#Because what are those lingering touches?? Why is it that everytime you stand close to Lucius you just can't help and touch something?

[narmothewraith]

You're just in denial Lucius /jk

[maddyguru]

Grey Matter (Megumi f.)

Tw: sib incest, dark content, smut, romance, angst, heavy angst, maybe you'll cry???, Megumi is legal, he is 20, and reader is 19. MINORS AND ANTIS DON'T INTERACT

Spotify playlist

Chapter 1.

Arriving in Japan took them at least 22 hours. Sleeping in the plane wasn’t the best idea you had in mind, but if you want to make things legal for the both of you, then it has to be done. Some sacrifices needs to be made.

“Attention passengers, this is your captain speaking. We will be landing in London within 5 minutes. Please ensure that you are well seated for your safety. Thank you for flying with us.”

Well, he didn’t need to tell you twice. Of course, you won’t be moving anywhere as you has always been afraid of the possibilities. Touch fucking wood. You turn to look at Megumi, with his hands in yours.

How beautiful he looks- lashes so long with his eyes closed and small sounds as he sleeps beside you. You want to remember him this way, in peace. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him like this.

You squeezed his hands tightly, eyes still lingering on the man you love. Everytime you remember what the both of you have been through for the past a year and a half- all the pain and struggles, the denial, the stinging, anxious feelings of every fucking minute you and he endured together.

Because of selfish people on this earth, yours and Megumi’s life suffered the most. You wanted to hate those people. You wanted to kill them. You want to disappear with Megumi, staying right where you and he belong together. Because this world is cruel. There’s no place for you and him, back in Tokyo.

The minute you landed, Megumi opened his eyes and so it started. You and him, running away from the reality of what the both of you are... holding hands and moving your feet to escape earth. Moving with people on your left and right. You felt his hands squeezing yours.

���I won’t let you go, y/n.”

“I won’t let you go, too.”

This is what the both of you had planned. Eversince you and Megumi knew the truth, this has been in your mind- and you know it’s also in his. With every step that you took, your heart was fluttering with pure happiness. When you came to realize that you and he are nearing your everlasting happiness, you had faith that Megumi and you will have your happiness ever after. Finally, you and him-

“Y/n!”

Megumi stopped. You stopped. Looking behind the both of you, your heart that was once happy was long gone. The hope you were carrying in your chest was long gone. There they are, standing just a few feet away. The people that destroyed your life. And Megumi’s.

Megumi was quick to have you behind him. Protecting you like he always did.

“Megumi, stop this! You can’t be together!”

“No, mom. This is the path I chose. What we want is to be together!”

“I forbid it!”

“We don’t care!” You interfered, breaking your silence with your hands gripping Megumi’s tightly; as if telling him and the people around you that you won’t let him go.

I won't let you go.

“Megumi, if you love me, stop this! This is wrong! She’s your sister, what is wrong with all of you?!”

“No, mom! Leave us alone!” His voice is shaking, holding onto yours so tightly that it hurts.

There’s nothing in this world that can take him away from you. Not even God can tear away this love. You love him. You love him. And he loves you, too. Then, why is it so wrong? Why is the world so cruel?

All you and Megumi ever did was love each other. Why is it so wrong?

“You and her can’t be together! Take them.”

Before you knew it, you were taken away from Megumi. The hands that was once holding each other were now separated, and Megumi was carried away by his mother, and you were carried away by your mother’s henchemen. The screames that echoed from you gained attention from the people around you, and Megumi’s shouts were enough to make head turns. You hear him calling for you, his hands reaching out for you, begging to be with you again, but you were already so far away from him- out of your reach, that the thought of neevr seeing him again makes you want to scream.

"Megumi!"

Because you and Megumi couldn’t be together. Because you’re Megumi’s little sister and he is your big brother.

This one is a very personal piece that me and my late bf have been working on. I started crying bc this is our idea. Our writing piece and now that he's gone, I'm doing it alone. Last month, I disappeared bc i was grieving, it was his birthday month. Now that May has rolled over, I'm starting to write again BC it's the only way my pain will stop temporarily. To my best friend, I hope you're happy, wherever you are. I love you.

[junniieesbby]

༯ Teacher’s Pet |Choi Yeonjun ༯

Pairing: Professor Yeonjun x F!Student reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, forbidden romance, 10 year Age cap (reader is 22+ when they met).

WC: 2k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Summary: Having dirty thoughts about one of your professors you couldn’t control yourself but to make them come true. Only for you to end up heartbroken after.

Warning: STRAIGHT FILTH. Lots of degradation. Reader is a brat. Use of pet names such as sir, Baby, teacher’s pet, Slut, Whore. Age Gap. Ass smacking, hair pulling. Spit.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Nothing mentioned in this fiction represents any of the characters.

Song: Teacher’s Pet By: Melanie Martinez

A/N: I’m all for happy endings but um this one is not ending in one I fear not. Maybe if you guys want a part two but it won’t be anytime soon because your girl is heartbroken. A big shout out to my favorite people @boba-beom @lovejoshua @gyupremacy @honajoong @flwrseon for helping me with the header and me asking you guys a bunch of questions to see what fits most! And a special shout out for @boba-beom for giving me the glasses idea hehe. ILY guys💕I also would like to say if you want to see more scenarios that include age gap professor Yeonjun please send me an ask.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Your Favorite part about your English Literature course was the eye candy of a professor you had. He was a young professor and all the girls wanted to fuck him while all the boys wanted to be him. You couldn’t help but bite your lip at him every time you walked in the class, making sure you came early so you could get a seat in front of him. Everytime you walked in, his eyes would linger on you. You spent the time in his class daydreaming about all the different ways he would fuck you.

One morning you woke up bold and decided today would be the day. You did your hair and makeup. And you wore one of the shortest skirts you had. And went to class like usual early. As you walk in you swear you stopped breathing for a moment. He looked so fuckable in his outfit and those glasses of his. You felt yourself get wet just imagining riding him while taking those glasses off and wearing them to be a brat.

After class ended you waited until everyone was out so you could approach him. He was sitting slightly on his desk with his arms crossed “Is there a reason you stayed behind Miss Y/L/N?” He asked, looking you up and down. You walked up to him standing so close to him. You lifted one of your hands and placed it on his bulge. “Is it wrong that I’ve needed you to fuck me since the moment I saw you” you whisper to him. He takes his hand and lifts your chin up to look at him both your faces mere inches from each other. He sighs and moves away going to sit in his chair murmuring a “you’re young”. You didn’t care about the age, looking at him and saying “I know I'm young, but my mind is well beyond my years”. He shook his head and said “why do you need me to fuck you? You are my top student in all the classes I teach” he readjust his glasses. “don't care 'bout grades, just call me your Baby.” You slowly walk and stand in front of him.

“Fuck it” He whispers getting up walking to the door locking it. He marches towards you “tell me to not touch you and let you go and I will unlock that door and let you go, but if you don’t I will be fucking you so hard you won’t be able to move for days… so what is it going to be baby?” He got so close to you, your noses were touching. You knew this would be wrong but didn’t care you needed to feel him deep inside of you. “Fuck me Sir” Three words. It took three words for him to crash his lips down to yours while beginning to undo his pants and pulling his cock out.

“Did you decide to dress like a filthy slut for me? Did you want my cock that bad?” He reached inside your short skirt and started to rub circles on your clothed core. You couldn't believe he was finally touching you in ways you'd been dreaming about. “Be the good little teacher’s pet that you are and answer me when I am asking you questions.” He pinches your clit to get your attention. “Yes, Yes I dressed like a filthy slut for you. I need your cock sir been dying to have it inside of me” You moan when he moves the fabric aside and starts to slide his tip up and down coating his tip and your juices.

“Does my pretty girl need any prepping? Or should I just fuck her like shes been asking me to hmm?” His teasing was driving you crazy. “Fuck me please just fuck me” you try to move closer to him. He pummels inside of you without a warning, his thrusts going deep. Deeper than you’ve ever felt before. He started to move faster and harder with each thrust and you couldn’t help but clench and squeeze around him.

“Shit, pretty girl you keep doing that and I might just breed this sweet pussy…oh you like that? My little slut wants me to breed her doesn’t she?” The more he spoke the more you clenched around him. Yeonjun knew what he was doing. He was much older than you and you had little to no experience. The guys you had been with didn’t make you feel an ounce of how he was making you feel.

“Yes, yes right there sir oh fuck” You felt yourself getting closer and closer. Looking at his beautiful face you couldn’t help yourself but to slide his glasses off and wear them while holding onto his biceps for support. “You look so damn sexy in my glasses I will let it slide this time but act like a little brat again and I’ll show you what brats like you get” He starts to kiss your jaw and sucking your neck making sure to leave a few marks.

As you were about to come he pulled out and flipped you over taking one of your legs and putting it on his desk. He thrusted in you from behind and the new angle made your eyes roll in the back of your head. He pulled your hair bringing your head closer to him, hips not faltering one bit. He put his hand around your jaw and brought you even closer. “Open your mouth baby” and you do exactly what he says. He does something you least expect and it turns you on even more. He spits in your mouth then closes your mouth telling you to “swallow like a good girl” while bringing that same hand he had on your jaw down smacking your ass.

“Please, please I need to come let me come please” You beg him not able to resist your release any longer. “Just a few more seconds my love I’m right there with you” His tone changed and he softened down but his thrusts were sending you so close to the edge. After a few more seconds His thrust became slower and slopier. “Come for me baby, let go for me you’ve been such a good girl” as soon as he said that you came like you’ve never done before. Your legs were shaking, your mind was fuzzy, there was drool coming down your chin. He filled you up, and the feeling of his cum inside you lit a spark. You weren’t sure if this was one of your day dreams or a reality.

He pulled out and took your panties with him while bringing your skirt down. His cum was seeping out of you and he gathered it with his fingers pushing it back inside of you while he made you lick the rest of his fingers. “Can I have my panties back?” You ask him finally after you have recollected yourself. “No they are mine now and plus I want you walking while you feel my cum inside your sweet cunt.” He had a way with words that just made you melt.

You stood back on your feet going to grab your book bag and started walking to the door. “See you next week Mr.Choi” you say smiling. “Wait” you halt and turn around. “I need my glasses back” He says pointing to your face. “No they’re mine now and plus I want you to fuck me like your brat next time so I will be keeping them for now.” You say back turning around and walking around catching his little chuckle while saying “such a brat.” You get home and look at yourself in the mirror not believing the girl staring back at you. You looked like you had your soul fucked out of you. That night you went to bed in a really good mood.

*Time Skip*

Fucking Yeonjun became part of your routine. Some days you would go on your knees for him as he graded papers. Other days you cock warmed him which led to you acting out and getting put in your place. You two enjoyed each other’s company and the sex was euphoric.

You knew what you were doing was wrong, but he made you feel special and took care of your needs like no one could. Walking into class you shoot him a smile, but unlike how he would smile back at you the past month and a half he just nodded. You found it odd but didn’t pay much attention to it as you took your seat.

Even though you were the first to finish your quiz you decided to wait until the last person to turn their quiz in for you to finally get up. As per usual you hand him your paper and you go lock the door. Walking back to him saying “If I pass this quiz, will you give me your babies?” He chuckles sarcastically “You’re crazy” he said. Hurt by his words and unusual demeanor you looked him straight in the eyes and said “Don’t call me crazy” You go and stand in front of him. “What’s going on? We were just fine last week. Why are you being like this?” He sighs and turns his head. “You’re special, and you need someone just as special as you. You need someone your own age and better than me” Your tears pulled in your eyes at his words. “When Did I ask for any of that? Do you think I don’t know about our age gap? Was I not good enough? Do you regret the things we shared that I’ll never forget. Why are you not saying anything?” You grab his jaw and turn his face to look at you.

“I don’t regret a single moment with you Y/N, but you know this thing between us is wrong, we have to put an end to it now.” Tears were streaming down your face now and Yeonjun couldn’t watch you in pain especially knowing he was the cause behind it. He gets up and walks out the door and your last words to him brought him to tears. Watching him walk out you couldn’t take it anymore shouting “I knew this wouldn’t last, Fuck you don’t you leave me here.” As the door shuts behind your professor you slide down hugging yourself and just crying at the pain this has caused you.

There was no one to blame but yourself you thought.

⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆

Taglist for this fic: @miupow @dearlyjun @junsmintchoco @seolis-world @hyhkai @txt-yaomi @my313 @mingyuslice @amoryeonjun @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @smutnoullitheorem @yuriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii @junnmizz @standbytubatu @choijxn

Permanent tag list: @laylasbunbunny @star-yawnznn @gyupremacy @honajoong @boba-beom @queeniezzzznz

Please NOTE: If you would like to be added to my permanent tag list fill out this form! Please make sure your age is visible in your bio before you ask to be tagged in my work! Thank you!

If you would like to be removed, send me a message/ask! No hard feelings 💕

[sanchoi21]

Intoxicating Violet

Fyodor Dostoyevsky bsd x reader

Waring: Its just comfort fic but may not be directly connected to the story line. It's only fluff but a bit mature. Image is from manga but eyes are painted by me.

You didn't know what to do, you were enchanted by him. From the smallest action he did for you, till his talks, his voice, or his ebony smooth hair, and ofcourse his enchanting violet eyes, you loved it all.

When the first time you two met, he was there standing alone in rain, with nothing shielding him from the divine showers of sky. Many people passed by him, but no one paid any heed. He looked sad, almost broken or perhaps lost in deep thought. You don't know what took over you, but you rushed towards him and shielded him with your red umbrella. After feeling the stoppage of downpour on his head, he lifted his gaze on you, those amethyst eyes, captivating yoi then and there. It was a unique colour, and you had never seen such beautiful eyes in your entire lifetime, but something dark and unsettling clouded those jewels. He blankly stared at you for a moment before asking, "Why? Why bother??" You couldn't help but feel a blush creep up your cheeks after hearing his deep voice, as if he wasn't handsome enough already. You simply replied, "I just wanted to, can't have you soak in rain, you might get sick." To tour reply he just chuckled a little and thanked you for your kindness, asking for your name.

And soon just like that, one meeting lead to another and he couldn't help but feel a lingering warmth everytime you two were together, initially he didn't realise what was this feeling, until one day when he saw you bleeding to death because someone had stabbed you thinking that you were the one who made them suffer, not knowing that they had got the wrong person.

As Fyodor saw you bleeding and unconscious, he couldn't help but panic to what might happen next, he needed you alive, he can't see you die not after all the deaths of his close ones he had experienced throughout the years. His mind was foggy as he waited for docter to treat you, he knew he had to take revenge on whoever hurted you like this, but his brain just wasn't functioning, he couldn't even figure out simple facts about the suspect which he can do in seconds on other normal days. He breathed a sigh of relief when doctor said that you are out of danger and that was the moment he realised, just how much you ate up his mind and thoughts, till the point to make him malfunction like that. His tough facade always crumpled when it came to you.

Days passed and he soon proposed you to marriage which you gladly agreed. After getting married life was good, infact felt like heaven, being beside Fyodor every single day filled you with joy. The only thing you didn't notice was that you never once got out of that house alone as he always insisted on following you just in case any trouble occurs. You didn't notice how one by one the people who hurt you, used to simply disappear from your life. You didn't notice how much deep you had fallen in love with him, till the point that maybe one day he might ask you to shot yourself, which you would do if he wanted. Being so much intoxicated by him, maybe wasn't good, but you didn't mind. You didn't mind his killings when he had shared about his work life and ultimate goal for those to you, you just wanted him safe. You really didn't care if he was a Devil disguised as an Angel, because only you knew that deep down he really was an Angel, a Lord who portrays himself as evil in order to lead people on the right path. Though his actions might be pure evil, but you knew the reasons behind those.

His touch was like fire on your heated skin, it's just like moth being attracted to the flame and going close to it, not knowing that one day it might be the reason for its death. You were the moth and he was the flame, despite being burned by him and his cold nature sometimes, you just couldn't get away. You were fully aware of the danger this man possessed but he was too sweet to get away from. He was like a drug to you, a drug which might harm you but feels just so good that you can never let go until you die. What can you do but just recieve love as he showered you with it, he never once hurted you or so he thought, but for him you were that flame for which he would sacrifice his everything, even himself. And who are you to deny the love of the Devil, when he was so sweet to you?

When one day he said that this might be the last time you see him, if he died, losing to Dazai, you broke down crying saying that, "Kill me first, it's better than seeing you die." To which he chuckled softly and pulled you close, patting your head, "Do you trust me?" Ofcourse you did, it was out of question but you still nodded. "Then till I come back, don't leave this house, don't believe if people tell you I died, I'll return back to you, I promise." Saying this he left, months passed which felt like millenniums, all these days you were alone, you felt empty inside still worried about him, but as he returned home, just as promised, though a bit injured, you hugged him tight never wanting to let go as he smiled down upon you.

This was your love, the love that you yearned for, just you didn't know that you will get it from such a dangerous man, but who are you to complain, when you will be cherishing it forever, just like he cherishes you.

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

It's the way Enjolras and Grantaire present as total opposites but really, they're not. They share such a fierce loyalty, and no matter what Grantaire says, they both care so much. It's obvious with Enj because really, he wears his heart on his sleeve, even when he doesn't realize he does, but R cares too. Cares and feels so much he can't stand seeing his friends running full steam to their death. It might not be the only reason he drinks, but I believe drowning his feelings in alcohol is the only way he knows how to cope with the loss he can feel coming.

That's why I love the way he looks out for Gavroche in the musical - and that I'm pissed they gave that role to Courfeyrac in the movie, as much as I love Courf. It's proof that Grantaire does care for something else than what he claims are his only interest - his bottle and Enjolras. Still in the musical : the way he interacts with Les Amis, most of the actors playing him really understood the assignment and I love them for it. (I'm shit at remembering names, but the Grantaire I saw was amazing btw, i'll check my program for his name later). Like, the way he teases Marius during Red And Black - the R I saw laughed and said something along the lines of "c'mere my boy gimme a kiss" after the "I am agog, I am aghast" line, and it felt so on brand. I like to think of Grantaire as very physically affectionate, so seeing him give Marius a big smooch (and seeing Marius looking equal part embarrassed and amused) felt really right. It's the way he always speaks (well, sing, really, but you get my point) loud, looking around at the other students and raising his bottle at them - boisterous, delighting in every laugh he causes, like maybe making his friends happy, helping lifting the mood is where his worth lays.

And Enjolras. I don't know if it's always the case, but the one I saw checked on R a lot. Quick glances over his shoulder, lots of claps on the back, talking really close to his face during Do You Hear The People Sing (they were almost forehead to forehead, that's how close). Now that definitely speaks of care, right ? Sure, one could argue he's making sure R doesn't cause trouble, but really, that does not explain Enj's willingless to let him finish his clownery before telling him off, doesn't justify the lingering touchs - and there are a lot of those, if you pay attention ; doesn't explain why, if Enjolras truly cannot stand Grantaire and his antics, he hasn't kicked him out definitely yet. And we all know R wouldn't return if Enj told him not to. So why ? Why let him come back everytime ? Does Enjolras himself even knows ? Probably not. It's not like he's the best at understanding feelings and especially not his own. Emotional constipation doesn't even cover it. But he keeps R around, despite everything, despite the fights, despite the harsh words traded, the annoyed glares, the drinking, the jabs, the claims of uselessness.

Because, in my opinion, Enjolras needs Grantaire to poke and prod, to bring him back to earth in a way that may piss him off, but still benefits him - because i do believe it benefits him. Having someone questioning his plans, reminding him of the harsh reality of the world. Grantaire does that for him, conciously or not, and though his warnings are rarely heeded, I believe he needs to try and temper his friends' enthusiasm ; and there is no one as enthusiast as Enjolras.

Let's be honest, Enjolras does not mince his words, especially when it comes to R ; he can be cruel to him, even if not purposefully, for I do think he doesn't realize the weights of his words, nor does he sees the extend of Grantaire's reverent admiration - love - for him, and just how much it amplifies the effect those words have on him. Grantaire, with his self-deprecative sarcasm, his cynism and endless rambling, pushes it, toys with the limits of Enj's patience, and he knows it. It really doesn't help his case, but, for me ? In his mind, it's the only way for him to exist in Enjolras' world ; by being a mild annoyance hovering at the outskirt of his thoughts. Of course, with all the words of fury hurled his way by his beloved Enjolras, he doesn't see the way he is kept close despite it all.

And, well. You know. The whole "permets-tu" thing. Enjolras smiles. And it isn't because he thinks R suddenly believes in the cause they're about to die for. Enjolras may be oblivious, but he is far from stupid. No, he smiles and squeezes Grantaire's hand knowing R won't let him die alone. He smiles because he will die holding the hand of someone who could have chosen to lay low and live, but would rather die by his side. I saw someone saying that Grantaire chosing to die right there could be out of either extreme selflessness or selfishness, whether it was prompted by the desire not to let Enj die alone or not wanting to live without him - and his friends. I believe it's both, because R is contradictory as are all humans, and the way he's pulled between different things, impulses and wants makes him such a complex and interesting character. One that volunteers to help Enjolras, earns a chance to prove himself to him, but gets distracted and let him down. One that will squeeze Enj's shoulder and tell him to "be easy", but will later ramble about the uselessness of Enj's efforts. One that drinks every words dripping from Enjolras' mouth, only to spat them out like venom.

But Enjolras is too, isn't he ? Contradictory. A rich young boy ready to overthrow a system that benefits him - who's ready to die trying. A charming young man capable of being terrible. A driven, purposeful man, letting a drunk cynic disturb his meetings again and again and again. A compasssionate boy who executes a man on the spot. Someone with all his life ahead of him, pinned to a wall by eight bullets (it's eight, right ? I'm having sudden doubts and i don't currently have my book near to check) at twenty-something.

So, really, those two aren't that different ; it's no surprise their relationship fascinates, no wonder people are curious, no wonder people write about them, explore what ifs and could've beens.

Someone please ask me about Enjolras and Grantaire or just Les Amis in general. I swear i will be completely normal and won't rant for hours. I cannot be trusted about that.

[plush-rabbit]

Protecting Mammon - Headcanons

Request: Hc for Mammon with a s/o that is usually very laid back and calm,, but whenever one of Mammons brother's mock him, reader gets super defensive of him, they're somewhat of a guard dog for him? And reader goes out of their way to compliment and be affectionate towards him in his brothers presence? (Also could you do Male reader? Thank you, i love your writing!!)

A/N: Let MC say fuck!! Please, i wrote a similar one, sort of,, like a while ago but i really want MC to stand up for him, please (aso i left this gn i hope you don’t mind!!) (one too many insults breaks my heart, like if my mc were there id make them all give away their possessions to him)

-

It isn’t easy to hear the brothers argue. Their voices boom that you think that the walls are going to collapse onto themselves, but you grow accustomed to it as you have with everything else about them. However, something doesn't come as easy. While they all insult each other, there’s always a playful toone attached to their words,a gentle shove and a wicked smile as they laugh when the other bites back. It’s different with mammon. It’s always been different with him. At first you assumed that was how they talked with each other- every sibling fights, lovingly known as the Cain Instinct in the Human Realm, not that you’d ever mention it to them. But, their words hold venom, they hit where it hurts for him, they tease and treat him horribly and it leaves a horrible taste on your tongue- it reminds you when you were small and you were forced to swallow that awful purple medicine that no matter what you drank, the taste just lingered. You wonder how long Mammon has had to hear those words.

You can always tell when the insults get taken too far, when they start to get personal and the words aren’t jokingly said or even in a teasing way, but they’re said out of anger and like the brothers that they are, they all start to gang up on the second eldest. The brothers joke and you can tell that it bothers Mammon by the way his jaw tightens and the roll of his eyes, the way that he starts to get quiet. You can only do the one thing you can think of- you hold his hand. He looks at you quickly, his brows raising and eyes glancing down to your interlocked hands as his lips quirk upwards. During that time, you pull him away, asking in a very loud voice that you need him to accompany you to your room or to a store. When the other brothers try to intervene, stating that they’ll walk you, you shut them down, pulling Mammon close to you, standing in front of him acting as a shield to protect him from his brothers. You want to protect him, to take him away from the insults and the mean words of his brothers.

Perhaps you’ll never know how much the words truly affect Mammon, everytime that you ask him, he just gives you a tight smile, shaking his head and squeezing your hand- a subtle hint to drop the subject. It makes you lay awake at night, wondering how a demon could be hurt by words. Everything about the words and brothers starts to leave a horrible taste in your mouth. A part of you even blames yourself- you know how he was teased mercilessly when he was tricked into forging a pact with you, but the thought of not having a pact with him makes your heart ache in a way that you didn’t know it could. He’ll like in your bed, a loose t-shirt on him as he lets out deep breaths, his chest rising and dipping with an arm over your stomach. Soon it becomes when there’s a snide comment, you give a curl of your lip and look of disgust.

The lack of sleep that you gain from overthinking about the pact and the brothers leaves you in an irritable mood. You start to resent the brothers, frowning and pulling away from them and even if Beelzebub isn’t involved in the teasing, he isn’t too bothered by it unless the insults really start to hurt. Leviathan and Asmodeus are perhaps the worst, Satan a close second- or third- if were to tattle on Mammon, but the two aforementioned brothers remain the cruel ones, insulting him and spewing filthy words that makes your face burn with anger that you wonder if Satan could feel it stewing deep in you. It hurts to pull away from the brothers but you don’t like how they treat your demon.

At a certain point, pulling him away from the brothers isn’t enough. Holding his hand is something you enjoy, and it must be a sort of release for him because you take notice of how he remains staring at you despite the onslaught of words thrown his way. With a careful glance given to the third eldest who rants on about how Mammon had stolen something- which you were sure he hadn’t, you’d been with him during the time frame that Leviathan accuses- you lift his hand and kiss his knuckles, letting your lips ghost over them. When you feel his breath hitch, your smile, turning his hand over and placing a kiss to his palm, moving to let his palm cradle your cheek as you lean into him. The arguing stops and you can feel eyes on you, but you can also feel the way that mammon’s heart echoes softly against your ear, how his hand slowly moves to hold yours once more.

No matter the amount of times that you’ve complimented him, he always reacts the same, as if it were the first time you told him something nice. His cheeks are tinted in a dark color, his face burning and heart beating erratically despite you telling him sweet things. You sit on his lap, pulling him close as you play with his hand, each line traced over carefully with a touch that tickles his palm. He jokes at first, telling you that of course you’d compliment him, he is after all The Great Mammon, but there’s a smile that lingers, stretched wide across his face as he leans back and keeps a hand on you, taking great pleasure in hearing you say something nice.

Every insult is refuted with a compliment. He’s called a scumbag, you call him your protector. He’s called greedy, he’s reassured that his sin is something that is difficult to control. He’s told to never come home, you cup his face in your hands and tell him that you’d follow him anywhere- a heavy implication that stays on your tongue and when he nods slowly, you hold him tight, grateful that he understood what you wanted to tell him. You hold him close, his door locked as the movie plays, the colors flashing across his room until they fade. The desperate part of you needs to tell him everything, to repeat every compliment until they drown out the insults. You need him to smile.

They’re brothers and you know that, but it doesn’t lessen the blow. You make sure you spend more time with him, to show that he’s your number one and your favorite. It might be cruel, but they’ve been cruel to him. You want to keep him safe. When the insults start to worsen, you bite back. You scowl and tense your shoulders, your hands fisted tightly leaving crescent shaped marks against your skin. The words might not be cruel- you don’t think that you would want them to feel that sort of pain, nor would it do any good towards Mammon- but you tell them to be quiet, glaring at them and looking away immediately.

Sooner rather than later, the brothers catch on. Every insult is met with a kiss, your lips pressed against his cheek or your hand pulling him away, locked behind a door where they cannot enter. They sulk and pout, they try to pull you away, but you can’t leave Mammon’s side. Not that you would ever choose to do so. You stick by him, pulling him close and sitting beside him, your attention stuck on him. He’s your demon, why would you ever want to be pulled away from him? You keep him close, hugging on his arm and telling him how he’s been so much help to you. Mammon keeps you in his arms, you smile shining at him, and you pay attention to him. You kiss at his wounds and run your hands through his hair. You pull him close to your chest, your words soft as you tell him how warm he is. He loves the attention, the kindness that you give to him, the way that such a small and delicate human can stand up against demons and fight back all to protect one. He lays against you, sinking into your own warmth and taking it greedily, loving the way that you feel pressed against him.

Greed personified is not easy to please- he wants it all, craves it and yet, he can’t have it. It sits on his palm but he is unable to close his fist to truly claim it. Yet, you sit beside him, eating a meal at the dinner table as the ruckus continues on, your hand clasped tightly around him and when he turns to look at you, he squeezes your hand. He holds it tightly, feeling your hand tighten a moment later as you turn to him, your cheeks puffed with food still your mouth as you smile at him. You remain in his hand- whole and ever beating with a smile that is forever etched in the demon’s mind.

[deluluass]

Red, like blood. Blue, like love.

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; bullying; soulmates au

Prompt: 88 & 183

There’s someone for everyone, you’d learned growing up.

 "Remember, blue means happy," your mother would say. "The happiest you'll ever be.”

She liked reminding you about this fact— for it is an indisputable truth, every so often when she could still carry you. You’d be hugged from the back, as she recounted stories of first meetings, serendipitous and life changing in their nature; belonging to those who’ve lived long before you, sometimes even those who’ve only lived in tales.

Mostly, your mother loved telling those involving the people she knew. And if you’ve behaved properly, she would tell you about hers. 

Tracing your palm, starting from the forked lines to the dashed ones on your fingers, she’d say, “These would start to glow like stars.”

“That’s weird!” you’d burst out, shrieking a laughter as she tickled you. 

“Listen carefully,” she chastised. “Blue is for your soulmate, okay?”

And you’d repeat: Blue is for my soulmate.

“Then, mama,” you tugged at her sleeves, “What if it’s really, really bright red! Like! Bloody glow sticks! Say, mama, you see, everyone at the park was talking about the man who died because he touched someone and his hand became bright re— ”

You never brought that up again. What your mother said about it had been enough to never make you forget.

“Tell me if you get red,” she said firmly, clutching your arms as if she feared someone would snatch you away from her. “Red is bad, my heart. Red means run.”

 It hadn’t nearly been as gruesome as your mother made it out to be. 

Case in point, when you turned twelve the couple three houses down your street found out, shortly after their honeymoon, that their palms gleamed a fierce red once they clasped each other’s hands in front of the neighborhood aunties.  

Their marriage ended with a swift and ordinary divorce, a year or so later.

Red: Not just an ominous warning for homicide, then. That was a relief, you’d thought.

Contrary to how your mother framed it, you were thankful, actually. It helped some of your friends escape from potentially hellish relationships. How lucky is it that you lived in a reality where the universe seemed exceedingly benevolent. Though, you sometimes have to question if that generosity extended to everyone.

Fat lot of good it did for you. 

Because, from where you’re standing, it doesn’t have to take some arbitrary and unsolvable scientific mystery to heed that Oikawa Tooru must be avoided like the plague.

Any person in your shoes would be conditioned to do exactly that. 

You’d first met in Elementary. You thought he was the prettiest kid you’d ever seen, with chestnut curls and doe eyes and lashes that swept past his cheeks, and when you’d asked for a hand shake he’d called you “the ugliest girl I’ve ever seen” and “fart face.” 

Recess and lunch were when he’s most fearsome. Spiky burdocks slapped on the collar of your dress; dead lizards in your food; the boy was determined. The worst part was that it always happened when no one was looking. And if someone were, it was his best friend. So when you finally told on him to your mom, both your teacher and the principal simply judged Oikawa as the victim of an attention deprived child.

“Please discipline your daughter,” they told her. “We are all aware of your situation at home, but do ensure that she’s not getting out of control.”

You couldn’t even muster up the strength to defend yourself. In that moment all you could do was swear that you’d never allow anyone to talk to your mother in that way again. 

You moved out of that school. 

You didn’t wait for your palms to flash a warning signal because, somehow, you knew that boys who discover early that they could get away with anything cannot get any better. 

There’d been no way to be sure of that until Aoba Johsai— after a peaceful interim of no Oikawa; no red palm lines (and no blue ones, either).

The proof hit you in the face. Literally. 

“Oi, Shittykawa!”

Heat permeated from your nostrils as you patted your cheek, detached and staring back at the large gymnasium. 

“You hit someone!”

How unlucky did a person have to be to bleed right on the first day of classes? 

You tried to lean forward. “It’s okay,” you slurred nasally, pinching your nose and averting your embarrassed gaze from the boy kneeling next to you.

“Trashykawa! You better hurry and apologize!”

“Don’t be mad, Iwa-chan,” that disgustingly saccharine voice came from behind you, making you flinch, as if the years you’d spent apart had done nothing to purge it out of your system.

In all honesty, you hadn’t really cared for whoever was responsible for the ball that careened all the way to where you were standing, so sure that it had to be an accident. No one in their right mind would want to injure someone they barely knew, especially if said someone is a couple of feet away from you. 

Morally and athletically, it should’ve been improbable. But then you saw who did it and everything made perfect sense.

Iwa-chan. The boy beside you. Iwaizumi Hajime.

If he’s here, then— 

“You,” he whispered. 

“Eh?! Gosh, I’m so sorry!” Oikawa Tooru gasped. “You’re bleeding.”

Time is cruel. It wears down on you, tears you and molds you into something you can’t even recognize, if it decides to. (Fate, more so). You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or laugh, looking at him. If the universe were so benevolent, then perhaps Oikawa Tooru had received all of its favor.

He was beautiful. You’d known this before, but with all the baby fat replaced with sharp yet slender angles, figure lean and imposing even when he’d lowered himself to meet your eyes, Oikawa didn’t seem real.

“I did hit someone, didn’t I?” he pouted, wiping the dried blood atop your lip. “And such a pretty girl, too.”

That volleyball existed should’ve made life better for you. It didn’t. If anything, it seemed that out of the court, when he’s not taking names and being praised like a god, you were his little pastime. Something fun to take his mind off whatever it is he thinks about it. 

The mocking comments, you could handle; every time you’d recite and he’ll interject with something playful and then the entire class would laugh (because he’s Oikawa) and your professor would reprimand him but you could always tell that they, too, are holding in a giggle. 

Those were easy to bear, because although his insults hit way too close to home, it’s just— it’s just so petty.

Really, it’s the aftermath that does the damage.

“They’re like Christmas lights under your skin!” 

This topic pops up every month or so. Most people your age can be lucky enough to meet their soulmate this early. 

“And it’s the most awesome feeling in the world,” your classmate sighed. “When we touched hands? Man. We just- we glowed.”

Then, the others would poke fun, faking a gagged expression, but they’d always ask afterwards, “What happened next?” And everytime, you’d watch from the sidelines. Like an uninvited audience. 

You tried being a part of it once, wanting to share about the time your close friend met her soulmate. But all you’d gotten were side eyes and titters, as if they were laughing about a joke only you didn’t know about. 

“They’re so mean to you.” 

You groaned.

Oikawa was seated behind you, resting his head against his elbow. Everyone was too busy talking about blue lights and destined souls to notice what’s happening at the back of the room. 

He continued, “Not including you in conversations, treating you like an outsider.”

You didn’t bite, focusing on the opened book in front of you.

“Must be lonely, having no one.”

“Oikawa,” you muttered under your breath. “I don’t have the energy for this.”

The silence that came after that was unexpected. You were sure it would be short lived; he’s just gearing up for more. He usually went at it until you’d have no choice but to physically remove yourself from his presence. You’d thought once that that may be why he does this so much. Maybe he still thought you were the “ugliest girl” he’s ever met and he wants you out of his sight. Because Oikawa’s infantile like that.

But the silence stayed, accompanied by the background noise of eager conversations; lingering some more as white, fluffy clouds passed by the glass windows. 

When he broke it, all Oikawa said was, “Soulmates, huh.”

You felt a finger touch your back, drawing the barest of lines over your uniform. He removed them just before you could stand up and leave. 

You disliked those moments with him. 

You disliked him especially when he played. 

Oikawa’s a monster, be it in volleyball or with you. There are times, though, that you’d notice some things that you think you’re not meant to see. Like after a serve— its impact booming throughout the court, he’d have this puzzling expression on his face. 

It looked like....anger. 

He scored a point, right? Everyone’s cheering for him, aren’t they? Wait, didn’t they win?

You thought maybe it’s the adrenaline making him nastier than usual, but sometimes you’d pass by the gym when he happens to be alone. And that anger is still there, punctuated by the sound of the ball exploding against the floor. Jump. Hit. Spike. Jump. Hit. Spike. He’d do it, again and again and again. 

As if he’s trying to grasp something even he cannot reach. 

Those instances should’ve taught you that the best thing to do is look away. 

That’s what you should’ve done. Look away.

They lost the Interhigh tournament.

You knew this not because you’d watched, but because for one day, Oikawa Tooru wasn’t your bully. 

The derision was replaced by sulking. He didn’t speak for the entire period. The funniest thing about it was that everyone kept staring at you. Like somehow you’d been the cause of this, when all of them were lamenting the loss just as much as the team itself. 

 What was supposed to be a reason for celebration suddenly became a crime that you had to explain for.

 “Great,” you grumbled to yourself. “One time I don’t have a target on my back, now I’m the bad guy.”

Trash bag in hand, the scraps inside rattled against each other as you stomped to the recycling bin, both sleeves of your P.E jacket folded up to the elbows. You affected a tone, choosing to mock the grating way some of classmates talked:

“Oh, hey, if it’s not too much,” you began. “Can you please be his punching bag again? If you will, can you relieve our superstar’s burdens? By, I don’t know, alluring him into walking all over you? Like the good old days! Please, oh please? We rely on you, oh Great Punching Bag! We Beseech thee, oh Esteemed Doormat! We compel— dude, what the fuck?!”

Crumpled papers and steel and tin cans rolled to the ground. You didn’t pick them up, like you should’ve; you left it there, trash bag lying open, and grabbed the ball that whisked mere inches from your face. 

This time you’re not making the same mistake. The asshole is more than capable of suspending what little morals he has, just to hurt someone he barely knew. As well as athletically adept (an understatement, that) at hitting a walking target; or not hitting it, in this case.  

You stormed the almost empty gym. Oikawa is a ray of sunshine, greeting you with that smile. It makes you want to punch him.

“What is wrong with you?” you spat. 

He chuckled. “Whoops. Sorry!” 

“I’m not having this-” you shoved the ball to his stomach. He didn’t even blink. “This isn’t gonna slide anymore, Oikawa.”

Wide grin still in place, he took it from your hands with his much larger ones and said, “Wow, you’re actually mad this time. ”  

Then, he added, “I didn’t mean it! Honest!” 

Must be nice, you thought with a scowl, to be him. Anyone can be sincere if they look anything like Oikawa. 

“Sure. Fine. No, actually,” you glowered. “You know what?” 

“Hm?” He tilted his head. Oikawa tilted his pretty little head.

You seethed. “I get it. You lost. That doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me. I mean, what did I ever do to you, Oikawa? I have-” you exhaled, surprised by the break in your voice. 

“I haven’t done anything to you. We stopped being kids a long time ago. That shit you pull should’ve ended by now. We’ve grown.” You jabbed his chest. “But I see that maybe not all of us have.”

His pleased expression hadn’t dropped. “Ouch,” Oikawa grimaced, glancing amusedly at the place you’d touched. “How mean.”

This isn’t going anywhere. 

You don’t know why it took you this long to realize this, as you shifted your gaze away from him, noticing the gashes on the floor that tear the surface like scars that never healed. That must’ve been because of him, with the amount of practice he does. 

“It won’t be enough, won’t it, Oikawa?” you whispered. “Not for you.”

The smile that’s been there since you arrived tensed, straining at the corners of his lips. 

“Yeah, I’ve been told,” he beamed. 

He was bathing in his own sweat, seeping through his shirt and matting his hair to his face, and he looks— Oikawa looked tired. His eyes were sunken in, too. Did he even sleep?

You’re so used to seeing him not a hair out of place, with a sweet scent that you amusedly thought lures his gaggle of admirers into following him everywhere. It takes you aback, honestly. Particularly the wobble in his step as he bent and squeezed his knee with shaky fingers.

You don’t think he’s aware he’s doing it in front of you.

Then, just like that, everything seemed to have added up.  

“You’ll never be happy,” you said.

You should’ve stopped there. You should’ve left. Instead, you looked him in those brown eyes, the warm hue becoming a lot colder as he moved closer. 

Oikawa sneered. “And what do you know, huh?” 

(Go. Leave.)

“Nothing,” you told him. “I don’t- I don’t know. Because, I don’t get it.”

(Shut up. Shut up.)

“Why you try any harder, I don’t know. Win or lose, it’s all the same. You’re still the same. You’re still awful and annoying and- and still you.” You laughed, unsure why you’re running your mouth like this. 

“Win or lose. Oikawa is still Oikawa,” you breathed in. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

His teammates must’ve gone somewhere. For lunch, maybe, you thought as you eyed the abandoned bottles and used towels scattered around the court. “Besides,” you huffed, not without a twinge of envy. “They’ll all still love you, either way.” 

Everything went still for a while, and you’d just realized what you’d just said.

“What about you?” 

You looked back at him.

“What?”

He tipped his chin. You stepped backwards. 

He brushed your wrist.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, but he only smiled and wrapped his entire hand around it. 

Oikawa had been your first bully. Before you could even comprehend what that meant, Oikawa had been the source of your mother’s worries whenever she parted with you at the school gates. It is funny, thinking about it, for letting this boy affect you despite making an effort to stay away the first time. 

But it is only now— now that he has a firm hold on you, gentle yet smothering— that you truly feared Oikawa Tooru. 

It rattled your breath, squeezing your heart and refusing air to pass through your lungs, as you felt a shock zap through you. And apparently through him as well.

You broke away from each out with a cry.

Your hand was burning. That’s the only explanation for it. Your hand was burning and any moment now smoke will diffuse from the pores. 

You waited. Any moment now. But the more you stared at it the more tiny spots of flames sparked under your skin, bursting along the palm lines— first, the forked ones; then, the dashed lines— glaring back at you, glowing brighter, blotting and spreading until they mapped your palms then your entire hands like constellations. 

“Red is bad, my heart,” your mother said. “Red means run.”

“I knew it,” you scoffed, shaking your head. 

Well, it’s not as if this is news to you. 

“What about that, Oikawa?” You put both your radiating hands in the air. “The universe is telling us, you and I? We just don’t—”

Why are you crying?

Why is Oikawa crying? 

“I knew it,” he croaked.

Your mother made the red light sound so horrifying for a reason. 

There has to be a reason, too, why the universe is warning you so late into your life. You’d actually ran before. And when you thought it a waste of money, you chose to stay and not fight back; thinking that his punches have become less severe, degraded into verbal taunts that induce social exclusion at most; that, certainly, red doesn’t forbode something as bad as murder, right?

Well, what now? You were wrong, after all. This time you have a feeling that you actually need to hide. 

Because Oikawa’s looking at you like you’re the last two people left in this Earth. 

Just you and him. Without any need for anybody else. 

You didn’t breathe, attempting to bolt despite the overwhelming need to throw up right where you're standing. He stepped closer, faster than you’d liked, and touched your face, caressing your cheek up to your aching temple.

“You should really stop trying to run away,” he said, voice low as if he’s sharing a secret. “I’ll always find you, you know?”

You didn’t have to look to know. Even if you closed your eyes, as well, you know it’s still going to be there; glowing in the darkness behind your eyelids.

“Me and you—” Oikawa sighed. 

Listen carefully, your mother said.

“ —we have a connection that no one else will ever understand,” he said.

The light emitting from his hand was so harsh it hurt you, pricking your sight until it drew fat tears, reflecting against your damp face and tinting the fallen streaks with bright—

Blue means happy, she told you. The happiest you’ll ever be.

And you’d repeat: Blue. Blue is for—

“My soulmate," Oikawa said, before locking you in a deep, searing kiss. 

The lights didn't die even as he dragged you into the storage room.  

"Hey, where'd senpai go?" 

The rest of the volleyball team came in droves, occupying the hollow court with their squeaking shoes and questions about Oikawa's whereabouts.

"Must've gone somewhere," you heard a deep voice say. 

You could answer that question. All you  had to do was scream. They weren't so far from the room that they wouldn't pick it up over the noise of their volleyball practice. Really, if you needed to, you could even outshout their guttural yells of "Nice kill!"

Though, you'd have to remove the underwear lodged in your mouth first. 

Yours, in fact; soaked now by your own saliva, drool dripping to your chin as your wrists chafed against the rope that's keeping them tied at your back.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" You felt every sickening movement of Oikawa's lips against your throat. "Feels good when you- ah, fuck- when you give in."

With the cloth muting your shrill bawling, you tried your best to recall how you ended up here: seated on his lap as he sluggishly humped himself against you, his still glowing hands cupping your ass.  

The only thing left on your body was your bra, and even that he's already lowered to let your tits spill over the top. Your pants and t-shirt and jacket are lying around somewhere. You couldn't determine where in particular; the only sources of light were behind you.  

He was leaving imprints of blue all over your skin; around your waist as he slithered his hands to reach your breasts, scantily brushing over the hardened nipples and making you keel over.

"So sensitive," he tutted, smooching your neck so gently that even the underwear couldn't muffle your loud yelp when he suddenly bit into the flesh. Hard. 

You wanted to claw his eyes out and call for help and you wanted badly to scream don't do that Oikawa someone please save me he's gonna kill me he's gonna kill me-

But the gag remained intact and the boys outside continued their game, ignorant that their precious captain is taking everything away from you. 

Sharp canines bruised your skin, provoking a fresh batch of tears as he sucked and licked every after cruel bite. 

Then, when you thought the worst had passed, he removed his mouth from your neck to spit onto your bare cunt, allowing it to slide from the hair on your mound to the nub sticking out in the middle.

(It is not enough that he is killing you. Oikawa must defile you, too.)

His fingers gripped the insides of your thighs open when you tried to shut them together. "Don't be a brat," he clicked his tongue.

"Be a nice little kitten for me," Oikawa drawled, smearing the slick that's soaking your folds against the spittle coating your clit.

You didn't notice when he'd taken his cock out, you only realize that he's about to enter you when he teased your entrance with it, pushing the tip to nudge the drenched hole, only to pull it back again.

And you didn't dare look. The feel of it almost stretching you out with just the head is already driving you to insipid begging.

"What'd you say, kitten?" he pouted.

Oikawa you've already taken too much is it never going to be enough Oikawa let me go.

"I can't understand you," he chuckled. "Here—"

He pulled the underwear out of your mouth as he thrust all the way inside, your back arching, driving him deeper, as his cock throbbed against your pussy walls.

"Now, what were you saying?"

You swallowed your cries and heaved and swore you were gonna tear his heart out after this. 

"Say," he whispered, sniffing your wet panties without breaking his gaze. "If everyone saw us right now, how'd you think they'd react?"

It was so reverent, the way he did it, blue light revealing that he closed his eyes as he took a whiff, as if he hung onto your scent like a lifeline.

But you thought that'd been a calculated move, because as you dumbly stared at him, he immediately gyrated his hips under you, rocking back and forth ever so slowly, and you remembered that you had to keep quiet.

His cock was so big inside you, making you bite your lip as it filled you up, the curved tip hitting a spot that has you squirming in his embrace.

"At this point they'll know how much of a whore you are," he said, tangling his muscled arms around yours and anchoring you to his body. "Made just for me."

"Oika-Oikawa…"

You don't know this person. 

"Help..me.."

You don't know who's speaking out and whimpering for Oikawa, on her knees and bouncing up and down on his lap with weak, quivering thighs. 

It couldn't be you.

"Help you?" You felt him nuzzle your neck. "I thought you wanted me to stay away, though?"

Someone mewled out a pathetic, "N-no."

"No? Then what d'you want, kitten?"

(Oh. Oh, he feels so fucking good.)

Your belly has never felt this hot before and it's driving you crazy that you're chasing for something you cannot see and it feels so near but there's something, something that's keeping you from it that all you can do is grind your sopping cunt closer to him.

"Wanna- I wanna cum."

Oikawa kissed you on the forehead, and then he said, "Go ahead, then."

He released your arms. 

Then, he's scooping cum off your pussy, making sure to drag his fingers under the lips, before circling your large, swelling clit. Then, he's sucking your tits and swirling his tongue around a nipple and you're so so close.

"That's it," Oikawa sighed. "Ride my cock, baby."

His rough palm slapped both your ass cheeks and the cry that erupted from you only made him laugh. 

"Make yourself cum on my cock," he grunted, licking his smiling lips as he leaned back against the wall, hand idly rubbing your dripping clit. "You're making a mess, darling. Leaking like that."

You're quivering all over; your cunt is spasming and your legs are complaining beneath you, but you don't stop. You lift your hips and then sink your pussy down, down until you feel his balls touching your sore ass, the sloshing sound growing louder as you move faster. 

You don't think about what this'll all mean later, what you're doing giving in to him, when you scream out his name. But as soon as you did, Oikawa's growl had been your only warning.

He grabbed the back of your head and kissed you, plunging his tongue into your throat, his strong arms pressing you so close to him you can no longer tell his skin from yours, his battering heartbeat from yours. 

You didn't move—weren't allowed to, when he hammered his cock into you, pounding your cunt and fucking you raw until you're breathless and nothing but a shuddering wreck, splitting at the seams in his hands as you feel thick spurts of hot cum slide out of you. 

"My pretty girl," came his hoarse whisper. "My pretty, pretty girl."

The lights have dimmed, when he cradled your shaking form and moved out of you, faint traces left on just the palm lines and fingertips. 

They were flooded by the sudden brightness that enveloped the storage room.

"Holy shit."

You pressed your eyes close, your entire body prickling at Oikawa’s touch.

It shouldn't be surprising, at this point, that Oikawa, as quick as he'd stripped you off of everything, has already covered you back in your jacket. The smell of it striking you ruthlessly, that old cologne that you always use to school reminding you of who you were, before all this.

Had it only been a few hours? It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Ah," Oikawa murmured. "They caught us."

"Oikawa,” someone roared. Oikawa held you, hiding your face against his chest. “Why you son of a-"

"C-coach..! Stop- Oi, someone help me hold him- no, coach! "

You heard him chuckle. “Sorry about this, everyone.” He held up his hand and you had to keep yourself from sobbing. “But, look.”

There were several gasps. 

(Everybody knows now.)

“You..and her?” 

The boy who said that sounded so astonished, clearly overjoyed for some reason, that it revolted you.

“Mhm,” he nodded, a smile in his voice. “Now, can you guys please give us some privacy?” 

Feet shuffled out of the room, along with stuttered apologies. They all left. 

Except for one.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa pouted.

“What did you do, Oikawa?”

A beat. Then, he repeated, “Iwa-chan.”

Please. 

Iwaizumi didn’t say anything. 

Please help me.

“Sure,” he grunted.

He was gone, too, after that.

You were back in the darkness, with nothing but the faltering red and blue on your hands and his, while he untied your wrists and kneaded the abrasion away, cooing sweet nothings to your ear. 

“I hate you,” you rasped. 

“Don’t say that.”

“I fucking hate you-”

“Please stop yelling-”

“I won’t ever forgive you, Oikawa!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he cried, shaking his head as he brushed your tear-stained cheeks with both thumbs. You clutched them, wanting him off you, but he only latched himself firmly into you. “We’re meant to be.”

“You’re the only one for me.” 

Oikawa brought your numb hand to his face, pressing a kiss to your palm, the red light basking him in its soft glow.

“And I’m the only one for you,” he said, intertwining your fingers together. 

The lights flickered in and out, at first, as you stared vacantly into it, the red and blue swallowing each other. Until they finally disappeared, leaving just you and him, curled against each other in the shadows. 

[evierena]

The Brothers eavesdropping to MC accidentally confessing their undying love for them. Part 1.

INTRO

MC was having their monthly catch-up call with their best friend in the Human Realm. At first, their friend could not believe the situation MC was living, but after a few calls they had finally come to accept the whole "I was summoned to Hell, but it's called Devildom, and now I have to live with 7 hot demon brothers and they are actually kinda nice" situation (yeah, Levi would be proud of my naming skills). Anyhow, during this specific call MC was filling in their friend with the latest update on their newfound feelings for one of the brothers, not knowing that said brother was actually outside their room, eavesdropping! And then, their friend asks "What is it about him that you love so much?"

What did MC respond? How did that brother react and what did he do with that information? Well, let's see...

Lucifer

- He was doing his nightly rounds, making sure everyone was in their room, and when he passed by your door he caught your laughter and he stopped for a second, just to absorb the sound and allow himself to relax a little. Then, out of the blue, he heard you saying: "I think I'm in love with him".

- Well, that was unexpected. He would never admit to anyone the way his heart skipped a beat for a moment there, and absolutely will never let you know that those simple words could stir such feelings within him.

- And then, with his demon senses, he heard another voice coming from your room. "Why? What is it about Lucifer that you love so much?"

- Now, for him, the world completely stopped moving, he put all of his demon hearing to work and capture every little sound around him, even his heart stopped and his blood froze in his veins to allow more silence around him.

- "He takes so much pride in his family, you know? In his position as the protector of his brothers and as the right hand of Diavolo, at first I thought that was it" you said, unaware of the petrified demon outside your door. "But now, I've come to love not just that. I love all the sides Lucifer has shown me, vulnerable, sick, angry, sad, stressed even murderous. He makes me feel motivated to be better, to strive for more, and I feel so proud knowing he trusts me that much. I just love him"

- After that, Lucifer's heart started beating like crazy in his chest, his blood running rampant through his body, and almost all reason escaped his mind. Almost.

- He managed to compose himself but he couldn't help the smug grin remaining in his face.

- Lucifer went back to his room after hearing your accidental confession, although he couldn't sleep thinking about his next move.

- For the following days he started to ampp up his game. He was always smiling at you, asking you to be by his side a little longer each time, lingering gloveless touches everywhere, he wanted to feel you and for you to feel him.

- You thought you were going crazy for sure, you didn't want to put your hopes up, but you couldn't help the throbbing sensation he provoked everytime he came a little closer a little longer, the flirty remarks, the intense stare and the knowing smile everytime you met his ruby gaze.

- So, finally, you went to his room in the night, determined to confess. And before all the courage you managed to gather escaped, you didn't even wait for him to completely open his door before spilling your heart out.

- "Lucifer, I'm in love with you!" you said closing your eyes, afraid of his reaction.

- But he lifted your chin to face him properly and you were welcomed with a smug smile and "I know" from his lips before he stole your breath in a deep heated kiss.

- In conclusion; after knowing you loved him, Lucifer intoxicated your mind with him until you confessed directly, so he could rely his own feelings to you.

Mammon

- It's a bad habit of his to just barge into your room without announcing himself, however, after so many times of you begging for him to just say something before entering, he finally remembered.

- So, he stopped himself on his tracks before doing exactly that, and that was all it took for him to hear your conversation with your best friend.

- "You are a moronsexual, I'm telling you"

- The heck is that?

- Mammon was completely confused, who was a moronsexual? What is a moronsexual? Is that something he could sell? Now, he is interested and waiting for your answer.

- "Shut it, don't call him a moron, 'kay? Besides, I don't see any problem with being in love with Mammon"

- Whoa, whaaaat? Who is in love with Mammon?... Wait, no, Who wouldn't be in love with THE Great Mammon, right?

- Mammon pressed his ear against your door, thinking he could hear better that way, but really it just suffocated the noise, and then he remembered he could just tuned his hearing. He was also beet red by that moment, internally thanking that none of his brothers could see him like that, he would never hear the end of it.

- "But, really MC, what do you love about Mammon?"

- Mammon catched his breath abruptly, remaining as still as possible.

- "Well, I love him because he's Mammon, and that means that I'll never be bored with him, and that he'll always be there for me when I need him, that I can trust him with my soul and he would never let me down. I love him because he is so generous even when he pretends he isn't, he is so sweet and cute but also really cool, and he is a total tsundere but he has opened himself to me, and everything about him is so complex and simple at the same time, I just... I love Mammon"

- You, my sweet MC, have officially broke Mammon.

- All of his blood was in his face, his heart was going rampant, his mind absorbed your words but couldn't understand what they meant, he was both ecstatic and terrified.

- And since he stopped functioning, he didn't realize you were walking towards the door until you opened up to stumble upon a teary eyed, flushed and very embarrassed Avatar of Greed.

- You knew he listened, there was no other motive to his state.

- Mammon stared at you intensely, deeply and loving and your face blushed as furiously as his. You finished the call with your best friend in stuttered, barely comprehensible words, and started fidgeting under Mammon's gaze.

- "Mammie?"

- You see, his brain wasn't aware that he was staring at you like that, he was just marvelling at how beautiful and precious you were. He was remembering all of your conversations; the way you always stood up for him, how you were always smiling at him, and that you never degraded him at all. And when you said his name he snapped back to reality.

- Then, in a both usual and unusual Mammon way, he launched himself at your arms in a very tight hug. Like you were his lifeline, and let's be honest, maybe you were, but he was yours just as much.

- "I love ya' MC" he muttered next to your ears, causing you to hold onto him even more.

- "I love you more, Mammie"

- "Nah, I love ya' much much more"

- And now you were in a duel to see who loved the other more, that eventually led to admit that you both loved each other and that was enough.

- You both spend that night in your bed, simply enjoying the other's warmth, pouring your love to your heart's content.

- And if you ever think that he will be separated from you ever again, you are terribly mistaken.

- Not that you minded, tho.

- In conclusion; Mammon would not wait another second away from you after hearing that you also love him as much as he loves you.

Leviathan

- Boy was going over to your room, to invite you play a new game he had just bought. As always, he had to take a second before knocking on your door to convince himself he wasn't being annoying.

- Then he listened to your rambling.

- "I feel so lightheaded when I'm with him, and I can't stop replaying everything on my mind when I'm alone, and I'm afraid he'll notice and be weirded out that a normie like me is head over heels for him"

- OMFF (oh my f***** father) what is this?? Is this like that time in "I accidentally eavesdropped on my normie best friend and discovered they're in love with me, how can I confess to them without being creepy?" (Ok, Levi would not be proud of my naming skills) no, no, no, waaaait, this could not be possibly be about him. Oh, no, you couldn't have possibly fallen for a yucky Otaku shut-in like him, there's no way... Right?

- "So, tell me, MC, what is it about this Leviathan that you love so much?"

- He was already sweating and trembling, but his heart definitely stopped for a concerning amount of time. If he wasn't a demon, he would most likely had already passed out right there and then.

- "I love how passionate he is, and how he always respects my privacy and he waits until I'm ready to talk, he doesn't pressure me into nothing, he gives me my space, I love how he can talk about what he likes so earnestly. I love that sparkle in his eyes when he's winning a difficult game and his razor focus when he is being really challenged by something. I feel so happy with Levi and I just want to make him see himself through my eyes so he could just stop belittle himself".

- Leviathan.exe has died. That's it.

- He literally passed out the moment those words came out of your mouth, so you heard a loud thud right outside and you found Levi face first on the floor.

- Nervousness is short to what you felt during the agonizing time he took to actually give any signs of being alive.

- When Levi woke up he didn't understand why was he laying in the floor of your room, but the moment his memories came flooding back he stand up and try to run away, his face a blushing mess.

- And as much as you wanted to stop him and apologize, you let him go, because he was clearly not ready for that conversation.

- So, a week passed and everyday you tried to contact him to no avail. Until you were finally done with playing hide and seek, you marched firmly (only in your mind 'coz you were shaking like a leaf) to his room and practically forced yourself in.

- The conversation went as you would think, stuttering, muttering, blushing messes both of you while confessing face to face your feelings for the other.

- And finally, after reassuring him, that yes, this is real, and yes you do love him, him, Leviathan, Avatar of Envy, not one of his brothers or anyone else but just HIM, he accepted your love.

- Levi gathered all of his very little confidence and went for a slight hug.

- In conclusion; this snek boy needs time, and a lot of reassurance to accept the truth and realize it's not a dream, you also love him.

Satan

- He was trying to retrieve one of the books he had lend you to study for your classes, but just before knocking on your door, he thought to himself to better do it tomorrow, it was already late and you were probably getting ready to sleep.

- That is, until he heard your giggling on the other side.

- "But, tell me, what is it about Wrath that you love so much?"

- Satan was confused and intrigued, what's this conversation about? Obviously, something about him, so he's going to listen.

- "First of, he is not Wrath, I mean Satan is the Avatar of Wrath, but he is not just Wrath, at all. He is so much more than that, he is his own person with his own feelings and thoughts, even more so than we are, because he has lived for thousands of years. He knows so much about a lot of things that are completely beyond my comprehension, but he always manages to make them reachable for my limited mind. I love how he can go from being a pain in Lucifer's ass to a soft and doting cat dad, the way he loses himself into compelling detective novels. I got it bad for him"

- Satan was speechless. His brows raised almost up until his hairline.

- He felt a pleasant warmth spreading through his body, did you really thought of him that way?

- Oh, boy, was he blushing, he even brought a hand to his face to cover from any non existent prying eyes.

- He heard you shuffling around in your room, so he decided to retreat to his own, already planning his confession as he was walking away in the hallway.

- That night, Satan wrote you a poem, an essay and a ode to you. He tried to portray his feelings, but he also felt something was missing and he cracked his head all night searching for it. He redid everything over and over again, looking for more beautiful, deeper words to describe the extent to his love for you.

- However, Satan fell asleep on top of all the manuscripts and drabbles of his "failures", and the next morning guess who was asked to go and fetch the blond demon for breakfast?

- Ok, could've been anyone, but for the sake of this HC, it was you, ok?

- So, you went, and knocked, and waited, and called for him, and knocked again, but nothing. So you enter through his surprisingly unlocked door, and found him sound asleep. And it was such an endearing sight, you just couldn't force yourself to disturb him.

- However, you did tried to cover him with a blanket from his bed and obviously (this is also for the sake of this HC) he woke up at the feeling of foreign touch.

- When he saw you, it clicked on him the thing he was missing for his confession.

- Eye contact.

- Satan jumped to his feet, held your hands, and declared his love for you with a deep blush in his cheeks, a little stuttering in his words, but so much honesty and passion in his green eyes, you were lost.

- In conclusion, Satan would try to make a romantic confession but he would ultimately just convey his feelings in a heart melting, brain wrecking monologue, you can't do nothing but love him even more.

If there's any grammar or spelling mistake I apologize, english is not my first language, and I would appreciated if you could kindly point it out for me so I can get better

Thank you for reading.

Atte. Evie

A/N: Part 2 is up! If you want to be tagged in it just ask me & I'll be delighted to.

Have a wonderful day/night and stay safe!

Tag list:

@anonymous-hq

[miss-smutty]

Ma’am I heard your requests are open.. could I request a fluffy smutty imagine with Thor Odinson. I don’t actually have a storyline in mind so I leave that to you, but my point is,

Sex on the balcony!!

Immortal

A/N- Thank you @mostly-marvel-musings for the request! I hope you like it. I had a fic in mind when I saw the gif of Chris on the balcony so this was a perfect opportunity. It's alot different to anything I've done for a completely new AU

Summary- There's something different about the man across the room, something Aria can't quite put her finger on but she's more than willing to explore deeper.

Word count- 1420

Pairing- Thor Odinson x OFC

Warnings- Smut, Swearing, Unprotected sex (all the usual)

18+ only!

Taglist- @innerpaperexpertcloud

@pandaxnienke

@chickensarentcheap @longlostinanotherworld

Posted: 22nd May 2021

Aria couldn't peel her eyes away from The God of Thunder, the way he held the attention of everybody in the room , it was mesmerising. She was fascinated by him, how he barely seemed to notice the girls around him, throwing themselves on him. The way his face lit up when he spoke, how his whole aura shone brightly. Aria was rare in existence, a human who could see people's aura's just as clearly as the clothes they wore. A intuition so on point she knew everything about a person before they even spoke a word. This man's aura was unlike any she'd ever seen before, she knew he was  immortal as soon as she saw him. Still learning things about herself and the world she existed in, everyday she would be fascinated by something new.

Being new to town, Aria had arrived at the ball alone but had spent the night fighting away her own fair share of attention from eligible bachelor's. They were drew to her like moths to a flame, and were just as irritating. Not one of them had piqued her interest until she'd seen the mysteriously tall, broad, blonde statue of a man.

She stood by the back of the room by the buffet table, routinely replacing her flute of champagne everytime it emptied and watched the beautiful man intently. Studying him.

There was no doubt in her mind that the reason he turned around and caught her eye was because he felt her gaze upon him, only when their eyes met he looked just as intrigued as she did.

"Do you want to dance?" The eye contact with the mysterious God was broken when a small, slightly balding, weaselly man approached her, breaking her line of sight frustratingly. Aria tried to look around him, fighting the urge to shove him out of the way.

"In your dreams, mate." She replied to the highly confident middle aged man, paying no more attention to him and instead scanning the room once more, searching for the man she actually was interest in. Disappointment etched on her face when he seemed to have vanished from her sights.

She tried to mingle, to join in with the conversations but all she could hear was his bassy voice echoing around the busy room. She couldn't block it out, It was as if he had consumed her entire being but she still couldn't see him. It was distracting.

Aria needed to clear her mind, to block out the inner voices of the other guests and focus on that one voice. More than that, she needed air. It was stuffy, the atmosphere clingy. Too many aura's fighting for attention. She couldn't think straight. It was, Claustrophobic. 

Fighting her way through the groups of people, heading towards the side of the room and ducking behind the floor length curtains. She knew it was there, could sense it. A small, private balcony. No one else would know it was there unless they looked behind the curtain. Finally she could be alone for a minute to gather her thoughts.

Leaning out over the glass balcony, admiring the view of the valley below her. It was absolutely breath taking. Awe inspiring.

"Beautiful." She said out loud, into the night.

"My thoughts exactly." Came a deep voice from behind her. She turned around too quickly, not expecting anyone to follow her and tripped over her foot. Falling into the very arms of the man she'd been watching all night.

"I was talking about the view." She blushed. Looking up into his deep blue eyes, his otherworldly scent filling her nostrils. Fascinating her senses.

"I wasn't" He continued to stare into her eyes, his face emotionless making her blush deeper. "-What are you?" He asks, his eyes narrowing as the words left his mouth.

"Erm… A girl." Aria replied, realising she was still in his arms. Feeling his blood pumping through his veins and something else she couldn't quite put her finger on. Whatever it was made her body tingle with electricity.

"No, you're a woman but not that, there's something more." He furrowed his brow as he studied her closer. The look on his face stirring something inside of her, something deep inside of her, a tingly presence she hasn't felt before. Reaching up to touch his face with her fingertips, she felt a pull, like a magnet. Thor's eyes widened when he felt it too, pulling her against his body tightly.

"You're different, I can feel it. I'm drawn to you unlike anyone I've ever met before." He whispered, his lips lingering close to hers, an unknown force pulling them together.

"I've never felt anything like this before either, what are you?" Both her hands came to rest on his broad chest as she spoke. The way his heart beat was different to anyone else, faster, a different rhythm all together.

"I am Thor, The God of Thunder, my love. Son of Odin." She could sense the pride in his voice. Aria didn't want to tell him she already knew he was a God, she didn't know how to answer the questions that would follow. Not when she still didn't understand how she knew herself.

"Now that is a title." She smiled, still looking up at him through her lashes innocently.

"You're beautiful." He muttered staring deeply into her soul and smoothing his thumb over her cheek tenderly. When her lips parted suggestively, he took the cue, leaning down to attach his lips to hers.

The kiss was deep and passionate, his lips even softer than she imagined. She loosened his black tie and left it hanging around his neck. The kisses becoming more ferocious with a deep and hungry need. A feral need that consumed the both of them simultaneously.

Pulling him back against the wall by his tie, his thick-set body crashing against her heavily. Pinning her between him and the wall. His cock pressing against her through those deliciously tight, fitted trousers. Reaching down to fumble with his zipper messily, lips still locked while a primal thirst.

Thor caught her hair in his hands, running his fingertips up her scalp, clasping her hair within both his fists. He pulled her head back gently, exposing her neck, a deep animalistic growl emitting from his throat before he buried his head into her neck. Gripping his teeth gently into her soft flesh until her knees became weak.

Fumbling to try and pull her dress up, the fabric clinging to her curves, he groaned ripping the fabric up the side and pulling it up to her stomach. Thor pulled her up into his arms, resting her back against the wall while he guided his cock to her opening. The feel of his smooth tip against her slit made her moan, a moan that came from deep within. The sound spurring him on as he pushed himself deep inside of her while she clung to his back.

Lifting her higher, her back scraping against the wall painfully. The pain and the pleasure making her walls tighten around his thick cock making him growl instinctively. He pounded into her relentlessly, her fingers gripping his hair tightly, pulling his head towards her with every thrust. Gutteral moans coming from them both as their release builds. It's quick but oh so intense. Something she's never been able to find before, especially with a stranger. Someone who can match up to her, who can take control and fuck her like this.

Aria can't quite put her finger on it but it feels different. Like it's meant to be, like fate had drawn them both here at this exact time. 

The way his eyelids hang heavy with lust, his breathe panting as he give her everything he's got, drives her over the edge. She screams out loud, her legs going rigid, every inch of her body alight with sensation. She'd never come like that before, it takes a while for her to recover. Her head resting against his shoulder as they both try and catch their breath. Aria's dress torn and Thor's hair dishevelled.

"Why do I feel like I've met you before?" He asks, moving a stray hair from her mouth tenderly.

"I have no answers but I feel the exact same way. That was the most intense thing I've ever felt." She replies.

"Why didn't you question me when I told you I was a God? These clothes I'm wearing to fit in don't exactly make me look like one." He moves over to the edge of the balcony, the way he looks standing there in the moonlight is breathtaking.

"I could sense it." She says without thinking, immediately wishing she could take the words back.

Thor thinks about it for a second. "What are you?" He asks again.

"I have to go. I'm sorry, I have to… I've said too much." Aria mumbles, straightening out her hair and dress before turning to flee.

He catches her hand before she turns, as she fights every urge in her body, all of her senses telling her to stay and she runs. Aria runs and she doesn't look back.

[viennasneverland]

Elriel vs. Eluc*en in acosf

I saw someone saying Elain could be interest in Lucien and it's only using Azriel, with the argument that we don't got her POV so we don't know what she feels and wants.

And, I'm sorry, but I never saw such a bullshit.

Let's look into what happened in the most recent book, acosf, and understand Elain's reactions next to those two males.

With Lucien:

"(...) claiming she had to be up with the dawn to tend to an elderly faerie’s garden. (...) There had been some tightness in Elain’s face as she’d said it. Normally when she made such excuses, Lucien was around."

" He and Lucien did not exchange gifts, though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate (Elain), who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings."

"Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen."

And this is just acosf, we could analyse how Elain grew uncomfortable by the time everytime Lucien is close.

Now...

With Azriel:

" (...) she (Elain) said, nodding to Cassian, and then, a bit more shyly, to Azriel. Azriel offered her a small smile that Elain quickly looked away from."

" Then his (Azriel's) gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly"

"She halted, her breath catching in her throat. "I…" He watched her swallow. She clutched a small gift in her hands."

"She hadn't bought her mate a present. But she'd gotten Azriel one last year—a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at."

"He chuckled, unable to suppress the impulse. "No wonder you didn’t want me to open it in front of everyone." Elain's mouth twitched into a smile. "Nesta wouldn't appreciate the joke.” He offered her a smile back (...)"

"Letting his scarred fingers touch her immaculate skin. Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture. Elain shivered, and he took a damn long time fastening the clasp."

"Azriel's fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine. Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck."

"Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. "

" Elain shuddered, drifting closer. So close one deep breath would brush her breasts against his chest. She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open (...)"

" Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut. Offer and permission."

It's clear here who Elain likes and feels comfortable with, why would Sarah show us her wanting Azriel and rejecting Lucien If she would end up with him? At least some small crumb of her looking at Lucien with an certain feeling or any hint of her fighting against some feeling when it comes to him.

But no. What we got was Elain trying to avoid her feelings for AZRIEL when she looks away from his smile, showing how it messed with her. Sarah showed us Elain and Azriel looking at each others eyes and being unable to hide that thing between them. This is how it looks like when the characters try to hide their feelings (cause they know it's wrong, it's defy the Caldron itself). And not the "shrank further into herself" and barely standing being next to someone, this is a signal a character is uncomfortable.

There's no reason to Elain "try to hide her feelings for Lucien by being with Azriel". It would be more easy for her, for her sisters, for her Court. She's over Graysen (because of Azriel 🙃) so there's no "she still wants her ex fiancé". And she likes Azriel. She's horny about Azriel (something you can't pretend to be, like....you can't be all wet just by acting).

Elain likes Azriel, and with the amount of posts listing their interactions and how significant they are for both, there's no surprise in that.

[theepisceswriter]

Can I request a fic of Connie Springer and a black female reader? The idea I had is that the reader was almost killed during a mission, so Connie makes passionate love to her. So nsfw lol

YEARNING FOR YOUR TOUCH 

TW: mature things obviously, mentions of death, a lot of angst in the beginning, typos probably because I didn’t proofread, 18+, MINORS DNI

WC: 2.5k

Connie’s whole body had been numb with shock for the last hour. He couldn’t even recall the last time he had moved his body an inch out of its original position since sitting down in the empty room nor could he even remember the last time his eyelids drooped down to blink. He couldn’t let them out of fear that the action would allow the tears accumulating in the back of his mind to fall the moment his eyelashes lifted from his cheeks and crying would only bring the whole reality of this situation clashing down on to him at once. Forcing him to accept the fact that you were indeed gone; that he couldn’t twirl your tight knit curls around his fingers to fall asleep like he always did when laying next to you in bed or see the sparkling glimmer of sunlight against your rich brown skin whenever you traded in your scout uniform for regular clothes, always eager to compliment you on how you looked like the gods had personally come down and kissed your skin. His whole body ached terribly for yours, for the warmth of your body heat and the sweet smell of oils and hair products that infiltrated his nostrils whenever he pulled you in for a hug. 

The thought of him never being able to do that again, when he did so everyday, wasn’t clicking in his head and his darling dearest being gone off the face of this earth never will sit right with him.

His memories of hours ago were still one big blur in his head because honestly, a big part of him didn’t want to remember the dread he felt in those moments. All he remembers is debris and a thick coating of dust clouding his vision as he did his best to search for you, passing other scouts stuck under large chunks of debris being moved by other team members hoping you weren’t in the same predicament as them. That hope was diminished greatly when he finally met up with the main team after not being able to find you on his own. He expected to see you standing there right alongside Jean, leaned up against him cracking a couple of jokes to ease the pain that always came post-battle, but the sunken expression his comrade wore on his features made his heart drop to his stomach alone.

“We couldn’t find her, Connie. We looked everywhere for y/n, but she most likely was covered completely by some large pieces of debris...Sorry Connie.”

Maybe they had Levi be the one to tell him because of his always monotonous tone, neither dreadful or happy, thinking the delivery would hurt him less, but each word still sent a painful dagger through his heart that left his chest burning with an indescribable pain. He couldn’t understand why things like this kept happening to him and even if he got an answer from the gods above themselves, none of this still wouldn’t make any sense. Especially not them taking you away from him. His one and only, his reason for fighting as hard as he did, his motivation; his everything. He wouldn’t even be able to give you the proper burial that you deserved, how was he going to recover from this?

It wasn’t even the sound of the door creaking open that brought him out of his sorrow thoughts, but the artificial light that peeked through that finally brought him to his senses. He wasn’t in the mood to socialize with anyone right now nor did he have time for their pity checkups on him. There was no telling what direction his emotions might go in if they kept prodding at him, so he was quick to open up his mouth to give whoever was at the door a verbal warning: 

“Get lost. I’m not in the fucking mood to be dealing with anyone and their bullshit right now.” He harshly spat out, not even caring who it was that he was speaking these words to. Surely they would understand and he would apologize eventually when he got a hold of his emotions.

“I never knew you had such a potty mouth on you, Connie.”

It couldn’t be. This wasn’t possible. He had to have been hallucinating the sound of your voice, his grief playing some sick trick on his mind. He couldn’t even turn around to confirm if it was you or not, frozen in place with a variety of feelings overriding his system. He had been through so much in the last couple of hours, this had to be some trauma defense mechanism his brain was creating to protect him from the reality of all of this, right? 

But it was the soft touch of your hand on his shoulder, a warmth and familiarity he’d recognize from anywhere, that brings him out of his state of denial. There are no words exchanged between you two when he turns around, brown eyes wide with an emotion you couldn’t quite read as his arms pulled you in for a tight embrace. His lips leaving kisses all over the bed of curls that covered the top of your head that he was reminiscing about only moments ago before he’s placing his lips on yours. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be right now. 

“I missed you, I missed you, I missed you.” Is the only phrase that leaves his lips continuously as he takes you in, your form, your scent, your whole being. It’s when he pulls away that he notices the streak of tears that wets your cheeks, thumb coming up to caress your cheek and wipe them away.

“Don’t cry, y/n. You’re going to make me cry.” He whispers in a barely audible voice with a chuckle, doing his best to still hold back his tears that he had been holding back since earlier. 

“I love you.” You manage to muster up through ragged breaths like the two of you were back in scout training as teenagers with growing pains and it was the first time you were saying it to him. 

“I love you way more than you’ll ever know.” He replies in an instant, letting the lips that hovered over yours finally make contact for a kiss that was a lot more passionate than the first. He wastes no time in letting his tongue lace together with yours letting you know exactly what direction this was going to go the moment you felt his chilled hands on your back working to remove the intricate design of the scout’s uniform off of your body. He’d ask questions on how you escaped an untimely death later, right now all he wanted was you and the warmth of your skin against his. He craved everything about you and he was about to fulfill that craving. 

In no time he had the black fabric falling down and exposing your bare shoulders and before he moved you to the janky bed placed in the middle of the room you kicked the door you had entered through closed with the heel of your foot.

“You have no idea how scared I was that I was going to lose you, y/n.” Connie spoke up as he pushed you down onto the flimsy mattress of the bed, hands hurrying to remove the fabric that was keeping him from seeing your body in all of its glory. And once he finally did get it off, discarding the uniform to some random corner of the room, he couldn’t help but do a double take, eyes lingering on each part of your body like your undergarments still weren’t on and like this was the first time he was ever seeing your body at all. Like the two of you hadn’t fooled around in the showers in the living quarters only two days ago, but considering all the two of you had been through, two days ago felt like 2 years ago. 

“I’ll never leave your side again, Connie. You’ll never have to worry about me again I can pro-”

“I think I’d miss your soft breasts the most.” The feeling of the buzzcut comrade’s warm mouth engulfing your brown areolas and gently flicking his tongue over the hardening bud that was your nipple cut your sentence off prematurely, not even noticing that he had pulled your undershirt down to the point where both of your breasts were exposed and spilling over the top. With a plop he pulled away and gave the next nipple the same treatment, tongue swirling over it in a way that turned the butterflies in your stomach into moths. It didn’t take long at all for him to pull away from them completely and begin to trail kisses down your stomach.

“I always did like rubbing your stomach and tracing over your stretch marks too. I go crazy everytime I see them peek through whenever you reach up to grab something high.” Compliment after compliment was mumbled into your soft brown skin. His hands moved to your thighs to spread them open, softly kneading at the thick flesh while profanities slipped from underneath his breath in amazement. There wasn’t a body on this earth that compared to yours in his eyes. Even as he was dying to place his head in between your thighs and bury his face in your pussy while he devoured it like it was his last meal, he decided to take his sweet time to make this experience more sensual and passionate with a side of pain for the both of you as he drug this out. 

“Connie, please.” You whimpered out in an attempt to get him moving. “I need you so bad right now.”

Little kisses were littered from you ankles up to the inside of your thighs until finally he spread them apart with his hands. Just the sight alone of your pussy dripping with arousal all because of him could get him off alone.

“God, you’re soaking wet just for me baby, hm? Of course you are, you in all of your entirety belong to me.” Nimble fingers dig into your folds to collect your slick, travelling it back up to your clit and working it in with his index and middle fingers with clockwork motions. Enjoying the way you squirm underneath him. He gave you no warning at all before he was removing those two fingers from your clit only to plunge them inside your hole while his mouth immediately went to your protruding clit, sucking and licking at the sensitive bud fast enough to accumulate some spit that made the process to your orgasm all the more messier just how he liked. His face flushed against your aching clit that was practically welcoming him back home, your hips bucking up and grinding up into his face for added pleasure that left you a whimpering splayed out mess against the sheets of the bed. His fingers moved in a fast curled motion that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and with the mixed pleasure of his tongue and spit abusing your poor clit, it wasn’t long at all before you were gushing all over his fingers and mouth. 

“Oh fuck, Connie!” You yelled out at the height of your orgasm, him only humming in response against you as he picked up his movements to help you ride out the much needed orgasm.

“I don't know what I would do without the taste of your sweet pussy in my mouth, I never tasted anything better.” He continued on with his compliments as he pulled away from your cunt, face glistening with your orgasm and your juices dripping down his chin, but he didn’t mind at all and the image was surely going to be added to your spank bank for future references. 

“What else do you want, baby girl?” Connie asks as he positions himself so he’s now hoovering over you, fingers gently stroking your oversensitive clit as he awaits your answer. 

“You. I want all of you.” You reply even though there was no need for a verbal reply because the moment the question left his lips you were already helping him out of his uniform as quickly as possibly. As soon as it was off of him he repositioned himself between your legs, thick erect cock in his hand as he guided it to your already slick hole, teasingly rubbing his tip up and down your slit before entering you with ease due to your previous preparement. No matter how many times the two of you fooled around with one another, you were always shocked with just how full he always made you feel, like his cock was made specifically to fit inside of you and he’d agree completely if you ever told him this out loud. 

Your arms wrap around his bare back to pull him down closer to you as he delivers gentle sensual thrusts into your cunt that has you feeling every inch and curve of him. Soft murmurs of ‘I love you’s leaving both of your lips in between broken moans. You’ve never felt so at home then how you’ve felt in this moment; your lover’s arms wrapped around your torso and vice versa as he made the sweetest love to you that had your toes curling against the thin sheets of the bed. No one worked your body as good as he did and this session proved just that, pants leaving your lips and your eyes rolling to the back of your head with each thrust. He was your heaven on earth.

“I’ll always protect you from now on.” He spoke up between pants as he sped up the movements of his hips, feeling the two of you rapidly begin to reach your orgasms yet again. It was the clenching of your walls around him and throbbing of his tip each time it grazed over your sweet spot that gave it away. He knew your orgasm was approaching fast, and he wanted to give you what you needed. Connie used one of his hands to slide between your bodies to rub fast circles on your clit. His gesture sent multiple jolts of pleasure through your core, helping you archive your second orgasm. Your grip on him tightened as you reached your peak, your pussy clamping down on him and you whispered his name through moans of pleasure.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me please, cum inside of me Connie.”

It was those words leaving your lips that egged him on and sped up the pace of his thrusting until his own orgasm snuck up on him and had his whole body shuddering against yours, thick long warm webs of cum shooting up inside of you. Immediately after achieving his high he broke down on your chest, all the tears and emotions he had been holding back all day finally coming into play. 

“Please, please, please never leave me again y/n,” He sobbed out against your chest to the point where it began to dampen from tears. The arms he had around your torso tightening dearly around you as he held you close for comfort.

“I won’t ever leave you again. I promise.” You assured him as you ran your fingers through the short cut of his hair, holding him in your arms as you allowed him to get all those emotions out.

[rebeccccccaaa]

ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʙɪɴ

_________________________

ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: (ANON) Would you please do a part 2 of the Wakanda Bucky imagine „down by the lake“ where he has his new arm ? ❤️ 

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: smut 18+ (rough sex? Idk man lmao)

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: idk why but i don’t really like the way i wrote the smut idk but i was taking too long to write so you be the judge ig *sad face and cries* also i know his place in the movie is like a hut but i just made into a small cabin i didn’t think it was a big deal

________________________

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ

“Stop,” you smirked.

“What?” Bucky chuckled.

“You’re staring and it’s distracting.”

Bucky was in the lab with you as you put the finishing touches on his new arm. He had a chip, as freaky as that sounds, placed on the sensory cortex of the brain so that he can register feeling through the vibranium that you and Shuri co-created.

Bucky sat beside you waiting for the initial placement of his arm and just stared at you admiring the way your face scrunched adorably because you were insanely focused. It's been a few weeks since the day you first spent the night in Bucky’s arms; or arm really.

Since then especially he’s been so ridiculously cuddly and touchy. He’s always pulling you close to kiss you or whisper something not so appropriate in your ear that always made you giggle and roll your eyes; but not without turning hot and flushed.  

He always looked at you with nothing but pure adoration and desire and it gave you butterflies everytime. His lingering touches on your arm made your skin burst into chills and when you looked away you could still feel his eyes lingering on your figure and that sent shivers down your spine. 

“I can’t help it, you’re beautiful,” he said cheekily.

“Get a room, you two. Gross,” Shuri shouted across the room making you and Bucky laugh. 

“I think we’re finished,” you smiled.

“Really?” he asked excitedly.

“Shuri, come!”

In no time, you and Shuri successfully attached Bucky’s brand new arm, black vibranium with gold lining; it was very sleek and cool and Bucky looked at it in awe. He moved his fingers around and closed his hands into a fist. He looked at every detail his arm had and he was just in complete shock. 

“I can feel the breeze,” he whispered.

You smiled and grabbed his new metal hand and intertwined your fingers with them. His eyes widened and he squeezed your hand harder. His hand was cold against your but Bucky felt the warmth from just the palm of your hand. He couldn’t think about what the rest of your body would feel like.

He hugged you and Shuri tightly before turning to you with a giant smile on his face. 

“Meet in the cabin?” he whispered.

“Of course.”

Hours later and you found yourself heading down the hill to the lake where Bucky’s cabin was. The cabin that you two spent so many nights together already; and you wouldn’t want it any other way. He was in the water making small waves with his metal hand and you smiled. You were so proud of him and yourself for this project that’s the start of changing his life for the better.

“I can feel the water,” he said sensing your presence behind him. 

“I don’t think I need to ask if you like your new arm,” you giggled as did he.

“Come in, water’s warm.”

“I don’t have a swimsuit.”

“So?” he smirked.

You bit your lip and looked around knowing there wouldn’t anyone near but you still made sure. You took your shirt and pants off leaving you in your bra and panties and quickly ran to the lake before slipping in to let the warm water come to your waist. 

You wadded through the water coming up to Bucky who smiled and wrapped his arms around you pressing light kisses to your shoulder. Your hands came up, his arm passed his shoulders to his hair still long and wavy; those strands you loved to pull on when his head was settled between your thighs.

“Thank you, darling,” he whispered into your ear. 

“Of course, you deserve it,” you smiled at him.

“I think I have a promise that I need to uphold,” he nibbled on your ear seductively.

“Oh yeah? Care to refresh my mind?” you smirked.

“I’m gonna fucking ruin you so good, baby girl,” he growled before dragging you out of the lake by your hand. You two ran to the cabin giggling, once you stepped inside Bucky’s metal hand wrapped itself around your throat and pulled you close to him.

“I want you on the bed on your knees naked waiting for me. I’ll be right there,” he whispered making you grow wet in anticipation, your stomach fluttering at the tone of his words. 

You scurried away to his bedroom getting rid of the wet garments that stuck to your skin uncomfortably. Your body grew cold from being wet but the heat in your belly grew and the cold air around you didn’t matter anymore. You crawled to the center of the large bed and waited patiently for Bucky to walk through the door. You trembled with eagerness, excited and aroused for him to come and completely ruin you. 

“Ready, babygirl?”

You nodded shyly.

“Words,” he demanded.

“Yes, sir,” Bucky smirked devilishly at your obedience.

He was already shirtless and stalked towards you, crawling on the bed like an animal. You bit your lip nervously but Bucky pulled it from between your teeth and traced it with his metal thumb. He could feel the ridges of your lip and he could get over it. He knew what they felt like, he touched them a thousand times by now but he seemed hyper aware of everything he touched with his left hand. He hadn’t felt anything in that arm since nineteen forty-five. 

He leaned down and kissed you softly, taking you by surprise; you were ready to get railed into the mattress but Bucky was kissing you like a shy teenage boy again.

Needily, you dipped your fingers in the waistband of his wet pants he still had on but Bucky didn’t want you in control. Weeks ago he made a promise and boy was going to keep it. He wrapped his hand around your throat again harder this time and moved you away from him; you stared with wide eyes, your breathing quickened.

“Did I give you permission to touch me?” he whispered.

You shook your head as best you could given his hand around your throat. When you did so he gave that look warning you to use your words.

“No, sir,” you whimpered.

“Good girl,” he moved back looking into your eyes as he took his pants off. You wanted to touch yourself so bad but you didn’t dare without his permission. You felt flustered and hot and the arousal dripping from you wasn’t helping. 

“Come here,” Bucky stood at the edge of the bed with his erect cock in hand, slowly pumping it. You excitedly crawled forward replacing his hand with yours. You leaned forward arching your back and wrapped your lips around his cock. 

Bucky rubbed your back softly biting his lips as you circled your tongue around his tip. Your hand continued to pump what couldn’t fit in your mouth because lord knows Bucky packs a lot. Tears brimmed your eyes as you suck on his dick. 

Bucky tossed your hair and gathered it into his hand into a ponytail. You looked up at him through your lashes and Bucy almost came from the sight alone. Your hand wrapped around the base of his cock and played with his balls before pumping up and down what your mouth couldn’t take. 

“Fuck, baby. Sucking my cock like a fucking slut.” 

All you could do was simply moan around his cock. You moved your hand faster desperate to make him cum but Bucky pulled you hard by your hair pulling you off his cock.

“I wanna cum inside you babygirl,” he breathed out. 

“Turn around,” he said with a stern voice; you giggled and turned around compliantly, subtly wiggling your ass to tease him. 

Bucky rubbed his hands on your cheeks softly before bringing a hand up and striking it down to smack your ass hard. You yelped in surprise but the pain turned to pleasure and the tingles made you wetter. You bit your lip and your breathing quickened as you anticipated more spanks. 

“You liked that, didn’t you. Such a fucking whore; like getting spanked like a bad girl,” Bucky growled. 

“I’m your bad girl,” you smirked.

“Really? Does someone need to be punished?” he smiled playing into your little charade. 

“M-hm,” you practically moaned.

Bucky smack your cheek again leaving a bright red mark on your soft skin. He pumped himself a couple times just spreading his pre-cum round his shaft, not that he needed the extra lubrication; you were practically dripping down your thighs, legs damn near shaking with need and desperation.

“Gonna fuck you so good, baby,” he leaned down to whisper.

Your body trembled under him and upon feeling the tip of his cock nudge your entrance you squirmed around desperate for more. He chuckled lowly standing back up before sliding slowly passed your slick folds. 

You groaned at the incredible feeling of him completely filling you up. Never in your life have you ever felt so full, so right. His hips started moving faster and your arms gave out as you fell forward. Bucky’s hand rubbed up your back grabbing your hair one again.

He pulled it harshly and brought your body up flush against his. His lips brushed your ear as he spoke smoothly, whispering filthy things in your ear bringing you closer to your release. His metal hand came up to your throat and squeezed ever so slightly. Your eyes rolled back and Bucky chuckled wickedly. 

“Fuck, you feel so- ugh! So good,” you wailed.

“You gonna come? I can feel ya clenching around me; feel fucking incredible,” he moaned.

“Yes, please let me come; fuck!”

“Wait for me, baby. Don’t you dare come until I say so.”

Bucky pushed you down once again and his hips snapped into you even harder if that was possible and your entire upper body fell into the sheets. Your moans and whimpers were muffled and you gripped the sheets, your knuckles turning white.

He smacked your ass again rubbing your reddened skin softly. The slight stinging felt so good and you wiggled your hips in hopes he would do it again. When he did so, your body jerked in pleasure moaning loudly. You felt impossibly close to your release and you didn’t know if you’d hold on any longer.

“Bucky!” you whined.

“Please I need to come, fuck! I can’t hold it anymore!”

“Come on; let go, darling. Come all over my cock, make a mess baby,” he grumbled.

His hips stuttered signaling he was quite close to his high as were you. Your moans became high pitched and whiny and with pure adrenaline you lifted your torso up with your arms peeking behind you to find Buck panting hard. His head was thrown back and his eyes were screwed shut. Sweat lined his forehead and chest leaving him with a glowy sheen that made him look ethereal. 

You dropped your head down with tightly shut eyes just like Buck’s were and finally you felt that coil in the pit of your stomach snap. You came hard against him rutting your hips back making his cock reach impossibly deep inside you. Your back arched and your toes curled. Bucky grunted loudly above you squeezing the flesh of your cheeks in his hand surely to leave marks and bruises littered for you to marvel tomorrow morning. 

Bucky fell forward and littered faint kisses across your back and neck. You panted hard under him and Bucky soon got up to clean you off. Your body felt limp simply laying on the bed and when Bucky returned he chuckled at the state you were in.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you mumbled; the burning sensation between your thighs becoming apparent.

“You ok?” he asked sincerely when you winced trying to move.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, “I think I’m ok.”

“Good, can’t have my best girl falling apart on me now. Not when she just gave the greatest gift of  a new arm. Think of all the ways I have yet to do with this arm,” he whispered huskily making you giggle. He pulled close to him after crawling back onto the bed with you.

“I like that,” you smiled.

“The arm?”

“No, well yes of course, I made it,” you chuckled.

“I’m talking about you calling your best girl. Am I really?” you asked shyly.

“Of course you are,” he kissed your forehead.

“You make me the happiest man alive,” he whispered.

“Bucky,” you teared up.

“Get some rest, baby. You’re gonna need it,” he winked at you; you pressed kisses to his neck and jaw closing your eyes tiredly before Bucky turned you and cuddled you close from behind.

“I’m nowhere near done with you,” he gently wrapped his metal hand around your neck; a reminder that he was there behind you and he wasn’t gonna leave you.

==============

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: 

Wanna be added to a taglist? Ask me!

@mathletemadison

@buckybarnes101

[l4verq]

remnants (1)

ransom drysdale x reader

in which you have to protect ransom drysdale because he has the same face as steve rogers, your ex who’s gone back to peggy

warnings : fights, guns, hostage situation, tiny bit of violence

if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk in the comments💗

ʀᴇᴍɴᴀɴᴛꜱ

*not my gif*

-

ransom’s seen pretty much everything.

travelled around the world, eaten the finest delicacies, snapped away for five years into non-existence all because of a purple, ball-sack face alien.

or so he thought.

because sitting here cuffed to a chair infront of you barely conscious, he begs to differ.

how did the night get so fucked so fast?

“hey.” he extends his leg, trying to nudge yours desperately.

you were a sight to behold with your hair undone, dark locks tousled around your delicate neck.

but ransom can’t afford to marvel at you, in fact the first thing he needs to do is get the fuck away from you.

because the way you’d jammed that glass cup up that bartender’s throat without a second thought, you were no ordinary woman.

“psst, hey.” He tries again, eyes skimming over the room.

they probably were holding them both for ransom.

hell would freeze over before he gave any of his money to those fuckers who chained him up like a dog.

you stir around slightly as you slowly open your heavy eyes. a groan slips out when you try to adjust yourself, only tightening the hold on your hands.

“good, you’re up.”

you lift your head to see a bloodied ransom across you.

slumping back into your seat, your body cries out in pain at the slightest movements.

as soon as you’d tasted the martini, you knew it was an ambush, thankfully spitting most of it out.

but it was too late, the drug almost instantaneously taking action, making you groggy.

the last thing you vaguely remember is dragging ransom out only to be whacked out cold, seeing stars.

“what’s going on? hey, are you going back to sleep?”he asks, straining his leg out to nudge yours again.

“you just don’t shut up, do you?” you croak out, barely above a whisper.

“i’m being held hostage in this room,” his nose scrunches up, “so, I’m sorry if I’m just a little curious as to what the fuck is going on.”

he looks almost pitiful, dried blood on his forehead and desperation in his eyes.

reminds you of steve after missions when he would limp around, all bruised up.

your eyes flicker over to the one camera pointed right at you, but the way it was angled you knew your hands weren’t in view.

“do you know about the avengers?” you work on dislocating your wrist to free your hands chained behind you.

not exactly your favourite thing but it worked everytime.

he rolls his eyes and quirks an eyebrow.

“you think I don’t know the avengers? the whole ‘saviours of the world but we choose to remain anonymous’ crap?”

“well, you’re looking at one right now.” you give an umamused smile, slightly flinching at the wrench that causes a tear in your ligaments.

he probably wouldn’t have believed you if he hadn’t witness you take down six people with such ease just a few hours? ago.

“anyways long story short, you look just like captain america and for some reason hydra just can’t seem to get over that face of yours.”

he lets out a genuine laugh which only seems to intensify the throbbing pain in his head.

you were a whole other kind of crazy.

“steve rogers? no one’s even seen his face under that dumb cowl of his.” he snorts, noticing the slight shift in your face at the mention of steve.

“andy barber. jake jensen. colin shea. ever heard of them?”

another tear.

he shakes his head, his irritation only growing by the very second.

“a few months ago, each one of them started disappearing one after the other. the only thing they had in common was their faces. they looked exactly like you, like him.”

you clench your jaw as you position your wrist for the final twist.

the last one always hurt like a bitch.

“you’re crazy.” he huffs, in disbelief.

he knew he shouldn’t have gone to that stupid event, not let his mother get in his head like always.

he could be at home right now, in his lavish three bedroom villa overlooking the sylvan surroundings.

but here he was, tied up in a filthy room with an avenger.

you might have to agree with him on the crazy part because you’re regretting the whole dislocating thing when the last twist pulls through, pain nearly blinding you.

he can only watch in horror as he realises what you’re doing.

“no, like you’re actually insane.” he breathes out in disbelief as your hands slip out of the chain.

the door swings open, guns pointed right at you.

a particular face in the middle catches your eye as you recognise him.

“you know you’re not getting out of here that easy, right?” zemo chuckles, “broke those pretty bones for nothing.”

“you get blipped for five years and this is the first thing you do? somebody needs to get a life.” you slowly get up, hands raised (you think?)

you couldn’t really feel them anymore.

“sit back down.” he orders, gun pointed right at your head.

he yells at you to sit down again but the gun’s pointed at ransom now.

“holy fuck, dude, don’t point that shit at me. this is how 99% of the people in movies die.” ransom pleads, his eyes closed.

“he’s not steve, you know that. so, why are you doing this? I mean I know why I’m doing this.” you hesitantly sit back down, your ears pleased for once to hear the familiar whirring.

just a few more seconds. that’s all you needed.

he cocks his head, “doing what?”

“buying time.”

ransom’s seen enough action movies to know the probability of him accidentally being shot by any of the rain of bullets whizzing past you two right now is high.

too high for his liking.

he thinks he saw a red flying thing knock out zemo? before you pushed him down so hard the chair broke.

“jesus christ, are you trying to kill me?” He yells, his back throbbing in pain.

and all of a sudden, it’s quiet,a persistent ringing taking over his ears.

he opens his eyes to see you hovering over his face.

it’s weird, your lips seem to be moving but he can’t hear you.

and it’s all black.

“i just want you to know that what you did back there, that was stupid.” sam glares at you, in the rearview mirror.

“and dumb.” bucky chimes in.

you roll your eyes.

it was going to be a long ride to the safehouse.

the car bumps and ransom bounces around, his head hitting the top.

“jesus, hold him or something.” bucky turns around, looking at ransom’s unconscious body sprawled on the seat.

you scoot over closer to ransom, your hand guiding his head to your lap.

bucky turns back around, a grin creeping up to his face which you just want to punch off.

you look down at the bloody mess on Ransom’s forehead, fingers slightly grazing over it.

it was done with a blunt object, most likely the back of a gun.

you can’t stop staring at his face, the same lump forming in your throat again.

so you force yourself to look away, focus on the trees zooming past until sam stops the car infront of a small house, “we’re here.”

bucky hands you a bag of essentials, waving at you to go in, “we got him.”

the house is actually better than most safe houses you’re used to.

it has electricity and hot water and that’s already made it a top contender.

you head straight for the shower, stripping down to nothing while turning on the water.

you hiss in pain at the contact of water on your aching skin.

the water’s scorching hot but it’s the only way you feel clean.

you scrub off the grime and dirt like always, desperately washing away the dried blood under your fingernails.

a trail of reddish brown water as you wash your hair, nails scratching every surface of your scalp.

quickly changing into a set of clean clothes, you pull out a box of needles.

you’re sloppy with your stitches, maybe cause you’d gotten used to him doing it for you.

throwing your wet hair into a towel, you debate whether to clean his wound up or not.

but your hand is already reaching for the bag of first aid sprawled all over the sink.

“it’s just a nice thing to do.” you mumble, making your way to the living room.

sam’s passed out on the couch adjacent to ransom and you’re pretty sure bucky went out to get some food.

they’ve changed his clothes for him but the ugly bruise on his forehead only seems to be swelling up.

you sit down on the floor, rummaging through the box, pulling out cotton and antiseptic.

“am I dead?” he croaks out, slightly shifting.

you chuckle, looking back at him.

a few dabs of the brown liquid on the cotton.

“this is gonna sting.” You warn him before gently wiping the angry bruise.

he flinches, groaning in pain.

“where am I?”

“safe.”

“yea, that’s really comforting.” he looks up at you in annoyance.

you exchange to a new waft of cotton, still cleaning up the dried up blood.

it’s strange, how weird yet nice your gentle touches feel.

the way your lips slightly part and eyebrows knit together as you concentrate.

ransom never really had someone take care of him like this.

“wher’s Steve?” he asks the lingering question on his mind.

there’d been many conspiracy theories online, each one crazier than the other.

he again notices the slight clench of the jaw, the shift in your position at the mention of his name.

“gone.” you reply stoically, placing the gauze over the swelling wound.

a shit reply but he can’t bring himself to pry further.

you look down at his face, the familiarity of this catching you offguard.

after every mission, he’d force you to sit down and tend to your every wound, every scratch.

can’t have my girl walking around, all bruised up like that.

and you’d force him to sit down and do the same.

it was always so personal, standing between his legs, his hands around your waist while yours worked around.

“hey, you okay?” ransom lifts his head, regretting it instantly as pain shoots up his entire body.

you blink away the tears threatening to spill any second.

“yeah, I’m good. Get some rest.”

you fumble around, hurriedly picking up the first aid kit, your shaky hands doing little to help you.

you were clearly distraught and ransom had a sneaking suspicion why.

-

a/n : i dont even know if u can physically dislocate your wrist yourself lol, im just making shit up as i go lmao

[certifiedskywalker]

Pomegranate Chapstick - Peter Parker

It’s Winter in New York City. Not that movie magic kind of Winter that reeks of mistletoe and Hallmark channel cliches. No, it’s no longer the Holiday Season and everyone is back to school after Winter Break. Peter Parker is happy to be back because being back means being able to see you again. Though, something is different about you but he just can’t place it.

“What is it?”

“Y/N…”

“Yeah?” Ned looked in the same direction as Peter, who, suddenly self conscious, turned his friend back around to face him. “What is it?”

“Don’t, don’t look! I just…” Peter found that his eyes trailed back over to where you talking with MJ. Your eyes were bright, hands gesturing about you as your friend shared you into a passion. Despite your movements, Peter found himself drawn back to your smile.

“Something’s different,” he finished, “but I don’t know what.” 

“It’s only been like two weeks. It was Christmas literally a few days ago.” Peter glanced warily at Ned before he looked back to you. You were still smiling. The sight made his chest tighten, stole his breath directly from his lungs. “Pete?”

“You remember Homecoming,” Peter pointed out as he met Ned’s eyes, “that all happened in a week and I almost died. Twice! Anything could have happened over break.”

Peter let his eyes wander back to you. Whatever MJ was discussing with you was enthralling. You were completely consumed, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. Slightly hidden under all of the layers of Winter clothing you were wearing, you looked warm, aflamed and bright. Suddenly, you threw your head back, laughing at something MJ had said.

The sound sent a shiver down Peter’s spine that he tried to pass off as a response to the cold. He pulled the sleeves of his jacket over his chilled hands and adjusted the strap of his backpack that dug into his shoulder. Ned blinked at him a few times, too close of a friend to not notice Peter’s nervous ticks. 

Eventually, Ned glanced over in your direction too. “Well, Y/N seemed alright. We had Advanced Geometry together and we talked.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Really? Did anything happen?”

“From what Y/N said, your Winter break was way more eventful, Spiderman.” 

Peter knocked the back of his hand against Ned’s shoulder to hush him. Classmates continued to file out of the school, laughing and chatting about the less than glorious return to academia. Peter eyed them all as they stepped down the stairs to the streets of the city. None of his peers seemed to have picked up on Peter’s secret. Satisfied his identity was safe, Peter glanced at Ned with a warning balanced in his frown.

“Sorry,” Ned said, raising his hands. 

“Gotta be more careful.” Peter glanced around at the faces of his classmates once more. Everyone was too caught up in leaving school for the day to notice the worried look on his face. All except you when Peter accidentally met your eyes. Quickly, he tore his gaze away and stared directly, wide-eyed, at Ned.

“What?”

“Y/N.” Ned glanced over in your direction.

“Headed over with MJ. Why?”

Peter’s face warmed to the point where the scarf wrapped around his jaw was pointless. “And? Does...is...do I look okay?”

Ned squinted before his lips broke into a wide grin. A laugh rattled in his chest and Peter felt a fresh wave of panic wash over his shoulders. 

“What?! Do I look-”

“Hey losers,” MJ greeted, standing by your side. Peter glanced at the curly-haired girl before he saw you gently elbowed her shoulder. He met your eyes and felt his lips instinctively curl up in a lopsided smile.

“Hi,” Peter said softly as he tried to steady his breathing. Now, with you closer, he tried to study you, sleuth out what was different.

“Hey! Do you guys wanna do something? Hang out?” 

Your smile was still as bright as your eyes as you asked. Maybe it was the ruddiness in your cheeks, spurred on by the cold that made you seem changed? No, that was too simple. 

“Nah, I gotta work,” MJ said. 

“Wow, you got a job?” Ned asked, causing Peter to glance away from your face for a moment. When he looked back to you, Peter found that you were looking at him. Though, you quickly looked to MJ, waiting for her reply.

“Yeah, over break. At the QuikMart.”

Maybe you got a haircut or, possibly, you dyed your hair and the color was fading back to it’s natural tone. Aunt May had dyed her hair a dark red one year. Peter remembered thinking there was blood in the tub when the pigment started to wash out. Though, even with his ‘Spidey-vision’, as Ned called it, Peter couldn’t detect a color.

“Awesome. Can you get me free slushies?” 

“Bro, I don’t even get free slushies,” MJ replied, frowning at Ned. “I gotta go, can’t be late. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“See ya,” you said, waving off your friend as MJ walked along the snowy sidewalks. Peter swallowed hard when you looked back to him and Ned. “What about you two?”

“I told my mom I’d be back after school to help her with my lola, my grandma.” Peter’s brow furrowed and he turned his head to look at Ned. “Really? You need help?”

“No, she’s coming over to make some food,” Ned explained as he started down the steps of the school. “I’m mom’s moral support.”

“Oh…”

“Well, have fun with that,” you said, bringing Peter’s eyes back to focus on you. “Maybe next time then.”

Ned let out another laugh. It was eerily similar to the laugh he gave Peter when he asked if he looked okay. Something about the sound made Peter’s stomach twist. 

“You two have fun!” Ned’s shout disappeared after him, down the sidewalk and into the city. His words left you and Peter alone. You glanced back to him with a soft smile on your lips. Peter couldn’t help but smile back at you, even though he did so nervously. His eyes flickered up to yours then back to your lips.

While your smile was unchanged, still yours and beautiful, he kept coming back to your lips. It had to be your lips that were different and Peter leaned in slightly to figure out how. Your eyes widened slightly and Peter’s face burned with realization.

“Uh, sorry,” Peter shifted back and let his gaze fall. “So, what do you wanna do?”

“I-I...to be honest, I don’t know. I just missed you over Winter break. Missed, all of you, I mean. MJ and Ned, and you.” You held Peter’s eyes for a fleeting glance before you busied yourself wiping snow off the steps with your boot. 

“Yeah, I,” Peter felt his chest tightened again, “I missed you too, Y/N.”

You looked back up at him, met his brown eyes and gave him a closed-lip smile. Silence fell over the two of you but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was easy, not tension filled and heavy. Being with you was always easy for Peter but this new nervousness that bloomed over Winter break was difficult to manage. He couldn’t let his eyes linger on you too long until fear took hold.

The silence too had its limit. “We should head over to the library maybe. You have Ms. Turner for chem, right? We could study together if you want.”

Peter fought the urge to cringe as his suggestion. In his head, it sounded better, more thought through. He had missed you and wanted to spend time with you. So, naturally, he had to recommend the quiet library. Maybe he was the one that was different, more awkward.

“Sure, yeah!” You started down the steps and Peter trailed after you. “She’s new and I’m a bit nervous about how she tests.”

“I’m nervous too,” Peter agreed as he fell into step beside you. “About the test.”

Peter glanced at you from the corner of his eyes and saw that you were already looking at him. Quickly, you both looked away from the other and started to walk silently towards the library. Every so often, Peter felt your gloved hand against the skin of his bare knuckles. Each time you touched him, a new sense of curiosity struck him. This quietness was different, he wasn’t sure that he liked it, and your hidden change still gnawed at him.

Mr. Stark had given Peter many words of wisdom. Always ask questions was, seemingly, his motto when it came to his ‘internship’. Though, Peter couldn’t find the words. Everytime he did, he second guessed. 

Hey, what did you get up to over break? New style? No, no, no! It had to be your smile. He was stuck on your smile, your lips. 

Finally, with nerves and desperation bubbling up inside, Peter let the words come out without thinking. “Y/N, are you wearing like lipstick or something?”

You laughed, drawing the attention of those around you. The last crosswalk before the library was fast approaching and Peter needed to find out what had changed before you were both doomed to a respectable quiet. 

“Lipstick? No, I am wearing tinted chapstick though.”

“Oh,” Peter’s brow furrowed, “I guess maybe that’s what’s different.”

“Different?” At your amused tone, Peter looked at you, brown eyes searching your face. There was a softness in his eyes and stole your breath away. His lips turned up slightly at the corners, the gentlest smile you had ever seen.

“You just...you look-”

A car horn, loud, alarming, and terribly frightening ripped through the air. Peter reacted to the sound, lurching forwards and wrapping his arms around your waist. Even with your bag slung halfway on your back, Peter was able to catch you as you nearly fell into the street. The car horn faded into the distance but your attention shifted from death to Peter in an instant. 

“Beautiful,” he finished. 

Finally, it clicked. You hadn’t changed, but the way Peter saw you had. The way he saw your lips had shifted too. More enticing than ever before. 

“Peter, I…” 

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” Peter said, quickly helping you back to your feet and out of the crosswalk. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you said with a swallow breath. Peter’s hands were still on you, thumbs gently rubbing your coat-covered, upper arm. Your eyes lingered on Peter, unable to tear them away.

His breath, and yours, came out in small clouds, chilled by the cold. Together, you made your own atmosphere and shared the same air. Adrenaline pumped through Peter’s veins, filled, not with curisoulity anymore, but want. He took a step closer. 

“Y/N?” 

“Yes?” You found yourself coaxed closer by his warmth. 

“Can...can I kiss you?”

You smiled again and nodded. “Yes.”

Peter leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. His fingers dug into the material of your coat softly. One of your hands reached up, cupped his face and accidentally knocked his hat off of his brown curls. Neither of you cared and, instead, savored your shared late-Winter kiss. Peter’s hands trailed up your arms until they gently held your jaw, keeping your lips on his.

Peter’s eyes stayed closed and a smile plastered on his face when you pulled away. A chuckle passed over your lips when you saw how your tinted chapstick left a faint stain on Peter’s lips. Carefully, you used your thumb and wiped what residue you saw away. Peter’s eyes opened at the touch and his smile widened.

“Pomegranate?”

“You like it?”

Peter pulled you in for another kiss after saying, “I love it.”

[barricadebops]

A combination of 2, 5, 7 and 11. For my loves E and R.

Prompts:

"Is there a reason why you're blushing like that?"/"OH you're jealous!"/"Please just kiss me already." /"I think I'm in love with you."

The creak of the door opened wide enough to spill streams of light into the dark room as Grantaire turned away and groaned, an arm draped across his eyes. 

See, it wasn't that he was sick or had a headache that he needed to stay in bed and rest, and that the light was currently unbearable. None of that was true.

The matter at hand was that the day prior, Grantaire had broken his leg attempting to help Musichetta move into her new apartment with Joly and Bossuet, and it seemed Bossuet's bad luck was spreading to infect others with the way Grantaire had tripped and fallen down the stairs, breaking his leg in a rather painful manner. 

Now that he thought of it, Bossuet was near him when the accident occurred. Yes, it seemed Bossuet was definitely spreading his bad luck onto the others, starting with him.

And the thing is, it was just a broken leg. It wasn't as if he had caught the plague and was going to die. But Joly ordered him strict bed rest for the rest of that day continuing into tomorrow, and as much of a jolly man Joly could be, he could also muster quite the threatening smile when it came to medical matters. 

So Grantaire wasn't taking chances. Besides, even if he wanted to, it's not like Enjolras would let him. His boyfriend was taking this whole role of "personal-carer" (he said he refused to call himself a "doctor" on accounts that doing so would erase the years of hard work people like Combeferre and Joly go through to become one--Grantaire personally thought it didn't matter because none of this was necessary anyways, but hey, what does he know) a bit too seriously if you asked Grantaire. 

His boyfriend. God what a sentence. Grantaire could probably heal himself with those words only if this were some magic-kids cartoon or something.

So no, he wasn't physically sick; he was sick of having to lie in bed all day. He didn't feel sick. He wasn't sick. Hell, he didn't even have a hangover. As long as he used his crutches, he could move along. 

But alas. Joly. If he was here, he knows Joly would make some sort of a jollity out of being confined to the bed.

His attention was drawn out of his head and back to the present as the bed dipped by his side and he pitched his eyes up to Enjolras' familiar blue pair. 

Well, there wasn't much positive about his predicament, but the extra time with Enjolras? That was likely the one good thing that came out of this. 

Not that he didn't get enough time with him. But any extra time he got to spend with him was all the better. 

By his side above him, Enjolras laid a hand on his chest. "Are you feeling alright?" he murmured, mindful of the silence that preceded his entry into the room. 

Grantaire grinned up at him. "I broke my leg, Enjolras, I didn't have a stroke." All the same, he raised his own hand to curl around Enjolras', brushing a thumb over his soft skin. 

"It was worth asking," was all he replied softly. 

He rubbed another circle on Enjolras' hand before raising it up to his lips and pressing a light kiss on it. Enjolras' smile grew more brilliant even in the dim of the room. He chalked it up to the brightness of his, as Jehan once put it in a poem, exquisite teeth.

At the red that bloomed on Enjolras' cheeks, he smiled and teased, "Is there a reason why you're blushing like that?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." 

"Why yes," he grinned harder at the way his blush grew darker, and he paused a moment to press another lingering kiss on his knuckles, "I would like to know." 

Enjolras carded a hand through his curls, prompting a satisfied hum from Grantaire. "Live in suspense." 

He reached up his hand not already occupied with holding Enjolras' own and twirled a finger around a stray curl on the side of Enjolras' face.

"I thought lecture ended at three? It's--" he glanced briefly at the clock-- "five now. I'm not trying to keep you trapped at home, I can tell from personal experience it's not fun, but you've gotta understand my curiosity here."

Enjolras hummed. "Well, one of your classmates--I think he said his name was Sadiq--he said you left your newest project in Dr. Alvarez' classroom, but that her room was still open. And I would have passed the building on my way back here anyways, so I thought I could bring it home so you could still work on it. If you're up for it, that is." 

Grantaire's eyebrows knit in concern. "Enj that canvas is by far one of the heaviest things I've painted on before. You walked all the way home carrying that thing?"

With a teasing smile, Enjolras said, "It's my secret superpower." 

He quirked an eyebrow. 

Enjolras chuckled. "Alright, no I didn't walk home. The canvas does have some considerable weight to it. But I did bring it home; Maxence was driving me home, and he said he wasn't in any rush. And don't worry, I'm the one who loaded the project into the car, I know it's important. And I made sure he drove extra slow and careful too. So… here I am." 

Quite on the contrary, the idea of Enjolras on an extra slow car-ride with Maxence didn't exactly please Grantaire. Really the thought of Maxence anywhere near Enjolras didn't please him. 

He knew these were his insecurities at play. He knew he should probably address them before his behaviour turned toxic. But really, there had to be some merit to his dislike and suspicion of the man. He saw the way he would look at Enjolras, the way his touches would always linger just the slightest bit too long. And of course, Enjolras, who himself was quite the tactile person with his friends, never thought anything wrong of it. 

But everytime he was there with Enjolras, offering "companionship" by walking out of class with him, or walking him to his next lecture, or offering to help study a concept at the coffeeshop a sizeable distance away from the Cafe Musain--Grantaire couldn't help it; he seethed. 

Some of that displeasure must have shown on his face, or must have made itself heard in the beat of silence he allowed to stretch on for just a moment too long for it to not have been charged, but not with any sort of buzzing of joy. 

Enjolras' face immediately faltered. "Is something wrong?" He hesitated. "Should I have left it?" 

And despite the fact that his mind was clouded over in a haze of resentment at the mention of Maxence, he still had enough of it in him that he couldn't stand the way Enjolras' lips pulled down at the corners. He forced a smile on his lips as he strained to say, "No, why would you ever think that? Your mind, Enjolras, I swear I don't know where you get your ideas from sometimes, it's unreal--"

"Grantaire," Enjolras interrupted. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question. 

But Grantaire himself had never been one for answering what had been asked of him, so instead he smirked a little this time and lightly squeezed Enjolras' hand still held in his own. 

Sighing, he could tell Enjolras knew there was no point in pursuing a topic he knew he wouldn't get answers to, so instead he shifted and moved Grantaire head up off his pillow so he could instead lie his head in Enjolras' lap. He let out a contented sigh and burrowed closer as he felt his boyfriend's hand slip into his curls, stroking softly.

"Combeferre and Courfeyrac really need to sort things out," Enjolras murmured quietly. "I swear I'm going to lose it with the pining in that house. It's thick enough to--"

"To cut with a knife?" he finished lazily. Enjolras hummed an affirmative.

"Exactly. I mean, how any two fools can be this oblivious I have no clue. Courfeyrac keeps going out of his way to do all these things for Combeferre, and while I generally don't like using this phrase because of the way it tends to imply that romantic relationships are somehow superior to platonic ones even though that's not true at all, it's clear to anyone that Courfeyrac's trying to show he thinks of Combeferre as maybe more than a friend, and I don't know how Combeferre--who himself is clearly in love with Courfeyrac!--can miss them, I mean the gestures are clear enough--"

He hummed distractedly, too taken with the way Enjolras' hand felt in his hair. "Like the way Maxence drives you around all the time?" 

The hand in his hair stopped stroking abruptly. "What?" 

Grantaire peaked his eyes open in confusion before shutting them closed again, wondering why Enjolras stopped before the memory of the last few seconds struck him hard enough to make his eyes fly open once more as he realized what he said. 

"Wait, no, I--"

"Why does that matter?" 

He glanced away nervously, only to find once he looked back at his boyfriend, that Enjolras didn't look angry or even miffed. If anything, there seemed to be a hint of a smile playing at his lips. 

His throat dried; he wasn't exactly sure how he was supposed to react. "I…" 

Enjolras tilted his head, peering into his eyes with a sort of intensity it seemed only he possessed, though offset just the slightest bit by the way he seemed to be biting back a smile. "What's wrong with that? In fact, it's better when considering carpooling is a good choice to reduce emissions--though not the best way, mind you--and it saves time too. I don't see what's wrong. Maybe it's his vehicle?"

"Enjolras--"

"Or maybe--wait!" Enjolras' grin broke out in full this time. "OH you're jealous!"

Grantaire let out a long-suffering groan. "You're going to tease me about it?" 

Enjolras made a dramatic show of thinking. "Well," he started, "if I did tease you, you would kind of deserve it for being stupid enough to be jealous of someone I clearly see as a friend." 

"Well he clearly sees you as much more than that," he muttered darkly in reply. 

Enjolras pulled a hand through his hair, though this time was more to call attention to his eyes once more. "I know that, Grantaire. And I've been meaning to talk to him about it, too," he said softly.

His eyebrows crinkled in confusion. "Wait, you--?" 

"I'm not entirely oblivious, you know," he continued with a hint of amusement. "I know that he's been… trying to get past the territory of friendship. But of course, I'm not exactly looking for that with him. And I'm going to talk to him about it soon." He paused for a second before continuing on, "You, however, should comfort yourself with the trust that I hope you have in me, enough to know I wouldn't be dishonest to you in that kind of way ever."

He sighed. "I know. I don't doubt you, I just…" he trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence, even if he could recognize the emotions swirling around in his head. 

Enjolras cupped his cheek, and he gazed above into his face, an expression so gentle it almost made one wonder how it could turn severe, though it did happen on occasion. "We'll talk about this later, but we will talk about it," is all he said. 

"I'm sorry." 

Enjolras leaned forward, his curls reaching low enough to tickle Grantaire's forehead. "You are forgiven," he whispered before pressing a soft kiss to his skin.  

Grantaire closed his eyes took a moment to revel in the feeling of Enjolras' lips on his skin, humming in content for the while they lingered, and attempting to stifle his disappointment when he drew back. Of course, his attempts were no good and Enjolras laughed.

"Too quick?" he asked, teasing. Grantaire opened his eyes once more and grinned. 

"Always too quick. Would it be too fast to ask for another?" 

"That depends." Enjolras scratched softly at his head. "What's the magic word?" 

Grantaire's grin grew. "Magic words, you mean. All hail Feuilly our saviour."

Enjolras let out a surprised laugh. "While that is true, it wasn't what I was looking for." He shrugged his shoulders and smiled down at him mischievously. "Looks like no kiss for you--"

"No!" he interrupted. Enjolras' laughs grew more vibrant, making Grantaire soften at the sight of it. "Please?" 

"Hm. Please what?" Enjolras continued to tease. 

"Please just kiss me already."

This time, when Enjolras' lips kissed his own, he could feel the way they stretched into a smile, prompting Grantaire to smile into the kiss too. 

When Enjolras drew back, Grantaire had thought he had never seen quite so lovely a sight in so long. If Enjolras at his most fiery was like the radiance of the bright sun, then at his gentleness he had to be the soft colours of the morning's dawn. 

And for Grantaire, who had for so long seen only dark night, it was surely a most beautiful sight. One that ought not to be corrupted with a toxicity such as jealousy.

"I think I'm in love with you," he muttered in amazement. 

At that, Enjolras' smile simply grew even more dazzling.

"I'd sure hope so, or this engagement ring you bought me really would have been a bit of a waste," his fiance said, joy evident in his speech. "But know that I love you too."

[spookypotato]

Leo’s 20th Birthday

Sooo It’s already the baby’s birthday here and I dont want to wait, so let the fluff begin!

Happy birthday, Leo! ☀️💛 Nutter butter baby! He will always be the baby, but technically he’s not even a teen anymore. Anyway. I hope you enjoy.

Birthday-boy and boyfriends by the incredible @lumosinlove

Idea from @noctualilith thank you

Yes, I am excited about a fictional characters birthday. Everyone that knows this ray of sunshine would fall in love. 

CW: there is a bit of food mentioned

When Leo was 13, he celebrated his birthday with all of his best friends. Eloise made him a lemoncake and Wyatt took them out on the boat to go swimming. It was the last birthday, where he felt completely free in his actions.

When Leo was 14, he got his first crush. The first one he realised was a crush at least. He told no one. He was too afraid, not even of the teesing. He was afraid, because it was a boy. His friend to be exact. His birthday party was fun for him, he didnt know about the other guests. He focused on his friend. He wanted to spend the whole party with him. And they were friends, he could. So he did and he had fun.

When Leo was 16, he decided to tell his friend. Since they spent so much time together, his crush never really faded, so after two years he just decided fuck it. If it went horribly wrong, he didn‘t care anymore. He needed this out of his system. So Leo told him. His friend didn‘t feel the same, but he didn‘t seem to mind about Leo. He did tell him however, that it should rather be kept a secret, because if the others found out, he might even be thrown off the team. This was what terrified him. Before, he was scared of maybe loosing his friends, now he was scared of loosing everything. He‘d worked so hard for being where he was. He had a chance of playing in the NHL, if he kept it up, at least that‘s what his coach was telling him. So he decided to hide it.

When Leo was 17, he told his family. Leo gathered all his courage and told them at a family lunch. They had the best reaction he could have wished for, really, but he had lived to long thinking it‘s a bad thing, so he assumed they were just being nice parents. When they made him a bracelet however, he knew they hadn‘t lied. They wouldn‘t have thought about giving him this gift, if they had been disapointed in their son. They showed him, they were proud. He knew now, whatever happend, he would have his family standing behind him, supporting him. He could at least be open about his feelings, where it mattered the most, home. He could let himself go, gush about that cute boy he saw in the coffee shop and feel excepted everytime his father mentioned Leo at his age, settled down with his maybe-husband by then, possibly with children, running around in their backyard.

When Leo was 18, he got drafted into the NHL. His dream came true. All the sacrifices he had made to get there, were finally worth it, because he could turn his passion into his career. All the boys, he had forced himself not to look at for too long, so people wouldn‘t even question him. All the girls he had pretended to be interested in, those moments were worth it. He felt amazing. He achieved what he had worked for, but now he was facing a new problem. Even though Leo was a gay teenager, the naked guys walking around weren‘t actually a problem for him. Well, not all of them. Of course, the world was against him and chose two incredibly attractive people, who he couldn‘t even look at too long, nevermind kiss or date, to go with his NHL-goalie-gryffindor-dream package. He had to prove everyday how much he wanted to play hockey and how much he was willing to sacrifice.

Before Leo turned 19, he was hiding. He lived a dream, that slowly broke his heart. He was playing professinal hockey and loved it everyday, but he was also pretending everday, that he didn‘t want. So he hid it, because hockey was his dream and now was the time for hockey. He could probably still find a nice boyfriend at 40 years old, if they even kept him that long. For now he planned on staying focused on his career.

But before Leo turned 19, he also decided to just throw those plans out the window and kiss Finn. He hadn‘t planned it- not to say he didn‘t want to do it- it just shouldn‘t have happen, but it did. The second their lips touched though, he forgot why he shouldn‘t have done it. How could this not be right, when Finn and Leo both wanted it so much.

For a moment, at the airport he was reminded, why it was wrong. Why he couldn‘t risk it now. But then he thought about it. Thought about how much happier Sirius had been, how even a NHL player could have, what Leo wanted. And so he tried his best to get it.

And he did.

His 20th birthday was a wednesday.

Leo‘s eyes opened in one go and his feet jerked up.

„Logan!“, he groaned sleepily. The brunet had bellyflopped onto him, shaking him awake in an instant.

„Leo, Baby, Peanut, Nutty, Butty!“, Logans face looked like he had surprised himself with the last name, „That‘s a new one, but it works“, repositioning himself better on his boyfriends chest, hands supporting his head, he smiled dopely up at Leo.

Leo let his eyes slip closed for another second, Logans weight grounding him and his warmth surrounding him. It was too early. They had practice and he knew that, but it seemed earlier than usual. He slowly opened his eyes and stared at their alarm clock.

„Logan!“, he groaned again, as he saw, that they were awake an hour too early.

Logan shifted, having layed down his head on Leo‘s chest, he tilted his head up to look at the blond.  „As much as I love that my name is the only thing on your mind right now, a, Finn must be getting jealous and b, we did actually have a reason to wake you earlier.“ Then Logan leaned up and started trailing lingering kisses up his boyfriends neck over his jaw, finally reaching his mouth.

Leo happily complied and kissed him slowly. They broke apart to soon in Leo‘s opinion, but it was all worth it to just see as Finn came in through the door, still only dressed in his underwear. He was carrying a small box, wrapped in newspaper and a bright yellow bow tied around it. He sat down on the end of the bed and Logan moved off of Leo and next to the red head. They looked at him expectantly. He sat up slowly.

„Happy Birthday, Baby!“, both Logan and Finn more or less shouted as soon as Leo looked at them.  He was a bit overwhelmed, but then remembered. Today was his birthday. He hadn‘t really celebrated it for a few years, he didn‘t even know why. This however, warmed his heart. Both the boys he loved so much, beaming at him from the end of the bed.

„You know how hard it is to keep up a normal conversation with you, before saying that? I promised this one though“, he shoved Finn playfully, „that I would wait for him to finish everything. But I had to wake you! It‘s your birthday! Happy birthday, Peanut!“

Leo wasn‘t even sure if Logan had taken a breath in between his rambling but he smiled softly at them. Felling their love warming him, even through the distance between them.

„You already said that.“, Leo commented, but smiled, „Thank you both so much. Come here.“

They both more or less jumped at him, Leo recieving the best cuddles and a few more whispered ‚happy birthday“s from Logan and Finn, until they were all wrapped around each other, Leo in the middle. It felt nice to be in the middle for once. He held Logan securely in his arms, slowly stroking a hand over his side, Finn wrapped up around him, making him feel warm and protected. He liked being the big spoon and having Logan in the middle, but he could see himself sneaking in the middle every once i a while.

„We can still sleep for a bit.“, he heard Finn say from behind him. He had gotten the blankets over them again and was already burrying his nose in between Leo‘s shoulder blades. „Sorry for waking you this early, Nutty. We had to prepare things.“, Finn stopped for a second, like waiting for Leo‘s reaction, but then continued, „and we just couldn‘t wait to cuddle you.“

Leo made a soft noise, his hand combing through Logans hair, who was already back to sleep, really more like you expected from an excited baby, rather than a professinal hockey player. It was only then, Leo thought about what Finn had said. Under normal circumstances Leo might have sat up upruptly and ran to the kitchen, to the inevitable mess that must be there.

„Whatever it is you did-“, Leo started, but then thought again.

He was surrounded by love, on his birthday. The love he had always desired to have, espcially on his that day. All the fun events couples in movies had planned for each other to make their birthdays special, he had always wished for that. He had always thought, he could never have that, but now he did. He had it doubled.

Snuggling back further into Finns chest he repeated, already drifting back to sleep, „Whatever it is you did, thank you.“