#*gently hands you this one handful of rat*

[stoicjewel]

graduateStan Au, another drabble for y'all. This one's a bit more gnarly 👍

Ford woke up to the sound of screaming. At first, he thought it was hill playing tricks on him, making him hear things that weren't there just to torment him. Making him panic for no reason other than the pure enjoyment of his discomfort.

That was, until he heard the heavy breathing and half sobs that came after. Now THAT was new. Ford sat up, his neck sore and his muscles aching. He realized that he was in the hallway, sleeping outside the bathroom door. He stood up, and pressed his ear against the door. Listening to the sounds of panicked breathing and barely stifled cries.

"... Hello? Is anyone there?"

"DON'T COME IN!!"

Ford jumped at the sudden voice, before his heart immediately started to pound. Stanley. It was Stanley held up in the bathroom. Why was he locking himself in the bathroom? Ford knocked again, this time more persistent.

"Stanley, what's the matter? Why are you locking yourself in the bathroom?"

"ARE YOU STUPID?!" Stanley yelled through the door, his voice on the verge of hysterics. "Do you not remember anything from the past hour, or do you just not care?"

Ford's heart sank. Fuck, Bill was here wasn't he? What did he do? He usually tore things up, ruined his reputation and got himself injured, but there's never been anyone here to witness it personally.

"... No, I don't. Whatever happened, I'm sorry. Could you open the door now?"

"No! I don't want you going psycho on me again, I'm not THAT stupid."

"Please, if you just let me in, I can explain everything. What did I do? Are you hurt? Do you need me to call an ambulance?"

"..." Stanley stayed silent on the other side of the door, seemingly debating whether he should open the door or not. Ford could hear him shuffling around behind the door, before Stanley opened the door a small crack. Peeking through the gap to get a good look at Ford.

God, he looked awful. His skin was pale and clammy, and the eye peeking at Ford from behind the door was bloodshot. His usual, well kept hair was now ratted and full of knots. His shirt was covered in fresh, sticky blood.

Ford felt like he was gonna be sick. But he couldn't turn his brother away, no matter how bad the damage. ESPECIALLY if he was the one responsible. He gently rests a hand against the door, leaning his head against the doorway.

"There we go, hey there..." Ford said in a soft tone, as if coaxing out a hurt animal. He starts to slowly reach for the door, making sure his movements didn't startle his brother. "I'm coming in, alright? I'm coming in to help you, so just- just stay still for a moment, alright?"

Ford enters the room, and takes a look around. The sink was filled with pools of fresh blood and water. The cabinets were all busted open and left in disarray. The medkit was sitting out on the side of the bathtub, medical supplies strewn about as if the tasmanian devil had come bursting through. But worst of all, was Stanley.

Stanley was sitting on the edge of the toilet, pressed up against the wall with his arms crossed over his knees. But what caught Ford's attention, was the huge bandage wrapped around Stanley's head, covering his eye. The entire bandage is already soaking with blood and sweat.

Ford takes a deep breath, and slowly steps forward. Trying to hold back a whine of his own. "Jesus... Can I take a look at it? I promise I'll be careful."

Stanley flinched a bit, making Ford's heart hurt more. Whatever Bill did, Stanley would be flinching around his brother for a long time, and Ford knew that. Stanley would be scared of him. And the worst part? Ford knew it was a valid anxiety.

Ford slowly unravels the bandage from Stanley's head, and removes the wad of gauze that covered Stanley's face. What he finds, almost makes him gag.

Nothing. There was nothing there. Nothing but a gaping, bloody hole. The eye sockets tissue had been extremely damaged, and the outer rim of the socket was covered in scratches and scrapes, almost like someone had jammed a knife into Stanley's face and wiggled it around.

Ford took a Shakey breath, trying not to vomit. "God... Stanley, how did this happen?! How long have you just been sitting here in the bathroom?!"

Stanley flinched a bit at Ford's tone, making Ford feel immediately guilty. Ford lets out a sigh before he starts to dig around in the medkit, looking for some more bandages and gauze.

Stanley leaned his head against the wall, looking utterly spent. "... You were going fucking crazy. Had this manic gleam in your eye, and was grinning way too wide. It didn't feel like you at all, so I ran the other way."

"... Why did you run immediately?"

"... You just didn't feel right. Even when you're all crazy and sleep deprived, you still feel like... You. Whatever that THING was, didn't. I remembered all those stories you and fiddlesticks used to tell me about the shape shifters and the changelings and shit, so I knew something was wrong."

Ford hummed in response, before gently grabbing Stanley's chin. He starts to carefully clean up the blood and grime from around the socket, making Stanley jump in pain, letting out a hose between his teeth. Ford shushed him gently, keeping his hands slow and careful, even with how shaky they were.

"... Well, I suppose your instincts were right. I'm glad you listened to your gut this time. Because I have a feeling, if you didn't... I might not of even have a brother to patch up."

[magistralucis]

@love-and-pigeons!

exactly One handful of rat

[twinstxrs]

so much happened in this whole episode but i’m still on fig infiltrating ruben’s dream, making it look like the place where his friend was murdered, and then disguising herself as kipperlilly & repeatedly saying different variants of “somebody needs to take the fall for this, and it’s not going to be me. it’s going to be you.” while adaine as the elven oracle shows up next to her. can you imagine waking up from that, the idea of a horrible truth being pinned on you by your friend to save her own skin while the personification of fate and destiny stands there, almost as a promise that this is GOING to happen to you. we don’t even know if this kid is guilty. my god.

[emmyrosee]

“Get ready with me to breakup with my fiancé-“

“BUUUUUULLSHIT YOU ARE!”

Immediately, as soon as your first words are uttered over the recording video, Rintaro’s booms down the hallway. You laugh and smack your hand on the counter, trying to keep it as quiet as you can as you hear him continue to yell.

“THE FUCK YOU THINK THIS IS? WE’RE LOCKED IN, WHAT THE FUCK!” Socked feet barrel down the hall and you’re quick to hide the camera behind a bottle of mouthwash. His body quickly comes into the frame, chest puffed out and hands on his hips. “You got something you want to tell me?”

You pull your lips down in thought before shaking your head, “no. I don’t think so. I didn’t even know you were home.”

“Oh!” He says dramatically, clapping his hands together. “So you’re just always talking about dumping me to your little Internet friends?”

“Only in my fantasies,” you hum, tossing your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his cheek. He pouts, and you giggle and kiss him again, “but if I ever do decide to dump you, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

This, has him blinking unamused at you. Then, his hands leap up to grab your cheeks, and he pulls you in for a loud, wet kiss, his lips pressing kisses over your laughing mouth, teeth, and lips. “Listen to me.”

“Rinnie!”

“No. Shush. Listen to me.” He pulls back and rests his head against yours, hands still squishing your cheeks. “I have shit out an engagement ring for you. I have your name tattooed on me. I got clawed to death by your rat fuck cat, and I have a shirt with your face on it that I wear when I go out. We’ve shared a toothbrush, you pinch my nipple when I’m showering, you text me and ask me if I’ve pooped, and I know damn well you take ugly pictures of me when I’m sleeping.”

“Your point?”

His nostrils flare, “you so much as THINK this relationship is ending, I’m going to tattle on you.”

“Oh, please-“

“To Komori.”

This, has you paling, and you nod softly and gently grab his shoulders, “no, okay, you’re right, you’re right baby, I’m sorry.” He nods as you press a kiss to his lips, “but in all seriousness-“

“Oh, I’m serious, too.”

You snicker, “in my seriousness, I’m never going to leave you.” You flash your engagement ring to the camera and purse your lips out, and he smiles down at you. “who else is going to poop out a ring, then lie to the salesman about why we’re returning it, and get me a new one, hmm?”

“Thankfully, I’m the only one who will.” He kisses your forehead, then looks at you with sad eyes. “We’re locked in?”

“Yeah baby,” you giggle, kissing his nose. “We’re locked in.”

[meenaxskz]

when the bed gave up on life (hyung line)

ot8 reactions | bf!skz x reader au genre: crack | light smut warnings: language | suggestive content a/n : (testing new posts layout, it will probably change again idk) i always try to not write cliché gym rat changbin... but it has jokes potential so yeah lol. ✧ hyung line | maknae line

bang chan

“C’mere” Chan growls flipping you onto your stomach. You gasp, already dizzy “Holy shit-okay-aggressive!” “I said I’d make you feel it” he grunts, pressing into you, “so shut up and-” CRRREAK. SNAP. Silence. You’re on the floor. The mattress is sideways. A piece of the frame bounced. Chan’s still inside you “…Did the bed just die?” you whisper, stunned. He’s frozen. Still holding your hips. “I-I think I just alpha’d the IKEA out of it.” You collapse face first into the blanket, wheezing. Chan pulls out gently like he’s scared touching you will trigger another collapse. “I’m so sorry,” he says, horrified. “Are you hurt??” You look up with tears in your eyes...from laughing “You fucked us into poverty” He starts pacing. Still naked “I JUST WANTED TO MAKE YOU SEE STARS” “You did! But the bed saw heaven!” --- Five minutes later, you’re both wrapped in the blanket on the floor, drinking water and staring at the broken frame like it’s a crime scene. Chan sighs. “That was expensive.” You snort. “tell me about it” He looks at you, grins. “You still wanna finish?” You raise a brow. “On what the rug?” He shrugs. “Bet it won’t break.”

lee know

You’re clinging to the headboard. He’s behind you, low growling, full feral mode, hips snapping. “Don’t even try to run” he pants. “You wanted this.” You gasp “Min- the bed’s creaking-” He grips your hips tighter. “So are you. Guess which one I care about more.” CRRREEAAAK. SNAP. THUD. You drop. Flat on the mattress, now tilted at a cursed 45 degrees. Minho flops on top of you like a sweaty, breathless. Silence. “…Did we just fall?” You’re wheezing into the sheet. “THE BED BROKE YOU PSYCHO.” He slowly lifts himself off you, glancing around checking the crime scene. Then calmly : “…It was probably loose before we started.” You sit up, wild-eyed. “I literally heard you say ‘I wanna break you tonight.’” “I meant emotionally. That bed just had bad build quality.” “...Minho, one of the legs is across the room.” He shrugs. “That’s not my fault. That’s gravity. And weak screws.” You glare at him, tangled in sheets and shame. He wipes sweat off his chest with a smug little annoying smirk. “You’re welcome by the way.” “For WHAT?!?” “For the experience. You’re glowing.” "Oh my god" --- Later, you lie together on the mattress, which is on the floor now, panting and sore. You mutter “we need a new bed.” He hums, already falling asleep “...and it better be able to handle me”

changbin

It starts innocent enough... LIES. Sweat is dripping, you’re moaning, he’s muttering things like “You’re so tight,” “I love this angle” and “This is why I do leg day" (??) The bed is screaming. You clutch the headboard “It’s creaking-” “I’M CREAKING TOO BABY STAY FOCUSED—” CREEAAACKK. SNAP. BOOM. The bed dies. You both collapse mid-thrust like the mattress got drop-kicked by karma. You gasp. “WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!” Changbin is hovering above you, wide-eyed, hair sticking up like he got electrocuted “…Did I break the bed?” You stare. “Are you asking me while you’re still inside me?!” He slowly pulls out, rolls to the side, and looks around at the hurricane damage. One bed leg is completely gone. A bolt rolled under the dresser. He exhales. “That’s kinda hot though.” You blink. “You BROKE our BED Binnie!” “I told you I was strong” You smack his arm. “This isn’t CrossFit! This was my peaceful coochie session!” He giggles. --- He grabs his phone. “Wait. Wait. I need a pic. I gotta show the guys.” “DON’T YOU DARE” He grins. “I’m putting ‘broke the bed during sex’ on my gym progress tracker.”

hyunjin

You’re on top, breathless, hair sticking to your forehead, hands planted on his chest. Hyunjin’s gripping your thighs, eyes rolling back as you ride him. “Fuck-yes...just like that, baby...” CREAAKK. SNAP. THE WHOLE RIGHT SIDE DROPS. You scream as the mattress collapses, pitching sideways. Hyunjin yelps, legs flailing as you both go crashing down mid-thrust. A full thud echoes across the room. Silence. Then his voice : “…WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!” You’re tangled in blankets, still half on top of him. “DID YOU JUST ASK ME LIKE I PLANNED THAT?!” He stares at you with wide, scandalized eyes. “YOU WERE ON TOP THIS IS YOUR FAULT.” You sit up, offended. “I was riding you into heaven and the bed flopped.” He throws a hand up dramatically. “EXACTLY I WAS LITERALLY JUST LYING THERE BEING SEXY AND SUPPORTIVE.” You glare “supportive?? You kept yelling FASTER like I was a fucking engine!” He rolls off the broken half of the bed and flops onto the floor like a naked fish “The bed wasn’t ready for that kind of passion. I wasn’t ready. My ass hit the wood slats” You cover your face. “I think I bruised my knee.” --- 10 minutes later, Hyunjin is sprawled across the mattress on the floor “we need a new bed. And... knees.” You open one eye “You still came though.” He chucks a pillow at you.

⤷ main m.list ❟

DISCLAIMER : This blog and all related content (fics, fake texts, headcanons, imagines, etc.) are entirely fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. I do not know Stray Kids personally, nor do I claim any of this reflects their real personalities, actions, or relationships. All characters and their personalities—including Meena King—are original creations.Please enjoy responsibly and remember : real people = real boundaries.

[cherrybr4t]

pretty boys bring you to heaven - jeon wonwoo (m)

CONTENT WARNINGS: biker bf!wonwoo, jealous wonwoo (hehe.), SMUT!, unprotected p in v, oral (f rec), praise 😇, marking up (f rec), creampie, slightly possessive wonu, overused trope but! dom!wonwoo, sub fem!reader, kitchen counter sex 😔

WC: 2k

A/N: hello..fulfilling my inner teen wattpad days with a cliche scenario & trope. but. hot jealous biker bf wonwoo. one for me pls. i hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this 😔 (slightly inspired by real life events)

enjoy! <3

"sorry miss, excuse me... my friends and i were over there and we thought you were really pretty.. any chance we could get your digits?"

you were already freezing outside the izakaya restuarant, waiting for your boyfriend to pick you up. said boyfriend was about 10 minutes late from the arranged timing.

mustering up the kindest smile you could in that condition, you waved a hand politely, "no thank you, i have a boyfriend." with a curt nod, you shifted about 5 inches to the side.

expecting the guy to take his leave, he offered a cynical chuckle on that scornful face instead.

"come on, it's just your number, hm?" he inched closer, waving his phone in your face.

scoffing, you turned to him, "i'm telling you, i have a boyfriend and he's about to be here any minute now so if i were you, i would walk away,"

"well, i don't see that boyfriend of yours anywhere baby, how 'bout you stop lying—"

"turn around," your eyebrows raised at the familiar deep timbre. you gulped, knowing that you tried to give that poor guy a small warning.

"ah," the guy turned around, took one look over before shaking his head. "didn't peg you for a pretty boy kinda girl babe, oh, and pretty boy rides," he mocked after seeing the sleek black helmet wonwoo was clutching onto.

“yeah? this pretty boy right here s’bout to turn you extra pretty with this helmet right here if you don’t step away from his girlfriend,”

you looked at your boyfriend, sharp eyes daggering through the man, knowing that he meant every word. wonwoo was a rather mellow person, but when things came down to it, you’ve seen first hand how it’s never good to rub him off in the wrong way.

with the exception of yourself, of course. you could do no wrong in your simp of a boyfriend’s eyes.

you felt your insides churn at how he stepped in with such a sinister glare. lips threatening to break into a giddy smile as you were feeling so in love with your boyfriend at the moment, as well as satisfied at how the man is now avoiding his gaze, slowly backing off.

“got it dude, chill out. s’not like i can’t find another one of these bitches out there,”

something in wonwoo snapped and he lunged forward, grabbing onto the man’s shirt with his precious helmet now dropped on the pavement.

“what did you fucking say?”

you decided it was time to step in, not wanting to cause any ruckus — you just wanted the night to be over and done with and to head home, tucked in with your boyfriend.

“alright alright, wonwoo, it’s fine let it go, he’s not worth the trouble,” you tugged onto wonwoo’s shirt, hand reaching up to massage his nape, calming him down.

wonwoo’s muscles relaxed immediately at your touch, before turning over to look at you. taking a few moments before deciding to let go —which was for the better because you knew that guy stood no chance against your hapkido black belt man.

wonwoo pushed him towards the road before grabbing onto your hand, chuckling once he saw that you’ve already picked up the helmet. you shrugged, holding onto him tighter before dragging him towards his bike.

“i’m sorry baby, this wouldn’t have happened if i got here on time.. i swear the traffic lights just weren’t in my favour today,” wonwoo cupped your face gently in his hands, pecking you gently on your lips.

“stop, this isn’t your fault wonwoo.. there’re always gonna be pesky rats out and about, plus i still remember some moves you taught me,” you got into your fight stance, flailing your arms while making exaggerated ‘hah’s.

wonwoo let out a chortle, before patting down your head, “good girl, but… i can tell you’re slightly pissed, you’re calling me wonwoo and not baby,” he wraps his arms around you, lowering his face to rub his obvious pout in your face.

“gosh you’re such a baby, baby.” you kissed his pout to which he gladly welcomed and engulfed you into an open mouth kiss, tightening his grip on you.

“that’s more like it baby, now let’s go home, need to keep my pretty baby out of these dangerous streets,”

wonwoo has you up on the counter back home, between your legs as he kisses you so fervidly while his hands grip onto your waist tightly. you rake your fingers on his nape and across his scalp as you deepen the kiss, tongue entering to find his.

his deep rumble of groans as you run your nails through his scalp has you clenching and you let out a small whimper mid-kiss. he pulls apart and stares at you.

“my pretty baby, so fucking beautiful you got all these men thinking they’ve got a shot,” he groans as he peppers small kisses along your jawline.

“til they find out that you’re mine, hm? not a fucking chance,” he follows through, kissing his way down your neck, stopping at your sweet spot he knows all too well, and starts sucking lightly.

you let out a full fledged moan at this point, head tilting back – unable to control how your boyfriend makes you deranged just by a few kisses.

“wonwoo…” you whine.

“yes baby? needa mark you up all prettily so no one else dares to even make a move hm? all mine mine mine,” he goes down on the same spot, sucking harshly with a few bites before smoothing it over with his tongue. you squeak out in pleasure, loving how his tongue feels so strong yet so good against that bruised spot.

“i'm all yours baby, l-let them all know who i belong to,” you beg, wanting to feel his mouth all over your body, not wanting him to miss any spot.

wonwoo moves on to his next spot, sucking, biting and soothing. you feel so giddy, totally missing his hand creeping towards your core, until you feel him directly palming your cunt aggressively – and you realise just how soaked you are when you feel your panties stick to your cunt.

“fuuck baby, you’re soaking through your fucking pants fuck,” wonwoo pants, inner fire growing stronger seeing how you react to him marking you up. he hastily removes your pants and kicks them aside, licking his lips subtly at the sight of your drenched cunt through your thin panties.

“wo-baby, do something, please,” you grab at nothing desperately on the counter, needing him to do something to release the tension in your core that’s been growing – you feel the need to rub against air.

“yeah? whatever my pretty baby wants,” he starts rubbing on your clothed cunt, before pushing the destroyed fabric aside, fingers soaking in your juices as he plays with your folds.

his other hand grabs onto your jaw forcing you to look at him, “open up,” he whispers before taking his fingers out of your cunt to stuff them into your mouth. you moan at the taste of yourself, eyes fluttering shut.

“so fucking delicious aren’t you,”

he spreads your legs wider before ripping your panties off. getting onto his knees, he positions his face directly in front of your cunt before going in straight and kissing your growing bud.

“fuck fuck fuck,” you scream out as you feel him start to suckle on your swollen bud, before leaving kisses over your folds. he sticks his tongue out, teasing over them before going in through layers of your folds.

“wonwoo!” moaning out your boyfriends name with a cracked voice, you thrust your hips in his face, craving more.

“as always, fucking sweet and fucking delicious, god,” he moans into your cunt, looking like a starved man as he eats and laps at your cunt so ravenously.

he grabs onto your thighs, forcing them to stay apart as he continues diving deeper into your sweet cunt, that tall nose of his hitting the right spot, rubbing against your bundle of nerves at a consistent pace.

“w-wonwoo, i’m gonna cum, gonna cum, wanna cum c-can i,” you cry out, feeling the gates of your dam about to break open any time.

wonwoo looks up you, half-lidded and lustful gaze as he urges you, "cum baby, cum all over my face fuck, need you to,"

few seconds after, you grab onto wonwoo’s hair as you feel the last string break, feeling of numbness engulfing your whole as you feel all the tension pump out of you. pulling his locks as you release your juices, moaning out his name like a mantra as you came, and you feel like you've been to heaven and back.

wonwoo doesn’t stop, and continues drinking in all of you – every last drop of your release. you pushed his head away due to oversensitivity, and wonwoo stands up chuckling.

“you make the prettiest sounds when you cum for me baby, can you do it again for me?” wonwoo coos, and kisses your forehead, slowly removing the remaining articles of clothing between the both of you.

“only if i get to cum around your cock this time,” you shot back lazily, eyes still hazy and drunk on your previous orgasm, yet still greedy for wonwoo’s cock. always greedy for more of him.

“of course baby, gotta feed this pussy more of my cock and my cum to remind who it belongs to, hm?” he turns you around before bending you over the counter. you smirk, heart palpitating at being manhandled to one of your favourite positions.

wonwoo glides his hands down your spine, caressing your cheeks, playing with them before slapping his pink and bulging tip on them.

“perfect ass, perfect tits, perfect everything, my fucking perfect baby, you were made for me and only me,” wonwoo moans out, letting his tip drench in your juices along your folds.

“mm wonwoo, baby, put it in, please,” you wiggle your hips backwards, and after a few more slaps against your cunt, he finally slides his tip in, causing you to gasp and fall forward onto the counter more.

you feel your walls constrict and expand aggressively, trying to suck your boyfriends length in inch by inch desperately.

wonwoo has a hand wrapped around your waist as he slides his full length in, both of you releasing the airiest moan once feeling each other on every nerve ending.

wonwoo starts to find a rhythm, hips thrusting so deep in you feel his tip hitting your cervix so comfortably and so fully every thrust you can’t help but scream out every time his tip nudges against that spot.

“so fucking good, cunt was made for me baby, making me see stars and shit,” wonwoo rasps out, panting as he struggles to formulate a sentence without breaking into moans.

“nngh, it feels so good wonwoo, so big, s-so good,” you were mind-fucked. having his cock in you deduced your brain to having no thoughts but him. crying out for him with no other care in this world.

“my pretty baby, wanna see you cum for me again, need to feel you cum around my cock for me, can–ah fuck–can you do that for me?” with an arm around you playing with your tits, and another arm suddenly reaching towards your exposed and swollen bud, you feel all hairs stand and being the most stimulated you’ve ever been.

“argh! wonwoo.. fuck,” you wail out his name, feeling so close to that eureka moment once again as your boyfriend rubs sloppy yet tight circles around your clit.

“mm baby, its okay, just cum for me hm? come on, cum around your cock, cum for me, cum cum,”

with him voicing his encouragements right behind you, you feel your abdomen reach its tightest point, before you feel the tipping point pour over, letting the waves of ecstasy wash over you, trembling underneath your boyfriend. squeezing the life out of his cock, you hear him groan.

“good girl, fuck, so fucking good, gonna cum for you now baby,”

soon after your release, you feel wonwoo’s body lurch and fall atop yours as his cum fills you up to the brim, and you moan at the warm liquid blanketing your cunt and its walls.

wonwoo steps back to admire his cum dripping out of your swollen cunt for a good minute, before you whine out for him - needing your after-fuck hugs and kisses.

he obliges, but whispers as he nibbles on your ear lobe, "don't think i'm done with you yet baby, you've got a loooong night ahead of you,"

a/n: hit the reblog if you've enjoyed this my loves! thank you so much for reading <3 sending love and kisses to everyone!

[iniquitousyearning]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 11th. blaise - mirror sex, body worship.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: writing this was detrimental to my health. blaise is a man. a MAN. you’re having a terrible day, your boyfriend knows what you need to make it better.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, PIV, fingering, multiorgasm, teasing, begging, doggystyle, dirty talk, praise so much praise, body worship, soft dom blaise, pet names, the usual nasty shit you'll find this month.

"Yeah that's what I said...he didn't listen to me, though. Of course."

Parchment crinkled under the weight of your hand, quill scratching faintly as your boyfriends voice hummed in the background—an effortless drawl that filled the room like low music. You barely caught the words, caught up in the mechanical rhythm of  your writing—but that didn't stop him from droning on, stretched out like a relaxed cat on your bed—one leg bent, both hands tucked behind his head, his gaze lost somewhere in the ceiling's quiet expanse.

"And? What happened?" You asked, finally letting the quill drop, grimacing at the ink smudged across your fingers.

"Detention," he said, clearly amused, "cleaning rat barrels for a week."

You managed a smile, but it was small, fleeting—more like a shadow of the real thing. Blaise noticed, of course he did, but he let it linger undisturbed, as if waiting for the right moment to ask what was really wrong. His stories were always an offering, an attempt to pull you from the depths of a day that felt as heavy as the sky before a storm—which usually helped, but today, even he couldn't shake the weight entirely.

You rolled away from your desk, chair wheels creaking until you reached the mirror. There you were, reflected back at yourself—no makeup, hair half-tumbling from the ponytail you'd given up on hours ago, the lines under your eyes telling a story you didn't want to read. You sighed, lifting a hand to touch the flyaway strands, knowing it wouldn't help. You were a bloody disaster.

"What're you lookin' at, baby?" Blaise was behind you before you even realized it, his warmth filling the space behind your chair, his arms snaking around your waist with the same natural ease as breathing. "Did I tell you you look beautiful today?"

You exhaled as he rested his chin on your shoulder, his eyes meeting yours in the glass—

"Don't lie, Blaise," you muttered, the exhaustion making your voice heavier than it should've been. "I look a mess."

"Not a lie," he whispered back, his lips so close you could almost taste the mint on his tongue. His hand lifted, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before trailing down the side of your face like it was something sacred, like you weren't just a tired girl with too many thoughts. "You're always beautiful...so, so beautiful."

The heat from his words bloomed in your chest, a slow burn, even as the weight of the day pressed heavier. It felt as though the reflection was mocking you—this version of yourself you could barely recognize, worn down by everything that had gone wrong.

"I can tell when something's bothering you," he pressed on, his voice drawing you back, patient and unhurried. His fingers made soft circles on your stomach, waiting, coaxing. "Wanna tell me?"

"Nothing's bothering me...I just.." you shook your head, the words coming out on a breath, too small to carry the weight of what you meant. "I just had a bloody terrible day."

He hummed, thumb grazing your skin. "How terrible?"

"The kind that makes you feel like the universe is against you," you whispered, gaze falling, unable to look at him while your voice cracked. "I'm sorry—I know you wanted to go out tonight, but I just—"

"Shh—hey, don't do that," he interrupted, his fingers tilting your chin, forcing your eyes back to his in the mirror. "I don't care about going out. I care about you. We don't need to be anywhere else. I've got everything I need right here, baby. Okay?"

Merlin—your heart clenched, the ache reminding you just how easy it was to fall in love with him—and how you managed to do so, all over again, every single day. Blaise always had this way of making you feel like the center of the world, even on days when you felt like you were disappearing from it.

A small, trembling smile ghosted across your lips, and you nodded. "Okay."

"Yeah?" He nudged your chin gently, brushing more stray hair from your face—he never once took his fucking eyes off of you. "You're so fucking beautiful, babygirl...how are you all mine..."

A sigh escaped your lips as his fingers moved to massage your shoulders, his lips finding their way back to the curve of your neck, pressing slow, deliberate kisses along your skin. The tension in your body began to melt, replaced by something warmer, softer.

"Messy hair, no makeup...you're a fucking dream," he whispered. "Every morning I wake up...and I still can't believe..." his hands trailed down your arms, a slow blaze of fire, grazing over your belly before they curved up your chest. "...that all of this...is all for me..."

Your head tipped back, a soft whimper slipping from your lips as he pressed himself closer. One of his hands slid back up, fingers curling around the base of your throat, his thumb stroking the side of your neck. He groaned softly against your temple, other hand still pawing at your chest.

"Look at you," he rasped as his eyes met yours again in the mirror. You could feel his gaze tracing the outline of his hand wrapped around your throat. "Tell me you know you're beautiful."

Your heart was racing, breaths coming in shallow bursts as the intensity of his touch, his words, filled the room. He was crowding over you, pressed against the back of your chair, his hands insistent but not frantic, like he had all the time in the world—

"I know," you whispered. "You tell me every day..."

He hummed, the sound vibrating in his throat. "Mhm…and I'll keep telling you…because I don't think you get it yet...just how truly beautiful you are…”

Your lashes fluttered, eyes heavy beneath the weight of his gaze as his fingers moved lower, the buttons of your shirt parting effortlessly, baring the delicate lace underneath.

His jaw clenched, hunger flickering behind his eyes, his touch roughening with it. “…and just how lucky I am... to get to touch you like this."

Your head lolled back onto his shoulder, your back arched, baring yourself to him with a shivering sigh. His hand around your throat tightened, not too much, just enough to remind you he held you, that in this moment —this skin—belonged to him.

His other hand moved across your chest, teasing your nipples through the lacy fabric, kneading, coaxing your heart to race under his palm.

"I'm a better man because of you," he whispered, lips ghosting over the pulse at your neck. “...because you make me want to be."

Your whimper came unbidden, warmth flooding your veins as his eyes never left yours—devouring you through the glass. This wasn't just about touch. It was something Blaise always made sure you felt in this relationship, the thing tethered between you—the fulfilment of a need to be seen and a need to be known.

"Look at you." His lips tilted in a breathy smile, dripping with reverence, with something sacred as his hand roved over your chest, taking his time. "Perfect. So fucking perfect."

Both big hands fell to massage your tits now and a small, broken sound escaped you—helpless against the onslaught, your body betraying your efforts at control. You closed your eyes, biting your lip to stem the flood, but it was useless. Blaise, like this, was unrelenting, determined to make you remember this moment, every whisper, every touch. His voice was an echo you'd hear in your dreams.

"Blaise..." his name fell from your lips in a breathless whisper. “Gods.”

"Open those pretty eyes for me, babygirl..." he purred  as his teeth grazed the curve of your neck. You obeyed with a shiver—your reflection pure chaos — a mess of need and want, heat pooling low in your belly, an ache between your legs you couldn't ignore. Blaise hummed. "I want you to watch yourself. I want you to see what I see."

His hands slid lower, skimming the curve of your hips and settling on your thighs. You watched as he moved with deliberation, savouring the way your skin shivered beneath his touch. He shifted your legs wider, pushing the fabric of your skirt higher until it bunched around your waist. His eyes darkened, and for a moment, you weren't sure who was falling apart faster—him or you.

"Fuck," you moaned, barely holding onto the sound, feeling it slip past your lips like a breath. "Blaise.."

With a satisfied smile, his eyes flicked to yours and you noted the way his breathing shallowed—admired the way his fingers slipped along the insides of your thighs, tracing the soft skin without haste. The sensation made your breath hitch, and you bit down on your lip, fighting to keep your eyes open.

A low groan rumbled from deep in his chest as he pushed your skirt up further, exposing your underwear in the reflection.

"That's my girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with adoration. "These thighs...mm, fuck...so soft.."

His fingers dragged back down, agonizingly slow, tracing your thighs again.

You shuddered. You knew just how needy you sounded but gods—"Blaise, please..."

Blaise knew too, and of course he just chuckled, lips grazing the curve of your shoulder, his teeth catching on the fabric there. The nip was gentle at first, but just enough to make you gasp, your hips jerking reflexively—and you watched his eyes flash, lashes fluttering—

"Fuck...these hips," now he was growling, his nails biting into your skin. "The way you roll them...torture, pure torture... just to make me give you what you want..."

Your breath hitched again. You were a squirming mess, now—each fucking word a slow burn that licked at every nerve.

"Is that so bad?" You whispered, though the words barely left your mouth before a soft moan interrupted them. "Making you…give me what I want...?"

His laugh was rougher this time, his breath searing hot against your ear. One hand moved again, fingers teasing the edge of your underwear—and you realized you were holding your fucking breath—meeting his gaze in the mirror, wide and wanting, the tension between you thick enough to choke on.

"Not so bad...when I want to give it to you..." his fingers danced over your clothed cunt—light, taunting, threatening to give you everything you craved but holding just shy of it. Your hips rolled again, involuntarily. "But absolutely disastrous," his fingers traced higher, the ache of wanting made your pulse thunder. "...when I'm trying to make you wait."

You whimpered, snuffing a groan in your throat, and he smiled—watching the effect, his jaw falling open when he grazed over your clit through the fabric and you moaned loud—shameless.

"Gods—Blaise, please—" you were so fucking desperate now. Heat scorching your skin. Eyes squeezed shut. He was going to kill you, you were sure of it. “No more teasing—“

"Eyes open." He husked, bringing one hand back up to cup your jaw. "You close them and I'll stop. Keep being good for me, baby..."

You whinged—meeting his dark eyes in the mirror, lust blown pupils swallowing his irises. You watched yourself—his arms curled around you, strong and firm—long, slender fingers finally, fucking finally, giving you what you want—slipping under your underwear, fingertips kissing the sensitive lips of your throbbing cunt.

"Good girl...so good for me..." he muttered, slicking a single digit between your folds, grazing your clit. That did it—blinded with relief, you whinged, moaning deep in your chest. "Oh fuck, you're so wet...you need this, don't you, baby..."

"Yes—Gods—" you held his eyes in the mirror, hips jerking toward his touch. "Need it...need you..."

"So sensitive f'me..." he whispered in your ear, brushing the bundle of nerves again, earning another shuddered groan. He kissed at your jaw. "I'll never get tired of hearing you say that...that you need me..."

"Fuck—I do—always—" the words bled out, unfiltered. "Always need you."

Blaise shuddered, you could feel his hips rocking gently against the back of the chair as his fingers found your clit, indefinitely this time, and began drawing tight, frantic circles over it. Your back crested, your head falling back just slightly before you remembered what he said and returned your gaze to his in the mirror—he was watching you, body crowding yours like he was preparing a meal—and you spread your legs wider, noting the entire mess he'd made of you in minutes.

"Beautiful," he cooed, jaw tensing as you gripped his wrist—one hand shifting to grope your chest. "Messy girl...m'dying to get inside you..."

You cried out, your pussy clenching, craving to be filled by him. "Blaise—baby—please..."

Wetness soaked your thighs—coated his fingers as he dipped lower and pushed two inside you, crooking them deep. The reaction was involuntary—you cried out, ground your hips into his palm, fucking yourself on his digits, wanting—no, needing more. He groaned, squeezing your breast harder than you're sure he'd intended—teeth sinking into your shoulder in a futile attempt to compose himself.

"Fucking hell—that's it, baby—" his thumb twirled your clit, fingers driving deep—bliss burned your eyes, and you moaned. "Soaked and still so fucking tight...fuck.."

"M'gonna—I need you—" you were babbling, lost in sensation, coherent thoughts banished to the perimeters of your mind. "Inside—pleasepleaseplease—need you—"

"Cum first," his hand on your breast slipped up, tangling through your hair and nudging your face toward his—his lips found yours, soft and tender. "Wanna' make you feel good..."

Pleasure flooded you, muscles collapsing as you succumbed to it—Blaise kissed you again, holding you there, tongue delving into your mouth while he rubbed your swollen nub faster, pumped his fingers deeper.

"I...oh, Gods—already feel s'good..." you moaned into him, and he jerked you harder to his body, tongue massaging yours while his plush lips worked over your mouth. "Mm—fuck—s'good—"

He groaned. "Mhm—cum for me."

And then you did—every nerve in your body ignited at once. The obscene, wet sounds of him pumping his fingers into you filled the room, a rhythm that matched the frantic pulse in your ears. His mouth smothered the desperate cries of pleasure that fought to break free as your body convulsed, writhing against him. Your hips bucked, helplessly seeking more, fingers digging into his wrist like anchors as your entire world spun wildly out of control. He was both your rock and your undoing—keeping you tethered to earth while hurling you into the stars.

It felt like you were suspended in that ecstasy forever, the air leaving your lungs in shattered gasps, until, at last, your breathing found its rhythm again. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, his own breath shaky, eyes dark with hunger. He brought his slick-coated fingers to your lips, pressing them past, and you groaned as you took him in, suckling greedily.

"You like that?" His voice was a low rumble, vibrating against your spine. You moaned in response, your tongue swirling around his digits, eyes fluttering shut at the taste of yourself. His other hand moved, urgently, his belt coming undone and echoing through the room as he freed himself, groaning, "Fuck."

Blaise had lost his composure completely—you didn't need to look at him to know it. In an instant, you were on your feet, his hands pulling you up as he kicked your chair out of the way, rolling into the wall with a thud. You turned your head to look at it but his lips crashed into yours, both hands cradling your face as he sank to his knees, dragging you down with him. The hardwood floor beneath you was cold, but his touch—his touch was a wildfire, scorching every inch of your skin, setting your blood to boil.

You moved instinctively and gasped as your fingers found him, warm and hard in your palm, twitching at your touch. He growled low in his throat, his hips jerking involuntarily as you stroked him, kneeling together on the floor, breaths mingling in the heated space between you. The moment stretched, unbearably tense, until with a swift motion, he spun you around, turning you to face the mirror.

His hands were everywhere—on your hips, sliding down your thighs, grazing the curve of your waist—pulling your skirt higher as he met your eyes over your shoulder in the reflection—

"Look at yourself," his fingers tightened on your hips, guiding you back against him, his length slicking between your thighs, grazing against your heat. "See what you do to me."

You gasped, melting into him, tightening your thighs around his shaft, fighting to keep your eyes on his in the mirror. Blaise exhaled, cranking your throat to the side and snatching a breast before biting the meat of your shoulder, cock pulsing when you whinged in delighted pain.

"Blaise—fuck—please..." your cunt clenched with anticipation, heat at your cheeks as you watched yourself in the mirror, desperately trying to tip your hips so he'd slide in. "Please, fuck me—"

Your voice was ruined. Music to his ears. Blaise could never deny that begging.

"Shit, baby..." he pressed in, leaning you forward until you were resting on your elbows in front of the mirror—seething as his girth stretched you open—splitting you wide in a way that made your eyes roll. He pulsed at your entrance, taking his time, letting you bask in the drag of your walls along his swollen length. In his reflection, his were lips parted, chest working with broken breath. "So goddamn tight..."

"Fuck," you moaned, unbridled, his hands bruising your hips as he picked up the pace. "Yes—mm—Gods, yes—"

The power of his thrusts stole your breath, quaked your bones, your cries of pleasure hiccuped by the rapid strokes of his hips. Blaise was the most patient man you'd ever met, until he wasn't. He groaned, his eyes trained on your ass, skin smacking skin with loud slaps—you were captivated, unable to think or speak or do anything other than watch—fire stoked by the sheer eroticism of watching him fuck your pussy. A hard, vicious plunge—you shrieked, and you could see him smirk to himself before gracing your ass with a soft smack, piercing your cervix.

"Sexy little thing. All fucking mine." He wound your hair in his fist, popping your neck back to hunch over you. "You like that, hm? Watching yourself get fucked?"

You whimpered, neck aching with the force of his grip, nails digging into your palms as he drilled you. The switch in his demeanour was dizzying. His dick was hollowing you out, rending you wide—you could hardly focus on his words—

"Yes!" You managed. "Fuck—yes—"

He groaned, fucking faster—his gaze ravaged you, wandering over every inch of your reflection before stopping at your jiggling chest. His hand slipped down from your hair to grasp a breast—squeezing and kneading the soft flesh in his huge palm, his other hand snaking down around your thigh to swirl over your clit, and you choked—a noise wrenched from your lungs far louder than you'd have liked.

"Fuck—fuck—" his hips moved erratically. He was getting close. So were you. "Tight—squeeze me s'good—"

You whinged. He swirled his fingers faster. "Blaise—m'gonna—cum—"

It descended upon you—the promise of oblivion—as you found one breath, another breath, and then found yourself in the mirror, skin gleaming, expression wrought with pleasure, entire body shaking with the pistoning of your boyfriends hips.

His eyes were still on yours, reverence inside them, worship.

He grunted. "Yes—fuck, cum on my cock, baby—let me feel you—"

It was a command that shattered all thought, a primal cry of ecstasy that ripped through you, overtaking every nerve, every vein, every muscle in your body. Your limbs trembled, thighs shaking as the pleasure coursed through you, molten, burning under your skin. You were less than halfway cognizant of what was leaving your mouth—barely picking up on your boyfriends groans and moans in your ear as you squeezed and milked his cock through your climax, fucking you deep until he couldn't take it anymore and erupted as well—pouring his cum into you, rolling his hips until he was empty.

Swallowing hard, you collapsed onto the floor, your chest heaving as he pulled out, leaving you breathless and trembling. His hands, still warm from the heat of your skin, gently held your arm as he sank down beside you. Without a word, he tugged you against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing a calming rhythm against your back. His fingers threaded softly through your hair, untangling the remnants of tension as the two of you lay there, catching your breath.

After a few moments, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple, the touch so tender it made you melt all over again. You tilted your head to meet his gaze, a soft smile curving your lips, all the stress that had plagued you earlier dissipating into nothing.

"Maybe I should have bad days more often." You smiled through an exhale.

"If this is what it takes to fix them," he murmured with a smirk, his voice deep and gravelly from exertion, "then I'm more than willing to be your remedy, anytime."

You hummed, a huff of a laugh slipping out as you traced lazy shapes on his chest—inhaling his scent with each breath. You loved this man. Loved that he never failed to make you feel so goddamn beautiful, so special, so needed.

"Seriously though," you whispered after a while, your cheek pressed to his chest, "thank you. For this. For knowing exactly what I needed."

His fingers stilled in your hair, a quiet hum of understanding in his throat.

"I always know what you need, baby," he said, his voice soft, filled with something more than just desire, something warmer. "And I'll always be here to give it to you."

[leviathanleva]

Caffè Crema

[Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!FemReader]

It was all fine and dandy between you two. You fed him and he helped you move heavy furniture. Then he comes to you with a question because you'd been unknowingly avoiding his advances.

"Is it the scars?"

And you're not really sure how to answer.

[5.2k words]

[Smut, MDNI]

Chapter 2 "Tea and Sugar Cubes"

By ‘come over for lunch sometime’ apparently, Simon understood showing up at your door exactly at twelve the next day. Of course, he hadn’t brought anything with him and you knew it wasn’t because he was stingy, but because he didn’t get invited randomly to nice events such as a lunch enough to know what to bring. He’d shown up in another ratty hoodie and worn-out jeans, his infamous skull facemask obscuring the lower part of his face, his disheveled blond locks tucked under a beany.

Despite the unexpected visit, you welcomed him with a warm smile and even warmer intentions.

He looked very much out of place once he set foot in your small apartment because it was a girl space, adorned with fuzzy couch cushions and color-coded Tupperware. Everything was in its place, everything was somehow delicate. Even your toilet had smelled nice when he’d entered it to take a piss. And of course, when he’d come to the kitchen to wash his hands, your soap was pink.

Simon felt transported into a whole other dimension as soon as he’d entered your humble home, he felt bad for leaving his muddy boots in your corridor as if they’d spread a disease through your sanctuary. He’d offered to leave them outside your door, but after much insisting on your part, he’d left them as they are – a stark contrast to the pretty little sneakers you most likely slipped on in haste to go to the store.

And sure, it was a bit unnerving to have a stranger lingering in your home as you prepared lunch for both of you, but your heart wouldn’t budge when you thought of gently escorting him out. He looked so tired, the discolored crescent moons under his eyes were prominent, the lines on his features looked deeper than they had been yesterday. He looked like he needed a good meal and a good nap after, a hot shower too.

You’d glance at him every so often, picking up the décor from the coffee table in the living room and inspecting it, tilting his head ever so lightly to the side, like a confused pup, before setting it back down and picking another. You’d left the kitchen door wide open to monitor him, but the more you looked, the sadder the picture of him became. You’d throw a comment his way, asking him about how his night had been, if he’d had any breakfast before coming, if he’d like to have a coffee, only to receive one-word responses.

Unfortunately, once you were slaving over the stove you couldn’t peek at him without looking suspicious so you just let him be. Surely, he hadn’t come to rob the place. He didn’t look like the type, seemed too polite in his rough and tough way.

Soon enough your mundane questions received no answers and despite knowing you might look like an anxious rat turning around, you did so anyway.

Only to find him asleep on your sofa.

He was curled up like a fetus, one arm tucked under his head with his face smushed in one of your pretty cushions. He was too big for the couch, that much was evident, he looked almost comical for napping on your girly sofa if it wasn’t for the fact that he’d been so tired he’d fallen asleep in a stranger’s apartment. You took pity on him, of course, you did, and brought over a blanket from your bedroom to lay over him.

He didn’t even budge when you tucked him in, only murmuring a sleepy curse before his light snoring began again.

It broke your heart when his meal was finally ready and you woke him up with a gentle shake to his shoulder. The poor thing looked so disoriented that you had to bite into your cheek just to keep from giggling. He scarfed down the plate of food you’d prepared for him so fast that you worried he might choke. He didn’t though, he literally licked the plate clean, stood up, thanked you for the food, and headed for the corridor to put on his boots and leave.

Despite the weirdness, you didn’t want to seem desperate, chalking up his sudden departure as him being busy. You let him leave with a soft chirp for him to stop by any time because he looked like he needed it. You’d curled up on the couch after, your lunch forgotten, and breathed in his faint scent of cigarettes and musk as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Ghost just kept coming after that day, unannounced, like a stray who’d finally found a home. After the third or fourth time he’d showed up for you to basically feed, bathe and let him nap, you started to find him work around the apartment.

“Simon, can you move the fridge so I clean behind it?” you ask in a sugary voice, timidly standing at the entrance to the living room because you liked looking helpless in front of him. Something about male pride and all that.

He got up without a word and stalked to your kitchen before moving the fridge with ease.

“Good ‘nough?” He glanced up at you, still crouched with his hands gripping the underside of the fridge.

And maybe you were a bit of an ass for shaking your head, but you liked watching him doing everyday tasks and flexing his strength for you.

“Little more to the left, please.”

He did as he was told and much to his surprise, you were beaming.

“Thank you, Darling.” You coo and pat the rumpled tuft of hair on his crown before he stands up to his full height.

A shudder runs up his spine at your gentle gesture and soon enough he’s moving furniture and reaching the top shelves in your kitchen before you can even ask. Anything to get another dose of praise and a mellow, appreciative squeeze to his arm or pat on the head. And Simon wasn’t one to easily open up and speak of what he likes and doesn’t, and he’d be caught dead before he admitted to your soothing gestures causing his entire body to tingle, but the fact was that they did and he was addicted from day one.

He liked your cooking, loved your praise and smile, and that was enough to keep him coming. As his visits continued, he started bringing offerings – from a steaming mug of coffee from the café you’d first met at, to flowers.

“My mate said you might like these.” Were his words as he thrust the bouquet in your arms and headed towards your living room without another word.

You’d pressed those flowers in an old book lying around, memorializing them while he’d been curiously peeking over your shoulder, with one large hand resting absentmindedly on your hip.

Then there was that one night when you’d offered him a slice of cake for dessert after a filling dinner. Typical him had accepted the offer and wolfed down the treat within two bites. Meanwhile, you’d been doting silently on him from the other end of the table, snorting when he looked up at you with icing stuck to his upper lip. You’d reached over to wipe him clean only to have him lean into your touch, thinking you were trying to cup his cheek. He’d avoided your gaze like the plague when he’d realized what you were doing while you tried to keep your little heart from shattering at his touch-starved demeanor.

Touches became not only a show of praise, but a frequent display of affection after that incident. Whether you were watching a movie on your couch or you were cooking something up in the kitchen, you made sure there was always some sort of physical connection between you two and since Ghost hadn’t protested, you’d taken that as a sign to keep at it.

Soon enough, quiet dinners extended to watching movies together afterward, which would, in itself, end up with the old soldier snoozing on your lap, his nose buried in the plushness of your thighs as his large arms encircled your waist, locking you in place until he woke up. You didn’t have the guts to stir him awake considering you didn’t know if the last time he managed to get shuteye was two days ago on that very same sofa or the night before at his base. You’d just card your fingers through his hair and rake your nails over his scalp while he purred at you in his sleep.

He told you little about himself and his work, but from what you’d gathered, he came from a troubled home, dragged an awfully dark past with him, and had very few people he considered friends. Soap was one of them. You’d actually laughed when he’d first mentioned Johnny’s callsign, refusing to believe him until he’d pulled out his phone and called the bloke to confirm.

In a way, you pitied him. Whatever he’d gone through was unimaginable to you, you could see it resurface in his eyes sometimes when you left him by himself to tend to chores or to return to work on your laptop. You tried to help, anchor him back as soon as his mind started drifting, and for the most part, you succeeded. But some days were tougher than others and besides being a silent, warm, physical manifestation of comfort for him, with arms draped over his neck and cheek pressed into his crown as he had his face buried in your sternum, there was nothing more to do.

He had to ride out the nightmares alone in his mind.

Despite PTSD constantly nipping at his heels, Simon looked better. The dark bags under his eyes began to subside the more he stopped by, the defeated slope of his shoulders evolved into a relaxed slump. The best part was that he’d put on weight under your constant pestering to eat more. You could tell, especially when he was clad in nothing but an old tanktop while helping you around the apartment, there was a thin layer of fat splayed over the hard plates on his stomach. His chest had grown, the biceps on his arms weren’t just two balls of muscle stuffed under his battle-scarred skin, there was more meat there now.

And maybe it was because he’d figured out that you didn’t expect anything in return for your kindness, or maybe your cooking tasted that good on his tongue, or maybe he really liked the feeling of your soft curves pressed into him whenever you were curled up on the sofa. But he’d shown up sporting a duffle bag in one hand one day. He’d set it down by his feet while you’d eyed him curiously, returned your gaze with one of evenness and calm, as if his actions made so much sense, and then he’d walked past you to go wash his hands.

He just…didn’t leave after that.

Still, ever the gentleman of few words, he’d taken it upon himself to sleep on the couch. As generous as you were, the bed was something you weren’t willing to give up, and thankfully he’d understood that fact without you having to voice it.

You’d not heard a single complaint from him for anything – not when you’d burned the lasagna that one time, or when you’d asked him to practically rearrange your whole kitchen because you didn’t have the strength to do so by yourself. It was a blessing.

What wasn’t a blessing was how blind you were to Ghost’s attempts at seducing you. When he’d practically picked you up and laid you on his lap during movie night, you’d chalked it up to him needing physical contact because he was having a bad episode. When he’d passed you in the kitchen with the intent to get to the fridge, he’d made sure your bum got the full package of his dick glide past it. He probably hadn’t had enough space to pass, so you’d moved closer to the counter, completely missing his intention. When he’d come out fresh from the shower, covered in droplets of water that just accentuated his mouthwatering physique and with skin steaming and glinting with cleanliness, he’d stood before you in nothing but a towel around his hips. His excuse was that he needed a towel for his hair as well and despite that he was puffed up and showing off like a peacock, you’d missed it. You’d gotten up in a hurry, worrying that he’d get chilly and catch a cold if he stood as such any longer. You’d rushed to find him something for his hair, unintentionally stomping over his plan of mesmerizing you with his provocative state.

He wasn’t sure what he was doing wrong. Everything he’d tried on you had worked on other birds in the past. So why were you not falling for it? Were you just not interested? Was he mixing up the signals?

Ghost was at a loss.

So much so that he’d finally had enough of your ignorant nature and simply brought it up.

“Think I’m ugly, Bird?”

You pause halfway into scrolling on your phone, thumb hovering over the screen, frozen. Your eyes lift and roll to the left and you look at Simon with the most dumbfounded expression you could muster.

You’d just finished lunch, now both lounging in your living room as you tapped away on your phone while he silently watched a random documentary on the telly, sprawled over the sofa with you, curled up at his feet, knees to your chest and squishing a pillow under your chin.

“What?” You blurt out and shift in your spot, being mindful not to crush his toes even though he’d tucked them under your bum to keep warm. You shake your head, blink at him a few times as if he’d just thrown the most inappropriate comment your way, and repeat: “I’m sorry, what?”

Still as a rock, while propped up one elbow, he doesn’t say anything more, patiently waiting for a proper reply. You ogle him, left partly speechless by his sudden inquiry, and silently set down your phone on the coffee table before puffing out an awkward breath and crossing your fingers in your lap.

“No, of course, not. What?” You let out an uneasy snort, thumbs dancing over each other to ease the embarrassment forming in your gut. “Why would you ask me that?”

There’s a moment of nothingness that passes, with only the TV buzzing in your ear as you stare at each other. As always he’s as relaxed as can be when under your roof, slack against the cushions while you’re coiled like a violin string, waiting for him to clarify.

He picks up the remote to lower the volume, maybe buying himself time before continuing the tense conversation.

“Don’ wanna sleep with me is all.”

“I – Excuse – ” You lean closer as if you’d not heard the words that had tumbled out of his mouth so casually.

“ – Is it the scars?”

You nearly pounce at his assumption, ready to smother him in tender kisses and gentle caresses until he forgets what he was even talking about. But you don’t because you worry how he’ll react to sudden movements, you don’t want to trigger him into military mode. So instead, you slowly scoot over and reach for his hand, curling yours in his calloused palm and locking your fingers together before giving them a squeeze.

“Simon…no.” A mournful smile speckles onto your lips as you speak, a certain melancholy to your usually warm eyes. Your answer gives no room for protests or objections, as simple as it is, it carries enough weight to snuff out the demons of uncertainty that have been plaguing him. “Not gonna lie, it’s insulting you’d even think that.”

“What’s the problem then?” He asks, voice hoarse and rough, the usual combo that sends pleasant chills down your spine and butterflies fluttering through your stomach. He sits up, hand still locked with yours as he comes to loom over you.

“There isn’t any!” You all but whine in barely sustained aggravation and grip his shoulder, shaking it gently, emphasizing your words with each weak tug and push. “I just…didn’t think. I mean… I’m happy to just have you here, Simon. I didn’t think you wanted to…” The words get caught in your throat as your pulse picks up pace. You rip your eyes away from his chocolate browns and sigh something defeated.

How was this even a problem at the moment? How hadn’t you picked up on his hints?

Thinking back, you saw the signs, the not-so-subtle gestures he displayed to show his attraction for you, that he wanted more. You’d been too worked up in trying to get him to have enough rest and feed him, offer a pleasant home for him. In your mind, he’d registered more as a beaten stray dog than a human with feelings and desires.

He was literally a grown man with a dick and you’d been treating him like a child.

It was embarrassing, hard to swallow the more your memories pile up your head.

“You think a bloke’s just gonna move in with a pre’y bird like you and not wanna shag?”

He pushes you back with his mass then, eases you back into the cushions with one arm gripping onto the armrest of the sofa to steady himself, making sure he doesn’t crush you under his weight.

“I just didn’t give it much thought.” You force out a murmur, yielding to him until you’re stuffed into the sofa, fidgeting beneath his bulk with your knees protectively lifted over your chest and ankles crossed over your sex. “I didn’t want to push in case you just wanted comfort.”

Your attention turns to the TV screen and you focus on the fleeting pictures there, still refusing to face him properly as both your bashfulness and embarrassment flare inside your chest. It’s too much, there’s just not enough space for your pounding heart, hyperventilating lungs, and emotions under your ribcage, you feel like bursting any moment now. But it doesn’t happen, instead, you're trapped beneath a man you barely know who’s made your home his as well.

It all comes flooding the more you’re left to explore the logical side of your brain.

You knew barely anything about him, hadn’t seen his face fully bared once, hadn’t known him for more than a month or two. He was just a random bloke you’d bumped into at the coffee shop and now, fast forward, he was living with you. Yet your heart lurches with excitement and heat begins to gather between your trembling thighs at his actions.

“Piss off with that shite.” He grumbles bitterly before sliding one hand under your calf and pulling your legs apart only to settle comfortably between them, trapping you beneath him. “Wanted to bend ya ove’ the counter moment I saw you fussin’ ‘round in the kitchen cuz of me.”

One large palm comes to knead at the supple flesh of your breast. He hisses in delight at your lack of a bra and dips his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent with delight. Of course, you weren’t wearing a bra, you were home. He was the intruder here, or was.

Intruder no more with his toothbrush in your bathroom and his clothes in your closet. A toothy smirk tugged on his thin lips at the realization.

Should have never been nice to him in the first place. Shouldn’t have let him inside your home.

Now you were stuck with him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You mewl beneath him, words muffled into his shoulder as you tentatively wrap your legs around his waist, hands coming to rest on his back and toying with the idea of pulling off his sweater.

He picks up on your tugs all too quickly and is more than willing, pulling away from you enough to discard the article before squishing you under his bare chest. It takes him to run his clothed mouth over the column of your neck once before you’re purring against him, clutching at the vast expanse of his marred flesh, nails catching ever so gently on the swells of his scars and making him bite back grunts of approval.

“Thought I’d be a gentleman and wait till you came t’ me.” He’s rasping softly in the shell of your ear as his rough, needy paw travels down to your waist, fingers slipping under the hem of your loose top and greedily mapping out the skin beneath. The fabric bunches up under his exploration and soon enough he’s pulling it over your head and you’re too lost in the heat of him to protest. “Didn’t expect you to be this bloody daft though.”

He presses the growing tent in his sweats against your pulsing heat, earns a choked-out moan in return that ripples through his body and awakens his skin with goosebumps. You jolt in his arms at the sudden feeling, only to be stilled in place by muscular arms.

He’s scarfing down your scent like a man nearly drowned and, having pulled his mask up, lapping at your neck with fervor, crooked nose pressing into your pulse point.

“Pre’y bird…too busy takin’ care o’ me to take care o’ yerself.”

Your back arches up, breasts squishing against his chest, skin on skin, the contact making his mouth water as he continues to slowly grind against you.

And you’re so drunk on him that you’re a hair’s breadth away from tugging your shorts down and pushing his head between your thighs. But a part of you refuses to relent, the same part that keeps screaming in the back of your head that you know nothing about him except his name and occupation, which is your God damned home.

You’ve had flings before, one-night stands, but none of the men you’d been with were anything like him. He was intimidating, a giant of a man that could overpower you so easily it was laughable. He was fucking dangerous, he was lethal, and he was currently grinding against you like he’d not seen a woman before in his life.

“You alright?” Simon halts his hungry nipping on your skin and leans back enough to look you in the eye. A hand goes up to steady your trembling arm that you’d no idea was trembling in the first place. “You’re shaking…”

You offer him a wry smile, spitting a soft half-truth between chattering teeth. Technically you are cold, but it wasn’t the reason for your trembling. He was. His presence.

“Just cold…”

He snorts at your lie, but still tugs the discarded blanket on the backrest of the couch over his shoulders, cocooning you completely as he settles back above you, pressing you down into the cushions.

“Don’ worry, pre’y girl.” His nose brushes against yours as he slowly lowers himself, mouth and stubbly chin brushing over your sensitive skin. “I’ll keep you warm.”

While one arm stays glued to his back you let the other one wander, settling on his cheek, fingers dipping under his mask and making him swallow back a grunt as he shudders.

Despite your mind hollering and red light blaring in your mind, you’re the one that seals your mouths together, pressing your lips against his and flicking your tongue over the scar running down to his jaw. He snarls in your mouth, tongue darting out to fetch yours when his fingers dip beyond the hem of your shorts only to find you already dripping for him.

When he starts rubbing gentle circles into your swollen clit, you see stars in the back of your eyelids. Instinctively, you try to close your thighs around his hand, ending up only squeezing him closer by the waist. A heady moan makes you break the kiss, lips swollen and glistening with saliva, heavy-lidded eyes looking up at him in a haze of need and something Ghost refuses to acknowledge as trust. But your pouty expression and quacking thighs are enough to push him past the little patience he’d been clinging to.

He hooks his sopping fingers on the waistband of your bottoms before tugging them down your legs, a satisfied grumble vibrating deep in his chest as you wiggle along to hasten the process. Dark orbs peek from under blond lashes as he takes the sight of you, with only a thin slip covering your leaking sex. His canines slip from under his upper lip as he watches you cover your chest and mumble out that you’re cold again, face turned away from him as your cheeks heat up.

“ ‘S okay, luv.” He coos and dives back in, surging with satisfaction when you cling to him the moment he was in reach. “ ‘M here. Got you.”

He doesn’t even bother to take off your panties, just moves the soaked strip aside before shrugging his sweatpants down enough for his pulsing hardness to spring free. And you’re a curious creature, your eyes slip down to look at him ready and waiting, hovering over your pretty cunt, tip swollen and leaking already.

“I’m not safe.” I stammer out while swallowing back a copious amount of saliva at the sight of him. “You gotta – ”

“ – I’ll pull out.” He reassures you hurriedly before he’s already sheathing himself into your welcoming heat.

Ghost’s jaw clenches with forced-back moans as he sinks into your fluttering pussy. Remnants of you slick dampen the thick dark hairs at his base when he finally manages to bottom out inside you, forced to bully his cock through your tight walls until the tip kisses your cervix and makes your toes curl.

His hands found their way under your ass, cupping both firm globes of flesh and pulling you flush against him. You come face to face with his chest, the difference in size making your coupling a bit awkward in this position, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In all honestly, the ghost of a smile on his lips told you that he likes hovering over you like this while you took whatever it was he gave you.

And you want to scold yourself for taking him so willingly, for your body betraying you so quickly when he’d technically not given you anything besides a few tiny gifts that hadn’t even been his idea. But you can’t help but whine up at him instead, greedy little sounds of protest because he’s waiting for you to adjust to being split open on his cock instead of just fucking into you and giving you what you need.

You’re wrapped around him like a snake, muscles contorting and fingers clutching at the slope of his spine as he starts to gently rock his hips, balls slapping against your flesh and making you pant in anticipation of how full they were.

“Si – ”

He kisses you with a desperation that knocks the air out of you, curling in on himself and propping you up enough to silence you before his name slips past your lips. He readily swallows your moans, letting you sob on his tongue as he works you open with thrusts far too tender for your liking.

It’s a death sentence, hearing his name honeyed by your sweet voice, especially now. He wouldn’t be able to take it, would crumble in your arms and slip past your fingers like sand.

Despite his rush earlier, his restrain told you more than you wanted to know. That he’s not just fucking you dumb into your cute little sofa, that there’s more there, an intimacy you’d been too kind to bring up to him in exchange for the efforts you’d poured into him because that’s what you’d wanted from the start. The knowledge turns your legs to pudding and you find yourself struggling to keep hold of him as he rocks into you.

With a teary-eyed expression and a cry from a particularly angled thrust, you free his back from the onslaught of your nails and reach between your bodies to press down on your neglected clit, seeking relief from the tension building up painfully in your belly.

He smacks your hand away with a grunt, dips his fingers between your folds instead and glares down at you as if you’d just made a grave mistake.

It was his job to make you come. He was to have your toes curling, you shouldn’t have to do anything, and the fact that you’d tried to get yourself off while he was right there was insulting. The rough pads on his fingers circle your sensitive flesh and you’re clawing at him in pleasure, blubbering out loving incoherences that make his ears tingle.

He’s not fast enough to lock his mouth over yours and swallow the broken calls of his name when your climax washes over you. You’re too slippery beneath him, skin shining with a thin sheen of sweat as your cunt locks around him like a vice and refuses to let him pull out the whole way. Writhing as you are, he barely manages to lock you securely beneath him as he speeds up, spurred on to near madness by your breathless, throaty call, his name on your tongue turned on loop and the precious words of encouragements dusted in between.

It’s too intimate, his real name being moaned in such a way, hits too close to home, does something deep in his gut and makes his legs weak. His tempo becomes uneven, hips sputtering, slapping against yours as he drives himself in until his tip is pressing against your core. It feels surreal, everything around him does – your touches, ever gentle even when you claw at him, your heat, willing and slick just for him, your voice ringing so potently in his ears it makes his teeth chatter.

It’s all too much, your existence overwhelms him, all of his sense and soon enough he’s forgotten that he has to keep you safe, has to pull out of your addictive heat. Instead, he’s rutting against you viciously, fangs bared and eyes closed as he drowns in your pleas for more and the weak fists that are thumping against his chest.

You’re in no better state, urging him on and coiling around him with a promise that you’ll take a pill first thing in the morning. Your high-pitched howling shatters into gaspy sobs when he sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of your shoulder and snarls as he jerks his hips. His spent floods your welcoming womb, his balls sucked dry by your convulsing cunt. He’d nearly fucked you off the couch with how selfishly brutal he’d gotten in the end.

Spurts of cum seeped out of you when he begrudgingly pulled out, a whine clawing its way up your throat when you feel his shaky fingers gathering up the leaking fluid before pushing it back inside you. He clambers down next to you, rolls on his side and crushes you against his chest and you know better than to protest even though you’d love to take a nice hot shower right about now.

He eyes you with something akin to tenderness before tucking you under his chin and pressing his nose into your dampened hair.

It’s fine.

You’d take a pill tomorrow.

<<< Chapter 1

Chapter 3 >>>

Masterlist

[mangooes]

Right here in my arms, tonight.

April 18th. The first birthday Sylus would spend with his beloved wife, (Name). Or so he thought.

The morning sun filtered through the curtains of their bedroom, casting warm golden rays across the silk sheets. Sylus stirred, white lashes fluttering open. His arm reached out instinctively for the familiar warmth beside him—but found nothing.

His crimson eyes snapped open.

“...Sweetie, (Name)?” he called out, voice rough with sleep.

Nothing.

The sheets on her side were cold. She’d been gone for a while.

Frowning, he tossed the blanket off and stalked barefoot through the penthouse, silver hair tousled from sleep. The living room? Empty. Her home office? Empty. Staryus, their Husky, merely yawned lazily from his corner as if sensing his master's growing irritation.

Then he reached the kitchen.

There on the counter was a covered plate, steam still curling from the edges, carrying the mouth-watering scent of grilled scallops—his favorite. And next to it, a little handwritten note in familiar curly handwriting.

Happy Birthday, Sysy! I had to go out of town for something important. I’ll be back in two days. I promise. Love you.

He read it twice. Thrice. Then crumpled the note with a quiet exhale as it vanished into puffs of black and red mist, lips forming a tight, flat line.

From that moment on, his mood turned sour.

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

Meetings became graveyards. Entire rooms fell silent when he entered. His answers were curt, clipped, and often laced with venom. When a new recruit accidentally spilled coffee near his files, the poor soul nearly passed out from the force of Sylus’s glare alone.

“Should’ve just executed me,” the recruit muttered as he fled.

Luke and Kieran, for once, didn’t dare tease him. They’d whispered behind closed doors:

“He’s been angry before... but this? This is another level.” “He’s scary when she’s not around... It’s like—like his entire vibe turns dark.” “We need the missus back, when is she going to finish prepping!??!”

And it was true.

He didn’t touch the scallops she had baked for him earlier. Didn’t sleep. Didn’t smile.

Not until that moment.

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

It was late evening. The final meeting of the day wrapped up, the boardroom emptied like rats fleeing a sinking ship. Sylus strode out in his black red suit, one hand in his pocket, crimson eyes glowing under the dim corridor lights.

As he stepped out into the open lot where his custom matte-black bike was usually parked—he stopped short.

Someone was already sitting on it.

Wearing his jacket. Legs crossed like royalty. Her hair spilling from under the black helmet resting on her head.

Ah his (ehm everyone's) saviour is here!

Her eyes sparkled, mischief in every line of her smirk.

“Took you long enough, birthday boy.”

For a moment, Sylus just stared.

“…You said you’d be gone for two days.” “I lied.”

His brows furrowed. “Why?”

“To throw you off.”

“Come again, kitten?”

“To surprise you.”

His jaw clenched, still suspicious, still raw with the sting of her absence. “I’ve been—”

“Angsty? Broody? Destroying the emotional well-being of everyone in your office?” (Name) cut in casually, then winked. “Luke texted me. Said they were ready to hold a funeral if your mood didn’t improve.”

He glared. “You planned this?”

She stood from the bike slowly, hips swaying, and gently tossed him the spare helmet. “I planned everything. Now shut up, birthday boy. You’ve got five seconds to hop on before I leave you here looking like a grumpy criminal boss with abandonment issues.”

He caught the helmet easily, one brow arched.

Then, he laughed. Just a quiet exhale through his nose at first, then deeper. It was rare. Beautiful. That dangerous grin curved his lips as he walked over and swung a leg over the bike behind her.

He wrapped both arms around her waist and leaned down to whisper near her ear.

“You're lucky I love you.”

She started the engine. “I know.”

They rode off into the night, the wind tangling their hair, the city lights blurring around them in a golden rush. She didn’t tell him where they were going, but it didn’t matter. She was with him. That was all he needed.

The engine’s hum died as (Name) gently parked the bike. She parked it near the trailhead leading into the national park that lay just outside the edges of N109’s steel cityscape. The mountain air was crisp, scented with wildflowers and pine. She swung one leg over the bike and dismounted with ease.

With a smug smile tugging at her lips, (Name) stepped forward and extended her hand toward him, palm up.

“Well, birthday boy?” she quipped. “Need a hand?”

Sylus raised a brow, letting out a low, amused hum. “My, my, the kitten’s grown claws. Are you planning to carry me next?”

“Oh please, I would have died carrying you all the way to our next spot,” she quipped back, wriggling her fingers at him.

He took her hand, letting her guide him off the bike as if he were fragile porcelain. The sarcasm in his crimson gaze was palpable, but so was the adoration. Once his feet hit the ground, he leaned in, whispering beside her ear, “You sure you aren’t secretly enjoying bossing me around?”

(Name) smirked, brushing past him with a sway of her hips. “Oh, I know I am.”

Their boots crunched against gravel and soft moss as they followed a winding trail deeper into the woods, beneath arches of blooming dogwoods and fairy lights strung between trees—like someone had plucked stars from the sky and tucked them among the branches. Sylus slowed his steps, his gaze scanning the lights, the ambiance, the effort.

And then—

There it was.

A full picnic setup nestled in the clearing: a large plush blanket spread across the grass surrounded by soft lanterns, flickering candlelight, and a low basket filled to the brim with containers and covered plates. Wildflowers encircled the space in a lazy oval, painted in pastels by the twilight.

Sylus stopped walking entirely, frozen in place like someone had hit pause on his body. (Name), without breaking stride, reached back and tugged his wrist forward.

“No words, Sysy?” she teased, dragging him with surprising strength. “You’re never speechless.”

Sylus didn’t ask how she planned all this. He didn’t need to.

She just knew.

He let himself be pulled into the heart of the scene, sinking onto the blanket beside her. His red eyes flicked toward her with something bordering between affection and disbelief. “You did all this… for me?”

“No,” (Name) said deadpan, pulling open the picnic basket. “For Staryus our husky. Obviously.”

“Ah, should’ve known.” Sylus chuckled, watching her lay out each dish with care. His favorite appetizers—baked escargot and pan seared foie gras. Her famous baked scallops, and a sinful lemon tart with red wine infused ice cream on the top, a glass of gin fizz, all waiting beneath a little domed glass plate.

The aroma hit him like a love spell.

He leaned back, propping himself on one elbow. “And here I thought I was the seductive one.”

“You still are,” (Name) replied with a wink. “But I’m not too bad at seducing either. Especially when I have food as a weapon.”

Sylus laughed—a warm, rich sound that sent butterflies flitting through her stomach. Then, predictably, he leaned forward, propped an elbow on his knee, and fixed her with his best dramatic expression.

“I think I’ve worked hard enough to deserve more than just food. Spoon me,” he declared with mock arrogance.

(Name) snorted. “You want me to feed you now?”

His lips pressed into a thin line, giving her the look she couldn’t refuse.

She sighed, dramatically, then scooped a bite of the scallops and held it up to him. “Open wide, Your Highness.”

Sylus narrowed his eyes, leaning forward slowly as if to take the bite—then darted out his tongue to flick the edge of the spoon instead, causing (Name) to jolt and nearly drop it.

“SYLUS.”

“Oops,” he said innocently, lips curling. “Slipped.”

“You’re such a brat—”

Before she could yank the spoon away, Sylus caught her wrist and gently guided it back to his mouth, this time taking the bite properly. He chewed slowly, sensually, just to mess with her.

“Mmm,” he moaned dramatically, licking his lips. “Made by the hands of my darling little wife. Full of love as always.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Yet adorable,” he added, reaching out to brush a crumb from her cheek. “Admit it.”

(Name) swatted his hand away, but her grin betrayed her. “Maybe. A tiny bit.”

“Too sweet, but its tolerable.” he lied testing her waters, because he knew it tasted just how he likes it, perfect.

“Like me,” she teased.

He licked the frosting from her fingers, eyes low with heat. “I don't need to confirm it right now, do I?”

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

They finished dinner slowly, laughter and flirting stretching across the night as the sky dimmed into starlight. Sylus leaned back after his last bite of lemon tart, stomach and heart both full.

Watching her with a quiet fondness. “(Name), kitten,” he said gently, the rare vulnerability in his voice making her glance over, “Thank you.”

She tilted her head, lips twitching into a soft smile. “For?”

“For this. For today. For being here with me,”

He replied.

Her chest tightened, and instead of replying, she reached over and ruffled his snow-white hair, giggling at the scowl that immediately followed.

“You’re so sappy today, Sysy.” “Birthday privilege,”

He said dryly.

Before she could escape, he pounced.

“SYLUS—!” she yelped, tumbling into a laughing mess as he tackled her into the soft field of datura flowers. They rolled together, tangled in laughter and limbs, until she ended up straddling him, flushed and breathless.

He was still grinning up at her, eyes gleaming with mischief.

His mischivious sweet kitten, ever the chaotic wife, plucked a datura bloom from beside them and tucked it behind Sylus’s ear, then added a second into his hair. The third bloom placed, laying on his chest.

“There,” she said smugly. “Now you’re the prettiest birthday boy in all of N109.”

He growled softly, reaching up and dragging her down until their noses brushed. “You’re asking for trouble, kitten.”

They both burst into laughter, falling side by side on the flower bed, gazing up at the stars. Silence stretched for a few moments, only the whisper of leaves and the distant hum of the city below.

A sudden streak of light crossed the sky—a shooting star, fast and fleeting.

(Name) gasped. “Quick, make a wish!”

Sylus didn’t take his eyes off her.

“I already have what I want, I just wish for it to last forever.”

Her breath caught. “Sylus…?”

He reached up, cradling her cheek with a gentleness that contradicted every terrifying rumor about him.

"Well if you insist on making me spell it out loud, it would be my pleasure," he continued.

His thumb brushed her skin, voice low and reverent.

“My wish is that you stay with me. Forever.”

Then he pulled her down gently, pressing a kiss to her lips—slow, deep, the kind of kiss that writes poetry into bones and carves devotion into stars.

“Happy birthday, Sylus,” she whispered.

He kissed the top of her head, as the icing on his birthday cake, a quiet confession.

“You being here is the only gift I ever wanted.”

The fairy lights danced around them. The datura flowers swayed, as the wind blew, carrying its petals away. The stars aligned—not in the sky, but in Sylus’s arms, where his world began and ended.

With (Name).

His wife, his kitten, his sweetie, his soul, his heart, all his. Always her. Always.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SYLUS ASKJDNASKDANKDA this was the longest story scenario i had written in ages ?!?!?! i think this is like 2000 words or sum or what. This is my present for Sylus! Happy Birthday Sysy <3 Love u mwah (I legit stayed up till 12 just to sing him happy brthday)

[yan-randomfandom]

yandere viktor with an innocent and naive reader but with magical abilities, where the reader knows how to use simple magic like conjuring plants or controlling water... ((the reader only knows the basics of magic, since no one taught it and this magic would be the only one so far who knows how to do it, and the reader was a little scared of being in a rush or being studied like a lab rat because she has magic, but she confided her secret to Viktor...)) Why do you do that?

Y!Viktor x GN!Mage!Reader

a/n: posting this before act 2 omg, i think i need a rewatch — btw this one only has very light yandere undertones,, ..erm

🫧 ;

"Psst. Hey, want to know a secret?"

Viktor blinked. His eyes followed the moving reflection on the iridescent river. Your figure was mirrored in the water, an unreadable expression on your face.

... He looked up, alarmed. Were you talking to him? Viktor didn't even know you.

You met his amber eyes. For whatever reason, on the edge of the cliff just above the water, you folded your legs against your chest and buried half your face in your arms.

"Well?" you pushed, voice muffled.

His mouth opened, then closed. Viktor nodded wordlessly instead.

" ... Promise me you won't tell anyone."

Without a moment's hesitation, the young boy nodded again.

He watched as you stood up and jumped steadily into the river, splashing him and his mechanical boat. A low, frustrated groan escaped him as water seeped into his clothes.

"Oh, sorry," you said as he tried to wipe the water from his face. "Let me get that for you."

Suddenly, Viktor felt his weight gradually become less unpleasant—almost refreshing, even, as if the water slid across and away from his skin and clothes.

That's when he saw it.

A small blob of water, floating in the air. It moved carefully like it was fragile.

Then came another, and another. Small specks came together until it formed one single bubble.

Abruptly, it dropped in the river. Like nothing ever happened. Viktor's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Cool, right?" you grinned. He looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, his jaw gaping. One of your hands was lifted, fingers poised in a manner of delicacy.

"You," Viktor finally spoke, stammering, his breathing ragged. "You did that? Was that... magic?"

You chuckled, settling yourself beside him. He turned to you, scooting over to make room, and met your steady gaze. “I think so. But I was serious when I said never, ever tell anyone.”

He shook his head, utterly appalled. "Is this some sort of trick?"

"I wish—"

“This is not funny,” he snarled, his demeanor shifting completely, catching you off guard. “If you’re just here to get a reaction out of me, I’d advise you and your friends to leave. Please.”

You frowned, standing up with your fists clenched. “No, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m so sorry! And I don’t… even have friends.”

Viktor searched your face.

There's nothing to suggest a lie. He's observant, and he quietly prides himself over it, but this is one of the few cases where he genuinely starts to doubt his judgment.

"But," you sighed, turning away. "I'll leave if that's what you want. Apologies."

...

"... Wait."

— 🌱

The leaves of the seedling barely moved.

"Aw," you chuckled, dropping your arm to your side. Who knew conjuring plant powers could be so draining? "Well, I tried. Let's take a break!"

He let out a choked noise, pausing his writing. "We barely started! How is it that whenever you get to try something new and amazing, you avoid it?”

...

You didn't respond immediately.

Viktor put down his notebook, looking back at you, who was blankly staring at him.

"I guess I'm... scared?" you said, tilting your head. To his surprise, you gently grabbed his hand, running your thumb across his palm.

His face warmed. He physically couldn't say or do anything.

"You're the only one who knows about this, Vik," you muttered, your eyes fixed on his rough skin. "I sprung this on you when we were kids, which is kind of hilarious, by the way, but I had a reason. In my mind, you were the only one who would understand."

He thought so, too.

Viktor couldn’t stop himself from slipping his fingers between yours. It was a good thing you weren’t looking at him—otherwise, you might’ve seen how red his face had become.

"And you told me no one will believe me," he said, and while the memory was of you giving him a serious warning, his tone was filled with nothing but endearment.

"I still stand by that," you laughed, pulling your hand away from his, much to his disappointment. You still hadn't glance at his face. He mentally scolded himself for almost hoping you would see his expression. "Especially with our age now. They'll just think you're crazy."

"I understand," he chuckled, turning away. "About that break... you want to go to our usual?"

A smile curled your lips. "Yes, please!"

— 💌

Viktor said he has a surprise for you.

Admittedly, you're feeling extremely anxious. He grew up to become a researcher, an inventor—facts that don’t surprise you.

As his best friend, a person able to do magic, while absolutely shitty at it, you know he sees you as someone with massive potential. Literally. No one else in Piltover or Zaun is known to do this. Maybe in a hundred years—who knows? You didn't even have a proper education.

...

Viktor cleared his throat. "I've been offered a position in the University of Piltover."

You froze. The letter in his fingers bore the university’s wax seal in the center, bold and unmistakable.

“Holy shit,” you blurted, your eyes darting between him and the letter. “Holy shit!”

Jumping over to Viktor, you wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace. The biggest, most triumphant smile tugged at your lips. He staggered a little, but you were too wrapped up in your happiness to notice.

"Language," he laughed, hugging you back.

You snickered. "I'm so proud of you! Words can't even begin to express how happy I am for you!"

Pulling back, your hands still rested on his shoulders. Your smile relaxed ever so slightly as your eyes gazed into his softer ones.

"I knew you could do it," you exhaled.

A small pause.

Viktor had a look. Oh, shit. What’s that smirk for?

"...You're not done," you accused, raising an eyebrow.

He lifted the letter in his hand. "I have not accepted yet."

Now, your brows knitted together in utter confusion.

"... Why not—?"

"I said I won't be going unless they let me bring a plus one."

You smile faltered, denial crossing your face. He noticed it. Did he just say what you thought you heard him say?

"Are you saying...?" Your expression shifted into worry; you didn't quite understand his point.

"I want you to come with me," Viktor said, grabbing your hand and placing the letter in your palm. "To Piltover."

Oh, no. You didn't mean to.

You panicked, pulling away, the letter slipping from your hand.

Viktor's brows furrowed. He thought you'd be happier about the news.

Then, he looked around.

It had rained just before he decided to share the news. Some raindrops were still fresh, glistening from the downpour.

And around your figure, small droplets rose into the air. The air is thick with tension.

"Viktor. You're not giving me to them, are you...?"

Defeated. That's how your voice sounded.

"Of course not," he hushed, pushing you onto a chair. "Never. Please calm down. Let me explain."

You obliged, sitting down. He sat beside you.

"I'm sorry," you spoke first, meeting his eyes. "It's not that I don't trust you. Heck, I trust you more than anyone. The thought of going up there... it just makes me anxious."

"I understand," Viktor nodded. He turned his head. "However, I promise you, I won’t let them take you away from me. You’ll be solely under my care. But I do know someone who’s willing to help us."

Viktor. So compassionate and filled with empathy. You admired him for those very reasons, not just for his brilliance. His presence feels like a whole other world to you—someone who could help you understand your abilities. Perhaps the only chance you have to truly learn who, or what you are.

"I'll be a burden."

"No. Of course not. I want you by my side."

You hesitated. Despite your family being clueless about your ability, they were still the people you cared for. You still had a life in the undercity.

"And if I refuse...?"

Viktor took a moment to respond. The thought of leaving you hurt his heart.

"You... I believe you don't have much of a choice."

You couldn't explain why, but you found it in yourself to wholeheartedly believe him.

— 💜

zamn

critique is welcome btw

[all-with-angel]

𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐈𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄! •°. *࿐

Summary: How the Yandere JJK Characters kidnap you after you blocked and ran away from them!~ FINALE to this series

Including: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Sukuna Ryomen, Shoko Ieiri, Uraume

Content. Yandere, Dark themes, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Drugging, this is actually terrifying so beware, gn!reader !DARK THEMES!

w.c. 300-700 per character || Masterlist ||

MINOR AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI. Masterlist

❥ SATORU GOJO

The quiet hum of the refrigerator was the only sound left in the house. The lights were off, curtains drawn, the TV screen still faintly glowing from earlier, casting eerie shadows along the walls. You sat crouched in the back of your closet, breath caught in your throat, your phone tightly clutched in your trembling hands.

It was dead quiet, save for the heavy drum of your heart in your ears.

You heard the front door open- No, you heard it break three minutes ago. Two minutes ago, you started to hear whistling. An upbeat tune, filling in every corner of your home. Slowly getting louder. Then came his voice, unmistakably bright and sing-song, echoing down the hall like sugar-coated dread.

"Heyyy~ You’re being kinda rude, y'know.” Gojo Satoru called out, footsteps heavy against the hardwood floor. You didn’t breathe. Not as his voice drifted closer. Not as the floor creaked near your bedroom.

“Also, not to be pushy, but…” Gojo’s voice lowered, took on that deceptively lazy tilt that meant he was far too aware. “Why’d you block me, huh? That was really mean. You’re supposed to be nicer to your friends. Or future boyfriend.” He giggled, as if blushing at the thought.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your heartbeat was thunder in your ears. The doorknob to your bedroom rattled, but silence followed.

You were confused, hope crawling deceptively up your spine. Maybe he had left? 

Maybe?

That hope was crushed just as quickly. The closet door opened and you didn’t even hear a single footstep. He was smiling, his usual grin but there was something manic behind it. He had his blindfold off, bright blue eyes staring right into your soul. Those cerulean eyes- normally so bright and charming, the same ones you had trusted up until a few hours ago- were dilated and glowing in the dark. “You had your fun playing your games sweetheart,”

His smile grew wider.

“My turn to play.”

❥ SUGURU GETO

The alley stank of copper.

You stood at the edge of it all, frozen beneath a flickering street lamp that buzzed like it, too, was on the verge of collapse. The sky above had long turned black, the stars drowned by storm clouds that hadn’t yet cried. The silence was thick and wrong. The kind of silence that followed a massacre.

There were bodies. Not neatly placed, not respectfully laid out- no, they were torn. Crushed.

Your legs trembled. You couldn’t breathe without tasting iron. You wanted to throw up. You should have thrown up. But you were too paralyzed, heart pounding so hard it hurt. Your fingers twitched at your sides, useless after doing such a small action such as texting Geto. 

Curses still lingered, slithering in the shadows like rats with too many teeth, but they peeled away with sudden, eerie reverence. Something stronger had arrived. Something worse. He’s here, he said over text.

Geto Suguru, all calm smiles and slow, unhurried steps, like he hadn’t just orchestrated a massacre in your name. His robes fluttered in the soft breeze. There wasn’t a speck of blood on him.

“Ah,” he said gently, as if greeting a wayward child, “my dear.”

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move. Your knees locked, rooted to the blood-soaked pavement as Geto gently cupped your face with a finger. He frowned, mocking, as if disappointed. “Do you see now?” he asked softly. “This... all of this could’ve been avoided.”

He sighed, shaking his head as he did so.

“You made me do this.”

Tears welled up on your eyelids- Just for a moment, before they all came spilling out. “You poor thing,” Geto cooed at you, bringing his sleeve to help wipe your ever flowing tears. “It’s okay, everyone makes mistakes. I forgive you.” He held your face, hands deceptively warm as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

“You must’ve been so scared. Don’t worry. It’s over now. I’ll take care of everything.” 

You shivered before giving in and curling into him, letting yourself be enveloped in dark robes. “‘m sorry.” You whispered. It wasn’t for him, but for the people dragged into this mess and killed. If he knew that, he didn’t care.

“I know.” He hummed, threading his fingers through your hair. “I’m glad you’ve learned your lesson, my dear.”

❥ NANAMI KENTO

Your head was pounding.

A slow, dull throb pulsed behind your eyes like someone had taken a sledgehammer to your skull and wrapped the aftermath in cotton. You groaned softly, face turned into soft, cool sheets that didn’t feel like your own. You shifted instinctively- but something clinked.

Metal. A sharp sound, cold and wrong, echoed in the otherwise suffocating silence. You froze. Again, you moved- Just slightly, and the noise returned. A dragging sound. Chains.

You blink your eyes open, the world spinning and blurring into one mess before you were able to focus on your surroundings. The room was dim but luxurious, cast in warm amber light. High ceilings, velvet drapes. Hardwood floors covered in imported rugs. Everything looked pristine, untouched. Like something out of a dream.

Your wrist was shackled to the bedpost with a sleek but heavy steel cuff. Another bound your ankle.

Your heart lurched. You tried to get off of the bed, but the restraint at your ankle tugged you back with a soft clink. Panic bloomed in your chest.

As if on cue, a door you barely noticed in the corner of the room opened.

Nanami stepped into the room, dressed in a loose, elegant button-down and black slacks, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows. His tie was gone. In his hands, he carried a silver tray with your favorite food—exactly how you liked it. Steam still wafted from the dishes.

He looked at you with such fondness, as if this was just another quiet evening between lovers.

“You’re awake,” he said, smiling softly. “I was beginning to worry.”

He walked closer, placing the tray on the nightstand. You shifted back, sheets rustling under you. His voice remained even, calm. Dangerously so. “I know your head must hurt. I tried to be gentle, I’m very sorry.”

You recoiled instinctively as he reached out to brush your hair from your face, but he didn’t seem offended. In fact, he looked saddened.

“I knew you'd panic,” he murmured. “But you have to understand... this was the only way.”

“The only... way?” you rasped, eyes wide.

He nodded, sitting at the edge of the bed like this was perfectly normal. “You weren’t safe out there. You kept insisting on putting yourself in danger—talking to people you shouldn't, wandering off, trusting all the wrong hands.” His hand slid over yours, gently stroking your fingers- You flinched back. “So I made a choice. One that you’ll thank me for. Eventually.” He stayed calm, as if anticipating the reaction and resting his hands on his lap.

You screamed, curses and cries slipping past your lips. The chains rattled at every movement.

“It's alright. We have time. Days, weeks, years.” He smiled again. “You’ll come to see that this is right.”

Your heart hammered. The scent of vanilla was suffocating now. You were trapped. Alone. And he had planned this.

“You’re finally home.”

❥ TOJI FUSHIGURO

The warehouse was a maze of rusted scaffolding and forgotten crates, all shrouded in darkness. Moonlight filtered in through cracks in the boarded windows, carving slivers of silver across the floor. Your breaths came shallow, ragged, and you were sure they were nearly loud enough to echo off the metal walls. You pressed yourself into the narrow gap between two crates, clutching your legs to your chest, trying to make yourself smaller.

You could still hear his voice in your ears. He appeared right in front of you, a monster emerging from the shadows as he chased- cornered you into some dingy warehouse. You didn’t know how you ended up here, all that you know is that he planned this. Every turn you took, every time he sped up to just barely graze you, all planned. A predator hunting its prey.

You pressed a hand over your mouth to stifle the panicked sob threatening to escape. Every creak, every scuttle of rat claws across concrete made your skin crawl. Your ears strained for footsteps—his footsteps. But it was so damn quiet.

A faint tap. The subtle scrape of boots against the ground. Measured. Deliberate. Like he knew you could hear him.

You held your breath.

"Not a bad hiding spot," Toji called, his voice bouncing through the warehouse. You couldn’t tell how far or how close he was. "Took you a while to start learning, huh?" You could hear the grin in his voice.

Then you heard the echo of metal on metal. Loud clangs filling your ears as you could imagine Toji dragging his blade across steel beams.

"You remember when I told you I liked the chase?" he said, somewhere to your left now. "Still true. But you running off like that… breaking the lock on our door? Kinda hurt my feelings, y’know."

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Your lungs burned. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until black spots danced at the edges of your vision. Quietly, carefully, you inhaled through your nose.

CLANG.

A crate slammed to the floor just a few rows down and you flinched violently. The sound rang through the warehouse like a death knell. Wood splintered. Dust filled the air.

He was closer. You still couldn’t see him. The warehouse was quiet for far too long after that. Not a whisper nor the wind reached your ears.

“Gotcha.” His voice. Right behind you.

You screamed, scrambling to your feet—but he was already there, arm wrapping around your middle like a vice, yanking you back. Cold steel kissed your throat—not cutting, not yet, just resting there, a silent promise.

He was laughing. Leaning down right beside your ear to whisper, “Don’t move. We don’t want my knife in your throat now do we?” You froze, going limp in his hold save for how you were shaking.

You could hear the grin in his voice and you could only shiver as you felt his arm hold you tighter, cold blade tracing against your neck. “Now, let’s go home. You’re tired, right? I’ll tuck you in. Lock the doors better this time.”

You weren’t going anywhere.

❥ SUKUNA RYOMEN

Sukuna didn’t give out warnings lightly. He already gave his in the form of every glare and threat he threw your way, you knew  he wasn’t a safe man. It was stupid of you to think he wasn’t the stalker behind your problems, now, everything was worse.

You were so close.

The terminal lights glowed like a distant promise ahead, the sliding glass doors of the airport practically calling your name. Crowds bustled around you — strangers moving fast, eyes on their luggage, not on the one person trying to escape something far more dangerous than a missed flight.

You left Sukuna’s lair when he was preoccupied, gone to retrieve his fingers. You gave no warning nor sign either. Keeping up the facade of an obedient pet up to the second he left for that mission. You’d planned this. You’d waited until they were out. You’d done everything right.

It didn’t matter. Not to someone like Sukuna.

The floor trembled beneath your feet like the earth itself was exhaling. Something wrong stirred at the edge of your senses, something ancient and furious and intimately familiar. The taxi you were in was flipped, just like every other vehicle in proximity. Your head swam, glass and metal getting thrown around.

You were distantly aware of the sounds of screams, destruction, explosions, as you tried to regain your consciousness. The car was roughly shoved to the side, something digging into your side painfully as you felt warm blood splash onto your face. Beside you, your driver was dead. Cleaved into pieces.

Then, you were ripped from your seat. Your eyes met Crimson. Four crimson eyes glowed like open wounds in the dark, fixed solely on you. You were held up by your collar. “Leaving without saying goodbye?” he asked, voice velvet over steel. “That’s not very polite.” He dropped you to the floor, his eyes never leaving you.

You scrambled backward, palms scraping the concrete, breath heaving.

“You said you’d be good,” like a pet, he growled, taking slow steps towards you, head tilting to the side like you were a curious insect he hadn’t yet decided whether to spare or dissect. “I see now that was a lie.”

His tone was calm — too calm — and that scared you more than screaming ever could. You knew he was angry, judging by the state of your surroundings.

“I gave you everything,” he whispered, taking a slow step forward. “Warmth. Food. Safety. You had the honor of being mine.”

Your breath hitched when he came closer, heart slamming against your ribs. “I’m not yours, I’m not a pet.” you breathed.

 “Let’s not pretend you were ever in control of this, pet.” He sneered, and before you knew it, he was crouched in front of you- His claws digging into the sides of your face as he held it in one hand. His eyes were that of a monster, a wolf ready to eat you whole.

You felt blood and tears roll down your face, all as he watched with a dark but unmoving expression. “I would laugh, if I wasn’t still enraged by your audacity to try and escape me.” 

He pulled your face closer to his, his other hand gripping your thigh hard enough to draw blood. The pain was nothing compared to the dread in your chest. The fact that solidified itself in your mind now that you could fully see how deranged the curse in front of you was.

The silence that followed would be remembered by the world—because you, after tonight, wouldn’t be remembered at all.

❥ SHOKO IERI

You burst out of the café like it had caught fire behind you, lungs tight, phone gripped in your sweaty palm. Your bag slapped against your side as you stumbled into the dark, nearly empty parking lot. The only sound was your breath- uneven, ragged- and the distant hum of a streetlight buzzing overhead like it was trying to warn you.

You didn’t see anyone in the café. No sign of her. But her text… the timestamp matched the moment you sat down. And that meant she had been watching. She could still be watching.

You hit the key fob three times in a panic. The car lights blinked. You yanked the door open, practically diving into the driver's seat. You jammed the key into the ignition—hands shaking so bad you almost missed it.

The car wouldn’t start. What was the goddamn problem?? Not the engine. That clicked fine. No resistance in the brake. No rumble. Just a soft click. So why—

Then you saw her reflection. In the rearview mirror. A pair of calm, brown eyes. “Hey,” Shoko said softly, her voice a lullaby wrapped in a smile. “Miss me?”

You whipped around, nearly kicking the door open in your scramble to escape. But a hand—gloved, steady—reached forward and caught your shoulder. You felt a sting to your neck, you screamed- but it wasn’t heard. By anyone that wasn’t you or shoko, atleast.

Shoko winced from behind you. “Sorry.” You pulled whatever was stuck in your neck, yanking it out and throwing it on the passenger seat. An empty syringe. 

The world quite literally tilted on you seconds after you realized. Shoko’s next words came muffled to your ears. “I hate using chemicals,” she murmured, sighing as she opened the car door.

You could barely register as you felt yourself growing laxer and laxer, practically limp when Shoko hauled you out of the drivers seat and into the backseat. Shoko brushed your hair back from your face. Her touch was tender. Reverent.

You tried to move your mouth, to beg, to scream. Nothing came out but a whimper. She leaned closer, her breath warm against your cheek. Her lips barely moved. You could barely keep your eyes open.

“Don’t worry. You aren’t going anywhere.”

❥ URAUME

The kitchen was warm, filled with the scent of garlic and something sweet. You stirred the pot lazily, the soft bubbling of the sauce helping you pretend that everything was fine. Pretend that the feeling of eyes on you ever since you had ran from Uraume didn’t exist, didn’t bother you.

The shadows in your house had gotten longer. Or maybe they were moving. You reached for the knife on the counter with trembling fingers. Don’t look. Just keep cooking. It’s in your head. It has to be. You had checked the place multiple times, everything was locked. It was safe.

It was cold. You shivered, leaving the kitchen to turn the thermostat up. You frowned as it was glitching, breaking right in front of your eyes. Then you heard a click of the stove from the kitchen.

You turned. And there they were. Uraume stood just inside your kitchen, pale as fresh snow, expression as calm as ever as they traced the edge of the pot. They left frost in their wake. You gasped, taking a few steps back as you could feel the temperature drop to freezing.

“Making dinner without me?” Uraume’s voice was level, almost amused. “How cold.”

Their eyes finally glanced up, finally locking with yours. You could barely make out that the soup you were making was frozen solid now. Uraume took a step towards you for every one you took backwards, until you hit the wall. You were frozen in place, their eyes keeping you in place.

You glance towards the knife rack, just a quick dash away.

“I wouldn’t,” they said, tilting their head. “You’re shaking. You’d just embarrass yourself.” The entire knife rack was frozen before you could even blink. A blur of white, cold fingers wrapped around your neck.

Warm breath escaped you in a silent scream, silenced by Uraume’s glare. You could feel the danger, the threat in front of you.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Uraume started, their voice level, just enough to hide the raging storm. “About how you’re always so careful. So distant. Like you’re afraid of me.”

“Stop,” you croaked, but your words felt weak in your throat. “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything from you,” Uraume said, voice almost thoughtful as if answering a basic question from a toddler “I just want to keep you. To have you all to myself.”

“Why?” You pleaded.

They didn’t answer that. A chill ran up your spine at the long silence. Uraume gripped your throat tighter, ice and bruises starting to bloom on your neck.

“It doesn’t matter.” They finally answered, just above a murmur. You were confused at the tinge of pink on their cheeks as they looked away for once. The hell?

That confusion ended just as quickly as it came, as dark spots started to appear in your vision. Uraume, as if sensing the sudden change, looked right back at you. There was a ghost of a smile on their lips, empty.

“You’re better off with me. It’s okay,” They almost cooed, “I'll keep you forever.”

A.N. I do not condone any of this behavior!! This terrified ME while I was writing I'll be fr- if this is cringe then i apologize

Taglist: @catladythoughts @tojifushiguroszaddyzar

[emmyrosee]

head empty, only rin loving kisses and being waaaaaaay to proud (shy) to ask for them.

he would love nothing more than to be able to work up the courage to ask you to kiss him, he’s touch starved and needs constant attention, but he’d rather eat rat poison than ever confess it to you. you have the effect on him, you’ve torn down his walls and shown him all the praise and affection he is worth giving, and you’ve turned him into a sucker for kisses.

which is wonderful, since you’re so keen on giving them to him.

terrible when all he wants is a kiss and you don’t notice it.

he’s pacing back and forth in the next room, desperate, craving, needing a kiss or two on his forehead and one on his lips, in a line like you usually do. routine, is how he’d describe it, but deep down, he’ll take anything he can get. his big hands are carding through his hair, and god, he’s thrilled no one is able to see him like this.

“what’re you doing, baby?”

fuck.

except you.

he nearly leaps out of his skin as you make your way to him, and when he whips his head to face you, your brows a furrowed in concern and your arms are crossed over your chest. “you vanished,” you explain. “missed my snuggle buddy.”

“eugh,” he grumbles. “we’ve talked about the nicknames, haven’t we?” he scolds, and you merely chuckle.

“we have, i just choose to not listen to you.”

“and that’s exactly why you’re a pain in the neck.”

then, you shrug, “so im a pain, meanwhile you’re stuck in here waiting for me to come give you a kiss because you can’t ask for it?”

fuck.

he scoffs, but it’s shaky and unconvincing, “yeah right. as if id ever need something as juvenile as a kiss to lure me back. i just needed to stretch is all.”

“yeah, i’ll bet,” you snicker. then you spin on your heel, and rin feels his heart sink, “well, ill be on the couch. waiting for you.”

no, no, no, his chance is walking away from him, literally, disappearing down the hall and leaving him a yearning mess, pining for your affection that he’s just not sure how to ask for.

his head drops in disappointment, fists balling slightly, and he pouts softly like a child as he wracks his mind to try and work up the courage to go. he’s pathetic, can’t even ask for affection from his own partner, someone he sleeps next to at night and lets smear a green, cold face mask on him, someone he’s so in love with they turn him into a damn petulant child at the lack of attention, and-

“hey,” you whisper. he looks at you through his lashes, embarrassed.

you smile and toss your arms around his neck, rising up slightly to press a kiss to the apple of his cheek. his eyes blow open. then, you kiss his nose gently. his lips twitch. you plant your lips on the ticklish spot on his neck, and he jerks slightly. you giggle.

“oh, you’re so cute i can’t stand it,” you purr, kissing the other side of his cheek. “i just love loving you.” you press a kiss to his chin, and by now he’s smiling shyly, cheeks blazed in red from embarrassment and excitement for the attention he’s finally receiving. “i could just eat you up, you’re so cute.” you kiss the corner of his eye, which flutters shut in ease. “i can’t not kiss you, it’s against the law.”

finally, stiffly, his arms wrap around your waist, “who would you be to break the law?”

“i would never,” you hum, moving your hands to gently cup his cheeks, forcing him to meet your gaze. his eyes practically have little hearts in them, and a wobbly smirk is on his lips. “you want some more?”

his eyes widen again. you shush him softly, thumbs stroking over the swells of his cheeks, “just nod or shake your head, my lovey boy.”

against his own determination of ‘not needing’ your attention, he finds himself nodding in your hands, butterflies in his stomach going crazy as you smile back and continue to press kisses over his face, voice dripping with honey with every adoring coo you offer him.

[dollishmehrayan]

# HOW DIFFERENT BATBOYS REACT TO BUGS && DEAL WITH THEM ── .✦ ( already written in title ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ )

dollish note ⋆౨ৎ: so I only wrote this because I find it interesting how different people react to spiders and stuff and as someone who has a deadly fear of them like genuinely I start throwing up thinking about them this was very brave of me to write but guys this is just crack fic to me so enjoy because it’s a saturday (tags: batboys )

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Acts brave… until the bug flies. Then it’s over.

“Okay, it has wings. This is a different situation now!” , “Dick you were okay 5 seconds ago” and it’s WORSE if it’s a flying cockroach like no 🙂‍↔️.

Tries to be the responsible one but ends up calling you to “just keep an eye on it” while he gets something to catch it with and screams if it moves towards him or the kitchen.

Probably names the bug before evicting it. “His name is Greg. Greg the Beetle. He just lost his way.”

Will 100% take it outside and gently release it like he’s Snow White.

JASON TODD ── .✦

Kills it. No hesitation. Doesn’t matter what it is, Isn’t scared of them but just will kill them most effectively.

“It’s either me or the bug. I choose the bug.”

Uses a shoe, a bat, a magazine, or if he’s feeling dramatic a gun. (H/j…)

But if you want to save it, he’ll sigh dramatically and do it for you. “Only because you gave it a name and now I feel bad.”

Still mutters “disgusting little freaks” under his breath the whole time.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Doesn’t notice the bug until it’s already crawling across his laptop screen.

Just calmly gets a tissue and moves it without fanfare.

If he’s had too much stress and not enough energy for it, he might scream, flinch, and then immediately be embarrassed.

Once had a crisis over whether squashing a spider was morally wrong.

Will google “Are bugs sentient?” at 2am.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Is completely unfazed. He grew up in the League bugs are nothing.

Might let a spider crawl on his hand to “observe its movement.”

Gets genuinely offended if you try to kill it. “That is a living creature with a purpose.”

Probably has a pet bug. Or a terrarium of beetles he’s named after Shakespeare characters.

If it’s in your room, he’ll remove it like it’s a royal escort mission. “You’re safe now, beloved.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Doesn’t flinch. Sees a bug, handles it like a Mission Impossible agent.

He probably has some fancy WayneTech bug vacuum he designed just to keep Alfred from squishing silverfish.

“It’s just a moth.” Proceeds to turn off the lights, open the window, and gently shoo it out like a pro.

Somehow always knows where bugs come from. “There’s a gap in the vent cover. I’ll fix it.”

Alfred still ends up handling 90% of the Bat-bug drama in the manor.

(In summary they are all okay with bugs but some will die when they see a rat)

[vividly-vermillion]

✴︎ CAUGHT RED HANDED PART 4

જ⁀➴ The LADS guys catch you masturbating.

ﾉ including: Sylus

ﾉ cw: afab!reader, petnames (sylus canon "kitten"), masturbation, sex toys (vibrator), Mephisto ratting you out, getting caught, fingering, overstimulation, squirting

ﾉ wordcount: 0.8k

ﾉ info: finally.... the last one of this small series 😭 I had so much fun writing all of them! | Requests are open!

LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT IN COMMENTS & REBLOGS!

-> Xavier | -> Zayne | -> Rafayel

✶࿐ Sylus

♡ Sylus was out of town for two long weeks. 14 days that felt more like an eternity rather than just a few days apart.

♡ You knew that you were never truly alone, he made sure to hide little messages for you, Luke and Kieran were at your beck and call and in doubt, there was always Mephisto that you could rely on.

♡ But none of them held you at night, none of them gently washed your hair in the bathtub after a long day... None of them pleased you like Sylus did.

♡ You've tried, you really did, but not even you or your toys could bring the same bliss. Nothing made your toes curl or your back arch the same way and it got frustrating to the point where you tried to edge yourself to feel the same explosive feeling - but you were left disappointed once again.

♡ You were laying on your bed with your phone in one hand while the other mindlessly wandered over your stomach and thighs, skimming through pictures of your lover and listening to voicemails he has left for you the last few nights.

♡ After a while your hand started to stroke over your pussy, the fabric of your underwear slowly growing damp with your arousal until you couldn't take it anymore.

♡ At first you only applied a little more pressure to your sensitive clit, the fabric still separating your hand from your bare folds but it soon wasn't enough anymore.

♡ Carefully you tugged your panties down your legs and discarded them carelessly onto the floor - little did you know that Mephisto was right outside your window.

♡ Your vibrator buzzed deliciously against your clit, your cunt dripping onto the bed as you moan your lovers name softly, trying to imagine that he's with you.

♡ "Such a naughty kitten, aren't you?" His voice filled the room, followed by a chuckle but you ignored it, thinking it was your imagination. Sylus wasn't meant to be back for another 4 days after all.

♡ "Tsk" he shook his head and approached the bed to take the vibe away from your soft hands.

♡ "So desperate for me... but not even saying hello?" He smirked and gently moved the toy up and down your folds.

♡ You almost screamed but it sounded more like a moaned squeak when you felt his big hand engulfing your own, your thighs closing on reflex.

♡ "Keep them open for me. Show me how worked up you got, kitten." He hummed and used his free hand to nudge your thighs apart and resting it on your hip once you were spread open for him again.

♡ It felt embarrassing to be caught like that but you had no time to think about it, too busy chasing your orgasm.

♡ Sylus added slightly more pressure against your clit, the vibrator buzzing relentlessly and when your needy cunt clenched around nothing- he pulled away.

♡ "I don't think so, beautiful," he cooed and gave you a mocking smirk when your back arched from the loss of pleasure.

♡ "How did you-" you got cut short by your own moan when Sylus pushed two of his long fingers into your dripping cunt, his eyes drifting towards the window.

♡ "Do you really think I don't have my eyes on you while I'm gone?" He asked amused and curled his fingers right against your sweet spot.

♡ "Mephisto" you cursed out and heard a cackling caw outside the window. But you could scold both, bird and man later, in that moment all that mattered was how good he made you feel.

♡ Sylus knew your body better than you did yourself, having you clench around his fingers without any effort after just a few minutes.

♡ "That's it, come for me," he rasped out, his breath fanning your thigh as he watched his fingers work you open.

♡ His free hand reached for the vibrator once again before pressing it against your sensitive bundle of nerves for a second time.

♡ The stimulation made you see stars, clear liquid wetting the sheets beneath as your orgasm took over your body.

♡ He loved to see you come undone so messy for him, squirting around his eager fingers and squeezing them so tightly.

♡ "Ah- Sylus please," you whined when the buzzing kept going past your orgasm but the dirty grin on his face told you that he was far from done. He had to make up for all these days after all...

[butchvampireheimerdinger]

Arcane characters react to a bump in the night

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 🌙

Characters: Sevika, Vi, Mel, Jayce, Viktor, Caitlyn, Jinx, Isha, Ekko, Heimerdinger, Ambessa, Silco.

Warnings: SFW. Some characters are written as x reader where they’re implied to be sharing a bed/in a relationship. Jinx’s bit has a mentally unwell sort of vibe that could be interpreted as suicidal ideation.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Sevika:

Before you even get the chance to be scared, Sevika stirs and mumbles a bit, groggily sits up, and fully fires away in the direction of the noise blasting that corner of the room to holy hell. Then she collapses back down and promptly resumes snoring.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Vi:

You hear a sort of scratching noise and both of you wake up, but you don’t really gaf. Vi, on the other hand, springs into action and is all “Babe, get behind me, I’ll kick its ass,” etc. She tiptoes off to investigate and you’re all like “Babe its fine it was probably the wind I’m not even scared just come back to bed” and she’s like “NO! I will protect you” and it ends up being like a single emaciated rat in the garbage.

“Wow babe I’m so glad you were here to protect me from such a terrifying apex predator, that could’ve gotten ugly quick.”

“Can it, sleeping beauty.”

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Mel:

This absolute princess is a really light sleeper, so she’s immediately up. But she doesn’t wanna wake you, so she ignores it. Then it happens again and she wakes you up gently and is all like “Darling? Would you check that out for me? The sound has just been persisting and I’m a bit nervous.” So you go and it’s nothing to worry about and she’s apologetic and you’re all “no worries love, better safe than sorry.” And she has you give her back scratches. Cause she’s a sensitive artist type and needs to chill out so she can go back to sleep.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Jayce:

Hears nothing, sleeps through it. He snores loud like a middle aged father in an armchair.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Viktor:

Viktor is probably up anyways, couldn’t sleep. He’s posted up at his desk reading by candlelight or reviewing notes/drafting something sciencey. He studies in silence so he hears it, assesses, and realizes its not a threat. Decides it’s not worth investigating unless it persists and becomes annoying.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Caitlyn:

I would say that Caitlyn sleeps through it because she’s lived a charmed life, but on second thought the Jinx shower kidnapping thing would probably give her a bit of a paranoid edge, especially regarding home invasions. In a sleepy daze, she reaches into the bedside drawer, grabs the glock, and tucks it in bed with her like a teddy bear. Also I think she goes to bed listening to NPR or some niche history podcast.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Jinx:

Her eyes open wide immediately, and the knee-jerk fear response gets her heart pumping. As we know, her stress reactions are a little inconsistent and she seeks out conflict, doesn’t like to let things rest. I think it would somehow excite her and she would sit up in bed, pick at her cuticles or play with a nearby weapon/gadget as she waits for either death or a brawl. Or she might seek out the source for violence purposes depending on what she’s feeling in the moment. Diva is combative. Actually, I take it back I think she would always go out and investigate every little bump in the night — one of the many reasons her sleep cycle is so inconsistent. She’d tear through all her belongings searching for it. There’d be audible crashes and she’d make a huge mess of her room. It’d drive her up the wall if she couldn’t find it. Until something distracted her enough to get her to return to bed.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Isha:

Isha wakes up and immediately thinks monster under the bed? She dangles a shoelace or a sock over the edge of the bed to see if the monster bites, cause she’s a smart kid. Nothing does and she tiptoes over to Jinx’s area (cautious and stepping lightly because you can never be too careful with these under-the-bed-monsters) and wakes her up by tugging gently on her braid. She points furiously to the closet and Jinx makes a big show of investigating every nook and cranny. She’s saying something like “Hereee furry monster. Pssst pssst… Come out come out wherever you are, ugly.” She sets up “monster booby traps” with bits and bobs and trinkets. “No scaly ne’erdowell is getting past the Fang Destroyer 5000, I can tell you that much.”

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Ekko:

Ekko sleeps like the dead. And he wears headphones to bed and listens to metal and noisecore. He didn’t hear a damn thing. There could be a majorette kickline complete with a marching band drum sequence making its way through the tree and trust he would remain slumbered up. Snoozepilled to the max.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Heimerdinger:

He’s def got a white noise machine or he listens to whale sounds to get to bed. Yordles have excellent hearing though so he probably woke up immediately. Idk how this fits with actual lore but I feel like yordles would have prey instincts. Something tells me Heimerdinger burrows deeper in his blanket like he’s having a predator fight or flight response. And he’s like. Trembling involuntarily. However, he is a man of science, so he talks himself through it. “’Tis but a shifting floorboard! Perhaps some rowdy vermin. Nothing to obsess over — the likely scenario is that I am safe in my home, and should go back to sleep. I must get my rest so I can approach the morning with a healthy body and a fresh mind!”

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Ambessa:

Ambessa hears it cause she’s got ears like a hawk (do hawks have ears…?) but she goes back to bed because she’s got people to handle that. And if someone surprise attacks her she can definitely take them in her sleep.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Silco:

“Sevika, investigate that for me.”

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine Michael Kaiser who came home with the house looking rather cold and empty.

Imagine Kaiser who just came home after a long season, snow dust all over his shoulder as he relaxed as soon as he steps home only to find the lights turned off, making the evening dark like it already is. In an instant, he turned stiff as his cold palms started to sweat.

Imagine the way he just stood there, bag hanging heavily on his shoulder as he stood there unmoving. Then his eyes lay upon the snow slowly falling outside. He could feel his heart picking up its phase. The way his vision starts to reflect on the window pane and instead of finding his reflect in the mirror, his old, younger, dirty little rat self was the one he saw.

Imagine the way he starts to recall none of his painful childhood but rather the less and less time he get to spend with you. Ever since the season started he was gone most of the time and just recently, he played overseas before coming back and playing within the league once again. He did not fail to notice how you seemed to be hiding something from him nowadays. The way you woukd excuse yourself in the calls earlier than usual.

Imagine the way he starts to panic upon the suddenly realisation that you may have left. Left because he was too busy on everything but you. That you grew tired of him. Well he knew how nasty he could be, how rude and annoyingly aggressive he could be. But you would not leave him right? He could change, he will change, he could be better- woof!

Imagine the way he pause once again. The breath that he did not even notice he was holding finally escape. Did he just hallucinate a dog? "No buddy, be quiet. Der vati would be here in a few moments okay? Hold it in till then." Okay maybe he was not hallucinating. Or maybe he was, maybe you left and he was just fooling himself you didn't. Woof!

Imagine the way he hesitated, the way his hands slowly reach out to touch the switch lights and finally give light into the house. He did not missed the way he heard a gasp coming from the kitchen but even still, that did not make him feel any better, more than ever, it made him nervous. What if his fears come true? What if you are not in there? What if you truly left? What was he supposed to do then?

Imagine upon entering the kitchen area, the first thing he noticed was the presence of people in there and upon looking at the kitchen island. His blue eyes met with a pair of (eye color) ones. There you were, a piece of crisy bread crust rusk in hand as you take a bite only to choke upon making an eye contact with him. With no time to waste, Kaiser hurry up to help up, and as soon as your throat clear up, you burst into laughter.

"Heilige scheiße baby, when I was hoping to surprise you, this was not part of the plan." Kaiser hates surprises. "Nevertheless, happy birthday baby. Take you being born, you're the best gift I could ever have" Michael Kaiser hates surprises, it makes him vulnerable, the way he doesn't know how to react. "I tried my best but this is the best recipe I could make with your favourite food, crispy bread crust rusk." Kaiser hates surprises, makes him look back in the days were he often thought of one only to be hurt and disappointed. "Also." You whistle, then a hurry small steps echoed in the kitchen. "Here." You picked up a familiar dog. The dog the two of you often saw whenever you went out a walk. "I know I could have adopted a new puppy in the shelter but on my way into the shelter I come across him and was like, why no take this one in- baby, are you okay?"

Imagine the way you took a step forward towards him, setting down the dog as he watches you reach out a hand to touch him. Only when you wiped away his tears did he knew he has tears rolling down his cheeks. "Baby- scheiße- sorry, I suck at surprise. I knew it was a bad idea. I'm sorry-" You were cut off when he grab a hold of your hand and gently caresses it.

Imagine, Michael Kaiser hates surprises. It make him feel like a fool know he does not know what to react. At the same time, he realised he was no longer the child who have nothing, have nothing but a stolen ball. "Meine liebe." He do not know the face he was making but he felt bad for making you cry too. Gently, he let go of your hand and gold you on your cheeks before leaning down to have your forehead pressed upon each other. "Danke, Ich liebe dich." Woof! Maybe surprises wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024°