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#so please for the love of god leave me out of it
rosesaints · 2 days
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hello i saw ur yuuta piece and loved how u write !! could u write smth similar perhaps for megumi 🤧🤧 he needs more love .. 🍀
*:・゚✧*:・゚college student!megumi fushiguro hc dump
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pairing: megumi fushiguro x f!reader warnings: 18+ mdni, mix of sfw and nsfw content under the cut, a very obscenely american depiction of college, just me pouring my heart out to the most perfect underrated college bf ever. wc: 1300
college student!megumi fushiguro who enrolls in university as a biology major, minoring in english on the pre-veterinarian track, carefully selecting his college after agonizing over whether or not he wanted to be a writer or a vet, ultimately choosing the latter after an impressive tour of a research lab with leaders on the field who eagerly and enthusiastically answer every single one of his questions, no matter how miniscule or thorough. goes home with a stupid grin on his face that yuuji won't stop taking pictures of—"yuuji, would you chill the fuck out? it was just a college tour."
college student!megumi fushiguro goes home and quickly accepts his offer, orders two sweaters from the university's online tour, visits tsumiki at the hospital and tells her all about where he plans to go for the next four years.
college student!megumi fushiguro who has a very, very eventful freshman year—
he takes public transport around campus, has an old, beaten up pair of headphones that he probably got from thrifting, listens to beach house, cocteau twins, the neighbourhood, cigarettes after sex, sometimes songs that nobara and yuuji have recommended to him in the groupchat. acts like the brooding, silent type, until you accidentally knock into him during a nasty bump on the road, and he very quickly loses his composure and helps you out, beats himself up afterwards for not getting your name
finds you later at his biology lab, pleasantly surprised and trying to force down any visible signs of excitement when you get paired together for the rest of the semester. lets you take his phone without any fuss to type your number down, keeps the heart you've left besides your name and texts you that night to make plans to go on a date work on the lab report due that week
mentions you offhandedly during the debrief dinner he has at least a couple times a week with yuuji and nobara, frowns when they freeze and look at each other in that skitterish, excited way that they do when they're in on something together. "megumi, you never, ever talk about girls!"
he finds every excuse to see you outside of class. "damn, i guess we're gonna have to work on the report later, i'll see you at 6?" or "i think we need to talk about the objectives over some lunch at this new sushi place in town, anyway—"
you go along with it because it's so painfully obvious, but you don't have the heart to break whatever cool guy, aloof persona he's kind of determined to uphold (megumi, please, for the love of god, just learn how to ask someone out on a date)
he works hard to find new places he thinks you'll like and at some point, you guys just stop working on reports altogether and just start having fun around campus
sends you game pigeon texts throughout the day, lets you win at 8ball, but never, ever backs down from word hunt. he will score 30k points over you and not break a sweat.
rolls up his lab coat once in class and your brain short-circuits, man has an insane sleeper build, grabs your microscope slides for you and easily returns your microscope for you. "you okay?" "yup! completely and totally fine!"
i cannot stress enough how oblivious he is, though. you guys go to parties together, he grabs your drinks for you, holds your waist when someone gets too rowdy, and leave together. somehow, this man still thinks you don't reciprocate his feelings.
he wants to confess, he does, but there's all these logistics and things he has to plan for, has to do it in just the right way, at the right place, wracks his head at night trying to think of a way to just tell you. yuuji calls him fucking stupid one night and for once, he agrees.
gets too busy fussing and concerning over what he would do when the time comes, doesn't even stop and consider the fact that you might just beat him to it!
"'gumi," he literally has his head on your lap while he's doing an assigned reading for class, and it's probably one of the most peaceful days he's had in a while, but the way you smile and say his name makes his heart skip a beat. "wanna go out with me?"
man, it's like the floodgates open after that. he gets so much more direct and confident—"we're gonna go volunteer at that animal shelter this weekend," and "i'm picking you up for dinner, is chinese okay?"
not the type for public displays of affection, but makes sure you're in his orbit all the time, somehow. glances across the lab when your professor blunders in the middle of the lecture, a hand on the small of your back while he maneuvers you through the street, places his hand above yours on the train while you're holding onto the pole
takes photos of you all the time, has a collection of different cameras, makes yuuji take photos of you and him on nights out with the disposable camera, photos of you looking absolutely adorable on the digital camera, and dumb, funny photos of you that you hate but he loves
nights spent at his dorm watching trashy reality shows (he acts like he doesn't give a shit but gasps louder than you whenever someone gets slapped), studying for your next exam only to end up making out on the floor, cooking ramen noodles just to end up making out on his twin bed, getting ready together and making out when he hoists you up to the counter and knocks all his (and your) shit over. "gumi, i still have toothpaste in my mouth—" "hm, i like mint."
loves loves loves to kiss you. will have hours-long make out sessions in his dorm or yours, will keep going even if your roommate walks in, doesn't even register their presence—too focused on whatever flavor of lip gloss you've got on or that cute top you're wearing that day
his second favorite thing to do is to leave marks in places only he can see. doesn't mean to do that, he swears, but you can see a ghost of a smile when he helps readjust the straps of your dress to hide a blooming hickey on your shoulder.
has this dumbstruck look on his face when you have sex for the first time, gasps and grips your ass with a strength that you were only vaguely aware of when you sink down on his length for the first time, low groans and narrowed eyes. "god, i think you're gonna kill me."
slowly ends up being the one to control the pace, bouncing you up and down on his dick for his own pleasure, even as you're squealing and scratching his back and deliriously trying to thrust back, only to be overpowered
could eat you out for hours, but also loooooves receiving head, loves the way your eyes shimmer when you take him deeper into your throat, the gagging, lewd noises that you make and the way you look up at him, asking if that was good. "that was fucking amazing. 10/10, no notes."
remember how he takes photos of you all the time? he has some polaroids of you in some.... scandalous positions hidden in his drawer that he likes to... use in times of desperation
doesn't initiate a whole lot at the beginning because he's still in the "learning phase," but once he gets you to cum within two minutes, it brings out his competitive spirit. "wonder how many more times you can cum again... think you got another two in you?"
basically living together by the end of the year, because he sleeps better when you're near and his whole dorm is littered with mementos that remind him of you. has that coffee blend you love in his kitchen cabinet, your toothbrush on the other side of his, and when he comes back from lecture to see your smiling face hanging upside down from his futon, thinks he might just want to spend the rest of his life with you.
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© ROSESAINTS ! — do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own. requests are OPEN .ᐟ
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ccsainzleclerc5516 · 2 days
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She’s Not So Little Anymore
Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x reader
Warnings: none, dad Lewis yes pls
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“You’re not leaving the house until you change your clothes!”
“But dad-“ Harper stammered in a broken voice and teary eyes.
“There’s no but, I said what I said. You can go out with your friends after you put some clothes on. End of discussion.” Lewis told his daughter sternly before turning and heading towards the living room.
“I hate you!!” Harper growled bursting into tears and slamming the door of her room.
“Don’t slam the door at me!” He said in a raised tone. Sitting on the couch he sighed and rubbed his face feeling awful because of the argument between him and his fifteen-year-old daughter.
It was not natural for Lewis to yell and get into heated arguments with his daughter. The two have always had a special relationship - she was daddy's little girl for whom he would remove the stars from the sky just to make her happy. Harper loved and was just as close to you as she was to Lewis, but still, her daddy has always been her number one.
But since Harper entered her teenage phase, it has become very difficult for Lewis to accept that she is actually growing up, that she is changing, that she is interested in some other things that are actually normal for her age.
He really was having a hard time facing the fact that his little girl is not so little anymore. That’s why often broke out arguments between the two of them when Harper would stay out too late with her friends, when she would come home late or mention that she had a crush on a boy or for example like today when she would wear something that Lewis thought was too revealing.
Lewis did all this because he loves her too much and wants to protect her, but, of course, the teenager thinks that her father is working against her and that he is "purposely ruining her life".
Fortunately, not long after the argument, you came back from grocery shopping and found Lewis sitting on the couch looking at the switched off TV.
“Hi, baby” You greeted him happily, but you felt a strange energy in the air.
“Hey” He muttered not turning to look at you.
“Is everything okay?” You ask suspiciously, leaving the heavy bags on the hallway floor.
“Everything is fine except our daughter just told me she hates me”
You immediately knew what it was about. You were aware of how much it affected Lewis. You weren't always happy with some of your daughter's behaviors either, but you understood that it was just a phase and that it would pass, but you also understood that it was difficult for Lewis to face it.
You sighed walking up closer to the couch to Lewis from behind and bent down to wrap your arms around him.
“And that is why?” You asked pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“Because she thinks it’s normal to leave the house wearing a short ass dress that doesn’t even have any straps God forbid some sleeves” He says visibly upset and you can’t help but chuckle at him. “That’s not funny, y/n?”
“That’s not, but you are” You say making yourself comfortable in his lap. “You’re being too overprotective of her-“
“Of course I’m overprotective of her, she’s my little girl!” He cuts you off trying to justify his actions.
“Would you let me finish, please?”
“I’m sorry..”
“She’s no longer a little girl, Lew. You have to make your peace with that. Sometimes I don't like her clothing choices or her behavior either, but that's why we're here to guide her. But you forbid her too many things and she sees it as you trying to control her.”
“I just..” He sighs leaning his head against your chest. “I just want to protect her.. I miss the time when she was with me non-stop. We used to do so many things together now she only wants to hang out with her friends.”
“Baby, that’s normal. If it were any different, we would have been worried.” You assure him putting your hands on his cheeks. “You’re still her number one, you’ll always be.”
“Youe ability to calm me down amazes me.” He smiles at your soothing and comforting words. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I love you more than you know.”
“I love you too, baby” You place a soft kiss on his lips. “Now go and talk to her”
Lewis immediately got up and headed towards Harper's room while you decided to sort the groceries you had brought into the house a little while ago.
“My princess?” Lewis said gently knocking on the door. “Can I come in?”
Almost the same second, the door opened revealing crying Harper who was still sobbing. What Lewis didn't expect was for Harper to give him a tight hug and start crying in his arms.
“Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Lewis asked a little worried.
“Because you made me say that I hate you. And I don’t hate you, daddy, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it.” She cried. It stung her as much as it stung Lewis because Harper is aware of how special her relationship with her father is.
“Baby, it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. I’m sorry too.” He comforted her rubbing her back. “I don’t like when we can’t talk things out and I hate when we argue. We don’t do that, that’s not us.”
“I know we don’t do that. I don’t like it either” She said quietly.
“It’s hard for me to accept that you’re growing up and that you are no longer my little girl.” He lifts up her head to look at her. “I promise to try to be more understanding of your wishes.”
“Daddy, I’m always gonna be your little girl.” Her words warmed Lewis's heart. She knew what she meant by that. The love Harper has for her dad will always be strong and special and nothing can ever replace it. Lewis was grinning like a child thinking how he is the luckiest man in the world to have the two best girls in his life, Harper and you.
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mostly-imagines · 23 hours
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There’s A String Tied to My Lower Left Rib, Third From The Bottom
dick grayson x afab!reader
aka the professional boyfriend
warnings: she/her pronouns used, reader wears dresses, sexual content at the end (18+)
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Dick Grayson is a vigilante. He’s a master martial artist and gymnast. He’s something of a playboy and a heavy flirt. But the claim he really takes pride in is that he’s basically a professional boyfriend. That he’s your professional boyfriend.
And pride really is the right word. He’s so proud that he gets to have this pretty girl on his arm and buy her pretty things even when you insist you have enough. He loves getting to help you take your makeup off when you’re too tired and make you laugh like it’s his job. He’s absolutely gratified that he gets to be your prodigal, sweet boyfriend that, despite your protests, insisted on carrying all five of your shopping bags for you.
You step over an uneven stretch in the sidewalk and lean slightly against Dick’s shoulder. “I’m worried the navy one is too…much.” You say, thinking back to how the blue cocktail dress fit on you, how it stopped barely below your ass.
He furrows his eyebrows with a pout, “Too much?”
You look over at him, matching his expression. “It’s really short. I mean it’s cute and I like it, but…I don’t know, this is kind of a fancy event isn’t it?” 
He puckers his lips, shaking his head. “Short’s good. I like short.” Yeah, you’d noticed with the way his eyes had been glued to the hem of your dress, willing it to slip up just a little more.
You laugh, “And I’m sure you and all the old businessmen will appreciate it greatly.”
His face drops at that, not thrilled at the prospect of those, usually very sleazy, old men getting to see so much of you. “The black one’s good too.”
You peer over into one of the bags, “Or there’s the red one with the—”
Dick shakes his head quickly, “Not red.”
You snicker at that, knowing full well what his problem is with it. “Then why did I get it?”
“Just for me.” He pauses, “Or for something my brother won’t be at.” He mumbles, scanning both sides of the street. He shuffles the bags in his right hand onto his forearm so he can take your hand in his as you step into the road. “No, the black one looked great on you. And we won’t have to go searching for a matching tie.” 
Once you reach the other side he lets go of your hand and he circles behind you, nudging you over to the inside of the sidewalk.
You glance down at the row of bags littering his arms and the red indents beginning to mark his skin. “Will you please let me hold some?” You frown.
“Will you please hold my hand?” He echoes, matching your serious tone with faux urgency of his own. You deadpan him but take his hand anyway. You don’t notice it, but he’s got a dedicated gaze focused on your fingers intertwined in his.
You continue on down the street, hand in hand, the warm sun shining on your necks. You pick up the pace a bit as you approach your apartment building, aiming to get the door for your boyfriend. You reach for the handle only for Dick to call out, “Don’t touch that!” followed by him clamoring like you’re about to touch a hot coal, rushing over to beat you to the punch.
“Oh my god..” you mumble to yourself, biting back a smile. The bags haphazardly fall further down his arms, no doubt uncomfortably as he pulls the door open for you, pretending to be far more eloquent than he actually was. He gestures you in and smiles sweetly at you when you give him a flat look. 
“What is wrong with you?” You ask, glancing over your shoulder at him with amusement glittering across your face as you dig for your keys.
“Not a thing.” He grins, watching with adoration as you open the apartment door. Frankly, you’re surprised he didn’t attempt to juggle the bags and unlock the door himself.
He kicks the door shut behind him as you help slide the bags off of his wrists, piling them on the counter. “When do we need to leave?”
“Uh…” he glances at the wall clock, “Not till seven.” He places his hands nicely on your waist, looking down at your lips. “You wanna get something to eat before we go?”
You muse, “This is the one with those mini stakes, isn’t it?” He nods. “No, I wanna get my fill on those. Oh, and the bruschettas! I love these caterers.”
His eyes flicker back up to meet yours, a sly smile playing on his lips. 
You break away from his gaze and turn to the counter, preparing to scoop the shopping bags up when you’re interrupted by his relentless fervor.
“Ah, ah.” He hooks a finger into the loop of your jeans, tugging you back to him. “Give me a kiss.” 
“Dick.”
“Just one.” Yeah, right. You oblige him though, pushing up on your toes to meet his lips. His thumb strokes your cheek as he kisses you deeply. You break the kiss after a moment only for him to chase your lips to follow it up with another. And then another. And another. He hums against your lips, smiling wide. “Thank you, baby.”
You pull back again and smile as you stop his chest with your hand when he follows. “Ah, I’m not new around here. I know where this’ll go if I let you.”
He nods complaisantly, “Then let me.” His eyes are focused on the small space between you, where his touch lingers along your ring finger. You lean up again and place a kiss on his forehead that has him getting hopeful, only to be met with disappointment when you back away from him, bags in hand. He throws his head back with a groan just to really hammer home the severity of his dismay.  
It doesn’t last too long though because the second you’re back in the room he’s trailing after you like a puppy, following you down to the couch. You roll your eyes at him when he opts to sit ridiculously close to you, though there’s a ghost of a smile on your lips that makes your act lose all credibility.   
He nestles his face into the crook of your neck and is clearly very pleased when you wrap your arms around his shoulders. You exhale contentedly, resting your cheek against his head. You lie idle like that for a few minutes, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck and casting a daydreaming gaze out the window. And apparently, he was daydreaming too. 
“I wanna marry you.” He murmurs into your neck after a while. 
You laugh incredulously, “Have you been drinking when I have my back turned?”
“‘M serious.” He nudges you off him so he can look at you.
You hum, sweeping his hair back from his forehead. “You’re being very…” you scrunch up your mouth to the side, “…Ostentatious today.” 
He barks out a laugh, “Wow. Word-A-Day teach you that one?”
You shove at his forehead back with no real force, biting back a giggle. His eyes flicker back and forth between your mouth and the crinkle in your eyes as he grins. “I’m going to let that one go because you got me some really nice clothes today. As your repayment.” you say, running your finger over his lips. 
He takes your hand, pressing a firm kiss to it. “Let me marry you?” 
You sigh bashfully, “Dick—”
“Please?” He sticks his bottom lip out and gives you his puppy eyes, causing you to avert your gaze quickly. You’re not convinced he doesn’t have a superpower in that area.
You know he’s not really proposing right now, he’s too much of a romantic to do it like this. He’s just getting the idea in your head, getting you excited about it. It’s working.
“I’d be such a good husband to you.” He kisses your collarbone, “So good.” He murmurs against your skin, lips never departing. You struggle to keep your face neutral, making a point of closing your eyes in an attempt to increase your odds of success. He’s being nice though, you know. To let you play pretend right now when you know he could break your facade in a second if he really wanted to.  
“Mrs. Grayson…” he squeezes your hips, lips traveling further down. “Doesn’t that sound pretty?”
It really does. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about marrying him before. He’s nothing if not husband material and honestly you really really want to hear him call you his wife. Call him your husband.
Your hand moves to his hair, petting it softly as he goes on. “Buy you a nice ring. Pretty white dress ‘n a big party just for you.” He brushes your shirt up and trails open mouthed kisses down your stomach. Your chest feels warm and you can feel your pulse thrumming all throughout your body.
He slowly guides your underwear down your thighs, his lips following the hem close behind. “Come home to you every night, kiss these pretty thighs,” He scoops both of your hands up in one of his, pinning them to your stomach. “Kiss this pretty pussy.” He places a chaste kiss on your clit and looks up at you expectantly
You’re not nearly as hesitant on this as you’re pretending to be, and you both know it. But he’s perfectly fine with begging a little while you pretend you’re not lightheaded at the idea of marrying him. “I’ll think about it…” 
He grins at you before going in on your core without mercy.
He’s trying real hard to land that promotion.
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🩵 reblogging = supporting; likes don’t do the job 🩵
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rafesslxt · 2 days
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Hii! I am so addicted to your writing! It keeps my heart warm ^^
So I work in a flower shop and I was wondering if you could make anything on Mattheo x florist!reader, mostly fluff where they get to know when he and maybe theo was there looking for something for theo’s gf or like, and he met reader.
Love your work again 💞💞
[that makes me really happy to hear, thank you love. hope you enjoy and imagined it something like that 🤍]
🌻 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 | 𝐦.𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞
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「 ✦ fluff, fem!reader, different house!reader, mattheo falling in love at first sight, mattheo sending reader her fav flowers + English is not my first language + not proof read yet✦ words: 2,5k 」
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It was a beautiful Saturday today with the sun shining through the windows and the opened door to the little flower shop I work in besides school. A lot of people came in today, buying flowers for their loved ones, alive or passed.
Even tho it made my heart happy to see all these people buying flowers for their partners, I couldn't help but wonder when someone will buy me my favorites.
"Hey y/n, I'm gonna take my break since it's a bit calmer now. Can I leave you alone my dear?" Mrs. Rosewood asked me. She's in her mid 70's and also the owner of the shop, working in here with all her heart and passion. "Of course Mrs. Rosewood. I'm gonna be fine, don't worry." I gave her a reassuring look and a little smile while removing the thorns from our new arrived roses. "Thank you love, I won't be gone for too long."
I continued cutting off the thorns when I heard two young male voices coming into the shop. I put the flowers in my hands to the side and look up, seeing Theodore Nott and Mattheo Riddle. Of course I know them, who doesn't? Both of them were quite popular in my school, but from another house than mine. Slytherins.
"Dude, just pick some. I bet she won't even mind which one's as long as it's some flowers." Mattheo groaned at his best friend. "No, I don't just wanna give her something. She's special bro."
I had to smirk at the scene in front of me. It wasn't rare that especially man came into our shop without a clue. I left the counter where I stood and walked over to the,. "Hey guys, can I help you?" I questioned with a soft voice.
Both of their heads turned towards me, just now noticing me. Theo smiled at me and nodded. "Hey uhm – yeah. I wanna buy flowers for my girlfriend and don't know what to get her. I think she doesn't have favorite flowers but I wanna give her something.. special." I saw a light tint forming on his cheeks but I hid my smirk.
"Well I could tell you the meanings of some flowers and you can decide what fits the best for whatever you wanna tell her with them. How does that sound?" he instantly looked a little bit relieved. "Yeah, great. That would be really great."
I started to list some of our flowers we sell with their meanings to it but nothing seemed to fit until after a while I got an idea. "Oh my god wait I have the idea. You could gift her tulips. Each color means something different." "Really? That would be quite special, right?"
I waked him over to our tulips and started to pick some of them out of the vases. "So red means 'deep love' which obviously fits, right? Then we have the yellow ones that stand for 'happiness and sunshine which is perfect for happy occasions. The variegated ones mean 'you have beautiful eyes' because of their beautiful color patterns. The pink ones stand for 'affection and caring'. And last the cream tulips which mean 'I will love you forever.'"
Theodore looks at me impressed and starts smiling. "This is perfect, she will love this! Can you give me three of each please?" I smile back at him and start making a pretty bouquet out of the 15 tulips, adding some cream colored ribbons to the stems.
When I look up I suddenly met Mattheo's eyes, somehow staring into mine. I give him a shy smile and when Theo see's his best friends state he nudged him slightly against his shoulder. He breaks our eye contact and looks down to his feet. Did I do something wrong?
"Here, your flowers. I know your girlfriend will love them." I promise and send him a warm smile. "Thanks again y/n, don't know what I would have done without your help." And with that I give him the bouquet and he pays, leaving a generous tip which I refused to take at first but only took because he told me he would leave it on the door If I wouldn't take it. I have to admit he definitely has charm and I completely understand his girlfriend, but my mind couldn't forget the eye contact I had with his best friend.
I think I never saw Mattheo that quiet, which lets me worry I may have been boring him with all my talking about flowers. But now it was too late anyways to I tried to shake that thought off as good as I could.
The next day I walked through the halls of Hogwarts when suddenly a pretty girl stood in front of me. I think I recognize her somewhere, her necklace gives a hint of her being from Slytherin. "Hey, are you y/n l/n ?" she asks me with a little smile to her lips, tilting her head to the side a bit. "Yeah that's me, is everything alright?" I asked her kind of worried that maybe I am in trouble.
"No I just wanted to thank you. I am Theodore's girlfriend and he gave me the flowers he bought in your shop. He told me you helped him and I just wanted to tell you how much I loved them." A bright smile formed on my lips now and I nodded. "Oh I'm happy you liked them that much!" "Yes, especially the meaning behind the so, thank you again. I guess I will see you around." she politely comments. "Yeah, see you around." With that she walked away again and left me with a smirk on my lips. I'm alway's so happy when I see the reactions of the people that get gifted by our flowers.
Another day went by, the weekend over which meant I had to get ready for classes again. With a good mood I woke up my best friends which I shared a dorm with together and changed into my school uniform. First class today was Transfiguration.
I sat down next to my best friend Blair, waiting for the professor to start the lesson. "You remember when I told you that mattheo and Theodore were in my shop? I forgot to tell you that Theo's girlfriend came to me yesterday and thanked me for helping him with the flowers." I whispered to her. She turned her head to me with big eyes. "And that's something you just forget to tell your best friend? Where was your mind that you forgot?" she chuckled until she noticed my pink cheeks. "Oh my god, are you still thinking about Riddle?" Now my eyes had gone wide. "Shhhh –"
"Please open your books on page 286." Professor McGonagall started the class, just right on time so I wouldn't have to hear Blair try to tell me what a huge crush I developed in two days for him. Which isn't true I mean.
We were in the middle of class when someone knocked on the closed door. All heads turned towards it, inclusive Professor McGonagall's who spoke, "Yes, please?" The door opened and a younger boy from Slytherin, I guess from year 4 maybe, walked in with the biggest bouquet of sunflowers I've ever seen in my entire life.
"Wow.." I breathed out, stunned at the sight in front of us. Sunflowers were my absolute favorite flowers since I was a little kid and my dad planted them in our garden.
"Uhm – I'm sorry to interrupt your class Professor but.." I saw him gulping and had to swallow down my laugh. He looked so nervous under her arched brows and surprised face. ".. I was send to deliver these flowers to y/n l/n. It's a gift." What?
Now all heads turned to me, away from the boy. He walked over to me and handed me the bouquet, rushing out of the classroom. "Who the hell send these to you?" Blair gasped and gawked at all the flowers. " I - I don't know." I stuttered still too stunned to speak.
I met the gaze from McGonagall who's corners of her lips slightly turned upwards before she told the class to concentrate again and dismissed me to bring the bouquet to my room.
On my way out I smelled the, my heart instantly turning warm. Who could have send them to me? Who would know they are my favorites? I never told anyone beside my family and Blair. Was this a mistake? Oh god, a prank even?
I rushed to my dorm where the next surprise waited for me when I opened the door. What the –. At least a hundred of sunflowers were spread all over my dorm. On the beds, on the tables, nightstands, some even on the ground in white vases. Tears started to form in my eyes. Who could have done this? And how?
I mean, I wasn't even away for an hour. A half maybe? I stepped inside slowly, careful to not run over any of the flowers. The whole room smelled like them now, even with the opened windows. I think I've had never seen something so beautiful like this. I looked for any sign, a letter maybe.
Then, I found one on my nightstand. It was a little card. I opened it and read
" The most beautiful part is, I wasn't even looking when I found you."
I turned the letter around. But nothing. No sign of who's behind all of this. I took out a new vase of my own and put the flowers in my hand into it. Why is he keeping it a secret who he is?
A few days went by and I found myself working in the shop today again. The last time I was here, was when I helped Theodore. "Good afternoon." I greeted Mrs. Rosewood who already prepared some flowers. "Oh hello dear, good to see you. How are you?" I'm good, how about you? Lot's of people today?" She turns back to the flowers in her hand and answers, "No not really, I already thought about giving you a day off because I really don't know how to entertain you today."
"Ah you know I could always help preparing flowers." I chuckled, while grabbing my apron. "Hm no I'm already done with them. really dear, take a day off. And maybe spend them with your new boyfriend." she smiled at me. Boyfriend? What?
"Mrs. Rosewood, I don't have a boyfriend?" She turned to me again with a surprised look on her face. " Oh really? Then who was the boy in here ordering all these sunflowers for you?"
My jaw almost hit the floor. She know's who bought them for me? "What? You know who he was?When was he here?" I asked her eager.
"Oh it was a young boy in your age. He asked me what your favorite flowers were and what the meaning of them were. I told him Sunflowers, that's right. Right?" "Y-Yeah they are but- who was he? How did he look? I received them through someone else and all over my room but to the letter were no initials."
"Ah he had brown curly hair, brown eyes. He looked really handsome. Oh I forgot his name. Max? Matthew? Oh! Mattheo! His name was Mattheo." she smiled brightly at me while I felt all my color vanishing from my face.
Was this really a joke? But who would do this for a prank? Then a normal bouquet would have been enough. "Are you sure it's from him?" "Yes, yes I am. he was in here Saturday with his friend too while I took a break. I saw him from the other side of the street, I remember."
My heart pounded so fast in my chest I feared it crawling out of my mouth. Mattheo. Mattheo Riddle. He send them to me.
She must have seen my face because she smiled at me again. "You have a free day my dear, go talk to him." I let out a deep breath, nodding. "I - I will. Thank you so much!" And all of a sudden I couldn't stop smiling.
I almost ran towards our school, looking for the brunette boy. God where should I start looking for him? Then without really thinking about it, I walked towards the common room of the Slytherins, sporting just the person I needed right now.
"Pansy!" I almost shutout through the hall and jogged towards her just when she wanted to walk inside her common room. "Y/n? Did you already figure out it was- " "Yes, yes I did. Can you tell me where he is?" "He's inside. Should I tell him you're waiting here?" "Please, and thank you Pansy." She smiled at me and nodded her head. "No problem."
I felt like throwing up while waiting for Mattheo. Again my heart almost jumped out of my chest when he finally stepped out of his common room. He seemed nervous and scratched the back of his neck.
"Hey y/n." he nearly whispered, standing right in front of me now. "You.. send the flowers, right?" I asked him with so much hope in my voice. He nodded, a shy smile forming on his lips. "It was me, yes. Did you like them? The lady in the store told me Sunflowers are your favorites so I guessed you- " Without letting him speak his full sentence, I crashed into him and hugged him tightly, my head just reaching his chest.
"I loved them, thank you Mattheo. They are so beautiful. Nobody did something like that for me like, ever. The k you so much." I murmured against his clothes, my eyes welling up again.
He wrapped his arms around my body and looked down at me. "So, you're not disappointed that they are from me?" he softly asked. "What? How could I me disappointed at that? I have the biggest crush on you since -" I stopped myself when I realized the words coming right out of my mouth.
I slowly looked up into his teasing smile. "Hmm, a crush yeah?" my cheeks probably turned red like a tomato. he placed a hand on my cheeks and stroked it lovingly with his thumb. "I was so stunned when you offered Theo your help. I couldn't believe I never saw you before in school. I was so utterly falling in love that-"
Now he was the one who stopped mid sentence and I looked at him shocked. "Love?" He licked his lips and gulped before nodding slowly. "Yeah.. love at first sight or.. something like that. The told me it's called like that."
I couldn't believe my ears. Or my eyes. Was this really happening? "So, would you like to go on a date with me?" he asked me, still stroking my cheek. "Of course, I'd love to actually." I giggled, still wondering If this all was just a dream too good to be true.
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[I feel like the ending kinda sucked but I couldn't do better right now, damn.]
thank you guys for reading, let me know how you liked it in the comments if u want to 💛
xoxo sarah <3
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other info:
sunflower divider is by: @saradika 🌻
[taglist: @justarandomcanadiantransdude @helendeath @thatonepansexual2000 @imabee-oralizard @supernaturaldawning @sofa-couch26 @little-miss-naill @kolsangel @itsarajr @hisparentsgallerryy @slytherinscreamqueen @littlemadamred @mixvchelle @ummmmmmm-username @jeannie-beannie @belle-blue @beautywine @sagetakami @simp-for-fantasy @whyamireadingthis ]
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tsukimefuku · 18 hours
Text
voice kink: the reckoning (or so you thought) ♪ nanami kento
This is the continuation drabble to that because this teasy man occupied my every waking moment, it’s not even funny. Have my horny once again.
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You thought you had the upper hand when Nanami got back home at night after relentlessly teasing you in the morning. You had confessed finding his voice sexy and oh did he leave you completely pent up after whispering dirty talk inches away from your ears and leaving for the day.
Needless to say, you body slammed him onto the mattress the minute he stepped inside the apartment, thinking you had surprised him.
However, the only upper hand you had was both of your hands pinned above your head as he pounded you on the bed relentlessly and whispered obscenities in your ear.
“Were you needy like this... ah... all day long? Horny for... ah...  this? To have me fucking you... like this?” His warm breath tickled all around your cheek and earlobe, and it just added another layer of sensations sending shivers down your entire body.
His low, usually well collected voice was now breathier, raspier and slightly stuttered in between his own moans.
Your brain had turned to complete mush by this point, and that very familiar pooling heat began concentrating in your body, the lewd sounds of his cock slapping in and out of your folds filling the room along with your whimpers.
“Y-yes... Kento I-I’m... I’m gonna... kiss me-“ you begged, wanting nothing more than his tongue — by this point completely glazed with your taste after he made sure he had his dinner before giving you what you were begging for — thrust into your mouth.
“No... how would you hear me if- ah... I’m kissing you...?” This time, his tone was a little more playful, but just as intense and truthful. 
Oh no. No no no. Ohhhhh he did not.
He was very serious about it.
The teasing demon had not only not left his body, it was actually trying to kill you. You were sure of it.
The heat in your belly was unsteady, wavering, and you were nothing short of desperate for it to burst — something especially hard to do when your man would deny you that warm, sloppy wet kiss he’d always give you to tip you off the edge.
“K-kento... please please oh- I’m begging I’m ahhh- please, p-please, God... I’ll die... don’t, I’m... fuck, pleas-” you weren’t even making sense anymore. All that came out of your mouth were senseless begging pleas through whimpers and pathetic moans.
He chuckled.
That relentless little devil chuckled.
“Die? Ah... don’t be so dramatic-“ he huffed, honeyed tone gnawing at your frustration by the second, “cum and I’ll kiss you”
He’s trying to kill me.
“I c-can’t... I just... please, please please- I can’t Kento I can’t without-”
You sounded pitiful.
“Come on... be a... good girl for me, love...” Nanami answered, husky voice brushing over your skin before he planted a warm kiss on your cheek.
To help you out, Nanami drew one of his hands down and began circling his thumb over your throbbing, desperate clit.
It took less than five seconds to have all of your pent up frustration and desire completely bursting at the seams. Your entire body jolted and convulsed as you came with a strained cry, blabbering away his name and your own desperation, your cunt tightening with ungodly strength around his cock.
“Good girl,” he cooed, before sliding his tongue wetly over your cheek and thrusting it inside your open mouth, giving you the taste you had been begging for those past few minutes.
His hip thrusts became erratic, his moans broke into your breath, and he, too, reached his peak.
You felt his thick, white cum blossoming warm inside you, and for a second, you felt like you had a tiny second orgasm just from it.
Letting go of your pinned hands, Nanami held your waist and parted his lips from yours. 
“Is this what you wanted when you attacked me by the door?” Nanami asked with a sly smile to his face, panting as he locked his gaze to yours under his completely messy, disheveled hair.
“Shut up, Kento. Just shut up.” 
He let out a soft chuckle before pressing his lips on yours again.
Little devil.
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ysrjune · 3 days
Text
who wants to write a scott barringer smut, which is dedicated to me 😊. UGGH I need him so bad pls 😔
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“uh-huh, yeah? y’like that?” Scott mumbled in the cockiest tone ever while thrusting into you slowly. “like it when I go slow, don’t you, baby. When I cum in you and risk the chance of making you a mommy?” He leaves kisses along your neck. “wouldn't be so bad, would it? God, the things id do to you while you're pregnant, I don't care. id fuck you either way. you'd look so good with my baby in your belly.” He continues saying a bunch of nasty things, eventually speeding up and getting a little mean.
“dumb fucking slut, stop being so damn loud, someone's gonna hear us.” He placed a hand over your mouth, hoping it would quiet you down. “such a dirty girl. letting me fuck you in the kitchens. just cant keep your damn legs closed when it comes to me, huh? never patient enough when its my cock.” his hips grind into your smoothly, making his abdomen look so good in the dim light. “doesnt even have to be my cock though, right? cause you'll take anything I offer, whether it be my fingers or tongue..” Scott gave your cheek a light smack. “just the kind of girl I need.”
he took his hand off of your mouth, but your own hand traveled to his pretty face, resting on his jaw. “scotty, ‘m gonna cum..” you whined to him, earning a smirk. “cum all over my cock then, beautiful.” he moaned as soon as your hole clenched him so deliciously. “got no idea how a girl like you fell for me. Mm—fuck. so pretty and obedient. love me the good girls.” he whimpers into your neck. “yeah, yeah, yeah, squeeze me like that, dolly.” he continued letting out soft whines and moans while thrusting into you.
“come on, let me cum in you, please? make you a mommy?” Scott begged and begged until he actually came in you. it took you a few seconds to cum after him, but as soon as you did, he finished again. feeling your pussy tighten over his softening dick felt so good he just had to cum again.
UGHH PLSSS SOMEONE WRITE ME A SCOTT SMUT HOLYLYTLLYYLTL IM GOOD FERAL.
。゚•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• 。゚
@anakinstwinklebunny @heartsforanakin @anisangeldust @sockiess @erosmutt @rottencandyblood @radiantvader @catnipaddictt @haydensprettyprincess @freezerbride95 @anisscarletstarlet 🎀
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mrm0rgansw0man · 3 days
Note
Hellooooooo!!!! Can I please request a scene with Arthur and female reader who is sick and is lying in her tent with Arthur caring for her and checking up on her. Just fluff and Arthur being really sweet. Arthur massaging her hips and shoulders.💓💓💓💓
you got it! Xx
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let me take care of you (arthur morgan x reader)
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"Darlin'? What 're ya' doin' out here?"
You woke with a jolt, you looked up at the man who was speaking to you, and smiled when you recognized Arthur. He's knelt down next to you with a hand on your shoulder, his concern clear.
You cleared your throat, which hurt like hell but needed to be done.
"I wanted t-to get some sun." You rasped out, you coughed into the crook of your elbow. "I was s-so cold and I'm in so m-much pain Arthur..."
"And yer' shivering now, sweetheart." Arthur said softly. His placed the back of his hand against your forehead, and frowned when he felt you still had a bit of a fever. "C'mon, let's getcha to bed."
Arthur scooped you up into his arms bridal style, holding you close. Your throbbing head fell against his chest, and you found tears welling in your eyes. God, you hated being sick. Your body ached , and your head throbbed. You felt like such a burden not being able to do anything for yourself.
"Y'know, ya' scared me outta my wits when you weren't in yer' tent." Arthur said with a small chuckle. "I was runnin' around like a headless chicken til' i saw you over there. Lookin' so pretty in the sun."
Your eyes were closed, but you still smiled up at Arthur. He planted a gentle kiss on your forehead as he stepped back into your tent. Arthur set you down gently on your cot before going and securing the flaps of your tent shut again. He sighed when he looked back at you to find you shivering again. Arthur slipped off the black leather jacket he was wearing and sat you up and wrapped you up in it. It was all you could do to open your eyes and wearily smile at him again. Arthur laid you down in your cot and covered you in your quilt, and he practically felt you relaxing. You turned and laid down flat on your stomach, reasting your head on your arms and sighed. The jacket smelled like Arthur, it was nice.
You felt that Arthur sat down on the cot next to you, he ran his hands through your hair. He gently began to massage your head.
"Thank you s'much for taking care of me Arthur.." You mumbled sleepily.
"Of course, darlin'." Arthur said softly, using that tone of voice he knew made you feel safe and sound. He moved his hand from your hair down to your shoulders. Arthur used both hands to massage all the stress from your shoulders, your lower back, and your hips. He paid special attention to your shoulder and hips, he knew that's where your pain gathered the most.
"I love you.." You whispered to Arthur. He barley even heard it through the layers of his jacket and your hair.
Arthur stood up and adjusted the quilt back over you, he bent down and kissed your head softly.
"I love you too, m' sweet girl." Arthur whispered back, he kissed your cheek and quietly made his way to leave your tent. Arthur took comfort in the fact that you were fast asleep, all cozy and warm. For now he'd let you rest, he could never last too long without checking on you though.
"You still takin' care of your patient Doctor Morgan?" Karen teased, Arthur had passed her on the way back to his tent.
"Course I am." Arthur said simply. "I gotta take care of my woman, Miss Jones."
Arthur could get teased all he wanted, he didn't care. Not one bit. He'd do whatever you needed him to do. He'd take care of his best girl.
<3
hope you enjoy the fic!! also i hope you didn't mind the bit i added in the beginning lol i love being in the sun when i'm sick i couldn't help myself! xx :)
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ratedfleur · 2 days
Text
watch, don't touch.
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pairing 🔪 jang wonyoung x reader
themes 🔪 genre ౨ৎ explicit
note: i know some of you guys were asking for a ghostface!wonyoung part two so i hope this makes up for it! it's not much but happy reading!
🔞 / smut warnings: wonyoung is ghostface in this, knife play (and i mean a lot of it..), knife fucking (kinda but not really…. idk how to explain)
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wonyoung is sadistic. she loves using you for her own personal gain, wonyoung is obsessed with seeing you do anything just to keep yourself safe from her list of potential victims. 
her eyes watch as you shakily held up one of her smaller knives, one of the knives that was once put against your neck when you threatened to call the cops on wonyoung after she pulled a stunt on you— kidnapping you for her own entertainment. 
you twisted the knife in your hand, letting the cool blade cascade down the valley of your chest as you watched wonyoung film you. wonyoung’s gaze is soulless as she watches you play around with her knife, but her mouth waters when the blade presses against your nipple, making you gasp as your eyes shook when you see wonyoung’s eyes get excited. 
she even sits herself down in front of you, eyes still fixed on you teasing yourself with her knife, “press harder.” wonyoung says, eyes moving to look up at your scared ones. 
shutting your eyes for a second, your teeth sinks into your bottom lip as you press her knife harder against your skin, dragging the blade on your breasts as they leave a red line on them. 
the cool blade makes a shiver run up your spine when it hits your nipple, making you whimper. 
wonyoung’s eyes burn with lust as she watches you shake, her eyes flicker up at your tongue that swipes against your lip, releasing a little breath of relief when wonyoung orders you to stop. 
“lie down, you know what to do.” she says, shuffling back to give you some space. you let out a little whimper as you lied down in front of wonyoung, your legs pull themselves upward as you spread them for the woman who seems quite interested in how you did things your way. 
it was unusual for you to do so, you always liked to follow wonyoung’s orders as though you were a little mutt and she was your owner. 
lying down differently, your cunt is on display as the back of your thighs are against your chest, your plush cunt clenches over nothing as your hand holds onto the knife’s blade, letting the blunt handle prod against your cunt that swallowed it up, coating the handle with your juices. 
wonyoung’s mouth waters when she hears you let out an accidental moan when the handle slips a little too deep than anticipated. she sighs in content behind the camera as her spare hand wanders up her skirt, letting her nimble fingers rub her own wetness as she watches you slowly fuck yourself with her knife. 
your little gasps and moans become breathier as you start to properly fuck yourself with wonyoung’s knife, your cunt clences around the handle as you push it in and out of you. 
right when you see wonyoung settling the phone down on the bed, you stop her from inching closer, “j-just watch.. no touching..” you shudder as the handle prods against your sensitive spot, making wonyoung nod as she stays put in her seat, throat growing dry as you fuck yourself faster and harder with her knife. 
looking up at wonyoung who’s eyes are mesmerized with your cunt, you call out to her, “hey g-ghostface, will you let me cum?” you stutter. 
wonyoung’s eyes glitter at your words, “you’re actually aroused? if so, then yes. i’ll let you cum.” she says with a glint in her eyes as you nodded, head throwing back with a moan as you fucked yourself faster, “oh god, i’m gonna cum! i— i’m gotta cum!” you start to moan, forgetting you were ever put in such position where you were forced to please ghostface. 
she watches as your thighs start to shake as you fucked yourself, your cunt visibly clenches around the knife as you moaned wantonly, your pace slows down as you clench hardly around her knife, the knife slides out of you with a pop when you unclench, letting your cum drip out of you when you clench over nothing. 
grabbing and throwing her knife on the ground, wonyoung navigates her way in between your legs, hovering her face above yours, “you’re absolutely insane.” she says before smashing her lips against yours, unveiling a new version of wonyoung that you never knew of.
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  © RATEDFLEUR — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
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Text
Stricken 1
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, violence, ostricization,and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: you were scarred by a storm years ago and its bringer has come to upheave your life once more.
Characters: God of War!Thor
Note: I did this finally.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
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You always know when a storm's coming. The hairs on your arms stand and your skin burns hot. The smell of rain is tinted by another scent. That of burning flesh and ash. Your scars raze as if struck again and for a moment, you cannot hear or see. 
Slowly, the scent of rain returns to you and the noise of the patter, sometimes more a hammering, as if to remind you of its bearer. The thunder is his war cry. The lightning his wrath. You do wonder why then it should’ve come down on you. 
You keep your hood up, your chin low. Though you hide, the villagers know who you are, they know of your misfortune. The calamity wrought into your flesh in veined scars. Your face is marked with the storm, zigzagged with lines as your left eye is struck blind and white. 
Yet it isn’t your name they whisper as you stop at a stall to buy grain. It is his. The Prince of Asgard. The might God of Thunder. The monster who made you like this. 
The air is thick, roiling with unspent moisture, and the clouds threatening in a grey ripple. You should have come yesterday. You should not have waited so long.  
You trade your coin and move on, gathering the small rations you can afford. You’ll return to your hovel, gather what you can from the garden, and check the traps for rabbits. It should get you through, though the frost does eat away at your harvest.  
As you have it, between the chirping of your disfigurement, there is worse creeping from the north. The snows have fallen heavy and whole lakes have frozen to the silt. You do not believe all you hear but you know better than to disregard the nip in the air. 
Your basket remains like but you’ve spent your limit. Your cloak shifts with your movement and you shrink lower as you near the group of adolescents feigning at battle with sticks. Their audience glimpses your passing and you hear their voices mingle with laughter. 
“It’s that crone. The burnt one,” comes a bit louder than is meant. 
You don’t stop. You don’t show that you’ve heard it. There is nothing to be said.  
“Cursed, by Thor’s hammer,” another chortles, “it is said he was forging and struck the blade too hard. In his wrath, he sent a storm. A mongrel like her drew it upon herself, broken like the sword.” 
Certainly, that too is a story to be met with skepticism. One cannot guess at what the gods do in Asgard nor why they bring only misery and chaos to Midgard. You cannot disagree that the storm was no favour to you. A curse, certainly, though the meaning can never be known. 
You move along, leaving behind their whispers and their sneers. Off to your solace, to your safe. Out of the path of any wandering soul or any blowing storm.  
A storm rages without. Water swirls and batters your small abode, built against the wall of a cave on a carpet of peat. You cover your ears as the winds whistle and wail. You quake beneath your cloak, eyes locked shut as you cower away from the tempest so much as your own memories. 
The blinding white flash and the scalding hot pain. Your fingers creep up to your chin and feel the rigged scars. You can never forget, no matter how you try. You can never be as you were. You are marked, you are damaged, and as the villagers have it on their tongues, broken. 
Even your family would not have you. You remember your mother’s wail as your father drove you off like some beast. ‘The gods have smited you themselves. You cannot remain or you will wreck ruin upon us all.’ 
Days of walking and tears, like the very storm that scarred you, a haze through which you trod until you could go no more. Until your head would split and the burnt flesh began to weep. A woman found you on the forest floor, rotting away from the corruption spreading through you. 
You don’t remember much of her. Only her touch and how she healed you. She bid you off with the cloak you wear and some food for your travels. Then you were alone and thus you remain. Not even the thieves will steal from you, nor the criminals darken your door. A curse is worth no piece of gold, no drop of blood. 
The pounding of rain relents. A chill creeps beneath the slats of your door and seep into the walls. You fill the earth with what kindling you have, the clay chimney puffing smoke up through the center of the roof. You hold your hands out to warm but find little comfort. 
You settle on your side beneath your cloak and stare into the flames. You shiver. It’s cold. Very cold. Typically, the rain chases away the chill but this is different. You can feel it in the ground. You curl up tight, clinging to your warmth, let your eyes close. Sleep comes but for lack of and not peacefully. 
Your dreams are a maelstrom. There a flames and ice, one after the other, sometimes together. Sharp pointed shards frozen and hanging, then licking tendrils of heat from below. You are lost in the land of sleep, tortured by a world built of your own fears and follies. 
You wake stiff and frigid. The fire has gone out. Not even smoke remains in the pile of ash. You move carefully, bones aching, scars tingling. You touch the hard ridging along your cheek and your fingers pulse from the cold. You can see your breath. 
How can it be? It was sunny before the rain. You get your feet under you and stand with a groan. Near the door, a strange dusting of white powders around the door, flecking in from beneath and around the edges. Snow? 
Were the tales true after all? You wince as suddenly your scars singe and sting. Ow. You recoil and cover your face with your hands, hissing and wheezing through the pain. It hurts terribly. Worse than even the first strike.  
You pull your hands away as your eyes water and you blink through your tears. You can see, at least in your good eye. There is no lightning, it is only in your mind. You shakily turn and search around. You cry out again as the agony surges once more in your head. 
Why? 
Your legs quake. Something is amiss. The frost has come and this meagre hut cannot withstand it. You take your rucksack and put what you can carry into it. Your water skin is strung across your chest and your pack upon your back. You wrap your boots with rags and your hands too. You haven’t the clothing for the cold but you will need to find something. Perhaps skin a hare or two. 
The door blows inward almost as soon as you touch it, another gust nearly bowling you over. You sway with the wind and cling to the crooked doorframe. You shove yourself out, just as quickly flattened to the wall by a flurry of snow. It dusts your face coldly and you pull up your neck scarf over your nose and pull your hood into place. 
You set off, hunched, reaching with your arms as you lift your knees over the treacherous heaps. You keep close to the rock wall. The thought of turning back stops you but it seems as foolish an idea. The hovel cannot hold for much longer. You need to get to the mouth of the cave and chance a sleeping bear within. 
You sidle along, slowed by the snow and the wind, the former soaking through your clothing as the latter whips around your hood. Suddenly, a roll of thunder, like war drums, churns in the air. The word dims and the furor sounds again; louder, closer. 
You cry out and lift an arm to shield yourself instinctively. You curl your hand into the rockface and holler even louder, closing your eyes as your memory summons another storm. No, it cannot be. Not again.  
A deafening boom shakes the ground and knocks you to your knees. You crawl along, keeping low near the ragged stone, those hidden beneath the snow jabbing against your palms. You whimper and whine, blinded by the thickening curtain all around you. 
Yet you never heard of the god raining down snow upon the lands. Only the slaking rains and the hot violence of his bolts. Never this. What sword has he broken this time? Perhaps it was his very own hammer.
The thunder overhead continues its horrid thrum as more pulses in the earth. Boom, boom, boom. You feel it beneath your hands. Your knees come down clumsily as you scramble through the piling powder. You open your eyes and still cannot see. The world is smudge in gray white and black, the sky flashing and darkening from one moment to the next. 
You cry out again as your scars burn. You push yourself back on your heels and grasp your face as you shriek. It hurts! So bad! Your eyes well and flow over. Your body trembles and collapses. You writhe in the snow, contorting with the agony as your flesh feels as if it is splitting. 
Beneath the incessant pounding comes a rocky noise. Like laughter it curdles in the air and chases after you like the steady boom, boom, boom. Closer and closer, louder and louder, the earth quakes in tandem with the cacophony. 
“I’ve found another,” the deep voice scoffs and snickers, “ah, Heimdall, you must see this--” 
The craterous voice halts and the air still. The snow drifts but the wind stops and the thunder relents, the world seeming to hum. You scratch at your face as the flames grow unbearable. You must be alight. It can be the only reason for such pain. 
The large figure, a blurry silhouette in your skewed vision, looms like a mountain. He steps over you, sliding a foot between you and the cave wall and flips you onto your back. You stare up at the sky, rolling in sheets of grey and black, the dark figure standing above, blotting out the clouds. You sob and plead. 
“Make it stop!” You beg as your hood falls back, “kill me! Kill me! It hurts.” 
He bends as your eyes roll back and he grabs your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face. He pulls you half off the ground, not a single grunt for the effort. You feel whoever, whatever it is, looking down at you; upon you. A rattle rises in his gritty throat. 
“And what are you?” He breathes. 
You feel another surge and babble, reining in your wild eyes as you quiver uncontrollably. You make yourself look at him. You shudder and shake your head. Shaggy red hair, a braided beard, and eyes so blue they jolt you. Ink marks one side of his broad face as he wears fur upon his soldiers beneath emblems of the godly lands. 
“It hurts...” you rasp, “I am dying.” 
“You...” he grabs your chin, holding you by your shoulder. His thumb extends up your face to touch the scars and you let out a shrill howl as the agony piques. You latch onto his thick arm and thrash. 
“It buuuuuuuurrnssssssssss,” you scream as your spine arches. 
“Hmm,” he hums and throws you into the snow. You continue your desperate wriggling, the fire softening but not leaving you completely, “Heimdall!” He calls out like a war horn, “get your skinny ass over here!” 
There’s a tinkle of coy laughter and lighter footsteps that land on the boulder above. Your eyes drift over and you see another shadow, this one hazier but smaller. A dusting of snow flies up beside you as the other man lands beside you. No, not a man. 
Heimdall? Son of Odin. 
“Oh, Thor, what trouble have you found--” 
“Another one,” the other growls. Not the other, Thor. The God of Thunder. The beast who marked you. “Father says they all must come.” 
“This one?” Heimdall muses as his voice spikes with humour, “why look at her. Pathetic—wait a moment... brother, is this your handiwork?” He squats to see you closer and snickers again, “why how very peculiar.” 
“Bring her,” Thor barks and spins on his heel, swinging his hammer, “we haven’t time--” 
“You bring her, brother. As you say, you are so much stronger--” 
“Just do it!” Thor snarls and a peel of thunder breaks through the clouds. “I need ale.” 
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penny-for-thots · 13 hours
Note
edging the windbre boys ; not requested :]
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[!] ON THE EDGE.
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ⓘ BRINGING THEM TO THE EDGE JUST TO STOP?! gn!reader — smut. includes. sakura, suo, nirei, kaji, umemiya, hiragi, togame, + choji. blow/hand job, ribbons, cock ring, teasing, whining, + edging. aged up 18+ ; now that im writing this, im thinking abt a dry cumming ver...sorry, ive been writing a lot of smut but its the week before my period. im is ovulating, so um...take this <3
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"I CAN'T TAKE IT, PLEASE!!" or, SCREAMING FOR MERCY. he's whining, begging, repeating your name and a phrase over and over and over again. his breath is stuttering and a couple of tears may fall down his face. like- he's legit going to pass out soon from the edging.
SAKURA is shaking. in all honesty, he can go in both this category and the 'JUST ... A MESS.' category, however, what sets him in this one is his begging. he's sobbing, a blushing mess, pleading with you like he'll fucking die if he doesn't get to cum. like, "pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease," is leaving his lips. his legs, his whole body is shaking at this point and he's begging to cum. like- to the point of babbling he's begging to cum, telling you how good it feels, and mumbling to himself that he can't last any longer. GOD FORBID, you put a cock ring on him? girl- he's gone.
CONT. at a certain point, because he's no pitiful, you decide to take mercy. you're tongue licking a long stripe up his length, hand pumping him earnestly. your tongue circles around the head and he cums, hard. like- a big ass load is dumped into your as he's hunched over and twitching from the relief he got.
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"OOH, YOU'RE GONNA GET IT." or, HE'S ACTIVELY SEEKING REVENGE. this man isn't as much of a mess, in fact, he's doing everything in his power to contain his moans and such. he's trying to be somewhat tough and maintain his composure but he's grunting about paying you back. his hands are definitely tied behind his back, though that doesn't stop him from trying to get out of it.
TOGAME is seething. like- he loves it but he cannot wait to have you over his lap, fingering you and stopping until you get the feeling he's getting right now. he's breathing rough, "ooh, baby. im gonna get you back," he hisses, "i—ngh-oh—fucking promise." his arms might be tied, but he's trying to hard to hump your mouth, seeking any release that could push him over the edge. you'd have put a cock ring on him to get him to stop (hear me out though, a cock cage on togame?). regardless, he's grunting, his abs flexing and relaxing, thighs tensing and shaking, and his toes curled as he swears up and down he'll get you back.
SUO is breathing heavy. he's purposefully trying not to say something, so nothing you can tease him with slips out. unfortunately for him, a grunt that transforms into a whimper has your lips coming off of his cock with a pop! he looks down to see a cocky expression on your face. he huffs with a chuckle, "ooh, mm—damn—when we're done me and you are gonna have a- ngh- very long talk." suo bites his lip to prevent his whimpers from slipping, though he doesn't help himself by watching what you're doing. tying that pretty bright pink ribbon at the base of his cock, he's not against it. he has no problem with "feminine" things, but did you really have to tie it that tight? "hayato! you're staining my ribbon!" suo has to fight himself not to say something, he only chuckles, a hiss leaving his lips. oh, you are so going to get it.
KAJI is literally about to fight you. no bull. of course, being the person he is, he isn't allowed to use his hands. though he wants to, he can't shove your face full of his cock. his tongue swirls around his lollipop in a futile attempt to distract him from the warmth of your hand around him. "damn it! i am—fu-ucking—get- getting you back for this!" his his hips lift urgently off of the bed you've got him tied to. his legs are shaking; dazed and low-lidded eyes staring down at you as is orgasm builds, only to fall off at the last second. he nearly growls, swearing he'll get you back (in his head).
CONT. he isn't geting relief (none of them). he's normally a man with a lot of confidence, and yet, he's fucking trembling because he can't cum? i mean sure, he's out to get you later, but it's completely worth it to watch his eyes roll back into his skull, his hips practically convulsing, and thick ropes of cum shoot from his tip and stain his stomach. plus, the breathy "fuck" nearly has you doing the same.
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MR. CAN'T SPEAK, or HE'S REALLY FOCUSED. the man is nearly silent. he either doesn't want to make a noise, or he's like- breathless. he may be huffing, eyebrows furrowed so deeply he'll cause permanent wrinkles. he's looking down at you, but he's more so focusing on not losing his shit because he can't cum. like- "fuckfuckfuck ... " is going through his head while he fights internal demons, and you. how dare you look at him with those pretty eyes?!
HIRAGI strikes me as a quiet man in bed, especially when something like this is happening. his core is tense; his face is tense. eyebrows knitted, eyes screwed shut, jaw clenched, and thighs flexed. he tries so hard not to—to which he fails—though at some point, he genuinely can't. he's moaned and groaned, even whimpered, and now a sound can't come out of his mouth. he's so close to losing it he's lost his voice to beg or whine. "damn—" he croaks, body trembling.
CONT. hes another one where your mercy is his salvation. he just looks so cute- why would make him suffer more? its not until he's allowed to cum does his let out a string of pretty noises, sweat dripping down his forehead and body shaking.
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JUST ... A MESS, or SELF EXPLANITORY. he's losing his fucking shit. this man is damn near wailing because he can't cum. he can't get the release he wants and he's losing his shit. fat globs of tears spill down his cheeks, there may even be snot. he's barely coherent, babbling pleads and jumbled strings of words to get you to let him cum.
NIREI is the one literally about to die from being denied. honestly, the display has you wanting to stop. he's sobbing, his voiced cracked, snot dripping from his nose, and body shaking like a leaf. he barely tell you "sorry," or "please," let alone fully beg. his words are mindless babble, strings of saliva falling from his lips, a web of them shown in his mouth. he keens and whines, "puh- plea- plea-ease!" when i say he's vibrating in his spot, i mean it. hes is NAWT the type of person to be able to handle this type of sexual activity (you can't overstim him either).
CHOJI is ... something. i see choji as someone who isn't too interested in sex, though when it happens he's sooo sensitive. and ridiculously whiny. like- the man will not shut up. he's whining your name, pleading, whispering to himself, cursing—anything. at some point tears start to form and he gets shocked at the waves of pleasure that appear and disappear. he almost gets mad until your tongue starts to work him. his eyes get low-lidded and his body relaxes, it feels to him as if a wave is inches from sweeping him away, and then you stop. and then he sobs. and then he gets mad. then you get back at it. cycle repeats. "i- urgh! can't- can't—awh!" he's legit a fucked up mess, whining and crying like a girl, convulsing and breathing heavy as hell.
CONT. you have to let him at this point, he's not surviving a minute longer. his cock is raw and stiff from your strokes; at one moment, you thought he had accidentally came because of how much pre-cum seeped from the tip. he almost passed out once he cums, that's how much he needed it.
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IT DEPENDS or THE OUTLIER WHO'S MULTIPLE. he can range from sobbing and crying for you, to telling himself not to cum, to being a complete and utter mess. it genuinely depends on how he feels that day, what happened. is he letting lose? is he still up tight? does he need to blow off some steam? it really depends on his mental state. he could go from
UMEMIYA grunts. his breaths are shaky, chest stuttering. he's laughing at both you and himself, he's certainly having fun with the moment. though, his body is being a little fickle. one second he's too hot, he's about to burn up, then the next its calm, though there's that painful pleasure in his groin from being denied. he laughs, "it looks good on me, it's—fuck—like y'r openin' a- pre-present." he looks down at the bow you've tied around his cock. of course, he asked for it. it looks better than he thought. he lets out a shaky breath, core tensing as he tries to keep his noises inside. though, to no avail, as he's a naturally loud person. his grunting and groaning fills the room, tears brimming at his eyes, and saliva pooling on his bottom lip. he bites his lip, chuckling, "fuck—y'r making me lose it!" he moans, "ooh, im gettin' you back."
CONT. he broke from his restraints, a stupid mess and all and forced your mouth to stay lodged on him until he finished shooting ropes down your throat. he watches in amusement as you cough, looking down at the mess he's been made of. he 100% got you back seconds later.
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133 notes · View notes
444seraph · 3 days
Note
hear me out on a smutty version of “schlatt takes you to your first concert” maybe starting where it left off🤭
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♱ summary ; schlatt takes you home after your first concert
⊹ ࣪ ˖ genre ; smut, headcannons
⟢ pairing ; schlatt/reader
ᡣ𐭩 warnings ; nsft, drunk sex/intox kink, afab reader
ᝰ a/n .ᐟ — sorry this took forever i gave myself the ick and needed a sec away from rpf lmao
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٠ ࣪⭑ he really did have every intention of just putting you to bed
٠ ࣪⭑ i promise he did
٠ ࣪⭑ but the fuzzy feeling in your body from drinking at the concert makes your whole body feel so warm
٠ ࣪⭑ maybe warm doesn’t do this feeling justice
٠ ࣪⭑ no, you feel hot
٠ ࣪⭑ so hot
٠ ࣪⭑ your shaking hands trail up and down Schlatt’s body as he tries (not very hard) to tell you to get to bed
٠ ࣪⭑ you lean over and smile at him, kissing his face and neck between tipsy giggles
٠ ࣪⭑ everything around you feels like a blur- everything but schlatt
٠ ࣪⭑ slowly, he moves a hand over to your face, tucking your hair behind your ear
٠ ࣪⭑ “what are you trying to do here, y/n?”
٠ ࣪⭑ his voice is soft and sleepy, but his tone and his deep chuckle makes you melt more and more
٠ ࣪⭑ “you” you manage to say, before giggling at yourself
٠ ࣪⭑ “you’re so silly” he coos, sitting up and pressing a kiss to your forehead
٠ ࣪⭑ slowly, methodically, he kisses down your body, unbuttoning your shirt as he makes his way down your chest
٠ ࣪⭑ of course he gives your boobs special attention, lingering as he continues to kiss and give gentle love bites. how could he not?
٠ ࣪⭑ you squirm and try your best to be quiet, but that’s hard when his lips are so warm and soft, and you’re soooo sensitive
٠ ࣪⭑ he kisses at your hips as his fingers linger on your waistband, soft eyes looking up at you
٠ ࣪⭑ “is this what you want?”
٠ ࣪⭑ his smirk and warm, teasing tone aren’t lost on you as you squirm and whine for his touch
٠ ࣪⭑ “please-“
٠ ࣪⭑ even you aren’t entirely sure how you managed to get the word out
٠ ࣪⭑ giving you a final kiss on the stomach, he gently pulls all the fabric off your legs in one motion, leaving you to shiver as you feel the cold air hit your wet slit
٠ ࣪⭑ it felt like hours passed by in the few seconds it takes him to unbutton his pants with drunk hands
٠ ࣪⭑ then, as he slides his cock into your wetness, you can’t help but cry out as a shiver takes over your whole body
٠ ࣪⭑ he gives you a second to adjust to the feeling of his length inside you before smirking down at you
٠ ࣪⭑ “are you ready, baby?”
٠ ࣪⭑ you can only let out a begging whimper, nodding desperately
٠ ࣪⭑ he chuckles at your response, cooing and calling you cute as he starts to work his hips, slowly at first
٠ ࣪⭑ it’s not long until he’s clearly just as desperate as you are, grunting as he thrusts into you
٠ ࣪⭑ it’s a blur of wonderful feelings- you aren’t sure when your nails landed on his back, scraping at skin, or when his hands ended up tangled in your hair
٠ ࣪⭑ you’re both animals in the heat of the moment, a mess of warmth and sounds
٠ ࣪⭑ eventually, he thrusts into you hard
٠ ࣪⭑ you throw your head back in orgasm as you feel his hands on your hips, pulling you further onto his cock as you feel his seed filling you up
٠ ࣪⭑ you’re panting and trembling, but he doesn’t seem to be doing much better- and for a tender moment you both lay, locked up like that, catching your breaths
٠ ࣪⭑ then, seemingly out of nowhere, he collapses beside you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tightly into his chest
٠ ࣪⭑ not wanting to move out of his warm embrace, you settle there, taking in his scent as you feel his hand run up your back, messing with your hair
٠ ࣪⭑ “i love you, y/n”
٠ ࣪⭑ his deep sleepy voice is enough to make you melt
٠ ࣪⭑ you try to respond, but instead of saying anything, only noises escape you
٠ ࣪⭑ he laughs softly at you, still petting your hair
٠ ࣪⭑ “god, you’re so fucking precious.”
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just-a-sewer-goblin · 18 hours
Text
Butcher!Simon x gn!reader Part 7 whooohooow. We get the cofee date and more conversation! Yay
Also I'm dead tired, going straight to sleep after posting this forgive any spelling mistakes. Also please point it out to me if I messed up the gender of the reader anywhere. I promise that's just because these are horribly self indulgend and I might slip up and put my own gender in there. But I wanna keep these as neutral and inclusive as possible because we all deserve to be self indulgend with these. Love you all!
< Part 6 | COD Masterlist | Part 8
Simon’s running late and he‘s cursing himself when he opens the door of the café he’s supposed to meet you at (he’s so glad you didn’t tell him to meet up at Johnny’s bakery, he wouldn’t have survived that).
He’s not even sure why he’s late and he’s glad Price doesn’t know about it, the old man would give him hell for not being on time, especially when it means making lovely little you wait. God, he can't believe he's making you wait, his chest tightening up slightly. What if you already left?
As soon as he steps in, he spots you and has to take a second to take the scene in. The café is cute and cozy; you’re nestled into a booth at the back anxiously watching the sidewalk through the window, your mutt laying by your feet. You’re probably looking for him and that makes him hastily walk towards your table. He really wants to kick himself for being late. Way to go and show you how important this is to him.
When you hear him approach you look up and your dog sits up, eyeing him. Your eyes are big and you look like you didn’t expect him to show up at all. Honestly you look like a deer caught in the headlights, like one wrong move might make you bolt (he really needs to tame you, put a collar on you so you won’t run).
Your expression makes Simon want to crumple to his knees so he might beg for forgiveness. His chest is slightly heaving from his race against time and you raise your hand in an awkward little wave.
“Hi…”, you say and hearing your lovely voice immediately makes his heart speed up.
“Hi, sweetheart. So sorry for being late.”, he apologizes and extends his hand for your dog to sniff. The beast recognizes him and deems him harmless, so he pulls out a chair for himself opposite of you. You already have a drink in front of you and you self-consciously stir the apparently empty cup (god, you’re adorable in your nervousness).
“It’s fine. I’m sorry I ordered already, wasn’t sure you were gonna show up.”, you admit quietly, eyes downcast looking at your drink. Simon’s heart breaks. He wants to cover your hand with his and tell you that nothing could keep him from showing up for you even if it means crawling from another grave.
Instead he starts taking off his jacket and says: “I’d never stand you up, sweetheart.”
That makes your eyes snap up to his and he feels his traitorous heart stumble over the next beat. A smile appears on your lips and he forgets what else he wanted to say when your gaze lands on his newly exposed forearms. Your eyebrows slightly lift seeing his tattoos.
Simon’s just about to grow worried that you don’t like tattoos (shit... maybe he should get a laser removal?) when he catches you biting your lips. This time it’s clearly not nervousness.
He’d never admit it but maybe he deliberately flexes his hands and makes a show of getting comfortable without his jacket until your attention is ripped away from him by a waiter asking for your orders (he could seriously knock the poor sod out for that).
When Simon looks at you again your eyes are on his face, your brows slightly furrowed and you cock your head (that would be the perfect angle for him to press his lips to yours). Suddenly he realizes that you’ve never seen him outside of the shop and you’re probably put off by the mask.
“You can ask.”, his voice is gruff and curt and he curses himself. He couldn’t have sounded more uninviting. This is just perfect, at this rate you'll end up leaving before you get your second drink.
“So… I assumed the mask was a hygiene thing but…”, you vaguely gesture to his face. “… evidently it’s not. May I ask why you’re wearing it?”
He barely suppresses a chuckle. Seems like you’re not as reserved as he thought. The pairing of your openness with your timid and shy demeanor makes for an interesting mix.
He finds himself appreciating your directness, something he hadn’t anticipated from you. Then again this date is for you to get to know him and decide whether he’s worthy of being in your presence again (apart from just buying meat).
“’s a habit from my military time. Now it feels odd to go without it.”, he explains simply. He doesn’t see any reason to be dishonest with you. He wants to get to know all of you, uncover all your secrets and hidden parts. If you find him interesting enough to ask about him too, who is he to deny a deity the knowledge about their worshipper?
You nod slowly, scrutinizing him. The next smile you send him is crooked and a bit apologetic. “Doesn’t make it all that much easier to trust you.”, you say.
“And seeing me would? What more would my face tell you?”, he genuinely questions.
That makes you pause for a second and he decides to go on. “People hide intentions behind expressions all the time. Now I might hide my expression but never my intentions.”
Instead of answering directly you look down at your dog.
“Well, Wraith likes you, which really already tells me a lot.”, you say and Simon nearly raises his fist in victory (he’s glad he didn’t forget to put some treats in his pocket).
Wait… “Wraith?”, he nearly chokes on his own spit when he repeats your dog’s name in question. Even after all this time he never asked for the name and never got a good look at his name tag.
Wraith…. a ghost. A ghost!
Your expression turns soft. Simon wishes you’d look at him like that. He’d happily lay on the floor by your feet if it would mean you’d look at him like that. “Yeah… Wraith.”
He watches you in rapt attention when you continue: “I just…”, you chuckle self-consciously. “I never found the idea of ghosts intimidating. And the idea of one of them appearing to you before or after death always sounded more like a guide or companion than horror and fear. Which is kind of what Wraith here is. Most people look at him and find him intimidating, they’re scared, when actually he’s the sweetest, purest pup and best companion anyone could ask for.”
Simon barely keeps from looking at Wraith again. To look for whatever you see in the ugly fucking dog. He’s glad he keeps his attention on you, because you look up, the slightest hint of embarassment on your face, the expression so adorable he feels like fainting (would you look at him like that if he called you his good little lovie?).
“I… sorry it’s silly…”
“It’s not.” Fuck why does his voice sound so raspy. “I like it. Appreciate you tellin’ me”, he quickly adds battling down the sudden urge to tell you about his own Ghost. He consciously keeps his hands from reaching for his mask and running over the skull print.
“I’ve always been afraid of ghosts.”, he admits and your eyes widen incredulously.
“You? You look like ghosts should be afraid of you, not the other way around.”, you blurt and he can already sense the oncoming apology so he makes sure he’s quicker.
“Thank you, lovie. That’s very flattering of you. Not sure how much these…”, and he flexes his biceps obnoxiously for you. “.. would do against incorporeal entities.” (Oh fuck was that weird? He was going for a joke but fuck that was weird wasn’t it? Shitshitshitshit you’re gonna think he’s one of those airheaded only brawn guys)
Simon’s about slap himself when you snort, cover your mouth and giggle, the sound settling warm in his stomach.
Then you seriously nod at him. “Don’t worry, big guy, I’ll protect you from ghosts. They might slip right through your big beefy arms but they’ll miss mine.” You flex your arms too and Simon bites back a grin when he's reminded of how much smaller you are than him. “Thin like trip wire, they won’t know what hit them. Literally.”
He chuckles, earnestly and from deep in his belly, and you grin at him, evidently more at ease. When you settle more comfortably in your chair, not as tightly coiled anymore like you might need to jump into action at any moment, Simon can’t help the protectiveness flaring in his chest. You’re too precious for your own good.
But you don’t need to worry anymore, especially not around him. He'll keep you safe.
You’ve got two guard dogs now.
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itstheghostofmypast · 18 hours
Text
His Little Cowboy
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(College AU) Choi San x (f)Reader
Summary: It turns out that beards aren't as bad as misinterpreting a text, especially when you want to introduce your lover to your friends. Or maybe don't plan on doing that in a themed college party?
Genre: Hurt Comfort
Word Count: 2.8K
Est. Read Time: 15 min
Warnings: mentions of alcohol
Rating: PG-17
Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @san-network
Linked With: 22.59
A/N: Shout out to @yessa-vie straight up digging up the cowboy pics for me. The number of times I listened to this song- @edenesth , is to be blamed.
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Moving past the sweaty bodies she groaned, inwardly grimacing at the stench of alcohol, cheap perfume and oh god please don't let that be puke. This is not how she wanted to spend her weekend, but ever since that dinner where the two had confessed to each other, San had been persistent about them making a public appearance together, slight problem though- he was popular, Mr. Charming, Mr. Optimism, Mr- WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE!?
With a scoff she jumped over some knocked-out dude, really leave it to Choi San to call her to a party and then not answer his phone- even so, he had wanted her to meet his friends, a very...very intimidating group of loud, popular, good looking guys, truth be told most of them already were in a relationship, which would explain why San was more persistent in giving them an official label, not that she would mind that, she loved him unconditionally, a feeling that had blossomed ever so slowly but hit her like a truck once it began to flow over, which is why...she had agreed to this stupid idea...which is why she had agreed to this...to coming here...to wearing such an outfit. 
Standing on her toes she tried to spot her lover, who was supposed to be dressed as a cowboy in black; leave it to college parties to have the weirdest theme- it wasn't even Wild West, well, it was, but they called it 'Outlaw themed'. The theme itself was off-putting due to several historical events but who was she to say no when he had asked her so politely, so quietly, with his face buried in the crook of her neck in the late hours of the night as her fingers played with his short locks, humming when he mumbled against her skin, squeezing her closer as he asked her to attend this party with him, he'd even tell her what to wear, which was odd for when she had read the text the next morning really did confuse her, but agreed anyway- God her face was so itchy- OH SAN!
"SAN!" She called out, smiling when he turned around, eyes scanning the sea of bodies for her. Waving her arm in the air she walked closer to the man in the black cowboy hat, though his eyes never landed on her, instead, he was still looking around. With a huff she squeezed past a couple and almost tripped, only to collide with his chest- bare chest? Her eyes widened at the man, hands instinctively gripping onto the attire- a cropped leather waistcoat? Staring up at him she licked her chapped lips, tugging on the coat gently as he frowned down at her, why did he look...confused? Was he...upset she actually showed up? To be honest, she didn't have time to divulge her insecurities because the vest was distracting, the tussles were caressing her face and the bandana just made her Sannie look like-
"You lost there, buddy?"
Buddy?
"We thought you were dating someone? What are you collecting little boys for- oh wait the beard means you're a big boy right, partner?" Her head whipped in the direction of the voice, is that Wooyoung? Wait, little boy...my god.
"Sannie! It's me!" She squeaked cupping his face as he stiffened, before she felt him gently squeeze her waist, moving closer to her face before his expression morphed into pure disgust- "What the hell are you supposed to be!?" He whined, ignoring the way Wooyoung had burst out laughing, not stopping when his own partner slapped his shoulder, asking him not to embarrass San and his girlfriend even more.
"Like you said! A cowboy!"
.
They had moved to a quieter area of the house, one with proper lighting and- kitchen, all of them had crowded the kitchen, with her sitting on a counter as San glared at her, arms crossed over his chest.... how could someone look so nice in such poor lighting.
"Well?"
"Huh?" 
"What are you supposed to be?" He asked in a low tone, ignoring how his friends were still snickering behind him. It amazed her how he was still towering over her, like that, kind of making her feel smaller than usual, twiddling her thumbs she mumbled "A cowboy...Sannie...you said let's go as a cowboy couple."
A deep laugh resonated from behind the man as she peaked up to find one of them, Seonghwa, who chuckled when their eyes met, only for him to give her a gentle smile, though she could see the glint in his eyes, a little teasing swirling within his orbs, but the angel, his angel, sitting next to him squeezed his hand, begging him to not make it worse.
"What- I? What!?" He gasped, arms flailing around to emphasize whatever the hell he was trying to say as she shrugged, "I SAID A COWBOY COUPLE!?"
"Yeah, and I am one."
"That usually means a guy and his girl!"
 "You realise the actual number of cowgirls was less, if not nonexistent, and usually they did all the work but got little to no credit. This is exactly why these parties confuse me, are we glorifying misogyny?" She deadpanned, pointing to her fake beard causing him to facepalm, never had he met someone so smart yet so stupid- and to think he loved her? Who's the bigger fool here?
"I love how both of you are majoring in communication but aren't able to communicate with each other."
Her lips quirked downwards at that statement, feeling the weight of it hanging in the air- oh- so he wanted her to dress up like those sexy cowgirls...well he should've just said that! Even though she would want to say no, she would have done it anyway because it was for him. That's when it hit her, he wanted to introduce her to his friends too, and while all their significant others were dressed for the occasion, she looked like a hobo, with her baggy cowboy outfit, giant hat and well...the beard. Shit. This was not good, this was not good at all, she misread the situation again- what kind of girlfriend chooses to look unpresentable? What if he thinks she did this to embarrass him- hell he has every right to be upset with her-
"What?"
The sharp tone of his caused her eyes to flicker up from her lap to his face, gut twisting at the way he had turned back to stare at Wooyoung, his cold glare making the other one let out a nervous chuckle, wait no, he shouldn’t take the anger out on his friend, especially when it is her fault for just assuming what he meant- man this beard was itchy.
“I’m just saying…” Wooyoung shrugged, before looking around at everyone, most of whom were now engaged in talking to each other or on their phones, then back at San, who was still glaring at him. Sure, he wanted them to meet his girlfriend, and sure he was upset that she chose the wrong time to misread the situation, but that did not give anyone the right to humiliate her more than she already had done to herself-
“San-ah…” she whispered, gently nudging his leg with her foot, trying to talk to him, whispering, “I can go back and change…” Nah, she was just gonna dip and not come back, probably telling him how she got abducted by aliens by leaving him a note and disappearing because this was a moment of peak embarrassment-
“Your beard’s really cool, what did you use?”
“Huh?” moving to the right her eyes met a certain blonde man’s- she’d never heard Hongjoong speak before, well that’s because in any class the two shared he’d be sitting quietly at the back, “Oh um…facial glue.”
“Woah, you glued it?” He asked, moving closer to inspect it then hummed, “Dedication.”
“I mean she did fool Sannie here,” Seonghwa added, his angel sitting next to him nodding as she hummed in agreement, “It's an A for effort, I kind of wished I went for something similar.”
“I know right!” the girl who had been glaring at her idiotic boyfriend- the idiot was Wooyoung- for upsetting San added, “I was impressed- we should’ve done this, would’ve been so cool.”
She only smiled at their kind words, a bit upset about how she let him down, but hey, at least they were enjoying it. That was all it took for the awkwardness to fade though, perhaps with the help of the other women involved, the conversation had begun to flow smoothly, each one slowly introducing themselves, most men did constantly talk about the beard, but when it came to Jongho, San’s gym buddy – who she wanted to thank because, lord bless, the way her man had beefed up, she’d make sure Jongho and San never quit being friends- he did point out how “They’re all jealous they can’t grow beards as thick as yours- you pulled it off better than most of them could too.”
The causal chatter thus turned into loud, yet fun banter, her laughter causing San, who had been quietly standing next to her, back leaning against the counter she was sitting on, to look at her, chatting with the rest of them like they had been friends for years. Truth be told he found it amusing, no he loved it, how even at this point, knowing she made a mistake she was honest enough to tell him her opinion, about how she felt about the whole theme parties- communication was never really the problem if you ask him, perhaps it was the intent to make the other happy, that would cause problems, the fear of disappointing the other. No one really said that the girls should come dressed as sexy cowgirls or cowgirls at all, and the effort she had put into the outfit made him realise how this was the first party she had ever attended. He remembers how in the earlier days of their relationship, she had mentioned how she’d never been invited to a party, themed or not, not that she would ever go to one- though he had shushed her and promised to take her to one, but for almost four years she had been avoiding it- well perhaps she said yes, this time because they were an official item now, and not just a fling. That made him feel worse, he had spent 20 minutes of her ‘partying time’, arguing with her over something so stupid. He could only sigh at the way he ended up with someone who was only book smart but an idiot otherwise, someone who was so stubborn yet so caring, someone who would try their best to meet his expectations- even if it meant glueing a beard-
“Ow! San!” she hissed, rubbing her cheek before slapping his hand away, causing everyone else to stop talking and look at their friend, who held a tuft of black synthetic hair pinched between his fingers.
“You okay, dude?” Wooyoung asked as San frowned at the hair and then back at her, mumbling, “My god, this really is glued isn’t it?”
“YAH THINK?” she yelled before snatching the torn piece from his hand as she pouted at it, “What is wrong with you~” she whined only to be cut off by Mingi, who she had learnt was one of the noisiest and nosiest friends, spoke up, “The real question is, is San going to kiss her with the beard on?”
She looked up at him eagerly, batting her eyelashes at him, his eyes widening at the realization of how she was still able to look so cute; this was the exact same look she’d give him every time she knew she was winning, when she knew he’d give into her every whim, the look that would make him feel like he was the most important thing to her in the entire universe- maybe he really was- and for this very reason his head jerked to the side as he broke eye contact, knowing if he kept looking at her for a second longer, maybe he would’ve kissed her right there and then, in front of everyone, even though he knew how public display of affection was not her cup of tea. Even if touch was his love language, he knew she’d bask in it and ask for it behind closed doors, so the kiss right now was more of a way of satisfying the people around them, a way of satisfying him, as if she were trying to make it up to him, for misinterpreting the situation, for which she would choose to come out of her comfort zone just for, just to let him know how much he meant to her- god, he really did love her. The group broke out in laughter, causing San’s face to turn red, almost the same colour as her shirt.
She reached for him, fingertips brushing against his arm, causing him to stand up straight clearing his throat as he mumbled, “I’m gonna get you something to drink, stay with them,” as he left the kitchen, ignoring the ‘boo’s’ he was receiving from his friends- he was desperate to introduce her to his circle of friends, but he also forgot how bloody annoying they could be, teasing him at any moment given, hell they had even made a big deal out of his outfit for today, claiming how he ‘was trying so hard to impress her’, adding the ‘Sannie, you know she likes smart guys- oh wait, no maybe that’s not true since you’re in the picture’.
Sighing he looked at himself in the mirror, why was his face so pink? He had been washing his face for God knows how long, trying to calm down, trying to not think about how now everyone knew about his secret little lover, how they’d steal her attention, how they’d make sure she’d be involved in every activity, which was a good thing, but he was her Sannie! How could be her Sannie with them always around- oh my god, get a grip-did he turn redder? All he did was drink apple juice- shit, he had to get her something to drink!
Slamming open the door he stumbled out only to halt at the sight of the bearded cowboy- oh his bearded cowboy who was frowning up at him, causing him to pout at her, somewhat guilty for leaving her hanging and-
“Is the beard really bothering you this much?”
“No, they’re bothering me.”
“Huh?” she looked up at him as if he had spoken French, “What do you mean? I thought they liked me?”
“They do like you.” He sighed, reaching for her hand as he began to walk towards the nearby terrace, knowing it would be empty since the party was downstairs, sliding open the door he slipped outside pulling her out with him as he made her sit on one of the outdoor chairs, kneeling in front of her on the ground as he held her hands, looking up at her, “I’m afraid they like you so much that I won’t get to be myself around you, you know?” he mumbled before placing her hands on his cheeks, causing her to giggle and squeeze his face.
“Aww, Sannie, you don’t have to worry about that, I’m just glad they don’t think I’m weird.”
“They definitely think you are weird.” He mumbled out, only for her to squish his cheeks harder, leaning down to peck his puckered lips before letting go, though he pulled her back, his hand resting at the back of her neck, giving it a gentle squeeze, holding her still as he brushed his lips against hers, “This beard is really annoying.”
“And here I thought you wouldn’t kiss me with it glued to my face.” She whispered, grateful to finally have a moment of peace with him, a moment where they could just be themselves, “Next time, just come over and tell me what to wear.”
“Nah, I think I like this look on you,” He perked up, pecking her lips once more, causing her to let out a giggle, arms wrapping around his neck, about to ask him about the reason behind his choice of clothes when she was cut off, by a very noisy Mingi who’s hollering could be heard as he ran away,
“FOUND THEM! YA’LL OWE ME! HE’S TOTALLY INTO THE BEARD!”
Shaking her head in disbelief, she stood up, helping him up as well as she squeezed his hand, causing him to look at her, a pout already present on his face, dreading what was to come next, “Ready for a shit ton of teasing?”
“Not really.” He mumbled as he sighed, causing her to let out a chuckle as she dragged him back downstairs to the noisy group who was oh so ready to tease the hell out of their ‘Sannie’ and his little cowboy.
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Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @spooo00oky @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp
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monzamash · 2 hours
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pit in my stomach - lando norris
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rating – mature (mentions of cheating, language, sexual references) requested by @landograndprix - hugging you tight, my friend!
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it was hard to pin point the moment his love for you had been diminished by his crippling guilt or when you knew there was nothing he could say or do to piece you back together. maybe it was around the time you’d asked him point blank whether he saw you in his future and he stuttered over his truth with an unconvincing of course i do when the dagger had already been deployed into your unsuspecting back. naively blinded by love.
or maybe it was the night lando stumbled home from the local, half a pint of slushing lager still in his hand while the other held a small, black velvet box. he dropped down on one knee, eyes bloodshot with tears and a trembling bottom lip – a stark contrast to your hardened stare and crossed arms shielding you from the blow, physically and emotionally spent.
“i fucked up… i-god i hate that i've hurt you, baby and i wish i could take it all back – i fucked up so bad and i’m so sorry.”
“you didn’t fuck up, lando – you fucked someone else for six months and lied to my face and made me feel like i was losing my mind! do you have any idea how much pain you’ve caused?”
the room fell silent, boiling blood pumping in your ears.
“huh?! do you?”
“no–”
“no you don’t! i've been stupid enough to keep chasing after you and all you’ve done is let me down and made me look like a fucking idiot! everyone knew about her, about what you were doing behind my back and you knew it was wrong but you couldn’t stop! you’re a monster and i’m not going to cry over a mistake you made…"
sadness welled as you stared down at the man kneeling at your feet. he was a stranger who only resembled the man you loved in appearance, not in honour or integrity or character – you were grieving the lando who had showed you the world with so much love and adoration and hope.
"you will have to live with this mistake for the rest of your life.”
“you’re right. i will never forgive myself 'cause she meant nothing and i have to fix this – i need to fix this because i love you.. so much. i’ll get help, i’ll see someone just give me a chance to fix it…”
“do you really think that is going to fix it?”
you pointed to the dainty box that held so much weight. in a way it represented a future founded on four years of memories, of something resembling happiness. sure, there had been disappointments, hundreds of missed calls, a few missed anniversaries and your gnawing intuition saying that maybe the paranoia wasn’t just inside your head. but ending like this, in betrayal and heartache – you hadn’t seen that one coming.
lando swallowed the lump forming in his throat, queasy from the drunken stupor he’d drank himself into and the dread settling in the pit of his empty stomach, “thought it might be start…”
a strained laugh slipped from pursed lips as venom coated your sharpened tongue, “and that is how i know you will never change.”
“please,” lando scrambled to his feet and reached out for your hand in an attempt to stop you from walking away, “please don’t leave me…” he begged, voice barely above a whisper.
lando knew he would never forget the look in your eyes when you slowly turned back to him – they were cold and punishing, bone-chilling. they swirled with the web of lies and sorrow that he had inflicted upon the person he loved the most in the world, who had given him everything she had, who loved him unconditionally, which made it nearly impossible to accept that he had lost you.
“you left me six months ago when you slept with her, lando.”
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more writing...
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strugglingbigtimw · 2 days
Text
”Close my eyes, embrace my matter”
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Summary: Nanami has a bad day at work, so you decide to help him. Word count: Almost 1K
Cw: sub! Nanami, choking, reader has him in a chokehold, handjob, cum eating, grinding, cursing, marking, dom! reader
A/N: I’ve been missing him, so i decided to treat him and myself.
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Nanami Kento is a man burdened with responsibility. 
Even now in his late 20s, as he tries desperately to catch a break, the borderline Sisyphean task of leaving work at work suffocates him. That’s where you come in. You often nag him when he returns to the house with blue-black eyebags and a clear chip on his shoulders. 
“It’s nothing Darling. I just had a rough day at work.” Your ass. 
So you take it upon yourself to care for him in small ways. Making him coffee in the morning. Fixing his tie, or wiping stray hairs or eyelashes out of his face. Ironing and steaming his button-downs to perfection.
Tonight is no different. You wait for Nanami to get out of the shower with some lavender massage oil on your shared nightstand. He’s always told you he thought lavender making you sleepy was an exaggerated pseudo-fact by large wellness corporations, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. 
You hear the drumming of his footsteps and you assume he’ll fall into his usual routine. He’ll put on his boxers, maybe a loose T-shirt if he gets cold. He’ll sit on the edge of the bed while you carefully dry his hair after some gentle convincing. You’ll try and give him a massage, but he’ll stop you once you reach his shoulders. Nanami has never been comfortable being pampered. Then he’ll lay on the bed with his bagged eyes closed until he eventually falls asleep. 
However, he smashes those expectations quickly when he swiftly throws on some boxers and practically throws himself on the bed, still drenched. 
Well. At least now you have your chance. 
You swiftly straddle his chiseled back. The stray water droplets soak into your garment while you lay yourself on top of him. God, he’s beautiful. You can see the curve of his long lashes and the slight pink that remains on his skin from the heat of the shower. 
“Kento.” 
“Mhm?” He muffledly asks from his place on the pillow, not even opening his eyes.
“Want a massage, baby?” 
He pauses. Usually, he would say no, but tonight is full of surprises. 
He gives you an exasperated, “Yes, please.” 
So begins the massage. Your skillful, oil-covered fingers lull him into a pleasant limbo. Then, a third expected thing happens, you grab his neck. 
In moments like these, he would be able to keep his cool, but the exhaustion and the vulnerability flowing through him and the blood rushing towards his dick makes it difficult for him to hold back. You hear his groggy gasp and see the back of his ears shine a reddish hue. 
“Kento…Baby?” 
He has no response other than to just bury his head into the pillow in shame. 
Still, you know better than to give up. 
You lean down pressing your chest into his back, slipping one hand near his jaw and the other close to his happy trail. 
“Kento…Did you like that? It’s ok if you did because I liked it too.” You whisper into his ear. 
He doesn’t respond but the wiggling of his hips tells you everything. 
“Kento, baby, lemme take care of you.” You whisper into his still-burning ear. This night wasn’t supposed to go this way, but fuck, if you both didn’t love it. 
You slowly move your oil-covered hand from his jaw and place it near his neck. 
“Just lift your head for me a bit baby, ok?”
He complies. You slither your arm under his neck until you can feel his adam’s apple bop into your forearm. You squeeze his throat between your arm and he lets out a groan. 
“Good job baby. Tap my arm three times whenever you feel like it's too much ok?” 
He grabs your wrist as confirmation. You kiss below his ear while whispering a “Good boy” as you slide your other hand finally down into his boxers. 
You already feel him throbbing in your hands. The oil on your hand gets mixed with the surprising amount of precum he’s let out. 
“You must really like this. Huh, baby?” You sigh into his nape. He thrusts into your hand. 
You thumb his slit and slowly, but surely stroke him. The whole time you whisper to him in between the kisses you leave on his shaking shoulders: 
“You’re doing such a great job baby. Thank you for letting me take care of you.” 
“You’re so handsome like this. We should do this more often.”
“You’re so turned on right now. Don’t worry, I am too.”
“Fuck, I can’t get enough of you like this. Do you want me to choke you harder?” 
The combination of the restricted airflow, your hands touching his sensitive dick, and feeling you grinding onto his lower back in an attempt to ease the friction between your legs leaves him gasping. However, what drives him over the edge when you suck a Hickie onto the junction of his neck and shoulders. The feeling and knowing that you wanted him so much in this moment you had to physically claim him? Fucking break him. 
He curls his hands into the sheets, almost ripping them underneath his nails as he climaxes. The ropes of his seed shoot into your hand as he convulses under you. He pants and groans as you remove your arm from his neck. You notice you left a red mark around his neck. You suck on your cum covered fingers in an attempt to ease yourself. Tonight truly was something special. 
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Note
(Not a request dw) (I had to get this idea out of my head real quick.)
The idea of Drift swallowing his Little One to protect them from another mech trying to take them for themselves. The pair of them had been sitting, and idly chatting (Even if it was mostly a one-sided conversation.) when another mech had come along. Clearly interested in getting their servos on a tasty little human. It'd start with Drift growling lowly as a part of his warning to the potential human-thief that it'd be a bad idea to try his patience. Obviously he'd want to talk things out first, but a small possessive part of Drift loathes the idea of being separated from His Little One. So the "chat" is intermingled with his growling.
The next action Drift would take if the intruding mech persists. Would be to scoop his Little One up to keep them out of reach of the other mech, the growling of his engine growing more intense to dissuade the mech from taking things any further.
But if all else fails, Drift is probably just gonna make a show out of swallowing His Little One. Before growling loudly one last time out of possessive irritability, and walking away from where he'd been seated. He loathes acting like that, as it reminds him of his Deadlock days, but he wasn't about to let his Little One be stolen away by someone who wasn't going to be Nearly as careful with them as he is. It just wasn't going to happen. Speaking of which, he has some apologizing to do to His Little One after he gets back to his Habsuite, and retrieves them from his tanks. Oh dear.
Ok, but, the feeling of being swiftly (But carefully) swallowed by Drift while he's growling up a storm would be Far more jarring than the experience of being swallowed typically would be. The world around you shaking rhythmically, loudly as peristalsis drags you further down into Drift's humid depths. But even when you know Drift would never hurt you, (On purpose) being swallowed, and so thoroughly rattled by his animalistic growls fills you with dread as you sink deeper within him. You land in his stomach as he lets out a more aggressive growl. His tanks clench close around you, just as possessively as your mech is behaving externally. But when you feel him get up, and walk away his tank releases it's hold on you allowing you to breathe again.
It's different when he growls with you in his tank, than when he purrs. The sounds of his gentle purring lulls you to sleep most nights, and results in only a slight shaking sensation. But his growls rattle you to your core, and leave you feeling threatened by the typically placid mech. Drift, who loves you too much to let you leave fall into the servos of someone who can't give you the care you need. Like he can. Like he will.
HRRRRRRRGH THIS IS SO GOOD!!!!
I’m sorry I HAD to write something about this. I know this wasn’t a request but this scenario is honestly so, so good. The way you worded it was beautiful. GOD, what I wrote isn’t half as good as what you sent but I was inspired. What I wrote isn't a carbon copy of your idea, but I still really enjoyed putting this idea into story form. GOD I STILL CAN'T GET OVER IT. Drift certainly does love you too much to let you be taken by someone else. He loves you too much to let you leave. After all, you are is little one. There's no changing that.
PLEASE let me know if you like the little story I wrote. THANK YOU AGAIN FOR THE INCREDIBLE ASK! I'm gonna look back at reread at least twenty times now lmao.
WARNING! WHAT IS WRITTEN BELOW THIS CONTAIN SOFT VORE. If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please do not read!
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“Hey, are you going to have that?”
  Drift looks up. The mech staring back at him is stocky and short. He has some grime splattered across his chassis and arms: oil. An engineer. A name does not stick to the face, and Drift takes a quick moment to try and recall it. Nothing.
  “Excuse me?” is all his confusion will allow him to say.
  “The human.” The stranger gestures to the table. “Are you gonna have it?”
  Drift looks down. On the table is a datapad displaying a sparkling’s story with funny little illustrations. Observing the pictures is you. The library is a quiet place. Drift comes here frequently to either read or simply clear his mind. He enjoys bringing you along as well; ever since you found out there was a library aboard the Lost Light, you have shown a strong fascination with Cybertronian writings. He doesn’t know if you get the gist of what they mean, but you give him such excited, pleading looks when he lets you observe them, that he can’t help but let you indulge. So, he provides you with simple readings. The ones with pictures are what you seem to enjoy best. You’d sit there for hours if you could, looking at the datapad and trying to quietly sound out the Cybertronian words to yourself. It’s not something you do well, but Drift finds it so adorable. You attempting to mimic his language just proves how clever you are.
  He loves to watch you do this, and he frequently jumps in to help you say certain words right. Most of the time the two of you are quietly repeating them to each other in a sort of simple lesson. It’s one of the many things the two of you do as a bonding experience. Primus, Drift loves it.
  So who the hell is this random mech to barge in and interrupt by asking if he can have you?
  “Um.” Drift chuckles in disbelief. “They’re not for sale. Sorry.”
  “Oh, no, nonono.” The mech shakes his head and laughs too. “I don’t want to buy them from you. I want to borrow them. I’ve never had the chance to get my servos on one of these little beauties. It’s rare to find a human that doesn’t already have an owner.” He leers at you, swiping his glossa over his lips. “If you let me have a taste, I’ll pay you. However much you want, name your price.”
  You, who has been silently observing this entire interaction, shrink back nervously. Drift sees the way you look at the other mech in fear, and his mood immediately darkens. Something sour builds in his spark. He slowly reaches forward and curls his digits around you. It’s an obvious display of possessive protection.
  “They’re. Mine,” he growls. The sound is deep and dangerous, continuing on after he spoke his words. Though he doesn’t notice, you are clearly shaken by it. Chirping softly, you press your hand against his palm, trying to get his attention. But he only tightens his hold, never breaking eye contact with the threat before him.
  “Dude, I know they’re yours.” The other mech is clearly unaffected by Drift’s hostility. “You can spare a bit of time with them, can’t you? C’mon, just let me have a taste.”
  He makes a grab for you. Drift’s instincts kick in, and he snatches you away. You yelp when he presses you against his chassis. He makes a mental note to apologize to you later, but right now he needs to play the part of big bad mech. There can be no sign of weakness here. This stranger is clearly bent on stealing you from him. He won’t let that happen. You are his little one. His.
  Drift rises to his pedes, his growls elevating. The other mech doesn’t show any ounce of care and growls back, armor rising to clack. “I’ve waited for so long to try one of these things,” he says. “This might be my only opportunity! Just let me have them!”
  “They aren’t a thing,” Drift hisses. “They are a human. And if you can’t show them the proper respect and care they deserve, then you have no right to own this one, let alone any.”
  “You think just because you're third in command to the captain that you can lecture me on how to treat a human?” The mech gets into Drift’s face and flashes his fangs. “You don’t even know me! I’m not going to hurt it! I just want a taste! Is that so hard for you to allow?”
  “When it comes to a bot like you? Yes. It is.” Drift doesn’t waver. He’s taller than this mech. Stronger, too. Faster, and better at fighting. If it comes down to such actions unfolding, then so be it. He will do anything to protect his little one.
  Speaking of you…you cower in his servos, trying your best to appear invisible. He looks down at you, debating on how to handle this. The other mech obviously doesn’t intend on backing off any time soon, and if things do come down to a fist fight, he obviously can’t defend you like this. His best option for keeping you safe is swallowing you.
  The engineer puffs out his chassis and revs his engine. It’s a challenge.
  Drift accepts it. But not in the way he is thinking.
  He raises you high above his faceplate and lets you drop a little, until he has the back of your shirt pinched between his forefinger and thumb. You kick your legs and squeal, alarmed, and his spark wrenches at the sight. He wants to comfort you. He needs to comfort you. But he can’t, not while he’s making a show of this in order to prove he isn’t someone to be messed with. So despite how disgusted he is with taking advantage of your fear, despite how this makes him feel like a little piece of Deadlock is rising from the grave, he goes through with his decision and decides that if he wants to keep you protected, he needs to scare the other mech off…even if you are scared shitless too.
  He lets you go. Your high-pitched scream is abruptly cut off when you land in his intake and he quickly snaps his jaws shut. Slicking you up with solvent, he tilts his helm back and swallows you, swiftly, but gently. He makes sure the other mech can see you travel down his throat. You are nothing more than a little bulge that disappears into his chassis and is quickly consumed.
  The engineer stares. His mouth is open like he wants to say something, but no words come out.
  Drift licks his lips and continues growling, as loudly as he can. He watches the other mech’s helm lower, optics on the floor. Intimidated. Good.
  “Never come near me or my human again,” he says. “They’re mine. Do you hear me? Mine.”
  The challenger offers no protest. Drift pushes past him and leaves the library, not looking back.
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  You have never seen this side of Drift before.
  When he swallows you, he is always careful with you. He takes things slow, allowing you to move along with his pace, giving you every opportunity to tell him no, you don’t want this right now.
  However, this case is entirely different. He didn’t even give you a chance to gather your bearings before he was tossing you into his mouth and gulping you down with a rushed sense of urgency. Oh, he was gentle. Of course he’s always going to be gentle with you. But after watching the way he interacted with that strange mech, who you know wanted to eat you just from the way he had been looking at you like a lion looks at a fresh piece of meat, you can understand why he’s being so quick. This is being done for your preservation.
  But god, that doesn’t mean this isn’t terrifying.
  Everything around you shakes as you are pushed deeper and deeper within him. His esophageal muscles are tight, the rolling sensation of being swallowed not as soothing as it should be. His growls ring in your ears and leave you feeling rattled. He sounds dangerous. He sounds like an animal.
  It scares you.
  When you make it to his stomach, you are practically shoved inside. There is no chance to catch your breath, no opportunity for you to nestle in and get comfortable. The walls move in to give you the tightest squeeze of your life. You are squished uncomfortably between living cables that pulse with the bright, possessive desire to never let you go. Every angle is taken up by him. All you can see is blue biolight. And all you can hear are his throaty rumbles.
  There is no end to it. Even when you feel his stomach gently sway with the rest of his body as he walks away, the organ only holds you closer, gurgling possessively. You feel like you are being told that you are his. Because you are.
  You should be consoled by this fact. But no such feeling comes to compete with the claustrophobic dread that fills you.
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  Drift is fuming when he stomps back into his habsuite. He paces back and forth, then drags his chair back and sits in it with a heavy puff of exhaust. Tapping his digits against his desk, he imagines his fist grabbing that engineer by the back of the helm and smashing his faceplate into the nearest wall. How dare he? How dare he just waltz up to him and ask to taste his little one? The nerve of some bots!
  I’ll have to put in a word to Ultra Magnus, he thinks. That engineer should be dismissed. He shouldn’t even be on the Lost Light. Disgusting behavior like that should be punished. It has to-
  He hears a soft whimper. His digits halt their fidgeting. He looks down at his middle and has his internal sensors scan your little form. Your heart rate is through the roof. Your breathing is erratic and unsteady. And…oh no. Oh, no, no, no. You're trembling.
  He loosens his grip on you and gives you room to move. But when that doesn’t do the trick, he decides that keeping you in there while you are in this state will only distress you further. So he clenches his tank muscles again, and pushes you upward, back through his esophagus and into his mouth. He slips you into his servos with practiced ease, turning you gently so you are on your back. You are covered in his solvent, chest heaving as you look up at him. Then, to his horror, you turn away from him and curl up into a little ball. You are still shaking. His spark sinks.
  He gently deposits you onto his desk and fetches one of his fluffiest blankets to wrap you in. You don’t resist him. You just sit there, giving him those big sad eyes you have whenever you are scared.
  “Little one?” Drift whispers.
  You chirp softly and hide your face. He whines. “No, no, don’t do that.” He hooks his index digit under your chin and tilts your head up. “Look at me, little one. Please.”
  You're still so afraid. He realizes that his big act in front of the engineer really affected you. Guilt rises. There has to be a way to get through to you and show you that he’s still the gentle Drift you know.
  He leans forward, cupping you close. Lowering his helm to be at your level, Drift coos out the call you always make when you want his attention. “Hello,” he murmurs in the foreign tongue. “Hello. Hello, hello.”
  You perk up a little when he mimics your calls. Tentatively, you say it back. “…Hello.”
  Drift beams. “Hello, little one.” He ruffles your hair, chuckling when you lean into his touch. “I’m so sorry I scared you. I…I had to show him that you are mine. I don’t want anyone trying to take you from me. They could hurt you. And if that happens…I’ll never be able to live with myself.”
  You seem to understand that he’s asking for your forgiveness. Sighing, you shuffle forward and reach out, pressing your hands against his nose. You chirp; much of it is indecipherable. But then…you begin to speak. Not in your language. In Cybertronain.
  “Love you,” you say to him. “Love you…love you, Drift.”
  He doesn’t know when you learned it. But he knows it’s the first time you’ve said it. He is your first I love you.
  He can’t contain himself. Drift purrs louder, cuddling you. “I love you too, little one. I love you so, so much.”
  You like cuddles. You deserve them. Today was a rough day for both of you. But knowing you still trust him is relieving.  And he promises you…he swears to you, he will never allow anyone to try and threaten you again.
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