwa,” you whined. “Tongue so long!” your thighs trembled.

He giggled on your pussy making it drip more. His unholy looks made you want to get kicked all day long. Your hands stabbed his hair and tried to get him off of your throbbing cunt.

“Need you in me,” your breath was uneven.

“Hmm?” he slipped his fingers into your pussy to prepare it for his massive cock.

“Please, I need your big cock in me,” you panted.

“Such a sweet girl. Always asks nicely, don’t you?” He hummed and hovered over you.

He pulled his fingers out and removed his boxers with the clean hand. He used his slick covered fingers to jerk his cock and spread your wetness all over it.

Your eyes bulged out seeing his long and thick length. He was that big boy that SZA was singing about for sure. But the difference was that he was a fucking man. A big bulky man.

“Look at your tiny little pussy,” he pouted. “Will she be able to take my cock?”

You whined as his cock head touched your clit. He rubbed his cock up and down your cunt to get more of your essence on his cock.

“I’m so surprised that this little pussy can leak so much,” he pushed his cock in your tiny hole. “Fuck,” he groaned. “No matter what I do, your cunt is always so tiny and tight,” he grabbed your breast and squeezed it.

Your head rolled back, his body hovered over yours. He panted and groaned seeing your tiny figure already fucked under him. “More,” you moaned.

“Whatever my girl wants,” his hips thrusted forward hard, making you moan loudly.

“So big,” Seonghwa’s cock twitched inside you. He held your hips and picked his pace with every thrust. The sound of skin slapping, squelching, moans and heavy breathing was all so lewd.

“Yeah? Your tiny pussy likes to get filled up, huh? Look at you all tiny under me,” your cunt clenched around his cock and your moans grew hoars.

“Hwa,” your hands grabbed his arms and dug your nails into his skin. With each and every thrust, his cock brushed the sensitive spongy spot just perfectly hard to make you tremble and arch your back.

His big veiny hands were holding your hips down. You could feel him in your guts. Seonghwa knew you were closer to your climax as your pussy kept throbbing and clenching hard.

To help you with your high, he moved his hand lower and furiously rubbed your clit. “Fuck! I’m cumming nngh–”

His pace got even faster and harder, “be a good girl and cum on my cock. Fucking cream it good,” he groaned.

Within a few, your eyes rolled back, toes curled and back arched when you violently clenched around his cock and came undone on his long fat cock.

Seonghwa’s thrusts got sloppy. His cock throbbed inside your hot walls as you came all over him. He felt your hot cum over his cock.

With the final thrust, he came inside you and filled your cunt to the brim. He panted and lowered himself on your body and hugged you.

“So good for me,” he pecked your lips, “takes me so well.”

You pussy clenched around his half soft cock at the praise. He giggled and slowly pulled out of your cunt. His cum started dripping but he was fast to take the tissues from the bedside table and gently clean your swollen pussy.

“Thank you,” you whispered, eyes heavy with tiredness.

He chuckled and laid down next to you, holding you in his arms protectively, “I hope I didn’t hurt you? I didn’t wait much for you to adjust. But I’m not gonna lie, I have no remorse. Your tiny pussy was sucking me in so fucking well, it almost made me cry.”

It was your time to giggle and face him, “yeah? And you didn’t hurt me. You gave me what I wanted.”

“I did. You deserve everything you wish for, baby. But now I want something from you,” he cupped your cheek.

“What?”

“Stay for longer, oky? Don’t want to be away from you.”

You smiled at his puppy face, “oky.”

.....

[masterqwertster]

Maybe 20. From the touching prompt list: bandaging/stitching up an injury. Do you think Ashton can get stitches with his skin?

No, I don't really think Ashton can get stitches. Not unless you're using, like, an industrial needle meant for poking through a lot of tough fabric. And even that feels a little iffy given the strength requisite to punch through means you're kind of running the risk of just straight up stabbing them with the needle and making things worse. But I have had a solution to No Stitches sitting on the headcanon backburner for a long while, so I'm thankful for the motivation to flesh it out. Also, this is going in Metamorphic

Sealant for My Wounds

Ashton is 13, almost 14, the first time he gets stabbed.

The wound sluggishly bleeds their wine-dark blood as they hold a cloth against it, listening to the others argue about how one is supposed to apply stitches.

“You've got to dip the needle in booze!” Zeeland insists.

“No, the booze is for the pain,” Sally argues.

“Yeah, you're supposed to put the needle in fire,” Bennet agrees.

“What?! No! Are you trying to burn them too?”

“We at least need hot water to clean the wound, yeah?” That one gets a general murmur of agreement.

Ashton lets the chatter about the best way to handle this wash over them. 

It fucking hurts. A throbbing in his side with every heartbeat. The pressure to minimize the amount of blood escaping his body. He’s never been hurt like this before. A hurt that sinks into him, past the surface of his skin. Deeper than a scratch, a cut. Sharper than a bruise. What will it feel like when it’s not so immediate? Ashton doesn’t know, is half intrigued and half afraid to find out. And a little bit dreading when this will happen again. (There’s no if about it. Not in a place like Bassuras. Not when all he’s got going for him is a body that can take a hit and dish them out)

Eventually a plan of action is decided upon. The needle and thread are prepared, the wound washed, and the burn of stolen alcohol washes down Ashton’s throat. (It’s certainly distracting, that coughing burn in their throat. They’re not sure how anyone can enjoy it without being some sort of masochist)

Jeto has the needle while the rest of the group has hands on Ashton to hold him down. Getting stitches isn’t supposed to be a comfortable process, yet it’s one that the patient should hold still for. And they know that Ashton, despite his slighter frame, can out muscle any one of them.

It’s a tense moment as Aston waits for the first tug of a needle through skin. A moment that stretches… and stretches… and stretches, even as they can feel hands at their side, pressing against the wound, causing it to spark with pain.

“Just fucking start already,” Ashton grouses, getting impatient for it to be over already.

“I’m trying! The needle’s not going through your fucking skin!” Jeto snipes back frustratedly.

“...What?” Ashton whispers, fear slithering down his spine. If he can’t get stitches, how the fuck are they going to hold the stab wound shut so it can heal right?

“Just gimma a sec. Probably just need the right angle or something– Fuck. Shit. Piss,” Jeto curses, hands moving away.

“Jeto?” Ashton asks nervously.

“You’re fine. Needle’s just bent. Shit.”

Fuck fuck fuck. Is Ashton going to have a hole in their side for forever? They can’t close the damn stab wound without stitches!

“Give me the needle. I’ll do it myself, since you’re weak as shit,” Ashton panics, already pushing against the hands holding him down.

“First off, rude. Secondly, this isn’t about strength. Anyone else, and I could have jabbed the needle all the way in with the kind of strength I was using,” Jeto testily explains. “No, the problem here is you’re a fucking rock person and our needle isn’t gonna punch through rock.”

Ashton stills at those words, fears confirmed. 

“...What do we do?” The words slip out, quiet and scared.

“Keep an eye on it and hope the caretakers give a fuck if it gets infected or some shit,” Jeto says in a practical tone with a shrug.

And they do. But it’s so fucking slow to heal, while any sharp moves or blows cause it to start bleeding again.

Ashton doesn’t find a solution until he’s left on the ground after a fight, watching his dark blood bind the dirt and sand into mud. Some strange instinct that never existed in him before insists he gather the earth bound in his escaped blood and return the whole mix to the wound it left. His rational mind screams that this is stupid and exactly how wounds get infected. But packing and plugging the wound with something to stop the bleeding isn’t that stupid. And at the worst, the wound will get infected and the caretakers will throw a fit about having to get a proper healer to fix him up.

And Ashton is an earth genasi, so maybe…

He follows the instinct. Scoops up the almost clay-like slurry and presses it into the aging stab wound, into the larger gashes this recent fight has left him with. 

It doesn’t feel bad. (It feels right. The earth returning their strength, their health)

He doesn’t tell the others what he did. Ashton doesn’t want the lecture, the arguments, the proclamations of idiocy. It’s not like they know how Ashton’s body really works anyways. Sure, it’s the same shape as a half-elf’s, but they’ve all already seen that the stone composition of it changes things. So who the fuck gave them the right to judge?

The others find out. Of course they do. 

But by the time they know, Ashton’s already found that those strange instincts were correct. Their blood mud sealed the wound, stopping the bleeding reopenings of the injury. And weird as it fucking is, their body seems to be integrating the mud, compressing and shoring it up into the same stone as the rest of them. Even small cuts heal faster with blood mud.

They call it fucking weird and strange (and creepy behind his back), but Ashton can’t find that he necessarily disagrees, even if it does make a strange sort of sense given his elemental nature. Mostly he’s just glad to have a solution for when he needs stitches.

So yeah. While I thought of the "blood mud to seal wounds" way before the titan blood reveal (actually back around when I first started writing Rockin' It, back during the Museum Heist), at this point, I'm kind of inclined to make it a titan blood thing. Ashton is just so wholly of the earth because of the titan blood that shoving dirt/mud in their wounds is helpful, like slip or sealant or daub.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

No Dessert

Masterlist

Warnings: noncon, housewife kink, fear, postpartum depression, abuse, suicidal thoughts, violence.

Even though it’s a drabble, I do appreciate any comments and feedback you have. Thanks for reading!

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Clark sits at the table and you stare down the hall. You hear Laney, sniffling and sobbing, as Martha begins to bawl. You lick your lips as you stand before your chair.

"Well, go shut her up," he says as he pokes at the saucy noodles.

Which one, you think sardonically as you leave him.

Your throat tightens the further your get down the hall and you slow as you near the open nursery. You peer inside and wince as Laney pulls up her jeans and whines as they graze her flesh. Her eye is swollen and her lip split, her eyes welling and flowing freely.

You stand dumbly at the door and watch her retrieve her shirt from the floor. She's trembling as she moves and you see the pain in her effort. She pulls the cotton over her head and gets to her feet.

"Don't look at me," she utters as she hugs herself and limps towards you.

You let her pass without a word as she hangs her head in shame. Your eyes prick with pity and you go to take a step forward. She grabs your arm before you can escape her.

"I fucking fought. As hard as I could," she snarls, "I'm not weak."

You nod and meet her eyes, gleaming with bitterness.

"I know," you say and flick your lashes. You are weak. 

She releases you and continues out the door. You listen to her tramp down the hallway and go to Martha as she reaches a fever pitch. You take her out of the crib and pet her head as you try to calm her. She fights you but eventually quiets as you pull out your tit and she thirstily takes to feeding.

You sigh and let her drink, carrying her with you as you go to peek down the hall. Laney sits with Clark at the table, both in silence, he eats as she just glares at her plate. You back away and turn to lean on the wall.

You take the moment to escape, to let the baby suckle as you ignore the remnants of the struggle. You're sickened by the evidence left behind. 

Suddenly, a shatter comes and Clark cries out. You flinch and pull Martha away from your nipple. She sputters but doesn't cry. You put her in the cradle as she fusses but not too much as her full belly keeps her content.

You rush out as the table overturns and Laney grabs a piece of the broken plate and jabs at Clark from her knees. He kicks her onto her back and plants his foot on her chest.

Shock runs cold through you and in an instant the ice cracks. You run forward without thinking and hop up, locking your arm around Clark's neck as you cling to him with your legs. He shifts slightly at your unexpected weight and pushes himself off Laney so she gasps and coughs at the force of his foot.

He throws himself back into the wall, crushing you against the plaster. You let go as the pain strikes up your spine and you fall to the floor. Laney hurls herself forward, stabbing again with the sharp porcelain bit.

He catches the glass with his hand without fear and shatters it. She cries out as he grips her throat and flings her back to the floor. She sprawls over the mess of dishes and food as you sit up.

"I'll let you girls decide who's gonna clean this up," he growls as his shoes crush the scattered glass, "and which one's going to pay."