#And hidden underneath those buttons where you can't see until your fingers are already in it? Tiny razor thin pins

[leatherandtea]

230 am, I can't sleep, I'm sifting through the drawers on grandpa's sewing table before I get up the guts to try and check over and maintain one of these on my own, and I have two questions.

One, why did no one hold an intervention for this man and his collection of buttons? There's so many. Just. So many. I'm starting to wonder if he stole them off of strangers outfits as they passed. More than half of the drawer space is just.. Buttons.

And two.. Why are there cotter pins in so many of these buttons?

[hyetiny]

c// fem!reader, superhero reader, villain yeosang, lowkey enemies to fwb, top yeo, bottom reader, bodily scars + showing them to each other, mentions of violence, clubbing, drinking, dry humping, oral (f receiving), knifeplay, pain kink, choking, degradation, dirty talk, protected sex, yeo monster cock

please read the tags carefully, this may not be for everyone!

this is the longest thing i've ever written omfg. also i’m really proud of this, please don’t let it flop :’D

kang yeosang was the root of everything wrong in your life, you had decided.

he was like the annoying fly that wouldn’t stop buzzing around your ear on a hot summer’s day. no matter how many times you were certain that you had vanquished the city of the blight that was yeosang, the supervillain managed to come back unnoticed.

at this point, you were convincing yourself it was impossible to cease him from causing trouble. on shitty nights like this, you went down to the discreet nightclub, hidden away in a dark alleyway. whether you needed a good drink or a good fuck, the club was always there to provide.

“the usual?” the familiar bartender yunho asks, taking in your frustrated expression and slumped shoulders that he sees far too often. 

“yep, a slouchy susan.” you roll your eyes at the corny names yunho would come up with, your mind wandering to the silly names he must have had for the other patrons. it was always comforting to have a chat with the friendly bartender after a hard day - plus, you couldn’t deny he was absolute eye candy. 

“top it off, please.” you shift your glass back to him after downing it.

“put it on my tab, yuyu”. a familiar, deep voice comes from next to you.

you turn to see yet another unbelievably attractive man. he has blonde hair that grows just past his neck, his natural black roots starting to show through. from where you’re sitting on your rickety stool, you pick up on the hint of cologne that lingers on him. you’ve never seen him before, yet something about him seems eerily familiar, like you’ve seen him in a dream.

you shake off the feeling, instead deciding to chat him up.

“yuyu?” you giggle at his affectionate nickname for the barkeep.

“we go way back, it’s what his mother would call him when she’d drop him off to school. i guess it stuck”. the man smiles at you, visibly taking in your features and not breaking eye contact with you.

you’re taken aback by him, your heart thumping unusually fast for some reason.

“stop embarrassing me, yeo-”

the man clears his throat loudly. you must have missed something, because yunho immediately goes quiet and wordlessly hands your drinks - your “slouchy susan” and a whiskey for the man.

“so if he’s yuyu, what are you?” you ask him.

“you can call me ryusang.” he says.

“y/n”. 

the two of you lapse into easy conversation. you giggle at his lame jokes, and he does the same. you find common interests, funny anecdotes, blissfully letting the stresses of the day slip away with each word of the attractive ryusang.

soon enough, the dance floor grows crowded and the music gets louder.

“dance with me?” ryusang stands up, offering a hand. you take it gratefully, letting him drag you to the dance floor. it’s a mess of sweaty bodies, but you don’t care as you become part of it with ryusang. his hands find your hips, and you’re both falling into an easy rhythm, completely in sync with the trap music blasting from the speakers.

as expected, the space between you gradually gets smaller and smaller, until it’s practically non-existent. you’re shamelessly grinding against each other, joining the litany of couples who are completely up against each other. you pretend not to pay any mind to his noticeably growing bulge, instead deciding to tease him a bit by intentionally grinding up harder against him. this night was going right where you wanted it to.

“my place is near here.” he whispers right into your ear, making you shiver underneath him.

“then we’d better get out of here quickly, hm?” you say in response.

since you had both been drinking, you decide to take a cab to his place. the sexual tension is rife in the air. you deliberately, teasingly lay a hand on his thigh, oh so close to his crotch, his face glowing red as it clearly riles him up.

when you get up the flight of stairs up to his apartment, and he fumbles with the key for what feels like minutes, you’re all over each other. the first kiss you share is nothing but messy - all teeth and tongue, nothing but complete lust for one another. he’s gently guiding you towards his room, until your legs hit his mattress. you break the kiss, only for him to gently lay you down, straddle you, and get right back to sloppily kissing you.

he undoes the buttons of your blouse without breaking the kiss, impressively with one hand. he breaks the kiss once again to take in the sight of your newly exposed skin. his eyes engulf the expanse of scars on your skin, some older and some looking to be very much recent.

“who did this to you?” he whispers in what seems to be a mixture of awe and anger. hesitantly, he runs a finger across a thin line that spans from your lower belly to your ribcage.

“you did, yeosang.” you say, deadpan.

he pauses, his heart dropping to his stomach.  “excuse me?”

“did you think you were fooling me? seriously, why didn’t you pick a less obvious fake name?” you giggle. despite the vulnerable position you’re in, you clearly hold the upper hand, indulging in his shocked expression. you hadn't missed the bartender's obvious slip up of yeosang's name, and could never forget that deep voice of his that would always taunt you.

“you’re always screwing me over y/n. i didn’t think we’d end up like this”. he says as a smooth recovery.

you roll your eyes. “remember when you gave me this?” you tap at the scar. he shakes his head.

“two years ago. you were trying to get rid of all power in the city. i almost stopped you, so you pegged a knife right here.” 

“if i was trying to kill you, the knife would’ve stuck.” he says defensively. “you got away with a scratch, only because i wanted that.”

“well, thanks for not trying to kill me, kang yeosang. i’m flattered.” you say sarcastically. 

“well, you gave me something worse.” he strips himself of his shirt. to no surprise, his skin is similar to yours. a canvas for an array of marks and scars, most of which you recognize to be your own work.

you point to an especially long one on his collarbone. “that one was definitely me.”

“yeah, and it hurt like a bitch.” he says snarkily.

“well, now we’re both half naked.”

“nice catch.”

“well for convenience’s sake, we may as well get back to-”

his lips are on yours again, effectively shutting you up. you don’t protest - besides, it’s hard to when his tongue is in your mouth. 

what you don’t expect is the cold press of something against your throat, which then trails down to your collarbones. it isn’t pleasant, but not uncomfortable either. it’s sharp against your skin, and your curiosity gets the best of you.

yeosang begins to press open mouthed kisses against your skin, alongside what you now see is a familiar knife in his hand. you begin to feel more vulnerable underneath him, knowing he had complete power over you. yet somehow, you don’t feel afraid of the man who has your life in his hands.

he undoes your jeans, letting out a low whistle at the damp spot forming against your panties. the flat side of the blade presses against your clothed core, earning a whine for him.

"fucking touch me already". you say through gritted teeth, despising that your mortal enemy has you so needy for him.

"am i not already touching you?" he says with a shit eating smirk. fuck him, you think. but that was exactly what you wanted to do.

to your surprise, you hear the sound of fabric ripping, and a sudden cold against your core, as though-

"i liked those." you say frustratedly, finding yeosang pulling away the ripped remnants of your panties away from your core.

"you look far better without them." is all he says before licking an experimental stripe up your already wet hole, earning a breathy moan from you. you don't have it in you to be mouthy when his tongue continues to tease your labia, eventually meeting your clit in what is the most heavenly thing you've ever felt. all thoughts of how much you hate the man currently eating you out are out the window as the pad of his finger presses against your clit, his tongue messily lapping at your hole as if he was just licking for his pleasure rather than yours.

your hips subconsciously grind up in tandem with his tongue, earning small moans from him as well.

"so fucking wet. do you usually get this wet this quickly, or are you just that much of a slut for me?" he chuckles.

it takes every ounce of self control not to flick him on the forehead. the degrading name catches you off guard, yet somehow it makes your hole clench needily. besides, you want what's hidden under the confines of his black jeans far too much to be mean to him right now.

"just... just fill me up, yeosang."

"i like you like this." he says with a cocky smile. it gives you butterflies, even though you know it means nothing more than just a spur of the moment thought. "beg for me a little more, and i'll think about it."

oh, the urge to punch him in the face.

"fuck you."

"that's the plan."

you sigh in frustration. "kang yeosang, my mortal enemy, fill me up with your monster fucking cock until i can't think straight." you say sarcastically.

surprisingly, it's enough for him. it seems you weren't wrong when you said "monster cock" his cock far thicker and longer than any cock you had taken recently. or in general, for that matter.

he must notice the way you gape at it, giggling to himself.

"cond-" you start, but he cuts you off by leaning over to his bedside drawer.

he shuffles around before he finds what he's looking for, sliding on the first condom he finds and coating himself in lube for good measure.

"ready? are you okay?" he asks, lining himself up against your entrance.

you want to roll your eyes, but you know he's just looking out for you. you give him a nod, and it's all it takes for him to push, breaching your wet hole and filling you up perfectly. you can't stop the high whine that leaves your lips. it's embarrassing, but yeosang seems to enjoy it, groaning into your ear.

"you're so fucking tight. expected you to be all stretched out like the whore you are." he whispers into your ear, embarrassingly only making you clench more around him.

you barely need to adjust, needing nothing more than for him to ruin you. his hips set a steady pace, grinding oh so perfectly against you. the tip of his cock perfectly reaches that sweet spot inside you, earning a louder moan for him. you'd be embarrassed with what his neighbours must be hearing, but it's the last thing on your mind when you have such a perfect cock stretching you out.

"fuck, my perfect slut. so nice and tight around my cock, huh? it's like this pussy was made to take my cock." he growls, his thrusts only getting harder and sloppier the closer he gets to his high.

"o-only for you." you cry out, gasping as he fills you up impossibly deep, over and over again. the coil building up in your stomach only gets tighter when his fingers find your clit.

the breaking point is when his lips meet your collarbone, leaving more kisses and tiny bites here and there. the sensations all over are too much for you. you cry out when your orgasm hits you harder than ever before, leaving you breathless. your orgasm triggers his as well, indicated by the long, pleasured groan he lets out.

you can't do anything but catch your breath as he pulls out, taking off the condom, tying it up and throwing it away in the bin next to his bed.

"who knew that all it took was a good fuck to get you weak for me?" yeosang breaks the silence.

"shut up." you say weakly, still too breathless to properly argue back.

"maybe i will, if you make me."

needless to say, he keeps you up for a few more hours until you both fall asleep, the first rays of the sunrise peeking through the blinds of his window.

the next morning, you wake up groggy and exhausted, the drinks and activities from last night finally catching up to your body. to your disappointment, yeosang isn't there next to you, the other side of the bed empty.

of course, the asshole didn't have the decency to wait for you to wake up. reaching out for your phone, you find to your surprise that there's a sticky note on it.

“last night was fun, we should do it again. i've gone out to wreak havoc, so i know our paths will cross again soon anyway.” - your mortal enemy, kang yeosang <3

[winter-fox-queen]

Albatross

Summary:  Frankie wants to give you your dream vacation, but he’s not sure if it is worth the price.  

Warnings:  Female reader.  (He calls her his girl, and she wears a skirt in one scene.)  Angst.  No smut.  I thought I would finally write smut, this was going to be a very different story where they were AT the place already, but.  No.  Angst with a nice ending because I can't leave Frankie to suffer too long.

Thanks to @autumnleaves1991-blog -- you are awesome and this picture is lovely.  

1,870 words.

Frankie didn’t lie to you.  Not about this, at least.

Well.

Not really.  He was working extra, taking extra shifts.  Except for right now.  Right now, he was in a cabin in the middle of a state forest, one of the very few things he’d bought with the money.  A place to hide.  To be at peace.

It was not working. The money felt like a weight. Half of each share had gone to Redfly’s family.  Half had gone to each man.  He’d hoped for freedom.  This was anything but.

I shouldn’t have hidden it in the cabin.  He once watched a TV show about Escobar, seen that one of the caches of money he’d hidden outside had gotten moldy.  So Frankie had gone into the cellar.  Dug up a section of the dirt floor.  Made a proper hiding place, kneeling in the dirt, mixing up quickcrete and placing stones until the cellar was paved in with stone pavers.  Three were loose.  Only one had a reinforced box with another box and a bunch of money that could change his life but he can’t even look you in the eye and explain that he has it.

So here he was, sitting on the weathered wood bench in front of the cabin you did not even know he owned, resting his cheek on his fist, looking at the cabin of his damned dreams like it was a haunted death trap from a B horror movie.

He signed, grabbed the magazine he’d dropped on the ground earlier, flipping it to an article you’d been sighing over when you thought he wasn’t looking.  The ultimate romantic getaway, with tiled pools and greenery and luxurious accommodations and candlelight dinners.  

“That’s pretty,” he’d said over your shoulder as you looked at the main picture of the article, a swimming pool tiled and beautiful – all Middle East and mysterious looking, making you think of romance and beauty.  

“I love it,”  you admit.  “I’d never get to go…but it is beautiful.  Have to win the lottery.”  She grinned at him.

He looked it up online, curious.  Frankie the pilot/mechanic couldn’t afford it.  Not even with extra shifts and only one beer on Fridays and watching every penny.

The other Frankie could.

So that was why he found himself in the cellar.  If you knew which paver it was to start from, and which direction to go, it was just a knight chess move, probably obvious and stupid, but he did not trust himself to remember any other way.  He pried it up carefully so not to scratch the stone and give away the hiding place.

He stared at the hole. The carefully wrapped money.  He fumbled for his phone, and by some miracle the call went through.

“Hey Frankie.”  Pope’s voice sounded tired, but warm.  Not quite there.

“If you really, really love someone, is it OK to lie to them?”

Pope didn’t think before he replied.  “Of course not.”

“If you really, really love someone and want to do something to make them happy, is it OK to lie about where you got the money for it?”

That stopped Pope. Pope, instead of being split focused was now, 100%, listening.  “Frankie…”

Frankie, waiting, crouching by the hidden safe, phone to one ear, other hand relaxed on his knee. Waiting.  Frankie was very good at waiting.

Pope sputtered a little, tried to think of what to say.  Finally. “Yeah, Frankie.  It’s OK.”

It’s what he wanted to hear but it wasn’t the truth and he knew it.  “I’ve never loved anyone like I love her.  I’ve never wanted anything in my life like I want her, want her happiness. But there’s this whole chunk of my life that she doesn’t even know about.  I look at this damned cabin and I think, she’d love it up here.  Her car broke down and she needed to buy a new one, and I could have bought her a fucking car so she wouldn’t have to worry about payments.”

“I know,”  Pope muttered, but Frankie is on a roll.  

“And the one damned thing I’ve ever seen her really, really want and it’s this damned vacation and I can give it to her.  I can fucking pay for it, but if she finds out how it’ll ruin everything.  She won’t be able to enjoy it.  The memory will be ruined.  I can’t fucking win.  What good is it, if I have this, and I can’t even use a little of it to make my girl happy?”

Pope, picking words, both because he’s not sure what to tell Franlie and because he is paranoid about anyone (doubtful) listening in.  “Maybe…maybe that is the good.  You can’t…make it better, right?  But you can…clean it.  Make good memories for your girl.  Do good things for the people you love.”  Pope sighed. “I can’t…I can’t bear it, either, you know?  I save it for a rainy day, but…”

“I didn’t think the guilt would last so long,”  Frankie said.

“No.”

“Maybe I should tell her.”

A pause.  “I can’t think of any way to tell that story without things going to shit.”

“I don’t like lying to her.”

“No.”  Another pause.  “Please don’t tell her unless you know you can trust her.”

“She won’t blab.” Frankie glared at the phone.

“Don’t get insulted on her behalf.  Everyone you love could get hurt…including her.”

Guilt seized his heart so hard he wondered if he was going to have a heart attack, right there.

“You OK, man?”

“Yeah.  Yeah.”  He said through numb feeling lips.  “I’m ok.”

He slipped his phone in his pocket, reached in, and took what he thought he could use, and carefully hid everything again.

Then he got very devious.

You can put up to 15,000 on a prepaid Visa gift card.  He went to a place where people were smart enough not to ask questions, or even care. One of those places where you want to wash your clothes after you leave.

Then he called the resort. “Look, I have these friends…” he said, “I want to treat them, but they can’t know who I am…”  The prepaid card was as good as a credit card.

And then he went home, and waited for you to check your email.  Sweating.  

And, obscurely, jealous of himself.  Super fucking jealous of himself, the more he thought about it.  Like, he hated the mysterious benefactor who was about to make the love of his life so happy.

He wanted to be the one. Wanted your eyes to light up and know it was because he’d been able to provide for you, he’d been able to make this happen.  He closed his eyes and swallowed it.  It was stupid and selfish…what did it matter, who got the credit as long as you got this? As long as it made you happy? Frankie would be there, seeing your smile when you stood next to that glorious tiled pool, watch you dabble your toes shyly in the water, as if to ask, can I really have this?

And it did.

“Frankie!”  You came in, sat on his lap.  Your arms were warm around him, you made a soft and perfect armful as he wrapped himself around you, let your lips peck happy kisses all over his face.

“What is it, baby?”  

You pull back.  “You know.  The trip.”

Frankie raises his eyebrows, all innocence, starts to protest, but you silence him with another kiss.

“I know, baby, who loves me enough to put so much effort into planning things like this.  The surprise is nice, but you know I’m not dumb.” You toss aside his cap and run your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp gently, and Frankie sighs softly, his eyes shutting a little.  He opens them again when your hands cup his cheeks.  

You look very serious. And a little sad.  Which hits his Oh Shit button, hard.

“You didn’t have to go to all this effort, baby.  You really didn’t.”

“Well, I…”  he tried to think of something to say, but settled for, “I love you.  I love you so much, you don’t even…”

This earns him a kiss on the forehead.  Then you say, “I know how you got the money.” And his blood runs cold.  Before he could marshal some sort of reply, you continue, “Come on, Cat.  Long hours. Extra shifts?  I know that the people down at the field are not the most upstanding of people.  But…baby, it’s so dangerous.”

It doesn’t take him much to put the pieces together.  “You think I’m running drugs?”  It comes out as an incredulous squeak.

You nod.  “It makes sense.  This dream – literally a dream vacation – is not cheap.  And I never expected it.  You know that?  I enjoyed day dreaming about going with you because I love you and I want to take you all over the world…”  You sigh. “I just want to see the beautiful things of this world through your eyes.”

This time, Frankie does the silencing, with a gently thumb over your lips.  “Sweetheart, I didn’t…”

You kiss the pad of his thumb.  “You gonna try and tell me this money came on the up and up?  Baby, I know how much you make.”

You look at each other for a long moment.  You, work skirt hiked up so you can straddle his thighs, sitting closer to his knees,  Frankie, his hands gentle on your hips so you don’t fall.

“I could tell you,” he says, softly.  The words running underneath But I don’t want to and you might not like it.

You are sharp.  That’s one of the things he likes about you, how much you see.  It’s also one of the things that scares him the most.  Finally, “Are you in danger?”

Frankie shakes his head, once.  

“Is it…is it the reason why sometimes you get so sad?”

One nod.  A little smile.  He watches you digest this.  Make a decision.  

The delicate hands come up to frame his face again.  You look him right in the eyes.  “You are a good man.  I don’t know what happened, and maybe, someday, you can tell me.  But you are good and kind and I love you.”  And you kiss him again, this time so fiercely that his thinks it’s going to bruise, and he’s fine with that.

You lean back again.  “Humph.  Well. If you’d not already paid for it, I’d probably save the money to pay on the car.”

“No take backs.”  He grins despite himself.  

“Rats.”  You grin back.  Slide off his lap.  “Now to call Darla and see when I can take off, and then we are buying you a new swim suit.”  You bounce on your feet, then turn to go for your phone.

Frankie leans back against the cushions with a groan.  “I do not need…”

You peek around the doorframe.  “You are not going to a five star resort in purple swim trunks with catfish on them!”

“They were a present!” he calls after your retreating form, and grins at the ceiling.

It’s going to be alright, he thinks, feeling lighter.  It’s going to be alright.

[luci-four]

Hi! I read your i want to kiss you story and i can't say how much i loved it. Is just, the fluff nice feeling that left after reading it is something i don't always get when reading other fanfics (I dont mean wrong, all writers are great but yours catch me in a way others doesn't!) Do you think you could make a nsfw of satanxmc on their first time? Like, continuing the 'I want to kiss you' story? If not any scenario that you choose for them on their first time

A/N: Wow wow wow what a compliment, thank you!! Very sweet of you!!! Those kinds of emotions are always my goal when writing, so hearing that really boosts my confidence. I tried to make this a continuation to I Want to Kiss You, but im so so sorry I completely fuckin forgot about the first-time deal and my one, horny braincell said: “sexy” LKSJDGHF (also if anyone forgot, please remember my ns*w tag is “asmos fantasy” so you can blacklist it to avoid it!!)

If you haven’t read I Want to Kiss You, I suggest you do! ★

I Want to Touch You {Satan x MC} {NS*W}

I want to kiss you.

It sounded so redundant in his head as he’s said it so often to himself, but god, how he loved to say it against their skin.  

Feeling his breath bounce off of the crook of their neck is one of the most precious feelings to him; The way it warmed his face was nothing compared to the heat he wanted to feel radiate off of the rest of their skin. Flushed, shivering at his touch and such sweet yet sinful sounds falling on swollen lips as his teeth graze their skin until his shirt is wrinkled in their hands; their fingernails just a hair away from piercing along his back as he so desperately wants them to.  

He can feel them, the way they arch their back just to press their chest against him, an attempt to keep his lips upon their skin as long as possible; silently begging more and more for just one touch, one caress, even just one filthy word to roll off of his tongue and trickle along their body. They straddled his hips-- a spot to sit where he could admire every inch of them as though he were reading the writing of his favourite book—their legs tensing around his waist each time their body jolted with the same shock of ecstasy he was experiencing. They were seductive; their body giving little cues to show that it begged for his in the most intimate of ways—he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out.

I want to touch you.

So badly. His fingertips dug into the soft flesh of their hips—annoying how their clothes still stood in his way--- his grip holding strong and bringing their hips down against him as they slowly started to find the need to rock them to get some sort of relief from his teasing. They moved slow, drawing each movement out as long as they could to get secret pleasure without letting him know—but he did. He picked up on every little movement, as sharp as ever, and heavily craved more.

I want to touch you.

They got bold now, grinding against him with more desperation, picking up the pace, growing erratic; Satan couldn’t hide the wicked smirk that grew across his lips, already thinking about the ways he could tease them, torture them, make them beg for him to give them their long-sought after release--  

Their hands pushed him back against the headboard to his bed and ran down the front of his chest. Leaning back, he could see the fire in their eyes, just how swollen their lips had really been, and had such a beautiful view of the marks he left like galaxies hidden just beneath the wrinkled collar of their shirt. He was more than happy to give them a smile and lift his arms once they shyly tugged at the bottom of his shirt, only to rest his hands back on their hips while theirs explored every inch of his torso, their lips following close behind.

I want to touch you.

He started getting antsy. Their hips kept at such a sporadic pace that he started to wonder who the real tease was in this situation. Hands slyly moving to hold their ass—again, annoyed by the clothing keeping him from their skin—he squeezed hard, taking control of their movements and bringing their hips as close to possible to his own at a rough, quick, and almost hungry pace of his own, capturing their sultry moan with an equally rough kiss while their nails dug into his chest.

I want to touch you.

His hands only left the curve of their ass for a moment—to strip them of the clothes across their chest as well—before grinding their hips down against his previously obvious erection. He let them get their fill, marking him up, and started to trace his hands up their back, sides, and felt up their chest, quickly discovering how MC liked to be touched.

I want to touch you.

He started off gently-- feather light kisses along their chest, letting his breath tickle them just enough to stir them up. His hands were fleeting, touching here one moment before leaving the next to be replaced by his lips; he cupped their chest, only quickly brushing his thumbs over their nipples to get them hard. They let out an embarrassed sound that made them cover their face, though Satan only laughed at how adorable they were. Adorable—yes, that was what they were, but Satan wanted to make them so much more than that. Red faced, crying out, begging, everything that could ever make them so sexy and sinful that he couldn’t stand it. He dragged his tongue up their breast, dipping into their collarbones as a tease; his lips made his way to their nipple—bouncing between the two—undecided on which action caused the sweetest of sounds. Was it the way his tongue played with them, dancing and swirling around—or was it the way his teeth brushed against them for a small twinge of painful pleasure? Whichever it was, it had been working; MC’s moans only grew more frequent, their hips moving restlessly as he teased them further by dancing his fingertips around the waist of their pants.  

I want to touch you.

They beat him to the punchline; They were cheekier and much more needy than he originally thought. Their fingers trembled with the excitement that mirrored throughout his body, fumbling over the zipper and button to his pants, mumbling with apparent irritation that caused Satan to laugh under his breath. Should he help them? -- He thought not. Satan only met their efforts with a smirk, leaning in to kiss them once more as they continued to struggle; he sucked in a quick breath when they finally got to their prize. Their accomplished smile was rose coloured through his half-lidded eyes.

I want to touch you.

MC took him in their hand, a gentle hold at first as they knew the power they held over him now-- Satan knew they were going to exploit it. They stroked him softly, slowly, making sure to play with the tip just enough with their thumb to get him to sigh. He could feel the blush rising up his neck as MC’s careful kisses dragged it along.

I want to touch you.

His hands worked to get into their pants as well—it was only fair, wasn’t it? The closer he got to touching them, the faster the pace of their wrist got. It was driving him mad, the way they only teased him at times-- making him do the work by bucking against their hand and speaking breathy words against his skin. Such dirty words passed that taunting smirk of theirs, they made him bite his lip just to control himself. God, he wanted more.

I want to touch you.

Satan stripped them of their remaining clothes now, sucking another breath of air through gritted teeth as they grinded against him, skin to skin now. His hands made way back to their home—MC's hips—and gripped hard. Their skin underneath his fingertips was tempting; he could press just hard enough to leave little bruises to mark that he had been there—that he was real, they were real, this was real. He could do this—moments of such heavy intimacy—because he was real to them. He was Satan, and that was enough. Nothing else mattered.  

That drove him mad.

I want to touch you.

His face was flushed, and he knew he looked like a complete mess. Messy hair, lust filled half-lidded eyes that he only held for them, his bottom lip on the brink of bleeding with how hard he has to bite it to keep himself in check. They moved against him, their heat against his, grinding against him as they had before; the difference this time was the feel of their skin. Soft, warm, teasing. They knew he wanted them—well rather, to be in them and he made this very clear with how blunt his words were—but they got their thrill from seeing him melt beneath them. How much longer could he hold out? Not long.

I want to touch you.

He held them close, wrapping an arm around their waist and using the other to guide them onto his length. Satan laughed under his breath at how eager they were to take him all in, but told them to be patient—knowing they’d start to beg for more; those are the words he wanted to hear—those breaths, those moans, those soft little gasps that have just barely audible ‘pleases’ within them. He only allowed them to move slow, drawing the movement of their hips out as they rocked so that he could hit that sweet spot over and over again, pulling them close enough each time to nip at their shoulder.  

They were gorgeous. Face doused in lust, a thin layer of sweat coating their body, closed eyes and lips that parted only to call out swears against God and to sing his name so deliciously.

MC needed more-- he knew that. Allowing them to up their pace and matching them move for move, watching as the entirety of his length disappear over and over again, soaking in the sinful sounds that filled the room and allowing his thoughts to play over just how he wanted them next. On their back? Their hands and knees? How does he want them—where does he want them? How fast? How rough? This was one of the only things he never thought through.

Not that it mattered, because MC did as they liked. Despite his orders, MC continued to tease him. Using filthy words that tainted their lips, stopping their movements just to hear a whine bubble from deep in his throat; it was clear to see they were set on being a brat the entire time. It was only fair he shows them who was superior, right? MC wanted him to work for it—it was obvious by the way they whispered against his ear words that he secretly prays never fall on other’s ears, the way they nipped at his skin, the way their fingertips danced across his chest and the way they knew just how to bounce in his lap to get him worked up enough to make a move.

A moan, a groan, a quickened pace of breathing as the long-awaited filthy word finally passed his lips.

“Fuck.”

He tossed them onto their back, hovering above them with a serious, demanding fire in his eyes. Satan slid his hands up their arms, holding their wrists down above their head and leaned in close to whisper in their ear; just five words were all they wanted—all they needed—to know what sort of night they had gotten themselves into.  

With a deep, rich, sultry, a little raspy voice, he whispered,

“I want to touch you.”

[imperial-martian]

Standing Tall {Atticus Finch x Reader}

A/N: so, I hadn’t realized Atticus didn’t go to high school when I was writing this. After I wrote this I passed the part in the book. Mind you, I had watched the movie first. Also, keep in mind, this is my first time ever writing for Atticus. If you want me to write more, than I can turn this account into a multi-fandom blog.

Teen! Atticus x Teen! Reader

Angst/Fluff

(High School AU, Bullying, Third Person Point of View)

•—•

The young h/c haired, e/c eyed girl knew from the moment she woke up that morning that it was going to be an awful day. Mondays were always awful, as well as Tuesday and the rest of the week until finally, the weekend came around.

Golden hues of the sunlights rays shined in through her white curtains, lighting up her bed and allowing for the covers to become warmer than the temperature they had been throughout the night. Knowing that it was time to get up and head off to school, Y/N pushed her covers aside and swung around to sit on the edge of her bed.

She rubbed at her eyelids, blinking a few once she removed her knuckles before she pushed herself up from the bed and made her way towards her wardrobe. Pulling open the uncared wooden drawer, hearing the awful scraping sounds that over time would begin to wear out the wood, she pushed aside some clothes before finding her uniform.

The jumper was a grey, blue, and stripes of gold patterned to look like some sort of checkers board, underneath was a sky blue button-up and black tie, and over the top of both of those was a black sweater vest. Her shoes were an unpolished leather black loafers that slipped over the top of knee-high navy stockings.

Y/N hated the uniform, but she's dealt with it for twelve years, and with two more years left to go for high school it was bearable. She wasn't ready for the morning yet, still managing to brush her teeth, brush her hair and wrap it into a neat ponytail before making her way to the kitchen where she was greeted with her parents.

Her father was reading the newspaper, already dressed in his formal suit. Her mother was in a yellow sundress by the stove, cooking them all breakfast while Zala, the maid, set the table.

"Good morning mother," she greeted with a kiss on her cheek. Then she moved over to her father, kissing him on the cheek as well. "Hello father, a new case today?" she asked, nodding to the briefcase on the floor beside him.

Her father looked up from over the newspaper, his f/e/c eyes gazing over to his daughter before he snapped the newspaper shut and nodded, a small smile resting on his face.

"Indeed, Y/N, unfortunately, I can't bring you to school because of said case. I have to head to the court early," he explained, giving her a sympathetic smile before glancing at his pocket watch. "Which reminds me, I should be heading out now," he said, standing and fixing his blazer before grabbing his case and leaving the papers discarded on the table.

"You do well at school, won't you? Be careful on your walk there," Y/N's father chided before standing after he received a nod

Her father walked towards Y/N before kissing the top of her head and patting her shoulder, then moved towards her mother whom to which he gave a small kiss to before waving goodbye to Zala and taking his leave.

Y/N watched her father leave before turning to Zala to finally say good morning.

"I'm sorry to ask mother, but since father can't bring me to school is it all right if I head out early today?" she asked, already readying her backpack as she spoke.

Her mother turned to look at her from over her shoulder. "That's fine by me dear, but here," she said, grabbing some toast and an apple, "take this with you and eat it on your way there."

Y/N nodded her head, giving her mom a wide, thankful smile before grabbing the apple and toast. "Thank you mother, goodbye, and have a nice day. You too Zala, I'll see you after school."

Zala smiled towards her and nodded, "you behave Miss L/N," she teased before walking her towards the door. "Guess I'll only be setting the table for two this morning," she said, holding the door open for Y/N.

Y/N laughed softly before heading out and waving back to Zala before beginning her dreadful walk to school. It was interesting to see how quickly her mood had changed as soon as the thought of school had entered her head. It was unfortunate, especially since Y/N loved going to school. She loved to learn. However, there were people there that she simply could not push aside. She couldn't stand up for herself. There were too many.

The girl had been unaware of the young, yet still older, boy walking behind her. Atticus Finch, a young, bright man on his third year of high school, was trailing behind Y/N in a sky blue button-up, navy tie, and black dress pants. He wore a black belt that matched his leather shoes which were polished till they were spotless. His dark brown, almost black, hair was parted perfectly and the matching colored eyes were hidden behind circular glasses that rested against the bridge of his nose.

Usually, a book would be resting in his hands that allowed his brown eyes to travel every word, picking apart each sentence with little care as to what or who was around him. However, today was different. Atticus was without a book, his hands even shoved into his pockets, and his brown eyes were scanning his surroundings rather than words on paper.

Atticus has been walking at a decent pace when Y/N had begun to walk in front of him. He had decided to pick it up a little till he caught up to her so that they walked side by side.

"Morning Y/N," Atticus greeted, startling her slightly, not because she didn't know somebody was standing beside her, but because she didn't know it was Atticus standing beside her.

She swallowed, eventually attempting to speak. "Atticus!" she exclaimed. "Good morning," she continued in a much more silent, shallow tone.

Atticus had only turned his head to look at the girl, giving her a soft smile as they walked side by side. Y/N's hands couldn't stop themselves from going up to the straps of her backpack and gripping onto them until her knuckles were white. She was terribly nervous, looking around as if she was looking for somebody.

"Hey Atticus?" she questioned, gaining his attention. "Where is your sister?"

"She has left early to walk with Maudie. She had said something about wanting to study for a test, however, it was clear as day that she was lying," Atticus chuckled, shaking his head a little.

Y/N frowned. "Ah, I see," she mumbled before turning her head to look off towards the houses that aligned the street.

Atticus, although noticing the sudden frown on the girl's face, said nothing, only continuing to silently walk beside her. He did, however, reach out a hand towards her, lightly placing his fingers against her arm in order to console her for whatever negative thought made her so sad.

Y/N's head snapped to the side, glancing down at the soft brush of fingers on her arms before she looked back up to Atticus' chocolate brown eyes. Her h/c eyes were filled with fear, not because she was afraid of Atticus himself, but God forbid Alexandra caught sight of this, her hell of a day at school would be as if she was burning in fire- like a slow and painful death.

Atticus has since removed his hand from her arm, placing it back into his pocket. "I didn't mean any harm by the action. I only wanted to offer some reassurance," the boy explained when he recognized that the girl was still in some deep thought.

Y/N blinked. "Oh no, Atticus, I-" she broke off, frustrated with herself for causing Atticus to think that he had made her uncomfortable. She stopped speaking after that, only because their school had come into view and the fright that she had felt just moments ago covered up the frustration she felt.

The bell went off the minute that they had stepped into the schoolyard, and quickly students began to disperse and head off to different classes.

"Hopefully I'll see you again before the day ends, Y/N. I wish you luck in all your classes," Atticus stated, offering Y/N one last smile before he headed in the direction of his class, just barely hearing the murmured 'you too,' that was returned.

The young girl knew it was best for her to head to class, and yet she was far too hesitant to take a step towards the direction she had to go. It didn't help when she caught the eyes of Maudie and Alexandra from the class windows.

Quickly, she averted her gaze, making her way into the school and walking the halls until she arrived at her class, only to be blocked off by the two girls she had caught the eyes of moments ago.

For a moment, she thought that the girls would shove her back in order for them to intimidate her, but when a hand reached out and grabbed at her collar the poor girl began to shake like a leaf.

"Why don't you tell us what you were doing with Atticus this morning, Y/N?" Alexandra, the one who grabbed at her, questioned while Maudie stood beside her to keep an eye out for the teacher.

Y/N didn't say a word. She never did when she was shoved around and questioned by these two, but this was different. Today she was trapped in Alexandra's grip. When her hand tightened a little, her knuckles digging into the skin of Y/N's neck, she gritted her teeth.

"What were you doing with my brother? I won't ask again you good for nothing twat," Alexandra demanded, her eyes searing with rage.

Y/N closed her eyes. "I wasn't doing anything with him. We walked to school near each other. That's all!" she exclaimed defensively, trying to assure Alexandra that she wasn't trying to do any harm.

"What did he say to you before he walked off to class then?"

"He wished me a good day," Y/N explained.

Just as Alexandra was about to speak again Maudie tapped at her urgently. "Mrs. Wooder is coming!" she warned.

Alexandra let go, taking a step back into the classroom where all the other students were huddled in their own cliques. She smiled, a sinister smile, towards Y/N before moving to take her seat.

Maudie brushed past Y/N, purposefully knocking at the girl in the doorway before taking her own seat. Y/N did the same.

Mrs. Wooder entered the classroom, slamming a heavy book against her desk like always to gain the attention of all the students. "Everybody take your seat," she said in a low, threatening tone. Everyone listened.

The class started soon after.

When lunch and recess finally came, Y/N had already endured her berating of words from Maudie, Alexandra, and their little followers. Each day seemed to be worst than the last, and today was no exception. Actually, it seemed far worse than she had thought it was originally going to be.

Their words were no longer solely aimed towards her, but family and others she cared deeply for, such as Zala. It was disgusting what she was told. It was times like these where the young girl hated herself. It was only ever times like these that she felt that way.

During lunch, Y/N did her best to sit as far away from the little group that constantly berated her. Of course, it wasn't far enough. Somebody realized and urged everybody else to join in and bother her.

Y/N said nothing. She sat there silently, enjoying the packed lunch that her mother had made while insults, threats, and other disgusting words were thrown at her.

It wasn't until she felt a hard kick to her side, one so hard that it must have left her rib bruised, that she finally acknowledged them. After a short coughing fit due to the impact, she stood, instantly getting pushed back into the wall she was leaning against.

For a moment, Y/N did nothing at all. She simply looked up at the girl who had pushed her. Maudie stood there, a grin on her face.

Y/N clenched her teeth and jaw, her hands clenching into first and crinkling the paper bag that was in her hand. She couldn't stop herself when she lurched forward and pushed back at Maudie. She did it with so much force that Maudie fell to the ground.

Y/N didn't pay attention to the damage she had done, just taking advantage of the shock of the group before sprinting inside after tossing the lunch out. She quickly made her way to class, waiting there with a few other students until the bell went off again.

She had no idea what damage she had done to Maudie, nor did she want to. She was already shaking so much in fear, she didn't want to know what would happen when Alexandra came back in. It was clear that she would be taught a lesson and not one by the teacher.

Thankfully, her next class was with none of the girls she feared at the moment, and for once she hoped that this class would end up lasting hours if it meant she could avoid them. Unfortunately, the class did not last long, actually feeling as though time went by faster than usual.

The final bell went off, and as students began to file out, Y/N took her time in packing up. When she could no longer stall anymore, she hesitantly made her way out of the class, looking around. To no one's surprise, Alexandra and the others stood before her.

Without even allowing Y/N to blink, the palm of somebody's hand met her cheek. The sound echoed down the halls.

"You twat," Alexandra spit out at her. "Your little stunt sent Maudie to the nurse. She's got a bruised back 'cause of you."

Alexandra has prepared to slap her again, winding her hand back. Y/N closed her eyes, tensing as she waited for the impact.

"That's enough Alexandra!" a deep voice called out from, what seemed to be like, the end of the hall. "You lay a hand on Y/N and I will have to report you to the head office, as well as mother and father. Blood or not I will not allow you to lay a hand on somebody, especially one that does not deserve it."

Y/N opened her eyes, tilting her head a bit to see that the one who had stopped Alexandra was Atticus. She felt the grip on her drop. Taking a deep breath, Y/N stepped back.

Alexandra didn't say a word, shocked that her own brother had caught what she had done.

Atticus stepped forward again, standing in front of Y/N to shield her from the crowd. "I shall see you at home, for now, I'll be walking Y/N back to her house. I expect not a word from anybody. If anyone dares to touch her again, I may not let you all off with a simple warning next time," Atticus explained to everyone before looking at his sister once more. "You and I shall have a word when I get home."

Without another word, or waiting for a response from anybody else, Atticus took hold of Y/N's hand and began to walk out of the school. Y/N could tell that although Atticus was angry, he didn't dare show to what extent. He never let his anger show or take over his actions. He was always true to himself and acted accordingly to the situation presented to him. He was never out of line.

"Thank you," Y/N whispered to him meekly, walking beside him with her head down.

Atticus looked over towards her, taking a moment to access her. He gently grabbed her by the shoulders, turning her so that she faced him. He examined the bright red handprint across her cheek, the small purple bruises on her neck from Alexandra's knuckles, and the hand that Y/N placed over her side.

"I'll have to check you over when we get to your house. Your rib may be damaged worse than we think. I only want to make sure you don't need to visit any doctors," Atticus explained. "I'll explain to your mother what had happened, it's only right that I take the blame for my sister's actions. God knows how long she has been doing this to you," Atticus continued, shaking his head in disappointment.

Y/N felt tears in her eyes due to how grateful she felt. Not once did Atticus ask her why she never told him what was happening, or why she continued to let it happen. He just understood. He could question her all the way to her house with questions, and yet he only focused on his main priorities; tending to her wounds and explaining what's happened to her parents.

The walk was dreadful for Atticus, not because of the silence that filled the air, but because of the noises that did. No matter how quiet you tried to be, he could hear her small winces whenever she took a step that was just a little bit of a stretch.

He wondered what the emotional damage that Y/N had taken on was like, but again, he never asked. He could ask his sister for questions like that.

Once they finally arrived back to Y/N's house, Atticus walked up to the door and knocked on it. He shifted his arm a little, both his backpack and Y/N's- that he took when they first began walking -adjusting so that they wouldn't slide off his shoulder.

The door was opened by Zala who instantly could tell that something wasn't right.

"Mr. Finch?" she questioned, tilting her head.

Atticus offered the best smile he could, which was barely one at all. "Hello Zala, may I ask that you assist Y/N to her room, please? If you could also direct me to the first aid?" Atticus asked gently, trying to be as kind as he could even though he wanted to rush everything.

Zala, although confused, and now worried, nodded. "Of course," she nodded, taking Y/N's hand and walking up the stairs. Atticus entered behind them, wiping off his shoes and placing the backpacks by the door.

"Mr. and Mrs. L/N?" Atticus asked, peeking his head into the kitchen where he spotted Y/N's parents sitting at the table.

Their heads turned to look at the door. Mrs. L/N was the first on her feet, walking towards the young boy. "Atticus, what brings you here?" she asked, giving him a sweet smile.

"That's what I'd like to discuss," he explained, entering farther into the room. He took a deep breath as Y/N's parents shared a glance with one another, concern being the most present feature on their faces. A moment later Atticus began to explain everything.

He had finished doing that after a few minutes, excusing himself so that he could go and tend to Y/N while her parents spoke to one another about the situation, giving the two their space before they would go to speak with their daughter.

Atticus made his way upstairs, knocking on Y/N's door once he arrived. A small, 'enter,' was murmured from the other side of the door. He gently pushed the door in, walking into the room and noticing that Zala was applying a little ointment on Y/N's cheek.

She finished within the next minute and made her way towards the door, giving Atticus a small thanks for being so thoughtful as to make sure Y/N was taken care of and to even explain to her parents what had happened. Atticus only returned the thanks with a smile and nod before walking towards Y/N.

"May I sit beside you?" Atticus asked, doing so when she nodded. He let out a little sigh, turning so that he could look at her. He didn't say another word, simply observing as Y/N looked down at the floor before finally she met his gaze.

"Thank you, again. You didn't need to do this for me," Y/N said sincerely.

Atticus chuckled gently, shaking his head a little. "Of course I did. I couldn't watch somebody be beaten by my own blood, especially not somebody I deeply care for," Atticus replied, giving her a sincere smile.

Y/N struggled to speak for a moment, not able to find the right words. After a few minutes of silence she finally built up the courage to ask, "Atticus, how deeply do you care for me?"

Atticus took a moment to think, leaning his hands against the mattress a little as he thought of an answer to those questions. He'd only been able to come to one conclusion, and it was one that he had known for a while but wouldn't admit to. Not until now.

He couldn't seem to express his care for her in words but decided to resort to actions. Atticus gently took Y/N's face in his hands, being mindful of her cheek. He tilted her head up towards him, allowing his thumb to gently stroke her skin before he closed his eyes and connected their lips in such a soft and tender kiss that would end up leading to many more for years to come.