#So he tries to hard to compensate for it that it looks back into being a jackass

[hajihiko]

you read homestuck?? u seem like the type to have Opinions on dirk and/or dave /lh

Dirk was done fucking dirty by the narrative post-epilogue and I'm never gonna stop being angry about it

[kykyonthemoon]

Red Stains

You've got a new lipstick and can't wait to test out the color,

on his face.

✧ — Character x F!Reader ✧ — 16+, MDNI, suggestive themes, established relationships, soft fluff, touchy, marking ✧ — Requested by Wytchie Pie.

✿ Masterlist

✿ Request a fic

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒃

While Caleb was in the living room playing his video game, you walked in with a new lipstick. It was hard not to tease him more when you saw how committed he was to the game. Reaching him from behind the couch, you put your arms around his neck and raised his chin to meet your gaze. You leaned down to give his left cheek a kiss. Then you hurried out of the room.

Though a little taken aback, Caleb simply grinned to himself and carried on playing the game. Not even your scarlet lipstick on his cheek did he notice.

After a while, you returned to the room. You interrupted his match again like the first time and gave him another kiss, this time on the right cheek. With a scowl, Caleb warned you: "Don't be naughty."

But you did not listen. You went into the bathroom again to apply another layer of lipstick. When would he find out that his face was covered with your lip stains? He had such a cute and goofy expression. Should you not tell him, would people laugh at him when he got out at last?

Being laughed at was his punishment. For playing games all afternoon and paying no attention to you. You went back to the living room, sneakily behind the sofa again and encircled him with your arms...

All of a sudden, he grabbed your wrist, bending you over. He leaned his head back to touch your lips and locked it with a kiss. Surprised, you leaped back and attempted to flee. After hurling the console onto the chair, Caleb got up, circled the couch, and seized you.

His hands clamped around your waist, making you turn to face him. “I told you not to be naughty.”

As you looked at the screen with the large word DEFEATED displayed, you laughed. In response, you said:

“You lost because you're terrible at this game. It's not my fault.”

“You're still in the mood to tease me?”

Caleb made an angry face, but all you saw was a cute guy with two lipstick marks on his face. He still held you tightly in his arms to prevent you from escaping. He gently lifted you up so that your bare feet rested on his.

“You tried the lipstick marking thing on my face again, didn't you”

"How do you know that?"

“I can smell it.” Caleb smirked. He could position you against the couch with style in only one spin.

“Caleb?” You were a bit surprised. He still refused to let you go but pressed closer to you.

“Make amends.” Caleb said, his voice a bit coy, making you blush. Normally, it's you who wheedle.

"What kind of compensation do you want?..." You hesitated, but you had good reason to be concerned. Because as soon as you finished speaking, you felt a bit regretful when Caleb suddenly attacked you with a passionate kiss.

When he finally let go to let you catch your breath, he rubbed your head, causing your hair to go untidy. Your fingers still lingered on his shoulder, and your red lips seemed to be inviting for another kiss. Caleb could not let you win that quickly. He stepped back and said:

“Everything always goes your way. That's how it's been all along since childhood. I can't keep spoiling you forever.”

Feeling a little let down, you gazed into his eyes. Caleb's face had brilliant lipstick traces that your fingertips touched.

"Are you sure?" You inquired, and then you hurried to put both of your arms around his neck without waiting for him to respond. You raised your torso and enveloped his waist with your legs. All he could do was hold you, and then you would attack him with powerful, determined kisses.

Caleb laughed while you pulled your lips away long enough to take a breath. He was defeated, again and again. After all, he would always let you win.

𝑿𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓

You finished your makeup that day with a little red lipstick on the lips. Satisfied with the new lipstick and cosmetics Tara had just recommended, you glanced in the mirror. But when you turned to Xavier,you saw him dozing off on the edge of the bed. He was still seated, but his back was resting on a stack of pillows and his hand was gripping the plush bunny named Bunbun.

You intended to wake him up, but as you approached, his innocent face and soft snoring made you want to give him a little playful nudge. You placed yourself on the edge of the bed, as quietly as possible so as not to wake him up. Then you pressed your lips to his cheek, leaving a red lip stain.

Leaning back slightly, you waited for Xavier to stir, but he remained deep sleeping. You impatiently placed a kiss on his other cheek. Then one on the forehead, another on the chin... Just like that, soon light and dark lipstick smears were all over his face.

You gulped back a laugh. He was certain to become uneasy upon awakening. Unexpectedly, you were taken by surprise as well. His eyes were barely open when his fingers snatched your wrists and pushed you against the bed.

"Xavier?" You let out a startled exclamation. You felt his body pressing on yours, immobilizing you. He could easily lock both of your wrists together, forcing them above your head and holding them there with only one hand.

You raised your gaze to Xavier's face which was covered by lipsticks. Gradually, he opened his eyes. He was still drowsy, but he was fully aware of the damage you had just caused to his heavenly face.

“I can't believe you sneaked up on me while I was sleeping.”

You giggled, looking apologetic: “I'm sorry. Because… you look so cute when you sleep!”

Xavier pretended not to hear your apology. He tightened his hold on the area that was holding your wrist, and you let out a quiet cry. His other hand freely explored your face and his fingers paused at your lips.

"Your lip color has changed."

Xavier was always sensitive to even the tiniest changes in you. It gave you the impression that he was concerned about you and valued you. You gave a nod.

“And you brought my face out to test your new lipstick?” Xavier questioned. You became aware that his body was gradually dropping and encroaching onto yours.

"I've already... apologized," Your cheeks heated with his breath.

"That doesn't count." Xavier gave a sulky reply. "There will be an equal cost for you to pay."

"H-Huh?

Xavier leaned down and pressed his cool lips to your cheek, leaving a scorching, tingling trail.

“One here.” Xavier said, then he proceeded to kiss the other cheek. “Another here.”

“X-Xavier…” You made an effort to resist and came very close to escaping him. But your wrists were held even tighter. The other hand Xavier was holding around your neck tensed as well. 

"Be good!" Although his voice was still very gentle, you caught his impatience, almost like a command.

And you lied still, submitting to his authority as he inked your face with his own lip marks. On the forehead, nose, cheeks and chin. He planted a kiss on your face in precisely the same spot and sequence as you had just given him. You started to get a sense that Xavier wasn't actually asleep, and you were naive to fall right into the trap that was set up by his innocent expression.

At the same time, you relished the sensation of being beneath Xavier, his body heat enveloping you, and the sound of his breathing in your ear blended with every kiss.

The last kiss just ended. As you struggled to catch your breath, you said:

“A-Are you done? Can you…Can you let me go now?…”

The truth was, you never want him to let go. Xavier simply glanced at you and felt your emotions. He lifted your chin again so you could look into his eyes, while he gently parted your lips with this thumb.

“Did I say I would let you go?”

Your eyes seemed to be blurred by the heat between you both. You arched your head back a little, longing for his lips to meet yours once more. Xavier smiled triumphantly as his finger lightly slid across your lips, smearing a small amount of your lipstick out.

“You should have known there is a price for waking me up like that.”

𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍

That evening, while you were getting ready for the date, Rafayel showed up. He took a seat next to you and began fiddling with the makeup items on the table. His long fingers stroke the blush in the box, he waved it in the air, enjoying the color in his hand.

"Look at this. My hands are now the same color as your cheeks.”

You turned to look at Rafayel. He gave you a mischievous smile. With his other hand, he gently lifted your chin.

“Let me help you,” said Rafayel. You obediently sat still so he could apply the pink blush that was already on his hand to your cheeks, although you were certain that they were already pink even before applying makeup.

"Very lovely. The peach hue draws attention to your smile.” Rafayel exclaimed. "Even though you don't need makeup to look beautiful."

You smiled heartily. His lips were always so sweet, giving you more confidence. I had never seen yourself more beautiful than when you were next to him. Even without saying it out loud, the way he looked at you always made you feel like you were the most exquisite painting his eyes had ever laid upon.

“I'm almost done. All that's left is lipstick." You said while taking out a brand new lipstick from your purse. “Tara said this color would go very well with me.”

Rafayel took the lipstick from your hand and looked at its color through the transparent glass cover. Then he gave it back to you. “Go ahead and try it on.” He spoke excitedly, as if he was the one using this lipstick.

You twisted the cap open, applied a layer and pressed your lips together to spread the lipstick evenly. “Mmmh.” Before you could look closely, Rafayel anxiously put his palm on your cheek and drew you in.

“Let me see it...” Rafayel's fingertips playfully caressed across your face and ears while you held your breath. "Red. It truly does fit you perfectly.”

His thumb traced a line down the border of your lower lip, giving you a ticklish feeling. You could not focus because of how near his face was. You gently closed your eyes, then when he was too preoccupied staring at your lips, you leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

“You?!” Rafayel was startled. He withdrew his hand and touched the place you just kissed. A scarlet set of lips like a blossoming flower revealed itself on Rafayel's porcelain face.

"If you don't let me see my lipstick color in the mirror, I'll borrow your face to try it on." You laughed in response.

“What do you mean by that?”

As soon as he finished speaking, Rafayel was left with another lip mark on his cheek, just below the previous one. His eyebrows frowned slightly. His cheeks and ears were scarlet, he couldn't hide his embarrassment anymore.

“That is excessive.” Rafayel mumbled, yet behind that salty expression was a wry smirk. You applied another layer of lipstick on your lips to replace the first layer that had mostly faded. You commented:

“This lipstick tastes somewhat as sweet as candy.”

Hearing that, Rafayel immediately raised his face. He held your chin tightly in his hand and brought it very close.

“Really? I'd like to give it a shot as well.”

After saying so, he put his lips to yours. Before you could protest, you felt a slight pain in your bottom lip as you opened your eyes wide.

“R-Rafayel!” You gasped when he left your lips. Your lipstick was lightly on his lips as he licked it lightly.

“It does taste like candy!”

His mysterious expression confused you. You covered your mouth with both hands and reprimanded: "You just bit me!"

With a sly smile, Rafayel tipped his head and said, "I was only curious to taste your lipstick. Then, I realized something…”

Suddenly he came close to you again. His hand pulled yours down to reveal your red face and slightly swollen, color-smeared lips. He spoke again:

“You taste sweeter than any candy!”

Unsure of how to react, you observed Rafayel get back up. You followed him because you assumed he was going to head to the restaurant that you two had reserved. Just as you were getting up from the chair, Rafayel abruptly pulled you back and seated you entirely on the dressing table.

"Where are you going?" He asked while burying his face in your shoulder and hair.

“To our date?… We're already late…”

Rafayel's dissatisfaction was evident from his facial expression. He glanced back at you, his finger tracing across your lips as if he was painting a picture himself.

"The plan has changed."

He kissed you once more, and this time, the long kisses were broken up by little, painless bites that made you weak in the knees and found it hard to breathe. You pushed Rafayel back a little so he could slow down while leaning your back against the frigid mirror. However, the more you did so, the more he devoured your red lips.

“We can save that restaurant for another time… For now, let's stay here, okay?”

He said between rapid breaths. You nodded slightly. How could you refuse, when all your luscious lips wanted was him?

𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆

During Zayne's lunch break, you stayed in his office to make sure he ate enough and on time. It could also be said otherwise; it's him who made sure you're full and rest well before returning to the headquarters.

After lunch, Zayne sat reading a book on the sofa. You thought you would get out your new lipstick and give it a little play since you had nothing better to do. You barely learned the fundamental techniques and were too busy fighting Wanderers to wear makeup frequently. But the other day, Tara had just given you a new lipstick and said that this color would look good on you.

You put on a light layer. Since Zayne's workplace lacked a mirror, you turned to him and inquired, "How do I look?"

Zayne merely gave you a quick glance before turning back to the book.

"Alright."

"Alright?!" You said it again. By that, what did he mean? It was "okay" rather than beautiful? Yet, he couldn't even look at you for more than a second. You were a little hurt. You twisted the lipstick cap again and applied another layer.

"What about this?" You inquired with him once more. However, Zayne quickly responded with a "Mmhhh" to end the conversation. You turned your gaze from him to the book he was holding. It took away all of his attention, which he should be giving to you.

Refusing to give in to such an inanimate object, you turned completely to Zayne, pulled him back and pressed your lips to his cheek.

You released your grip, revealing your trophy — a vivid red lipstick mark — on his icy face. However, he continued to glare at you without saying anything. His hand turned the book to a new page and as if nothing had happened, he ignored you once again.

“You…” You let out a sigh. You knew he had his own concerns, but were angry at the thought that you were not important, not attractive enough for him, unlike a medical book. You gave it another go, kissing him very close to the lips this time.

Zayne breathed heavily. Although the expression on his face remained unchanged, you caught his hands holding the book trembling slightly.

“There is a medical appointment that I must attend in an hour. This kind of abuse on my face is unacceptable."

You felt like you had won when he closed the book and put it back on the table.

“Okay, let me tidy it up for you.” Grinning, you got up to grab the tissue box.  But you were drawn back by a strong force that very moment. Suddenly you found yourself sitting completely on Zayne's lap. His sinewy arms encircled your waist securely.

“If you want to leave marks on me…” You heard Zayne whispering so softly from behind. “You need to be a little more considerate.”

You sat still and let Zayne turn you around, facing him. Your heart was beating very fast. At this rate, before another patient came to see him, he would have to treat you first. You tried to stay calm in front of him and questioned:

“More considerate? Do you recommend any other spot then?” Your hand briefly touched Zayne's cheek before descending gently. You stared intently, lifting his chin. As you cuddled on his lap, little against the toned shoulders he covered beneath his shirt, Zayne shifted both of your legs so they were more comfortably positioned on the sofa.

Your fingertips paused at his neck, verging on his Adam's apple. You caught it moving slightly. “Or this spot?”

Zayne was clearly making every effort to maintain the residual calm on his face. His eyes were staring at you intensely from behind his glasses, as though he was granting you permission to do that.

And you leaned up to place a kiss there.

You heard a cough come from Zayne. He looked at you, extremely miserable. But you put your hand on the lipstick mark on his neck as if admiring another of your trophies. It did not stop there. You still wanted more, wanted to know what he would do if you went a little further...

Your index finger slid from his neck to his chest and stopped just above his heart.

“Doctor Zayne, your heart is racing.”

Your laughter was as crisp as sunshine in the room, increasing the temperature. Zayne took your hand, neatly holding it in his scarred one. He spoke, but you caught his trembling even though he was very discreet:

“Can you... cure me then?”

Your finger gently tapped on his chest. "Of course." You would always like it when Zayne let me be in charge, asking you to take care of him little by little. His hand loosened slightly, allowing you to freely find the buttons of his shirt and undo them.

Then, you put another crimson mark on his bare chest.

[celuere]

(I‘m so sorry anon, I deleted the request because I accidentally posted the unfinished part two on here, luckily I made a screenshot beforehand😭🙏🏼) BUT I THOUGHT ABOUT SOMETHING SIMILAR! As for the happy ending- I can’t guarantee anything🔥

My Hearth

Pt. 2 of The Hearth is now extinguished.

pairing: Arlecchino x fem!reader

context: after Pierro announced to you Arlecchino‘s sudden departure to Fontaine, you were sent off on an mission yourself. Little did you know that your paths would soon cross once again.

content: mentions of blood, arle is desperate actually, angsty, French Arle has my heart you don’t understand, pathetic lesbians in love, sesbian lex at the end (reader receives oral)

word count: 4.3k

Tried my best to create a good plot, so sit back, enjoy, and let me know if you liked it! <333

MDNI!

The Fatui had many ways of earning their income. Ranging from regular Business Deals, weapon trades to offering services such as personal security and assassins.

So that’s what brought you to Port Ormos. One week after Pierro broke the news of Arlecchino’s transfer to Fontaine, you were sent off to Sumeru for a mission of your own. There has been multiple recordings of Fatui Members going either missing or being found dead with the trading goods nowhere to be found at several secret routes all around Port Ormos.

You liked the Sumeru, the people were always nice and welcoming, the food was amazing but if it weren’t for this awful weather… It has been scolding hot the past days only for the sky to let all hell break loose right on the day of a very important step in your investigation. It was pouring down with no end in sight, making it hard for you to actually make out the faces and the number of persons present that gathered at the Harbor underneath the bridge you‘ve been spying on at them for the past 30 minutes.

You knew for a fact that one of these persons had to be Phillipp, the salesman from Mondstadt that has been providing the Fatui with firearms for several years now. The organization never really had any problems with him up until a few weeks ago when one of his guys got found dead on his trade route. Now he was demanding more money as compensation and only delivers now every once in a while instead of twice every week.

It seems like they were discussing something, conversation getting more heated with every minutes that’s been passing. Are they perhaps waiting for someone…? In the distance you could make out one of Fontaine‘s boat settling in the harbor. Your wet clothes were already clinging to you like a second skin, having to wipe the water out of your face to keep at least a slight overview on the situation. You were pissed to put it mildly.

This sucked huge ass.

In miserable moments like these your mind went back to her. To the way she looked at you. The way she held you. The way her hands roamed over your body in the dead of the night after you sneaked into her home or vice versa. You missed looking into those beautiful crimson eyes. Missed the way your hands always were secretly intertwined at every meeting underneath the table. Missed how her eyes would always find yours in a crowded place first.

You tried protesting against Pierro‘s demands but of course to no avail. His decision was already set in stone so next thing you knew you were shipped off to Sumeru with all the necessary information you needed and a small suitcase.

That was now eight months ago. Eight months filled with endless intelligence gathering, writing reports to your father, shadowing suspects and so on. You hated it. It‘s not that it was hard for you, not at all. It was just so, so dreadful and annoying. The only truly valuable information you got out of your intelligence network was that only trading routes to Fontaine were affected and that Phillipp was about to end his cooperation with the Fatui if his delivery guys keep dying. You knew there was important key information missing but for hells sake you were strictly prohibited to talk to anyone else outside of your network or else someone might catch wind of the investigation.

You were snapped back out of your thoughts as you noticed another person joining in on the conversation. They probably just got off of the ship that halted at the Port a few minutes ago. Just as everyone else, you couldn’t make out a face or what they were wearing since they were holding up an umbrella. They exchanged handshakes and probably introduction before they headed towards Djafar Tavern.

That was probably the person they were waiting for…

Along with the arrival of the mysterious new person, you also took notice of how Port Ormos seemed now much more… livelier despite the harsh downpour. The streets alongside the river that leads into the heart of Sumeru was suddenly bustling with guards. Fatui Guards. Usually this wouldn’t be a problem. But if people found out that Pierro sent his daughter to investigate, shit would be going up in a bright bonfire, so who exactly is interfering with your investigations? You pulled the mask of your hood back over your nose, ignoring how the rain already drenched the fabric and made a move to follow the small group of businesspeople to the restaurant.

That’s where your Cryo Vision came quite in handy because freezing the flooded floor underneath your footsteps silenced almost completely any of your movements and allowed you in most cases to follow suspects without being noticed. Sliding down the wooden surface of the big trees that’s been growing right through you landed silently right behind the destination. You quickly looked around you, taking in and analyzing your surroundings, noticing the several guards talking at their boat and obviously not really caring much how vulnerable they are right now or whatever task was bestowed upon them.

Around the corner on your right was the entrance, a Quick look around you proofed your suspicions: The place is already heavily guarded. You cursed underneath your breath, for the first time in months you were onto something and now you had no chance of checking things out. But you weren’t stupid, nor were you someone who gave up easily. So through some eavesdropping on the guards nearby you found out that they were actually going to stay a while in Sumeru City, probably until they wrapped up whatever deal they were working on. You decided to wrap things up for today and head back to your place before anyone might catch wind of your presence.

But still… on your way back home you couldn’t shake off the strange gut feeling that you already got noticed by a certain someone.

After taking a much needed bath you sat down at your desk and dipped your father into the ink. Much to your dislike, your father wanted you to write at least two reports to him, each week. For the entirety of your stay. You groaned as you massaged the bridge of your nose, this whole thing was ridiculous. For months you‘ve made absolutely zero progressions and all you‘ve been writing about lately is the weather, the food, when you woke up, went to bed and most importantly how many of your efforts went right down the drain. At least you could tell him about the arrival of a mysterious Fatui Official now. You had to make progressions soon or this whole situation will soon start making much more problems than just a few missing weapon and dead people.

When you finished you letter and reading through it one more time you realized how messy your handwriting has gotten over the last few months… You stood up from your desk either way and took the carrier pigeon out of its cage, attaching the Papier to its chest and securing it before opening your window sending it off. It would to be too risky right sent the letter off by post when it‘s addressed to the Jester himself.

Resting your arms on the windowsill with your head on top, you looked over Sumeru‘s beautiful green scenery. The rain just stopped a few minutes ago, leaving huge puddles and the wonderful fresh scent of moist earth and grass in the air. That’s when she started tormenting your thoughts again for the now millionth time in the last eight months. Celestia, you missed her. You missed her so much it actually sent a sharp pain through your heart anytime you thought back to her. You stopped wearing the color red ever since that day. It hurt too much. It reminded you of her too much. Everything was just too much at that moment.

The clouds above Sumeru City broke loose once again as the sheer reminder of her absence ripped through your heart like a bolt of lightning.

She was just about to head straight to bed as it knocked on the window of the secret Fatui HQ in Sumeru City. Arlecchino glanced over only to to see her pitch-black carrier pigeon waiting for her to open it up, a bloody harness along with a rolled up sheet of paper secured to it between its beak. She didn’t actually expect the bird to be of use tonight but it’s always better to be save than sorry so she let the small animal in, allowing it to rest on her arm as she loosened the dry sheet of paper from the harness and unrolled it.

Her eyes narrowed as she saw who the letter was addressed to. Wrinkles further forming on her forehead as she read through its contents. Arlecchino realized two things.

One: The stranger the she noticed spying on her and Phillipp earlier this evening was a spy of the Fatui themselves.

Second: She had to take care of this individual. As soon as possible.

The reason Arlecchino arranged a meeting with the fellow Mondstadter was because the House of the Hearth has been greatly affected by whoever is terrorizing the trade routes connecting the Court of Fontaine and Port Ormos. As Father it was her and only her responsibility to look after the children under her care and that they’re cared for, feed with a roof above their head. But that turned out to be rather difficult if someone decides to kill the damned delivery guys with the audacity to steal her goods. It was one thing to disrespect the Knave like that. It was a whole another topic if it came at the cost of her children’s health. So that’s why she ordered Philipp to meet her at Port Ormos and to be completely honest: That man didn’t have one clue what he was talking about when he tried to justify why exactly he is accusing the Fatui of tempering with the routes, just spouting tons of nonsense. He wasn’t playing stupid. Nobody in their right mind would play stupid in front of Arlecchino herself. So it left only one option on the table:

A third party being involved. She noticed one of the other businessmen, Rainer, at the table acting suspiciously quiet, only speaking up when spoken to but never actively providing useful information. But once Arlecchino mentioned the involvement of an outsider, Rainer almost immediately excused himself and left the Tavern altogether, earning himself a spot at the top of her list as Nr. 1 suspect.

But who exactly was that person she spotted on top of the bridge? Reading through the letter, she was 90% sure that it‘s the same person who wrote it but last time she checked there weren’t any high ranking Officials stationed in Sumeru lately.

So it‘s most likely a secret investigation.

This was starting to get on her nerves more than she‘d like. As if the whole trading route drama wasn’t enough already, she now had to deal with a secret investigator too and since she was already spotted, playing nice wasn’t an option anymore because according to Pierro’s demands, she‘s supposed to be in Fontaine. That’s why she didn’t ask for permission nor did she take any of the kids with her, leaving Lyney in charge for the time being.

Arlecchino set the pigeon free again. Contemplating her next steps as she gazed up into the dark-orange night sky. The sheer beauty reminded of something or rather someone. She‘d be a fool to admit it openly but ever since Pierro forbade her to ever do as much as look into the direction of you and promptly discharged her to the Nation of Justice, she felt hollow. As if something was missing. Probably the way she always held you close to her chest at night, fingers combing through your soft hair as she felt her mind settling down. Nights with you were always… peaceful. Not nearly as cruel and gruesome as usually and now that she is forced to stay away from you for a certain timeframe… it was a miracle for her to get more than two hours of sleep per day. She yearned for you. Yearned so much it was getting unbearable at times. But never in her right mind would she stay willingly away from you. Once she earned the Hydro Gnosis, she‘d make her next move. You.

And nobody will manage to stop her. Not even the Jester.

This was terrible idea. And a suicidal one at that. You knew better than to follow a strange woman into unknown territory, unarmed, the only thing at your disposal being your Cryo Vision.

It has been now raining non-stop for the past days ever since your observation in Port Ormos. And you‘re following someone. In the dead of the night. In your Pyjamas. How did you end up this situation? You overheard Philipp and one of his assistants outside of the window of your residence how they wanted to meet up with „her“.

So not wasting any time you slipped on your shoes and sneaked out of your window before following them silently outside of the city until you had to hide behind a rather large tree as they came to a stop, likely because they reached their meeting point. The only thing you could make out from this rather large distance where some hushed whispers and cursing before they retreated back into the City. And this was your chance to finally find out who this mysterious woman might be.

So daring a look behind behind the tree, the only think you could make out was a cloaked figure slendering the muddy path down. Did she want to maybe clear her head? Nonetheless you got your ass moving after her. And goodness you were freezing to death, you were throwing every possible insult at your own head for the amount of stupidity.

She knew someone was following her. Someone who was about to take their last breaths as she wandered down into the nearby forest. The rain was making it difficult for her to see much but that wasn’t any of her concerns. The main problem was the leaves of the various trees preventing any moon light from illuminating her surroundings. She could barely make out the direction of the path she was walking on. But Arlecchino decided that they were now far enough away from any possible witnesses so raising her fingers, a snap echoed through the woods.

Quiet. Everything was quiet. Not the bustling of leaves in the wind was to be heard, nor the downpour from above the trees. Not s single thing. The only sound you could make out was a snap. And now steps. From behind, in front, left or right you couldn’t determine until you felt a strong hand covering your mouth and a sharp object pressing against your throat. You winced against the strangers skin and felt a shiver so cold running through your body, you could feel aftermath still lingering in your bones as you felt a breath against the shell of your ear. You were careless. And you knew you had the to pay the price for it.

„Title. Occupation. Superior.“, a low, dangerous voice in your ear. An all too familiar one you almost fainted as you recognized it with ease.

Arlecchino. It all clicked. The sudden Fatui operatives scattered around Port Ormos. The boat from Fontaine. It wasn’t just any Fatui Officer. It was her. It took every fiber in your body to not make any sudden movements of start crying.

As she slowly lowered her hand from your mouth to let you answer, your voice was shaking with anticipation, ��Is that really how you greet your girlfriend in a dark forest, in the middle of the night…?“, and just as fast as those nails were pressing against your throat, they were gonna in an instant as you were whipped around to face her, a small fire hovering now next to your face as you looked into those deep-red x‘s.

It was rare of the fourth Fatui Harbinger to be surprised for once. Even shocked. But out of all things she didn’t expect to hear your voice. To look into those beautiful eyes when she turned you around by your shoulders. To see the tears slowly starting to form the longer she looked at your face. No words had to be spoken as she pulled you into a tight hug. So loving and warm, you couldn’t help but start crying into her neck, fingers digging into the fabric of her cloak.

„It was you… It was you all along, my sweet…“, she pressed a kiss to your ear, hand desperate gripping onto your waist as if she was afraid you‘d slip out of her hands if she held onto your cold figure too loose.

„My goodness, you are freezing, Cherie…“, she broke up the hug before taking off her cloak and wrapping it around your shaking body. Now cupping your face in her hands she took a closer look at you. And her breath halted. Even when your wet hair was clinging to your skin with those tears tainting your face, you were simply breathtaking, it was actually taking all of the Diplomats self control to not kiss you stupid until your lips were all swollen and hurting.

„Shhhhh… stop crying now… you know I don’t like tears… especially on your beautiful face, mon amour…“, gently wiping the tears away with her thumb, Arlecchino pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

„What are you doing here…?“, you managed to blabber out between sobs and sniffs. It was like waking up from a fever dream. Feeling her touch against your skin after so many months felt like a missing puzzle piece being finally found. You couldn’t help but cry even more at the sensation of her lips pressing a kiss to your wet forehead.

„Not here, my little dove, not here… you‘re going to catch a cold if we keep on standing here out in the wild…“, another kisses being pressed to your wet skin, you could tell by the grip on your face that Arlecchino was trying her best to not devour you here in the middle of the night against a wet tree trunk like a starved animal. She scooped you up into her suspiciously warm arms and carried you all the way back to Sumeru City until you reached your residence.

„How come you live right across from me but I never once saw you…?“, since you left your keys inside she had to pick the lock with her nails. As Arlecchino was concentrated you couldn’t help but still notice her middle- and ringfinger on her right hand still being neatly filed down.

Goodness.

„I… have no idea… I mostly left the house late in the evening or afternoon…“, a soft click in your door and she was pushing it open and gently dragging you inside with her. „But what are you doing here, I thought my father stationed you in Fon-”, she silenced you with a press of her finger against your lips.

„Not now, love… let’s discuss these matters tomorrow… Let‘s get you dry first.“, you sighed but gave in and navigated her through the small house you��ve been renting for the past months, quickly grabbing a towel from the bathroom before proceeding to your bedroom where you quickly closed the still opened window.

„Let me do that for you…“, Arle carefully tucked the fabric out of your hands and set it down on your bed, „I‘m going to need you to take off…”, but you were already pulling your soaked shirt over your head and slipped your pants down your legs. The only noticeable reaction from her was a deep inhale.

„There… All done…“, you gave her a soft smile before she put the towel around your body, gently rubbing you dry as if you’re made out of the finest and most expensive porcelain. She stopped at your chest, taking you in as you saw her wet her lips.

„Something the matter…?“, you gulped down whatever nervousness was bubbling up inside of you. The woman you’ve been aching for the past months was standing in front of you. That realization just seemed to hit you now. Slowly raising her eyes from your exposed chest to meet yours in an intense stare, a stare so full with love and affection it knocked the air out of your lungs.

„Tu es aussi belle que le jour où je t'ai perdue...“.

You‘re as beautiful as the day I lost you…

Your heart set out a good beat or two. Or three. Maybe even four. You parted your lips, wanting to say something but quickly closed them again. Your mind was blank. There was just… her… just Arlecchino standing in front of you. Seeing her throat move as she gulped you looked back up to her in pure awe.

Was she nervous?

A clear of her throat as she decided to break the silence between the two of you. „My… apologies… let me finish you drying…“, she wanted to set the towel back down on your bed but your hands were faster as you grabbed her face and pulled her down into your first kiss of the evening.

And heaven itself seemed to open up for Peruere as her lips finally made contact with yours.

Blackened hands pushing you down onto the mattress of your bed, grabbing onto every possible curve she could get ahold of as if she might actually die if she takes them off for longer than a nanosecond.

„Magnifique... vous êtes tellement belle...“, she couldn’t help herself but take your right nipple into her mouth, pulling a sweet moan out of your lips which sent a wave of unbearable heat right into her core. She needed you. In every possible way it was driving her at the brink of insanity.

Beautiful… you are so utterly beautiful…

Your mind was too clouded by her touches and whispered words, you physically couldn’t bring out even the few simplest words as you arched into her touch, seemingly not getting enough of her. Your heart was pumping so loud behind your ribcage, you were surprised she didn’t hear it already. You let out another soft moan as the Harbingers lips let go of your now stiff nipple with a „plop“ before moving over to gift your other nipple with the same mind-clouding treatment. At the same time her finger ghosted over your already sensitive clit before moving down to your drenched entrance and something akin to hunger stirred inside of her.

You merely blinked and suddenly found her kneeling down in front of your bed right with her face between your legs.

„Arle, what are you…-”

„Shhhh…“, spreading your folds with her two filed down fingers, she blowed some air against your sensitiveness, „just let me have this…“, she didn’t give you any time to respond, that’s how fast she buried her tongue inside of your pussy.

Arlecchino didn’t believe in heaven. But this. This might very well be her own personal haven. Her hands moved your thighs over onto her shoulders as she greedily swallowed your juices. And she dared look up at your facial expression as you gripped a handful of her hair, pressing her further into your wetness. The pleasured look on your face would’ve been enough to force her down onto your knees if she weren’t already kneeling before you like you‘re the highest form of power in all of Teyvat.

„missedyourtongues‘much…“, already blabbering mess for her, weren’t you? But it‘s not like you could give a fuck when the love of your life was literally devouring you like she‘s been starving for the past centuries, nails digging into the soft flesh of your thighs to keep you put.

You didn’t think about tomorrow. Or that you weren’t even supposed to breathe the same air as the woman feasting on you like you were a five-course meal. You didn’t think about how your father would react nor about your investigation. You didn’t care. Not a single bit. For now it was just you and her. How her nose pressed into your clit, how her tongue thrusted in and out of you.

For now you could allow yourself to melt in her arms. To let her devour you whole and let go of the struggles you’ve been facing without her- because of her- for the last few months.

And for the first time you felt whole again.

—————————

TADAAAAAAAAAA anon let me know if you want me to write a third (and last) part, but I thought this would be an amazing ending to this chapter but I‘ve had SO much fun writing this!

[dasketcherz]

thought i'd share my thought process for this fun lil piece / outfit in full display that i whipped out for beckory on valentines cuz i really had a lotta fun making it <3

OKAY first off, big thanks to @leaky-heart for helpin me gather some really cool outfit refs and for lending me resources where I can find a ref for bonnie's guitar in a 3d space. Thank you bestie, yar a life saver <3

Second, @/littleleaflings' jacket—goated af, will never stop gushin bout it aaaaAAA <3

Okay so looking at freddy & bonnie's designs—i am in love with how their dominant and accent colors are opposite of each other like a yin and yang situation. So i absolutely tried to incorporate that when rearranging the palette unto beckory's outfit

Fronnie's colors arent the only contrasting elements about them. Aside from their earrings, even their symbols are a pair—i love how freddy's is a lighting bolt but he is also associated with stars on the side cuz of his branding. While bonnie's is a star but he also has lightning bolts on the side (the purple accent in his fit) to match freddy

And to sprinkle a bit of beckory flair, i put stripe lines across their pants (if you look back on my ref sheet for the squad, the three amigos all have stripes somewhere in their fits, i purposely designed that to be their thing) just to also unify the patterns from their top

i gave tony a scarf to match greg's bow tie accessory. Its a combo homage to bonnie's headband and bunny ears in a way (cuz the ribbons on its ends look like droopy rabbit ears) i gave them gloves to compensate being unable to add punk bracelets on em cuz it would be too much for the overall look (same logic applies to the star shades, its to match with the top hat)

Also this was such a pure coincidence but i also realized beckory wears their fazwatches in the same placement as fronnie wears their earrings on. That actually makes me very happy, i think its a really cool coincidence

And as yall can see, Greg's jacket initially had stars on his sleeves (like it does in the ref), but i decided against putting it in the final cuz im startin to think it might look cluttered and hard to read from afar and tbh, I really liked how the translucent sleeves turned out... I didnt want the star pattern to cover it up lol

And thats pretty much it, thank you coming to my ted talk!! <3

if youre interested to see more of my art process compilation like this you can check over on my ko-fi page, you can support me by buying me a latte cuz I am planning to post more exclusive stuff like this over there in the future so I hope yall look forward to that! I deeply appreciate yall and thank you so much in advance!!

[kingkatsuki]

Everyone leaving a business course in Japan knows that Dynamight PR is THE job to get. Everyone strives and works for it without really knowing what they’re getting into. They just know it’s the highest paying job you can get and you’ll either never need to go job hunting again, or you’ll have an amazing job on your CV. That is until they work there and realise that Dynamight is a dog that cannot be contained by his PR team and the reason you get hired on the spot if you go looking for other jobs is ‘well if you can work for Dynamight, you can work for anyone’

I could write about this trope for hours I’m so obsessed with it— he’d make your job so insufferable whilst simultaneously being the best part of it😫

On paper, a job at Dynamight’s agency is the dream for anyone in business— never mind a student fresh out of school with no experience. Strict NDA’s meant there was little information about what a job working for Dynamight’s PR team was really like, but the fact that his current manager was signed off sick for stress should’ve been an indication of what the job would be like for you.

You didn’t meet Dynamight during your interview, even though it was held at his agency. A fact you found a little peculiar, thinking a Hero climbing the rankings would be invested in who he’d have as his PR assistant— especially as it could help further his career, but it didn’t surprise you. Dynamight was one of the most in-demand heroes, with the media, fans and public desperate for his attention. Of course he wouldn’t have the time to interview everyone that applied for the job.

But you didn’t even meet Dynamight when you got the job. The three weeks since had been surprisingly calm, surprisingly easy. You’d spend your days filtering through emails, most of them from fans who’d beg for a chance of meeting the Pro, or autographs or merch. Not unlike a lot of the emails from the media, trying to arrange interviews or publicity stunts while trying to offer their fees.

The only complaint you’d received was from a young photographer that hadn’t known any better when he shoved his camera directly under Bakugou’s nose during a rescue mission, the hulking Pro carrying an injured civilian over one of his broad shoulders as he grabbed the camera with his palm. The heat of his quirk no match for the intricate technology as it melted beneath his touch, effectively destroying the memory card as he let it drop to the ground. The only evidence a blurry, charred JPEG of Bakugou’s angry face as he reached out for the device. The complaint quickly settled with a new photography set as compensation, as well as a well scripted apology from the Pro. An apology, which you soon realised, was carefully scripted by yourself and signed by the Pro-Hero himself.

“What do you want?” You hadn’t expected these to be the first words your new boss would say to you, and yet here you were.

“Oh, I’m your new PR assistant,” You understood now why people felt intimidated in his presence. Crimson eyes shot you a glare from across the room before he quickly went back to the laptop on his desk, even though thick-rimmed glasses he still felt as intimidating as ever. Even if he did look much cuter like this— “I just need you to sign this apology to the photographer from last week—”

“I ain’t fuckin’ signing that shit,” He scoffed, “Tell that prick he’s lucky it wasn’t his head.”

Now you understood why there were always vacancies available for this job.

You were certain Dynamight wasn’t trying to make your job difficult on purpose, he always seemed to answer your calls when he was inside his office— even if it was usually with an abrupt “what?”. And he even agreed to tone down his aggressive views online, “Fine, sweetheart. I’ll cut the fuckin’ politics. But you know those fuckers need tellin’ how dumb they are”. The peace could only ever be short lived, because no matter how hard you tried, things just seemed to get worse.

If the hero commission weren’t a bunch of pussies Deku wouldn’t be number one for another year in a row.

“Oh my god,” Your eyes squinted as you read the tweet at six in the morning, before you’d even had a chance to wake up and get ready for the day.

The likes and retweets continued to grow as you began to get messages from your team at the agency, and the media as you contemplated just never coming back.

Usually someone in the IT department would lock his account just in time, or intercept the tweets but it wasn’t always quick enough. You really were in the trenches as you decided to take matters into your own hands. Scrolling to your contacts as you called your boss immediately, pinching the bridge of your nose to try and calm the migraine you knew was coming on.

“You’re callin’ a bit late for a bootycall, sweetheart—” He grunted, his breathing laboured on the other side of the phone so you assumed he was at the gym. Or so you hoped, not wanting to imagine him on top of another woman whilst talking to you, “Don’t you start work in an hour?”

“Cut the crap, Bakugou,” You snapped, irritated by the offensive tweet mere hours after he’d promised to tone it down, “You said no more ridiculous tweets.”

“You said no more ridiculous tweets,” He mimicked your tone, “I’m just posting pure fuckin’ facts and you know it. If the commission weren’t so far up Deku’s ass I’d be number one by now.”

“No,” You growled, “If you weren’t such an insufferable asshole all the fucking time and actually tried to show up to some of the events that were organised for you, you might actually have a chance of changing public perception of you. Nevermind the simple fact that Deku had better numbers than you this month. Deku’s number one because he deserves to be, but you deserve it too. So maybe if you fixed up we could get you there, but instead you choose to be a jerk.”

You couldn’t believe the words had left your mouth. Every single ounce of annoyance and irritation you’d felt working under Dynamight for the past month had spewed out in under thirty seconds. The emotions you’d kept bottled up every time you received a new complaint or read a new interview or post from Bakugou, now released from your system.

And even though you were certain that you’d lost your job now, at least you could say that you’d given your notice in style.

“Well shit,” You heard the running stop on the other side of the phone as you assumed he paused his treadmill, panting into the receiver.

“I’m sorry, sir,” You sighed, “Maybe it’s better if you get someone else for the job—”

“I like it when you’re pissed, sweetheart.” He cut you off completely, catching you off guard, “I’ll see you in an hour. You can tell me exactly what you want me to do.”

[abbyfmc]

Yandere Emperor! x Female! Reader Phrases #2:

A/N: Continuation of the previous part.

-"When did I say you could go? I brought you here to cuddle you"- The yandere emperor will surely have summoned you one night to serve him, and seeing that you were trying to leave or looking for excuses to leave, he will have closed any door or window, or grabbed you by the wrist or another part of the body.

-"If you are in love with someone else, I will behead him without hesitation"- He is the yandere emperor, and he is capable of anything to have you by his side, including extreme physical punishments or the execution of your partner or fiancé.

-"You didn't know who was going to attack me or how, and yet you protected me that year and suffered great damage to your body. I really appreciate what you did and I want to make it up to you by letting you be my wife."- In a story about Yandere crown prince x maid reader, you probably served the yandere prince (who in the future would be the yandere emperor) closely, and due to the environment in which he lived, you had to watch his back many times, ending up being sometimes punished by other superiors and even tortured. The yandere prince KNOWS about your wounds and scars and now that he is an emperor, he tries to reward you.

-"I will take good care of you."- A more subtle and "kinder" way to make you understand that you will not leave the palace.

-"No matter what you are, you will still be mine. You can be my empress, my favorite consort or concubine; and if you want to be a servant, you will serve at my side, so your rank within this palace does not matter; you will NEVER escape from me."- Another stern warning from him. You are partly right; since if you are his empress, consort or concubine, you will have to continue serving or obeying him in everything. If you are a maid, he will purposely make you clean what he tells you, wash his clothes, follow him and take care of him; or he would put you to hard labor as punishment, until you beg him.

-"If someone dares to hurt you, I will punish the person responsible and their family."- Before, in an imperial family the issue of clans was very important and people like the empress, consorts and concubines were no exception (come on, not even the maids, guards or eunuchs were saved from it) and if they did something very bad, The emperor could punish them and their families or clans with whatever he wanted; from exile, loss of compensation and living conditions, to multiple executions.

-"Every item sent to (Y/n)'s palace must be meticulously checked."- The yandere emperor KNOWS that fights and intrigues occur in the harem that mostly end in murders, attempted murders, poisonings, accidents, false accusations and even attempted abortions by some concubines on others. He would do it with the excuse of protecting you and your possible child.

-"I can't wait to see you carry our children in your womb. That will unite us more, and make you more mine."- The yandere emperor wants to sleep with you and get you pregnant (if you are a woman), because he thinks that not only could a prince from your side be the future of the empire (or if it is a princess, he could form marital and political alliances), but He believes that with that you will not leave his side.

-"I feel delighted with every walk I take with you. Every talk, every laugh, every meal, every celebration and even when you sleep with me, I feel great; something I never experienced with anyone else."- The yandere emperor would love every moment with you; more preferably alone than in a group with his other imperial women.

-"Let these marks or scars be a clear warning in case you try to escape again."- The yandere emperor is strict with his rules, and the "no escape" rule is undoubtedly the strictest. Every time he sees you trying to escape he not only locks you up, but physically punishes you so that when you see the scars when you change or bathe, you have a memory of what will happen to you if you try to escape from him again.

-"I always collect every gift you give me, although there is one that I still fight for and that you still don't give me: your heart."- Yes, the emperor adored and appreciated either discreetly or indiscreetly each of your gifts; whether it was new clothes, new accessories, some painting on him, some sculpture, a show or simply personally playing an instrument for him. But he knows that you do it without love for him.

-"I promise you that I will take care of you and our son."- He would probably make you pregnant, and as soon as he found out he put you under all kinds of 24/7 care. He watched you all the time and had every gift, food, drink or medicine that came into your hands thoroughly checked.

-The end.

[recycledraccoon]

Senior Year Au

Former Rat Grinders all spend the rest of Junior year and all of summer break in therapy, both individually and as a group. It's a lot of work, but they're coming back together in the aftermath in a healthier more sustainable way. (The empty places among them leave them feeling a mix of complicated emotions.)

Mary Ann still maintains her relationship (???) with Gorgug. (They're not asking many questions because Mary Ann gives few answers.) Lucy is good friends now with The Bad Kids, but Kristen especially. Even Ruben is on decent terms for the most part.

Ivy and Oisin had it much harder. They don't remember everything, but they remember enough to make the weight of it heavy on their shoulders, Oisin especially for the large part he and his magic had played.

Ivy had never been one to blatantly apologize. She's always been a bit catty, though never like that before. Still, before the school year ends she (very politely) asks Mazey for a moment of her time.

Mazey, a much kinder person, agrees and they step aside somewhere a little more private. (For however brief a time it was, Mazey did feel what the rage from that shatter star felt like. It's a large factor in her giving Ivy this chance.)

Ivy, as much as it visibly pained her to say the actual word sorry initially, does genuinely apologize. She's blut about it, and doesn't shy away in the least from the acknowledgement of how fucked up the things she said were.

They talk for a bit, and while it's hard to imagine they may ever be friends, both girls leave the conversation feeling closure on the topic.

Mazey ends up talking to Fabian about it, so of course the Bad Kids know.

Oisin talks briefly with Fabian Seacaster one day, extending an apology for the damages to him home, and passes along information so Oisin can ensure financial compensation is had.

The apology to Fabian is appreciated, but talking about it later the Bad Kids hone in on the fact that Oisin hasn't spoken to Adaine even once, to apologize for the taunt he's sent her or for-

Adaine abruptly says she doesn't want to talk about it, and ignores the fact that he exists entirely.

Oisin doesn't talk to them once the rest of Junior Year, even tho the rest of his team does. The Bad Kids think him a coward, and while Oisin would agree with them, the Rat Grinders look at each other with tight lips.

.

.

.

Oisin struggles greatly with his actions. He had been, essentially, Kipperlily's right hand. His magic had allowed Kipperlily access into, and away from, the Bad Kids Last Stand where she had killed Buddy. (They do not know where he is, but they've sworn to each other to find him.) His magic had laid the trap in Seacaster Manor, his summoning calling the Nightmare King Storm and his relatives who swarmed a house-boat filled with innocents.

Jawbone does help them get an actual accredited therapist, which is something Oisin feels great relief about, as it makes it easier to talk about some aspects of his time under the shatter-star.

.

.

Like the fact that prior to all this, he did have a very genuine crush on Adaine Abernant.

.

.

.

How couldn't he? She was beautiful yes, stunningly so, but more importantly she was smarter than a whip and a phenomenal wizard, unafraid to get her hands dirty. Even as short, scrawny dragonborn with glasses that felt too big for his snout at the time, he'd held the girl in very high esteem.

Oh he'd never ever dare to talk to her, for all that his friends may have once tried to encourage it during freshman year. He'd known even then that the elven girl was far out of his league.

While he wasn't a true dragon, Oisin's family had strong blood ties still, and the bleed over was still strong. Strength was important to them, and fighting the other was the first step in courtships between Dragons for a large variety of reasons. He'd been so scrawny, and a untested young wizard to boot, that he couldn't fathom ever being strong enough to match up to a girl like her. He's certainly endured enough scrutiny for his lack of battle prowess at home.

So no, Oisin hadn't thought that he would ever be a good match for such a girl, but he could hoard tender feelings about her in his chest, and nobody could do or say anything about it. At most he would endure some playful teasing at the time but he'd always reassure his friends it was alright.

"Not every unrequited love is bitter." Oisin told them once, smiling softly as he pulled his eyes away from where Adaine was walking to join her friends for lunch further out in the quad. "Statistically, high school romances don't work out. This is just...an equation that doesn't result in a positive answer. No use being angry at the numbers, the math won't change." He says.

Lucy had frowned, "Life isn't a math question Oisin."

"Yes it is," Oisin's responded, "it's just one of the unsolvable ones." His grin turned into a yelp when Ivy had dragged him down to try to noogie him, and they had all laughed and left the topic alone.

.

.

.

When he had first been raged out, he hadn't felt bitter. He felt strong and powerful and didn't need the distractions. But when Adaine had spotted him at the party to talk, after he'd grown tall and bulked out from the hours pumping iron to burn off the excess anger-

She only noticed him when he'd already been on his way to hell. That's when he started feeling bitter.

.

.

.

Oisin has so many complicated emotions and guilts eating away at him. He desperately wants to apologize to Adaine Abernant, to lay his heart bare so she may deliver his due judgement and strike true.

But more than anything, he needs to sort himself out first. He would not risk apologizing, not when his heart still ached, not when anyone could possibly notice and decide his apology was motivated by selfish wants instead of true remorse.

So Oisin does not speak to any of them the rest of that year or over the summer, even as the others will tag along with Lucy and Mary Ann sometimes to join the Bad Kids for an afternoon. He goes to therapy, reads self books, and painstakingly does his best to bleed the love for Adaine Abernant out of his heart. He knew the statistics when he fell in love, he'd have to do this one day or another.

Finally, first day of Senior Year, Oisin follows his party to where the remaining Bad Kids are.

He's spotted immediately, he knows because Riz Gukgak goes tense and starts furiously whispering, the Bad Kids exchange hushed words Oisin is too far to hear, but Adaine Abernant meets his gaze for a long moment.

Then she turns and leaves.

Oisin isn't surprised, but he does watch her leave for perhaps longer than he should have, before quickening his steps to catch up with the others.

The Bad Kids, as alright as they are with the others, glare at Oisin. Ivy beside him is tense, but bumping his tail against the back of her calves is his way of telling her this is alright.

He gives brief apologies, for the storm and those of his family who had attacked them all on his request.

Then, he quietly asks them to pass on a message to Adaine.

"I would like to apologize to her but-" He clears his throat under the pressure of the glares he's receiving. "If she doesn't want to hear it I understand completely."

Oisin doesn't give much time for a response, dipping his head and giving a quick goodbye as he prepared to go find his locker before classes.

"Oisin-" Lucy calls as he starts stepping away from the group.

"It's alright," Oisin murmers, thinking back to a warm fall day in the quad during freshman year. "I already knew the outcome of this equation."

"Life's not a fucking math problem, love." Ivy says, arms crossed defensively. Nobody else talks, and Oisin can feel the glares of the Bad Kids burning into his scales.

"Yes it is," he reminds them. "It's just a messy, unsolvable one." Oisin's smile is soft and tired. It is the smile of a man who's been resigned to his fate his whole life.

He'd always knew he'd never been or would ever be worth even a moment of the beautiful, amazing Elven Oracle's time.

He'd run the math, and it was no use being mad at numbers that wouldn't change.

Oisin turned and left.

[hyperfixiation-station]

Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Information

A Study in Torture

TW: Blood, Gore, Torture, graphic depiction's of violence Summary: Reader was caught on a mission and has been in the clutches of the enemy for over a month...

Apprehension, Rescue, Rehabilitation

You wake up sputtering, freezing cold, and drenched in water.

“Good morning little bird. Thought you would like a bath.” Your captor stands above you, rolling you onto your back with his foot, “You are pretty filthy.” You squirm slightly, and he steps on your arm to pin you  in place.  He crouches over you, gripping your face with his hands. 

“You know how I feel about you sleeping without permission, little bird. Why’d you have to go and break that rule? Now I have to punish you.” He says sadly. He gets off of you, only to yank you up by the collar wrapped around your throat and let go. You teeter, vision swimming as your broken body tries to compensate for the change in position. 

The room you are led to is mostly bare, with just a tub of water in the center. Your heart sinks, fear pooling your belly. You’ve been here long enough to know that water is your least favorite method of punishment. When you first were brought here, the goal was to extract information from you, but now it seems more like your captor gets off on you being in pain. 

“You know how much I love water Little Bird.” He laughs, dragging you forward. 

“Kneel.” He murmurs, standing you in front of the tub.

 You drop to your knees without hesitation. 

“Aw you can learn something. I’m so proud.” The man says happily, petting your  hair. Despite yourself, you preen under the praise.

“Unfortunately, you did break rules this morning, soooo.” He grabs your hair, twisting so it's balled up in his hand, “Deep breath little bird.” He shoves your head under, digging his knee into your back to hold you in place.

 For the first minute you sit still, waiting, but as the seconds tick by with you not being allowed up, as your lungs begin to burn and scream for air, panic sets in and you try to fight your way up. 

He lets go, allowing you up. You sucks in ragged breaths, coughing and vomiting up water as your body shakes. He gives you another second before grabbing your shoulders and forcing you back down. He does this again and again and again, until you are a shivering, pathetic mess. 

He cups your cheek, running a hand through your hair. “It doesn't have to be like this little bird. All you have to do is listen to me. It’s really not that hard.” 

You shiver violently, staring at the ground, still kneeling in front of the basin. The man frowns, yanking your head up.

“Look at me when I am talking to you.” He snarls, “God, why are you so stubborn? I don’t want to do this, but you just. Won’t. Listen.” He wraps the chain attached to the collar on your neck around his hand and pulls, yanking you up. 

You let out a startled yelp, vision going black as your body screams for you to rest.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper. The man growls, yanking you toward him and slamming your face into the wall. “You will address me by Sir.” He screams at you, “Is that really so hard? It's three little letters you stupid, worthless slut.” 

You sink to the floor, sobbing. Blood runs down your face, getting in your eyes, in your nose, in your mouth. Your head throbs, your lungs burn, and your ears ring, but you can still hear him screaming at you over the sound. “Say it.” He screams, each word sending spikes of pain through your skull, “Say you are a stupid, worthless slut.” You won’t. You may have lost every scrap of dignity, may kneel at his feet like a dog, but he had not broken you so completely that you would desecrate herself like that. 

“You. Fucking. Worthless. Whore.” He snarls, foot connecting with your body with each word, “It's no wonder no one has come to save you. No one wants a disobedient bitch. You won’t tell me what I want to know, and now you won’t even listen to me. I saved you from death and this is how you repay me?” You shriek in pain as he brings his heel down on your wrist, shattering it. He kicks you again and again and again, bones crunching, skin breaking, the sheer agony of it dragging you into the blessed depths of unconsciousness. 

The video ends there, your body so bloody and broken it's almost unrecognizable. The conference room is completely silent, save for the dry heaves coming from Gaz’s direction. 

“We have their location Captain.”

LMK what you think and if you want a part 2

[predestinatos]

inside me | CL16 ִ ۫ ּ 𓂅⋆ 🗝️.♡

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4

pairing: charles leclerc × fem!reader 

summary: feelings aren't something charles and you talk about. especially not when you're tipsy in a club bathroom. chapter 3 of an ongoing series.

tags: enemies to lovers, more jealous!charles, i never get tired of writing it, smut, sexual content, cursing, some progress in vulnerability sort of? not much, angsty-ish but soft? ending.

word count: 5.4k

📎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ minors dni !! warnings & note underneath

warnings: smut, oral sex (male receiving), sort of rough sex, sexting, this is soo filthy, unprotected sex, creampie.

note: okay so! i got a bit carried away while writing this, clearly being so much bigger than usual, but it's to compensate for my 4-day absence which will surely delay the next chapter a bit!! thank you again so so so so!!!!! much for the good comments and support, it genuinely makes me very very happy. hope you like this one!

“Two more tequila shots, please” Oscar shouted to the bartender, the music muffling his voice and your thoughts.

The two glasses appeared before you, its content calling to your dizzy mind. Dropping the salt in your hand, you prepared for the countdown. Oscar looked flushed and giddy, already a bit tipsy, just like you. His cheeks were a soft pink and his eyes were constantly in a smiling expression, which spread itself to you. “A toast to a very good friendship” he said, laughing, as you clinked your cups against each other, licked the salt off of your hands, chugged the drink and placed lemon in your mouths.

Oscar and you had kept going out. You enjoyed each other’s company, talking to each other and overall just existing together. Of course, one of those nights you two had to have the talk you dreaded to have. Curiously, it was Oscar who started, his words spilling very fast and messily, although they could be condensed to a simple “I think we’re just friends.” You were totally okay with that. It simplified your life, and Oscar’s following proposal just made it even better. “That doesn’t mean we can’t… have fun together, though. If you’d like to.” And that was your relationship with him – purely a fun one, a jokingly flirtatious game where none of you had your hearts broken because there was nothing to break apart from a few glasses.

So, after many shots and funny faces at the taste were exchanged, here you were, dancing with him enthusiastically, your bodies jumping and touching and having fun.

You were surrounded by people you loved – Oscar, your friends, everybody at that club – and that loved each other in that moment. Your friends got along beautifully with Oscar, and you even saw some potential for deeper relationships with this one girl, so you were happy, insanely so. Except for one thing: the pair of eyes looking at you from you and your friends’ tables.

As much as you tried moving further away, enjoy yourself and drink away the burning hot sensation on the back of your head, you couldn’t. Charles’ gaze wouldn’t leave your body, filled with rhythm and loose, but contrastingly so tense from his eyes.

You knew Charles was coming. But you thought he would be calm about things, take them lightly and not care much, given the fact that you and him were in very weird territory. It was now hard to hide from your friends that something was going on – the snarky remarks had turned more like innuendos and inside jokes that made you blush, and there were only so many nights where, for some reason, only the two of you couldn’t make it. Apart from those two instances, your relationship with Charles hadn’t been physical again. Some texts were exchanged, sure, but neither of you knew what you were doing; you were ice skating on very thin grounds, which threatened to break at any given moment. It was a matter of who was going to take the hardest step.

“I’m pretty sure Leclerc is into you” Oscar started, laughing at something that wasn’t particularly funny were it not for the alcohol in your system. You laughed back, throwing your hands around his neck and letting your mind run through all the thoughts compressed in your head, all the sounds and sensations surrounding you. “You’re friends, why don’t you ask him?” you replied in his ear, hoping he would hear you, or maybe even guess what you were saying. Pulling away to look into his eyes, you saw him shaking his head in a negative motion, the tipsy smile in his pink lips “he would murder me if I even got remotely close to him.” You both bursted out laughing again, shrugging carelessly at the ridiculousness of it all. “No it’s just… he hasn’t stopped staring at us and I doubt it’s because he finds me attractive” the Australian continued, nodding his head towards where Charles was sitting. Unapologetically, you two stared at him, who also unapologetically refused to break eye contact. Holding a beer in his right hand, eyebrows furrowed and shirt sleever pulled up, he looked angry. Yet, he also looked attractive, his gaze dark and possessive, his left hand tense and his jeans hugging his legs perfectly. He raised his bottle towards the both of you as in a friendly excuse of a toast, or even recognition of your existence as something other than 2 nuisances. You nodded again in recognition, a peace treaty that was sure to be broken sooner than later.

As you turned around to keep dancing, you saw Oscar’s eyes widen in shock, amazement and amusement all at once. “What?” you asked, nervous. Before he could even answer, Charles was behind you, half yelling, half whispering, not to you, but to Oscar. “Can I borrow her for a second?”

In his drunkenness, but also his own enjoyment, he merely nodded gleefully, winking at you as Charles gripped your arm softly as if to assure you you were fine, or as fine as you could be in that moment.

The bathroom was tight. Very tight. Or maybe it was spacious but simply felt like it, when Charles was so close to you, his grip on your arm tight but not angry in the slightest. It also felt hot, burning and scalding, like being too close to the sun, yet you knew for sure they had AC and it was on. Releasing your arm, Charles pulled away from you only to lock the door of the bathroom.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, laughing drunkenly at the stupidity of it all. “You’re gonna drive a lot of people mad by doing that” you tell him while fixing your hair as best as you could. You notice his body stiffening at your words and how they mockingly leave your lips, and even though he is currently not close to you at all, you still feel him on every inch of your skin when he lowers his voice and says “you’re driving me mad.”

Perhaps because you were drunk, you giggled ironically. Not only was the situation frustrating to the point of laughing, it was clear you had the upper hand in this case, with Charles’ voice and expression finally showcasing more vulnerability than usual. “And why is that, Charlie?” you ask, keeping the mocking tone that was getting to him even more this time. With the question, you dared to walk closer to him slowly, not taking your eyes off of his face. His jaw tightened and he looked away, his brain seemingly as loud as the muffled music outside. For a few seconds, you remained like that, in silence, your defiance and his stubbornness fighting quietly. Upon his clear refusal to answer, all you could do was shrug, “that’s what I thought.” You start walking towards the door, but his tall frame stops you before you can get to it. You are, again, so close to him, feeling his scent, alcohol and expensive perfume, but not his touch, for his hands remain by his side. “I’m not going to stop you from leaving if you want,” he started, his jaw tense as he licked his lips. “Then answer me” you demanded.

It wasn’t even that big of a question, you just wanted to hear him admit that he was jealous, even though he had no right to be. You wanted to see where this conversation would go, if you could finally put an end to this game you two were playing, as painful as it was for you to end it. You knew deep down the reason why he didn’t answer was because that meant exactly that – it meant talking about feelings, about rules, about labels. And neither of you were ready to do that. You realized then that you were placing on him the weight of it, cowardice filling you even in drunkenness.

Running a hand through his hair frustratedly, he moved his feet to let you move towards the door, unblocking your passage. You suddenly felt cold, his frame not hovering yours anymore, and that gesture held more vulnerability than any other he had ever done in the past. So, because you were slightly drunk, or maybe in spite of it, you pulled him towards you and kissed him.

His whole body relaxed against you, letting out a frustrated and hungry breath. By now, his hands and lips felt familiar yet new all at once. Your heart raced as if it was all novelty, yet you knew it wasn’t, for you had been craving them for so long. The way he was kissing was new, however. It always seemed to be, every time you two met again, for he seemed to place more and more feeling and less and less thought into his kiss, his lips moving against yours in a needy, almost desperate way, much different from the previous arrogance he possessed.

He let out a breathy whimper against your lips, and you realized then how completely yours he was. You pulled even closer against you, his shirt collar feeling hard contrasting with his soft hands on your body, wrapping your legs around his waist as he placed you on the sink. The coldness of the sink causes you to hiss and then laugh to yourself amidst the kiss, to which he too lets out a soft chuckle.

“I’m serious, you do drive me mad” he suddenly said, bringing both of your thoughts back to that which you were trying to avoid. You looked down at the already visible bulge in his jeans, and your eyebrows raised before looking back up at him – “I can tell.”

Charles suddenly looked shy, not expecting your bluntness, and he looked away to compose himself. Then, suddenly and unexpectedly, he took a deep breath and placed his hand on your leg softly, to which you responded by biting your bottom lip and closing your eyes at the feeling. “You really want to talk about that?” he replied to your previous comment, his cockiness coming back as fast as it had disappeared upon realizing how turned on he made you feel by simple touches.

Feeling brave, playful, or overall crazy, you grabbed his other hand and brought it to your lips. You kissed each of his fingers carefully, not hiding your pleasured face as you felt his gaze darken at the sight of you. His grip on your thigh suddenly intensified, this time as an attempt to calm himself down, though it was clear he couldn’t do so successfully. Charles was already going absolutely insane over the view he had, but then you brought his hand to your cheek and placed his thumb on your open mouth. He inhaled sharply, in lustful anticipation, before you closed your lips around him and sucked his finger while looking up at him. “F-fuck… don’t do this to me” he breathed, his head cocked to the side, both desperate and demanding. You took his finger off of your mouth to reply, leaving your mouth smeared with saliva that he spread across your lips as you muttered “why not?”

With the question, he grabbed you by the waist and turned you around, your back pressed hard against him, feeling his heartbeat racing and his cock against you. His hand flew to your hair, pulling it so you could see yourself in the mirror, as the other went back to the position it was before, thumb pushing forcefully inside your mouth. “Look at yourself. You look so fucking hot. You can’t do this to me, not when I’m so so mad at you” he whispered in your ear, his breath sending shivers down your body, as he pushed himself against you harder, causing a moan to leave your lips. “What?” he mockingly asked, his eyes pierced on yours through the mirror, a dark smile spreading across his expression.

Everything Charles did hit you with a force a thousand times higher than anyone else. It was the years of accumulated tension that culminated in this incessant need for each other – and it didn’t seem to be fulfilled any time soon. So when Charles released his grip on your hair and removed his hand from your lips, you felt betrayed and disappointed, your underwear soaking wet but unsatisfied. “We’ve had enough fun for a night, you’re drunk” he said, tapping your shoulder carefully as if you were a child.

This sudden change in behavior managed to not only anger you, but also hurt you deeply. It felt like treason, of the highest sort – the way he suddenly seemed to care about your state actually, paradoxically, seemed like the meanest thing one could do in that situation.

“I was drunk the night in my house, too” you replied, your anger coming out of your voice and suffocating any attempts of the hurt from being noticeable. Charles merely closed him eyes softly, taking a deep breath. “We were both drunk. We were both impulsive” he said, opening his eyes and looking straight at you.

His words hit you like a punch in the stomach, making the music stop, at least in your ears, in your mind, in your body. You raised your eyebrows at him, and you wanted to scream, to yell at him, to hurt him back. And you knew the only way to do so was by doing the total opposite of what you felt like doing – “okay” – was the only word that escaped your lips as you made your way out of the bathroom, back into the noise, the drinks, the distractions.

You went home afterwards, your mind spinning and your body too exhausted to keep going. Oscar had dropped you off at home, already sober enough to drive (at least way more than you were), but not before listening to the whole story of What Is Going On Between You and Leclerc, his mouth hanging open during the whole journey. His goodbye was said through a kiss on the cheek and a “don’t show up to races with me anymore, I have to win!”, which made you laugh despite it all.

You now laid in bed, comfortable pyjamas on and too tired to take your makeup off despite the constant warnings from everyone that you should do so. You tried convincing yourself you’d do it later, knowing fully well the most probable scenario was you falling asleep just like that, but it didn’t matter. Your TV was on, something was playing in the background but you weren’t particularly watching it, for your head was still spinning.

The attention you weren’t paying at all was interrupted by your screen lighting up, which normally you would ignore, were it not for its content, and, more specifically, who had sent it.

Charles (Asshole): whre are you (3:12am) Charles (Asshole): cna we talk??? (3:12am)

You shouldn’t answer, in fact, you were tempted not to. However, his texts clearly revealed he was not sober in the slightest, and as much as you hated to admit it, you cared about him. Upon some minutes with your fingers hovering the keyboard on your screen, you replied.

You: home. pls call an uber (3:14am) Charles (Asshole): on my wya. i did. im not taht stupod (3:15am)

The wait seemed hours long. You sat there, before deciding to get some water for yourself, and also for him, who definitely needed it more than you did at this point. You checked how decent you looked in the mirror, and despite frowning a bit at the messy aspect of your comfortability, you decided it did not really matter given the state Charles appeared to be in.

Those suspicions were confirmed after a very badly typed “I’m outside” text, which you decoded well enough to open the door. You were greeted with Charles wearing a giddy smile, his eyes partly glossy and his cheeks red. He seemed unbelievably content, more than usual, and you knew it was because of the alcohol in his veins, his thoughts, his whole body. You stood aside to let him in, and without ceremony, he sprawled across your sofa. “Good memories in here” he started, his voice dragging, stumbling across some words, and finishing with silly giggles.

You merely rolled your eyes at him, despite how endearing he now appeared before you. Sitting next to him on the couch, you felt his head resting on your lap, which, surprisingly, did not ignite your need to protest. Instead, you instinctively caressed his hair, soothing him and yourself at the same time. He let soft murmurs escape his lips, and tried closing his eyes for brief moments. However, he quickly opened them, “God, it spins even more with my eyes closed” he said, bringing his hand to his brow.

“You should drink some water” you said, attentively. Charles looked up at you, his eyes shining with intoxicated passion, and his hand caressed your face softly. “You’re so pretty” was all he could say in reply to your suggestion, a reply which further confirmed the need for him to fulfill that task.

You carefully urged him to sit upright, which he did despite some protests, and brought the glass of water to his lips softly. You watched him gulp the liquid as it dribbled a bit from his chin towards his neck, and you shamefully looked away, images of other much different nights surfacing in your head.

You allowed yourself to look back upon hearing his satisfied “ah” and feeling the weight of the cup decreasing to its minimum. With this, you noticed his shirt unbuttoned, more than usual, and as he sat back, his chest almost fully exposed to you. Your eyebrows furrowed for a few seconds, and you bit hard, holding back whatever feeling was going through you, which you refused to name despite it all. He was drunk, you were not sober, you two had nothing, it was not the time.

You couldn’t help but make a comment though, “I see you didn’t let me ruin your fun” – you tried to joke, but it sounded more petty than you had intended. He looked towards his shirt, then back up at you, before letting out a loud laugh and running his hands through his hair. “Yeah, well, I wanted to take you off my mind. Clearly it didn’t work.”

There it was. The thin line you both didn’t want to cross. Frustratingly, the only times you were close to doing so had to be under the influence of alcohol, making it impossible to discern what is meant and what is blurted out. Because of this, you merely shrugged off a laugh, and remained in silence, looking down.

You felt and heard his body shifting closer to yours from behind, his hands making his way towards your shoulders and neck, massaging them softly. You let him, enjoying the feeling, needing it way more than you thought – either the massage itself or the simple feel of his touch, you couldn’t say. At first, his touch was light, almost hard to feel, like a soft breeze on your bare skin. However, slowly, his hands started applying more pressure, getting more greedy with their movements, as if consuming all of you.

His warm breath hit your neck and ears, the sensation causing your vision to completely blur. It impressed you, how despite being drunk, he seemed to know exactly what to do to push you to the edge. You turned your head back towards his and as is gaze fell on your lips, your heartbeat increased, signals travelling throughout your whole body.

Once again that night, you were aware of how you were the one who pulled Charles towards you, relieving him of the need he had for you like this – not merely with touches, but with a ravenous control and hunger, completely at his display. However, you pulled away, your mind stable enough to know what you were doing – if he already thought you drove him mad, he had no clue what was coming.

His confused expression met your suppressed smirk, and before he could protest, or at least question you, you spoke. “You’re drunk. Don’t want to be impulsive,” and with that, you got up and quickly went to your room, coming back with a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants, which you threw on the sofa. “You can sleep here. Those are Oscar’s,” you were aware you didn’t have to say that, but at that point you realized there were no rules to this game anymore – everything counted. “Goodnight”

You turned away, leaving Charles processing what had happened in those minutes, how things shifted so fast. You felt satisfied with the control you had over him, the payback for what he had done, yet you couldn’t deny the frustration only increased as well. It took so much of you to pull away, to not give yourself up completely to him, especially when you knew how good he felt and how much he wanted you.

You sat in bed and turned on the TV once again, trying to drown the pulsating feeling in your core. It was hard to concentrate, knowing Charles was one door away, his warm body so ready to take you. The images running through your mind left you desperate, and you decided to take matters into your own hands – literally.

You slipped a hand down your stomach, inside your shorts, and touched yourself lightly through your underwear. You were embarrassingly wet, and so sensitive that as soon as your hand found its way between your legs, you left out a small moan. You knew it wasn’t loud enough for him to hear, yet you brought the other hand to your mouth impulsively and timidly.

As if guessing, your phone lit up once again, with a couple of texts that left you speechless.

Charles (Asshole): im tryign my best not to go there adn ruin you (4:02am) Charles (Asshole):  but youre making it so hard fro me (4:02am)

You couldn’t move – at least, not anything but your hand, drowned between your legs, frantically moving in unconscious and needy desire. You simply stared at the text, biting your lip to prevent any noise from coming out of. As you stared at it, you saw the three dots that told you he was typing more. Your eyes flew to the door, as if you could see through it towards the living room, where Charles was lying, typing these messages to you. The thought of him behind that door got you lightheaded, feeling utterly drunk again.

Charles (Asshole): i know youore reading these (4:04am) Charles (Asshole): if you want me to, ill sotp (4:04am)

Upon that last text, which wasn’t a threat in the slightest but which you interpreted as such, given the urgency in which you needed him to continue, your hand flew to your phone, immediately typing a response.

You: dont stop (4:05am)

It was hard, typing with only one hand, the other occupied trying to replicate Charles’ own touch, and to make matters worse, you couldn’t think straight. Typing those simple words took more time than you cared to admit or wanted, and you knew he wasn’t dumb to not have realized that. That simple request you made boosted his confidence to reply in a manner that immediately hinted that he knew what to do, that he now felt like he had free reign.

Charles (Asshole): why not? (4:05am)

You couldn’t see him, yet you knew this question wasn’t innocent, you knew he was on the other side completely pleased with himself, a smile sprawled across his pink lips.

Charles (Asshole): asnwer me princess (4:06am)

The nickname, even when used to get under your skin – or maybe because of it – set you over the edge completely. You had been holding your composure for so long that this simple word made you whimper, this time loud enough to know he had heard it.

Charles (Asshole): fuck that was so hot (4:06am) Charles (Asshole): i want you so bad (4:07am)

You were now filled with ecstasy, your walls begging for him to fill you, your head swimming in overwhelming arousal. So, you decided to do what you were meant to do since you first placed your lips on his: keep playing.

You: prove it (4:08am) You: i dare you (4:08am)

That text was all it took for Charles to completely unleash himself, getting up from the sofa and moving towards your bedroom, opening the door with urgency, finding your body outlined by the television lights.

He had changed, somewhere in between your trip to your room and his first text, but only partially – he stood, shirtless, before you, standing at the feet of the bed as you looked up at him, your face leveling his waist area.

You licked your lips instinctively, and for a moment time stood still between him and you, his chest rising and falling deeply, his muscles tense with need. Charles broke that spell by placing his index finger carefully on your chin, raising your gaze towards his and stilling it there. You swallowed dry, lustfully. “Show me what you were doing before I came in” he demanded, roughly this time. In fact, his hand remained there, forbidding you from breaking eye contact, as you lifted your arm and brough it downward, back between your legs. “Were you thinking about me?” he asked, voice growing deeper, more imperious. You nodded, as best as you could with the pressure of his hand on your face, now carelessly holding all of you in it. “Use your words” Charles continued, his erection visible, directly in front of you, so desperate, so conflicting with how he seemed so composed and dominant. “Yes” you replied. Yet, this did not satisfy him in the slightest. His grip on you tightened, and a tsk escaped his lips as he shook his head negatively.

Your hand started moving faster, one finger now dipping inside you, which Charles did not fail to notice, but pretended to be unaffected by. Without warning, he pulled down his sweatpants, followed by his boxers, just enough to expose his erection fully to you. Letting go of your face with violent affection, he now gripped your hair as he held his cock in front of you. “Let’s give those pretty lips some other use since you don’t want to talk” he whispered, his tip now caressing your lips. “Open, princess” his tone was commanding, completely new yet so dangerously arousing. You promptly obeyed, shocked yet completely vulnerable before his own desire.

At first, Charles merely played with you, frustrating your desire to have him in his mouth, despite the fact that it frustrated him in the process as well. His grip on your hair got tighter and tighter, as this teasing game was clearly driving him insane. In a swift and quick movement, he placed himself fully inside your mouth, the warmth and wetness causing his body to shudder completely. You swallowed around him, feeling his desperate push to take more of him in. As you removed your hand from in between your legs to hold yourself on his thighs for support, he grabbed it, bringing it back to where it was. “Don’t fucking stop” he growled, almost incoherently. Having him fully inside your mouth, your nose so close to his navel, and hearing his authoritarian tone, caused a cry to escape your lips. You could barely think, let alone speak, now two fingers buried inside your wetness.

Charles movements were rough as he fucked your mouth relentlessly, your name leaving his lips as if in a chant, as you kept holding his gaze. “Tu es tellement doué pour ça, putain” French once again escaping his lips, giving away his lack of self control, as he unleashed himself completely to his desire. You couldn’t help but moan, your eyes teary with the pleasurable strength he was using with you, and you felt yourself close to coming.

Charles himself was close, but did not allow himself – nor you – to continue. Pulling out of you quickly, leaving saliva all over your now darkened and swollen lips, he did not hesitate to push you down on your bed, climbing on top of your body.

Impatiently, he pulled your pajama shorts and underwear off, whilst you pulled your shirt above your head, completely bared to him. Harshly and lusciously, Charles slammed two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out to prepare you for him. “So ready for me, fuck” he whispered, more to himself than for you, yet not caring if you heard it.

His already sweaty body shone in the near darkness of the room, satisfaction spread across his focused expression as he saw how your body yearned for his. Removing his fingers from inside you and placing himself between your legs, he pushed in inside you, his hardness filling you up completely. Your back arched instantly with bliss as your legs wrapped around him in an attempt to feel him even closer, as if such was possible. You were trembling from his scent, his breath and the sounds of your bodies on each other. His movements were fervorous and electric, a fast pace which burnt your vision and set your body aflame.

“Charles” your voice begged, as he continued his movements. Your voice worked on him as a reminder of how mad he was when it came to you, how much he needed to take his desire out on you, his jealousy released with each thrust. “Does anyone fuck you as good as me?” he asked, eyes closing slowly from the amount of pleasure he was feeling. You let out a crying “no” as he grunted, his face now buried in your neck, biting it hard.

A crazy thought crossed his mind, one which was more common than he could admit, one that he thought about frequently in the darkness of his room or even when he was trying to distract himself with anyone else – the thought of filling you up, claiming you as his. This was enough for him to be close, as your moans filled the thick air, and he felt so good inside you, enough to feel intoxicated by it.

“You’re mine” Charles let out, incapable of containing himself. His words caused your whole body to convulse with shockwaves of pleasure as you repeated “I’m yours” into his lips, his neck, your nails drawing patterns on his back. His hisses of pain and pleasure revealed how close he was himself, and he positioned himself in order to be able to look at your satisfied and sensitive expression of complete bliss. Charles erupted inside you with a final thrust that made you see fireworks, as the thickness of the air reached an all time high.

After a few seconds of chests rising and falling, breaths being caught and thoughts becoming clearer, Charles pulled himself out of you and laid next to you in your bed, grabbing the remote as he caressed your arm softly.

That movement, the familiarity and comfort of it, how different it was from the uncertainty of what you two were, to the nature of your ‘relationship’, to you still filled with his cum, suddenly made you want to cry.

You wished he would leave, complete the final act so you can repeat it soon, so things didn’t get complicated, complex and hard for you to do anything about. The frustration was enough for you to get up with a “I’m going to take a bath” in a tone he recognized – somehow – as unlike you.

Getting up from his seat, he followed you into the bathroom, where you stepped into the shower and turned the water on, ignoring his presence completely. You kept focusing on the water running down your body, how it resembled his own touch but not as fulfilling, as pleasurable. The sound of the water running incessantly calmed your thoughts, enough so that you could barely hear him come in the shower himself, turning you around so you could face him.

His expression was tender but nervous, aware of something floating along with the vapor of the warm water, fogging the mirror. Yet, he pulled him to you in an embrace in which you two remained for long, longer than maybe it was supposed to, longer than for it to be considered normal. Pulling away, his lips fell onto yours gently, in a kiss that possessed more words than both of you cared to admit.

You knew, then, that was all he could give you in that moment. And you did not know how to feel about that.

@cmleitora @marialovesf1 @champagneholland

[arminsumi]

no. 20 sfw with aki? just littering him with kisses before he steps out for work, not wanting to be separated <333

he has a whole house in my head, truly living rent free rn

#20

💗 Aki アキ

Note : my boy!! he is also on my mind lately and i itch to write for him but i always get distracted!! 😖 i hope u likey, i had this very specific atmosphere envisioned and i wonder if it came across lol

Playme : will i see you again?

🍒 More from Jay : LIBRARY / oct. reqs open

A smooth morning rolls out. Aki makes you and him some good coffee, slowly and meticulously as he always does it.

He finds you're behaving especially dreamy this morning; it makes leaving for work so much harder for him.

Aki carries out his morning routine with purposeful slowness, adoring how you follow at his side through each step. It's the small things that make him fall more and more in love with you, like the hypocritical scolding you give him about smoking and then proceeding to take a puff on his cigarette on the balcony. Or helping him tie his tie even though he can certainly do it himself. He just enjoys the small act of bending his knees to compensate for the height gap between you and him, being the 6'2 gangling giant he is.

He's the most talkative in the mornings, despite the rasp disturbing his throat. He tells you about his weird fucking dreams and feels fluttery that you bother to listen. ("We were in a cruise ship, right, and we couldn't escape the hallway and I was holding your hand and looking for a way out, and oh there was this octopus or something that wanted me to play sudoku...? It was some Alice in Wonderland type shit. I fucking hate sudoku, I can't believe I had to do that! And— why are you laughing? Okay well anyways... oh fuck... that's the time already?")

You swarm him with affection and kisses from the bedroom to the door as he tries to leave for work. His natural nonchalant demeanor betrays his true inner feelings, he's really relishing your attention.

You overwhelm his face with kisses and he happily accepts, closing his eyes to fully lose himself in the sensation of your lips pressing to his skin.

"I really have to go..." he says but you cut him off with a kiss.

"... I'm gonna miss the train." he holds back a smile as you cut him off yet again.

He attempts to leave, the door is open and the roar of morning traffic carries in the entering breeze.

"Wait a moment!" you pout.

You grab his tie to pull him into a hard cheek kiss, and it makes his stomach flip, to feel the press of your lips connect with his jaw and slowly upwards, as if you're printing your love on his face one kiss at a time.

It always happens like this; you pull him by the tie just as he opens the door to really leave, then he stays right there, motionless from how love struck your kisses have him. Truly a dazed man. And it's always the final cheek kiss that sets him off, he bows his head to give you those hard and passionate kisses that are his thing... no one can kiss quite like how an Aki in love does.

Kissing him off to work in the genkan chews fifteen more minutes off the morning hour, but it's worth it... he now heads down the street in the sunlight with a dreamy look on his face like he's just been pampered by a goddess.

[hottiehiei]

- NSFW Alaphabet with Hiei (but I pick the letters I want)

nsfw (but its not overly explicit), gender neutral

i used the word c*ck… im so sorry. i literally hate that word but i had to.

✧༺✧༻✧༺✧༻✧༺✧༻✧༺✧༻✧༺✧༻

𓆩⟡𓆪 A = Aftercare

Hiei has unlimited stamina compared to you.

While you’re worn out and exhausted, he’s barely breaking a sweat. He simply looks down at you expectantly, even when it’s clear you won’t make it through another round. The need for rest overpowers all of your senses, and you’ll drift into a soundless slumber, leaving Hiei alone.

Of course, this ticks him off. He scolds you for having such a weak human body— all the while massaging your hips and thighs because he knows they’re aching. It’s mostly his fault, so he tries to compensate by doing small things like wiping your body clean.

Hiei watches you rest, grateful to have you by his side.

𓆩⟡𓆪 B = Body part

His Jagan eye is his favorite body part. He has a full view of your entire body. There isn’t a single thing he misses, not even the shiver that crawls over your skin when he tears off your clothes.

Hiei also likes his physique. When you trail your fingers down his chest or claw at his back, he’s over the moon.

As for your body, he admires your lips. He likes the way you pout when he pulls out of you, and the way your mouth hangs open from pleasure when he thrust back inside of you. Or best of all, when your lips wrap around his cock.

Hiei really enjoys kissings. He will bite your lower lip, suck on it, pull it with his teeth, you name it.

𓆩⟡𓆪 C = Cum

The taste is bitter. Literal battery acid. Do not recommend.

𓆩⟡𓆪 F = Favorite position

Hiei favors any position that involves you being at his mercy.

There’s this undeniable urge to bind your wrist, spread your legs further apart, and kiss you senseless. If the position hinders any of that, then he doesn’t bother with it.

Occasionally, he’ll let you on top, but be ready to endure some teasing. The minute he notices you getting tired or struggling to take him…

“So predictable. All that begging for nothing.”

“Just say the word and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

𓆩⟡𓆪 K = Kink

He gets turned on when arguing.

Don’t be fooled by his calm tone. He lets you think you have the upper hand, meanwhile he’s plotting. Lash out all you want, it only makes him want to put you to the test. The more you push his buttons, the more he’s thinking about bending you over and making you beg.

Seeing you act aggressive toward other people also turns him on. Whether it’s yelling at one of the boys or knocking someone over the head, he’s impressed.

The fastest way to rile him up is to physically tease him. Keep it brief and subtle. Whisper in his ear when no one’s looking, he’ll get aroused just from fantasizing about you.

Reel him in little by little, then scurry off before he has a chance to capture you. Hiei loves it.

𓆩⟡𓆪 O = Oral

He prefers to receive, mostly due to the power dynamic. You’re below him, looking up through your lashes, doing your best to please him. It gets him going every single time.

The dirty talk is ruthless, but hot.

“I know you can do better than this. Don’t expect me to praise you.”

“Relax your throat and take all of it.”

If you allow him, he’ll grab your hair and guide you deeper.

He’s good at giving oral though. If you can handle the teasing, edging, and overstimulation….he won’t disappoint.

𓆩⟡𓆪 P = Pace

Hiei is naturally fast, so that’s usually the normal pace.

But if you’re one to enjoy it hard and fast, then he might purposely slow down. He wants your body brimming with lust before letting his impulses take over.

Other times, he’ll skip the foreplay and take you how he wants, just from sexual frustration. Don’t even bother asking for a break, he’s too focused on how good and tight you feel, his mind hazy with pure desire.

𓆩⟡𓆪 V = Volume

Mostly grunts. He’s gritting his teeth, holding the noises in. The only time you can get a full moan is during oral or when he’s close to his orgasm. It’s a pleasant sound. Deep and husky, like his voice dropped a few octaves.

✧༺✧༻✧༺✧༻✧༺✧༻✧༺✧༻✧༺✧༻

extra:

𓆩⟡𓆪 W= Wild Card

Hiei is a brat tamer.

[justporo]

Astarion making use of his skills to help Wyll

Shamelessly using this for an original post because I like the idea too much! Spoilers ahead, be warned!

So, as this post imagined (and thanks for @daedriclys for tagging me):

What if Astarion just went "ahem, I'd actually like to take a look at this legal document, thank you very much!" and went to help Wyll with his contract by Mizora.

I'd love to see how Astarion would take the opportunity to do something good for someone else because personal growth and redemption. Also this fucking devil can eat shit, Astarion's tired of people being forced into slavery.

So he fiercly interrupts and demands that Wyll will have at least a day to review the contract and when Mizora agrees through gritted teeth, the party gets to work: Astarion admits that he might be a little rusty and that he was shit at his job back then, but he's dead set on making this one thing right. (Also we know he knows history, so I feel it's not hard to imagine him being a bit scholarly and enjoying to learn things and figure stuff out - also he is smart!)

So he drags the whole party to where he knows is a Law library in Baldur's Gate and tries to find out everything on these kinds of contracts. He goes over the contract again and again trying to find ways out for Wyll while everyone else has turned into his research assistants (Gale is obviously his lead researcher because that man knows his way around a library). ("No, Karlach, it's 'pacta sunt servanda', spelled p-a-c-t-ugh, you know what, please let someone help you with looking for it!")

They spend the whole 24 hours to work out the best possible solution and when Mizora comes back her jaw is on the floor because not only did her plan not work, Astarion got Wyll some compensation and a severance-package worked out and might even sue. Also Astarion reads out every single term and condition and exactly decodes why it is shitty and wrong and why the wording could have used some work, all in his sassy little tone - while Mizora is fuming, but she has to listen to it, because formalities will have it that way.

And Astarion might play it down afterwards for just liking the challenge but he's actually so happy he could actually use his specific knowledge to help someone - and kinda remedy some of his past wrongdoings.

[paracosm-draw]

Promptober Day 2 - Restraint ☄️

TW : smut 👀

~~~

“You can detach me, now.” Anakin’s voice echoes right when the main door of their ship closes off, sounding tired and a bit annoyed. 

He turns his back to Obi-Wan, presenting his cuffed hands to the Jedi, waiting. 

And… waiting. He cocks his head to the side, turning halfway around to give an irritated look to Obi-Wan when he doesn’t move a muscle to come help him. 

“What are you waiting for ? The monsoon ?” He groans, the muscles of his arms and back aching from the constant pull. 

Obi-Wan, much to his displeasure, crosses his arms on his chest and leans against the wall, lips turning into a dangerous, lazy smile, eyes glowing in the dim light of the main room. 

“Where’s the fun in that ?” He asks. “I think I like you like that.” 

“What ?” Anakin huffs, turning around completely to face Obi-Wan. “Listen-” 

But before he can think about his next words, Obi-Wan’s hands are on his shoulders, pushing him backwards until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bench seat, and he can only gasp before the older man straddles his thighs and kisses him. 

Anakin can only try to keep his balance, flexing his abdominal muscles to compensate for the lack of his arms, still feeling the top of his shoulders thump against the hard wall behind him. He opens his mouth with a whine, allowing Obi-Wan’s hot tongue to trespass and press against his own. The older man cups his face and neck, fingers grabbing the hair at the base of his skull and tugging, sending a sharp jolt of pain and pleasure down Anakin’s spine. He moans as Obi-Wan fingertips press against his jaw, angling his face to deepen the kiss even more. He laps in his mouth, coating his abused lips with spit that drips down his chin, scratching his beard against his cheeks and nose in a way that will probably burn later. Anakin helplessly tries to keep up, matching the desperate, wet noises they share in each other's mouths as they kiss and suck and bite like they’re drinking from each other. 

Anakin is going to combust when Obi-Wan releases his hold with a last sweet, sloppy kiss, leaving him a hot and shaking mess. He rests his head against the wall, trying to catch his breath as Obi-Wan straightens on his laps. 

“What was that for…?” He pants, looking at him from under heavy eyelids, pupils blown wide and almost completely eating the blue of his irises. 

“I’ve missed you.” Obi-Wan simply replies. 

He’s also out of breath and Anakin is proud to see that he looks at least as debauched as he is. Far from the polished Jedi everyone’s used to. Because of him. 

“I’ve been gone for only four days.” Anakin states, trying to sound unaffected but failing spectacularly as Obi-Wan’s fingers slip into his curls, stroking them gently. “You- You might surely be obsessed with me.” 

“Possibly.” Obi-Wan admits with a small, crooked smile that makes Anakin want to eat him whole. 

“Will you set me free, now ?” He tries, fluttering his eyelashes in a way that almost always convinces Obi-Wan to do whatever he wants. 

Almost being the key word. Because Obi-Wan slowly shakes his head, seeming completely content with the sight in front of him. 

“No.” 

“No ?”

“No. I think they will stay on a little longer, darling.” Obi-Wan says, and as he speaks his hands fly from Anakin’s hair to the buckle of his own utility belt, popping it open with expert fingers while Anakin looks at him with wide eyes. 

“What are you doing…?” 

“You should never have been caught in the first place, you know that.” Obi-Wan replies, clicking his tongue disapprovingly while dropping his belt on the floor, letting his tabard open on his tunic. “You were once again reckless and unfocused. You didn’t listen to me. And I had to pull a lot of strings to come rescue you.”

“So- So what ?” Anakin asks, wiggling uncomfortably under him to find a better position for his back, heat starting to pool inside his belly at the sight. “You’re going to punish me ?”

“Exactly.” Obi-Wan smirks, dropping his tabard along with his belt so he only wore the dark brown under tunic tightly embracing his body and that made Anakin’s mouth water. 

He knows that Obi-Wan knows he wants nothing more than to touch him, right now. The hot bastard. His fingers curl and uncurl, wrists imprisoned in the metallic cuffs, and he feels the strain on his shoulders. 

“Do you know how it feels to watch helplessly without being able to intervene, Anakin ?” Obi-Wan asks as he plunges his hand into his own pants, cupping the obvious bulge tensing the fabric and stroking once, very slowly. 

Anakin groans, cheeks turning red. Obi-Wan was going to turn this into a lecture, wasn't he ?

“I’m sorry.” He says, a little too high-pitched for his own ears. “I- I thought I could take them.” 

“That’s your problem.” Obi-Wan tuts, shaking his head reprovingly as his hand moves once again in the shadow of his clothes. “You always think you’re better than anyone.”

Anakin feels his eyes sting at the reproach, not that Obi-Wan is wrong. He often thinks he can handle things alone, and it’s not the first time that life humbles him like that. He knows he should be more patient, more thoughtful, but his instincts are strong and he tends to follow his guts more than his brain when they’re on a mission and their lives are at stake. He’s suddenly scared that Obi-Wan will grow tired of his reckless attitude, eventually. He needs peace and stability, which Anakin is not in the slightest. 

“Love.” Obi-Wan fingertips brush against his cheekbones, bringing him back to the present. 

“I'm sorry.” He whispers, a small tear rolling down to his chin as adrenaline starts to wear off, being progressively replaced by exhaustion, guilt and desire. “Please, Obi-Wan. Please.” 

“I’ve got you, dearest.” The older Jedi replies in the same tone, placing a kiss on his wet cheek before pulling himself out of his briefs and putting his hard cock on display for Anakin. 

Anakin looks at him, blinking through more unshed tears, mouth opening slightly as Obi-Wan starts stroking on his cock, dragging foreskin out of the way and spreading precome on his length every time his fingers reach his slick head. 

“Fuck, Obi-Wan…” Anakin pants, unable to remove his eyes from the show. He absently tugs at his cuffs, forgetting for a moment that he’s still tied up, and lets out a frustrated groan at the realization. “Fuck.”

“I’ll let you use your hands later, if you’re a good boy.” Obi-Wan breathes, chest rising faster and turning an endearing pink between the brown lapels of his tunic, as well as his throat and cheeks, a sight Anakin adored more than anything else.

“It’s not fair.” He still complains, starting to feel way too tight into his own trousers, saliva pooling at the back of his throat as his eyes follow Obi-Wan’s hand on his cock. 

Obi-Wan tilts his head back, eyes closed and mouth slack as little pants fall from it with each stroke. He surely seems to enjoy himself and Anakin can only watch helplessly, bucking his hips in desperate little jolts, useless. Obi-Wan makes sure to stay out of reach, backing off on his laps to avoid the friction of his clothed erection and giving him a look that makes Anakin’s heart miss a beat. 

“Be a good boy for me, Anakin.” 

There’s a part of him wanting to please Obi-Wan so badly, stronger than the need to chase for his own release. He watches as pleasure escalates on the older Jedi’s features, brows furrowing, body tensing and mouth open as moans are being ripped from his throat, less restrained and more shameless by the second. He's gorgeous, Anakin drinks in the sight of him like a thirsty man in the desert, not wanting to miss a single second.

When Obi-Wan comes with his name on his lips, staining his clothes and grabbing at his waist for support, Anakin can’t help but lean in, desperately asking for something, anything to touch. 

Obi-Wan meets him halfway, panting in his mouth as they kiss sloppily. A hand slips behind his back and suddenly his hands are free. Immediately he wraps them around the older Jedi, squeezing his back, pulling him closer despite the mess he’s made. He presses his lips against his sweaty neck, kissing and licking at his salty pale skin. 

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan sighs shakily, burying his fingers in his hair once again, addicted to the silky touch of them. 

“I’ve learned my lesson.” Anakin smiles quietly against his temple, stroking his back under his clothes. “Never piss you off again unless I want to end up handcuffed.” 

Obi-Wan laughter vibrates against his chest. He raises his head and places a gentle kiss on his lips. 

“That's a good Padawan."

[moonstruckme]

hey queen! i am humbly requesting some tasm!peter x plus sized!reader 🛐

maybe he was coming home from patrolling/being out as spidey and saw something in a window that reminded him of reader? like a knickknack or flowers or something like that? and he comes home and gives it to her and she’s all flustered and smitten 🤭

feel free to add your own spin to it or anything! i’m just in need of fluff and hugs from my boy 🫶🏻

Thanks for requesting lovely!

tasm!Peter Parker x plus size!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Peter knows he’s got other things he should be doing. He’s technically not done with the amount of time he likes to spend patrolling every day (plus there’s a serial burglar out there he should really be trying to catch), and if he’s not doing that he should be getting home to work on the research paper he’s got due tomorrow, and if he’s doing neither of those things Aunt May’s been begging him all week to dust the shelves she can’t reach. But when you open your door and he sees the look on your face, Peter knows he made the right decision neglecting all that shit. 

“Hi!” Your voice lilts through the syllable, happiness coating it like honey. 

“Hey,” Peter says back, immediately losing whatever advantage he had in the conversation. You’re surprised to see him, sure, but he’s surprised to see you like this. You’re still in your pajamas, evidently enjoying a day in, a large t-shirt and draw-string shorts that make you look all lazy and adorable and leave the delicate flesh of your thighs on display. Peter wants to bite them, but that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly. 

“Hey,” he says again, blinking to clear the haze from his brain. “I, uh, you said you like irises, right?” 

“Yeah…” There’s a hesitant sort of question in your voice. You eye the small bunch of flowers in his hand. “Are those for me?” 

Peter grins. “Who else, sweetheart?” He tacks on the endearment mostly to see you fluster. It’s a success; your arms come up to hug your torso as your cheeks dimple, smile half-suppressed. 

He passes you the flowers before he can fluster too. The plastic wrap crinkles under your careful touch, and you glance between him and them like you can’t decide which to admire first. 

“Thank you so much,” you say. “Did we…have something today?” 

“No,” he laughs, hooking his thumb in the strap of his backpack. “No, you’re good. I was just in the neighborhood, and they made me think of you.” 

Your eyes go all pretty-pleased at the comment, but you tilt your head curiously. “What do you have to do around here?” 

Ah, the question he’d hoped you’d be too happy to ask. The truth is, Peter’s almost never in this neighborhood if not for you. Spiderman gets around, but there’s not usually as much going on here as in the rest of the city. He’d spotted the flowers at a stand he’d webbed a catcaller to on the lower east side, and then came over to your end of town to bring them to you. It was only, like, a ten minute swing. Much more efficient than the subway. 

“Thrifting,” he says slowly. “I was, uh, just looking to update my closet a bit, and I know you’ve got a lot of good thrift stores around here.” 

“Nice.” You smile, taking a little sniff of your irises. Their bright color makes your already exquisite face look even lovelier, and it’s such a perfect image Peter wishes he had his camera on him. “Can I see your finds?” 

“No,” he replies. Too quickly, so he tries to look really put out to compensate for it. “No, I didn’t find anything. I’m…really picky about my clothes.” 

“Oh.” Your eyes drop to his plain gray t-shirt and jeans, but thankfully you’re too nice to say anything. 

“Right,” Peter blazes ahead, tugging on the straps of his backpack, “so I just wanted to bring you those, and I’ve actually got shelves to dust, so I’d better go…” 

“Okay, thanks for the flowers,” you say. “They’re really pretty.” 

“Yeah, I figured it must be hard being so pretty all by yourself,” he says, spinning around to walk backwards so he can see your reaction, “so I figured I’d get you a companion.” 

You press your lips together, flushing and tilting your head downwards as if to hide it. “Thanks,” you almost whisper. Peter grins hugely. 

You look up just as he’s turning back around, your focus narrowing on something behind him. 

“Hold on a second.” Peter halts opediently, and you come outside, that t-shirt fluttering prettily around your hips. “Something’s falling out of your bag…” 

He thinks to be nervous just before you pull the red and blue mask from the unzipped pocket of his backpack. 

“What’s this?” 

“That…” Peter’s nodding but he doesn’t know why. It’s some sort of automatic response, like he turns into a bobblehead under pressure. His mouth is void of saliva. “That’s a costume.” 

Your eyebrows twitch together as one side of your mouth kicks up, like you’re not sure what to make of him. “You dress up as Spider-Man?” 

The nodding turns to shaking weirdly seamlessly. “No! No, of course not, I’m an adult. It’s—it’s not for me.” You look at him expectantly. “I’m making it…for my nephew.” 

“Oh.” You blink. “I didn’t know you had a nephew.” 

“Really?” Peter hears his voice pitching higher, but he’s powerless to stop it. “I didn’t mention him? We’re pretty close—well, not that close. He lives…away. In Connecticut. But he wants a Spider-Man costume, and obviously he wants me to make it, because…I’m the guy for that stuff.” 

You nod respectfully. “You are really good at sewing,” you say, and the look you’re giving him is so sweet it nearly takes his knees out from under him. “It’s nice of you to do that for him. You’re really thoughtful, Peter.” 

You say it all soft and considerate, like it’s a secret you’re letting him in on, and Peter’s honestly worried for his heart health. He’s not sure it can take the strain of all this. 

“Yeah, well, only for people I care about,” he says just as quietly. 

You drop your gaze, smiling to yourself, and start tucking the mask back inside his backpack. “Your nephew must be a cool kid. I’d love to meet him sometime.” 

“Yeah, maybe if he comes to town sometime.” Which will be, you know, never. But hopefully by the time it gets suspicious you’ll know enough that he can come clean with you about that. 

He hears the zipper close and turns before you can move away. Peter wants desperately to wrap his arms around you, feel the softness of your body pressed up against his, but he settles for taking your hand. At the look on your face when he smiles and gives it a squeeze, you would’ve died at the alternative. 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” 

Your lips part. “No problem,” you breathe. 

He gives your hand one more press for good measure, letting his fingers drag across yours as he steps away. “See you Friday, yeah? For dinner?” 

“Yeah.” You clear your throat. “I’ll see you then.” 

Peter shoots you one last grin over his shoulder, headed down the sidewalk. “Looking forward to it.” 

[rems-writing]

Her savior

Pairing: dilf!Mingi x widow afab!reader

Summary: I lowkey want to make these two oneshots connected to each other so there will be slight mention of dilf!Yunho and his s/o. This will pick up after Mingi and Wooyoung left his cousin in front of Yunho's doorstep to babysit his three daughters.

Warning(s): Hurt with comfort, mentions of bullying (i.e. harsh words, etc.), Mingi is lowkey scary sexy when angry, non-Ateez character mentioned, yelling and swearing, mentions of death and murder, slight size kink, face riding, pussy slapping, pussydrunk!Mingi, boob play, backshots, bigdick!Mingi, unprotected sex (don't do this!), squirting

Genre: Cracked beginning, angst (for the main part), a bit of fluff, smut

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Thank you to @yourfatherlucifer and @holybibly for helping me figure out what kind of dad Mingi is lol

As Mingi and Wooyoung ran down the street cackling their asses off at Mingi's poor cousin being left on Yunho's doorstep, they slowed down to catch their breath.

"He's going to kill you, Min! And maybe me as well."

"Maybe? You smacked his ass while he was hoisted over my shoulder and laughed at his misery as he tried to escape my grasp!"

Wooyoung was going to retort when the two of them heard bickering from across the street they were running in. Normally, if they saw two women bickering, it was most likely just loud gossip. That's how the neighborhood was. However, that wasn't the case. Mingi looked closely and listened intently to what those two women were talking about. The more he listened, the more his anger grew.

Those two women weren't bickering.

It was only one woman bullying another woman who was trying so hard to ward off the first woman.

Mingi hated gossip, but he hated bullying even more. Having been bullied back in high school, he would not stand idly by and let this fester any further. He marched over to the two women and broke up the fight between them.

"What is going on over here?"

The woman that was starting the fight gasped dramatically and tried to fall into Mingi's arms but he pushed her back upright and kept the scowl on his face.

"Oh, Mr. Song! You have to help me! This hag over here bumped into me and made me drop all my groceries! I think she should compensate me by buying all my groceries for an entire week! That's only fair. Right?"

Her shrill voice annoyed him and the taller man turned to the other woman.

His scowl softened a bit when he saw who the victim was.

It was the widow.

He's heard about her but to see her in person...

Yeah he was subconsciously right to not believe the rumors.

The woman was wearing all black with a thin black shawl covering her face so he wouldn't see her tears. He placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her around.

Imagine the shock on his face when he saw how young this widow looked.

He wasn't able to memorize the beauty on the widow's face since the tears were coming down like a waterfall. Mingi pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed her face with it lightly. She sniffled and gave a silent 'thank you' to him, to which he nodded.

"I'm not accusing you of anything. I just want to know the facts. Did you bump into woman and made her drop her groceries?"

The widow instantly shook her head.

"I was minding my own business when I accidentally bumped into her. She was the one that dropped them and pinned the blame on me when I was simply trying to navigate my way through the neighborhood after coming home from a walk. She then started screaming her head off and started nagging me about how I'm horrible. All that I could forgive. But then..."

She breathed in deeply.

"She had the nerve to mention how my husband is dead because of me."

Mingi's blood boiled and Wooyoung saw this. He gently guided the widow back towards his direction. The widow was confused at first. Then she saw Mingi's anger and decided to hide in Wooyoung's shoulder. She never liked confrontation but this time, she had enough of people accusing her of her husband's death so she let the tall man chew that woman out.

"Here."

He threw a wad of bills at the first woman's face, to which she was either shocked or offended by this action. She tried to speak but Mingi held a finger up and she shut her mouth.

"Unless it truly was on purpose, I suggest you apologize to her. She was minding her own business and she was even prepared to apologize for bumping into you when you just had to make a big deal out of it! I mean come on! It's 2024 for fucks sake! Why are we putting down women still?!"

"But Mingi -"

"You will address me by Mr. Song! And you will not interrupt me!"

The woman nodded and her face became red out of embarrassment. He continued to speak.

"You know... I've seen you around. You do nothing but gossip around and show off your miserable trophy husband. I think you're on husband number three. Am I correct?"

Wooyoung had to stifle a snicker while the woman tried to protest, only for Mingi to shut her up again.

"Yeah... one of my employees mentioned that you divorced him because he 'wasn't making enough money' persay."

"But he truly wasn't-"

"I SAID DON'T INTERRUPT ME!"

The woman clamped her mouth shut, fear evident on her face as Mingi kept talking growling angrily.

"Just because baby daddy number three is making more dough than your last husband doesn't mean that you can flaunt your shit and then belittle other women. How would you like it if you were in her position?!"

"Mr. Song, here's the thing! There's a reason why the entire neighborhood doesn't like her!"

"Oh I can't wait to hear this!" Mingi barked out a sarcastic laugh while Wooyoung remained stoic, occasionally comforting the widow in his arms.

"Well she... she killed her husband! She's crazy and -"

"Stop talking."

"But Mr. Song-"

"I SAID STOP TALKING!"

"But Mr. Song! You have to understand-"

"DO YOU WANT ME TO FIRE YOUR THIRD HUSBAND FROM MY COMPANY?! BECAUSE I WILL FUCKING DO IT!"

The woman shut up and looked down in shame. Mingi forced her head up so she could look at the anger in his eyes.

"You do not know the full story. And even if you do, just the mere fact that you continue to degrade her regardless of the truth makes me sick. You make me sick."

He clenched his fist and sighed deeply.

"And people think I'm the monster. Nah. I just hate bullies. In fact, I'm staring at the monster right here."

The woman's face paled and she had the audacity to beg for forgiveness and for him not to fire her husband, to which he laughed at.

"Why are you asking me for forgiveness? You should ask her."

The woman looked at the widow wearily and Mingi sighed.

"Forget it. You're so adamant on making her miserable. Fine. I'm firing your husband and I'm telling the landlord to raise rent on that little condo you have nicely decorated."

"Wait! Mr. Song, have mercy-"

"Girl, just go! You keep yakking and yakking! Don't make things worse for yourself." Wooyoung spoke up this time and the woman hung her head in shame before taking the bill wad and entering her car so she can rebuy the groceries she dropped. Mingi huffed out a sigh of relief and walked over to the widow in Wooyoung's arms.

"Hey. It's ok. I'm sorry if my anger got the best of me. I just can't stand it when people are bullied for no reason whatsoever. I hope you can forgive me."

The stark contrast between the softness of the taller man's voice and the sheer anger of his aura earlier shocked you to say the least. Even though you were still shaken up, you were happy that someone stood up for you. You looked up from Wooyoung's shoulder with big glossy eyes. Mingi fought the urge to grab your face and hold you close to him. In the end, he resisted. Although, his heart swelled with adoration and care when he heard your sniffles and your shy voice.

"Thank you, Mr. Song. No one has stood up for me like that before. I usually have to fend for myself but today was a really bad day for me so I couldn't. I'm sorry to have disturbed your peace with Mr. Jung."

Mingi shushed you and smiled kindly. You found it endearing how his smile reached all the way to his eyes so his eyes formed crescents.

"No need to apologize, love. And definitely no need to thank me. I'm just doing what a good Samaritan would do. Oh and you can call me Mingi."

"And you can call me Wooyoung."

You looked back and forth between the two men and nodded shyly. Mingi then slung an arm around you and held you close to him. The sheer size difference between your bodies was overwhelming. Through your shawl, your breath was taken away by how large this man was.

Broad shoulders, tiny waist, huge muscles with an even bigger chest, long legs, chiseled jaw, and huge hands with long fingers adorned by many rings. His black hair was swept back and his body was covered from head to toe by a suit that clung to his figure deliciously. You stopped your ogling and looked away shyly.

"My goodness! You must have work today! I'm so sorry for keeping you here."

Mingi looked down at his outfit and chuckled sheepishly.

"You're right. I should get going. However, I technically have the right to be late since I'm the CEO of my company. You heard me mention something about firing someone so hopefully, that gave it away."

You giggled and nodded shyly. Mingi wanted to hear you giggle again so he cracked bad jokes until the three of you approached your home.

"Um... sorry if it looks like death. I do keep the inside pretty though! It's usually my husband that tends to the outside. Although, I tried to do it myself... it's not as good."

"It looks good either way. If you want, Wooyoung can help with the outside."

"I can?"

Mingi gave Wooyoung a look and the younger of the two got the message before smiling kindly.

"I totally can! Just tell me what I need to do."

The smile under your shawl was bright and Mingi almost folded.

If only he was courageous enough to remove that shawl from your face so he can bask in your beauty. Alas, you two only met so he held back out of respect for you.

"Thanks, guys. It honestly means a lot to me knowing that there are still kind people out there who are willing to help a lonely widow such as I."

Mingi nodded and stuck out his hand for you to shake. You took it and shook it, ignoring the fact that your hand was swallowed by his. As he pulled away, you grew sad at the loss of warmth but chose to hide it.

"Well, I'll leave you guys to it. I have to get to work. I'll see you guys around!"

"Wait! Mingi! Before you go..."

Mingi looked at you curiously.

"My name is Doh Y/N. It's nice to meet you."

Mingi smiled and nodded in acknowledgement as an indication that he will indeed remember your name. As he left your home, his thoughts were nothing except you. When he entered his office, he couldn't concentrate on his work.

All he could do was think about you.

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

It had been a few months since your first encounters with each other. You two slowly became friends as you got to know each other a bit more. Mingi learned that Kyungsoo, your dead husband, was murdered by someone else as he was coming home from work one night.

The man that killed Kyungsoo also killed Mingi's own wife.

In the end, the two were nothing more than victims of the Namhae Strongman.

The neighborhood knew of the death of Mingi's wife and the death of Kyungsoo, yet for some odd reason, people gave the two of you different treatments. Mingi received sympathy while you received accusations.

Oh how life can be so bitter.

However, you fought through it and you leaned on Mingi and Wooyoung for support. Mainly Mingi.

It was the weekend and Wooyoung was playing with Song Minhee, the only daughter of Mingi. While the two were running around, the two of you were sitting on the couch in a comfortable silence. Your head was on his shoulder while his arm was secured around your waist. You were mindlessly playing with the rings on his fingers when you looked up at him.

"Any updates from your little brother?"

Mingi's brother was the cop in charge of helping the detectives investigate the string of deaths that the Namhae Strongman left behind, including Mingi's wife and Kyungsoo. Mingi shook his head.

"Sadly, no. The killer is apparently good at covering his tracks, which is ironic since he's depicted as a huge man with easily recognizable arms."

You hummed in acknowledgement to his response. You were disappointed yet not surprised.

"I hope they catch him soon."

"I hope so too."

Another silence filled the air once again but it was only temporary before Mingi spoke up this time.

"Can I tell you something, Y/N?"

You lifted your head and nodded. Mingi sighed quietly before speaking.

"It's been a few months since I met you. And it's definitely been a few months since I stood up for you that one time. I've never felt closer to anyone other than my wife. However, the more I'm around you, the more I realize that you and I have a bond that no one can compare to or break. Sure, our union exists due to our spouses being dead, but I feel like it's beyond that. I feel like I've known you my entire life and... well... is it wrong of me to say that I fell in love with you?"

You shook your head.

"I don't know... maybe I'm just talking out of my ass. I don't want you to think that I'm using you to fill the void my wife left when she died. However, knowing her, she'd want me to move on. And believe me. I've tried. I gave up at some point but then you came along. I feel like, in a way, she sent you to me. You're like a guardian angel to me."

"And you're definitely my savior."

Mingi's eyes widened upon hearing your revelation.

"Ever since Kyungsoo's death, I've felt lost. And alone. No one stood by my side and everyone tried to blame me for his death. How stupid are they to think that?! I know I'm not a good wife but still... it hurts so much knowing people still blame me for his death! I... I just-"

Mingi shushed you by bringing you into a much-needed hug and reassuring you that you aren't a terrible wife and that it wasn't your fault that Kyungsoo died. The Namhae Strongman simply just made everyone's lives miserable due to his murderous actions. As he held you close, he couldn't help but to kiss the top of your head and tighten his hold on you.

"Listen. The authorities will make sure that this killer is behind bars so we will finally get justice and closure. My brother is good at his job. The killer will be brought to justice. I can guarantee that."

His firm words of reassurance brought you comfort in this hard time and you held onto him like he was your lifeline. If you let go, he would disappear from your grasp.

After a few minutes have passed, the two of you pulled away but not entirely. You stared into each other's eyes, and before you could speak, Mingi removed the shawl covering your face and slowly leaned in. You found yourself leaning in as well but before your lips met, Mingi whispered something.

"Tell if you want to stop and I will. But just to let you know, I've been dreaming about you and I've been itching to remove that shawl from your face so I could bask in your beauty. However, if you think this is too fast, I will back up and we can remain friends."

"No no. It's ok, Mingi. Like you, I feel the same way. I'm not trying to use you to fill the void that Kyungsoo left behind but knowing him, he'd want me to move on. As I said. You're my savior."

"Well then... now that it's established, may I kiss you?"

"Yes. You may."

Mingi captured your lips in a desperate yet passionate kiss. He held your waist and pulled you close to him while you removed the glasses he was wearing from his face and had your hands all over him. One hand was in his messy black hair and tugging on the strands while the other hand fisted the white silk button up he was wearing.

Before it could go any further, Mingi pulled away. You both were breathing heavily, and both of your lips were swollen. Mingi caressed your cheek and you blushed from the contact, still feeling flustered about this entire situation.

"Y/N. I know we just confessed to each other and all that, but if we are to start something, let's take it slow. We're both still hurting and I don't want us to use each other as a rebound."

You nodded in agreement and kissed his cheek.

"Ok. I can do that."

Mingi smiled and put on his glasses before intertwining your hand with his.

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

It had been a while since the two of you had confessed to each other and shared a loving kiss yet the two of you were going strong. Mingi was taking it slow and respecting your boundaries, to which you loved.

However, he would also take things to the next level, to which you didn't mind.

From wild makeout sessions in almost every corner of the house that you two share (he asked you to move in with him since Minhee took a liking to you) to public displays from affection that ranged from holding hands to him smacking your ass and grabbing it so people know that you two were serious.

All of that left you riled up and wanting more. You just didn't know if he would feel the same way.

On top of that, you made some new friends along the way. You met Mingi's best friend Yunho, Wooyoung's other best friend named Yeosang, who worked as a barista, and Mingi's cousin, who was Yunho's boyfriend.

You also met Yunho's three daughters. Yumi, Yunju, and Chanmi. Apparently, they were sent to Mingi's place to spend the night one time since Yunho wanted to be alone with his boytoy. You didn't mind it since you loved seeing little Minhee interact with the Jeong sisters.

Seeing that interaction alone made you realize that you wanted something more with Mingi.

Perhaps you were ready to take your relationship to that next level.

Hence, the sit-down talk with Mingi about how you felt. To your surprise, Mingi felt the same way. He just wasn't sure if you'd be up for it. Seeing as how you two are on the same page, you took a page out of Yunho's book and asked Yunho if he could let Minhee spend the night at his place.

With a teasing and knowing look, Yunho happily allowed Minhee to spend the night at his place so she could play more with the Jeong girls.

It was now nighttime and the two of you were holed up in Mingi's room, making out fiercely and desperately. The riled up sexual tension spilled over and it definitely showed. With the way you were grinding desperately against him and the deep groans he would let out, it's safe to say that the both of you needed each other.

Craved each other's touch.

As you shoved each other's clothes off of your bodies, Mingi carried you in his arms and readjusted your positions so you were sitting on top of his bare chest.

"Tell me something, babe. Have you ever ridden someone's face before?"

His deep voice caused shivers to go down your spine and you shook your head. He chuckled deeply before tapping your hip, indicating that you should move towards his face so you could sit on it. As you lowered yourself onto his face, you stopped momentarily and Mingi sighed deeply before grabbing your hips and lowering yourself even more.

"When I say sit on face, I mean fucking sit on it. Like a fucking chair."

His deep voice rumbled throughout the room before it was muffled by your wet pussy. You didn't get a chance to speak as a loud moan escaped your mouth due to feeling Mingi's tongue licking a stripe up your clit before licking your folds and shoving his tongue straight into your wet hole.

Your head was thrown back and you grabbed onto his hair for support as you felt your hips move back and forth. His hands were on your ass, keeping you in place and occasionally smacking it.

"W-Wait! Mingi! Let me pleasure you as well-"

A loud squeak was heard from you when you felt one of his hands slap your pussy. His fingers directly hit your clit and it sent new waves of pleasure throughout your body.

"No. Just keep riding my face, baby. God your pussy is a fever dream. I want more."

As he dove back in, your moans increased and your hips moved back and forth faster than before. Mingi slapped your pussy a few more times before his hands reached up to cup your boobs. He massaged them with his huge hands, rolling your nipples in between two fingers and pulling on them.

"Fuck, Mingi! I'm gonna cu-"

He interrupted you by lifting you off his face and flipping you onto your stomach so your ass was in the air. He smacked both cheeks a few times before grabbing his huge cock and pumping it a few times. The tip touched your folds lightly and you let out a mewl due to the touch.

"Please, Mingi... please!"

"Baby girl, I got you."

He entered you slowly and groaned at the way your tight walls were stretching around his cock.

"Fuck, baby. You're so fucking tight. Fuck!"

As he bottomed out, he reached down and grabbed you by the hair before yanking you by it so he can see you.

He almost came just from looking at your fucked out face.

He placed a messy kiss on your lips before shoving you back down into the mattress and mapping out the expanse of your back with his palm.

"I'm going to move now."

You expected him to start slow so you could get adjusted to his size.

Imagine the look on your face when you felt his thrusts go at a medium pace.

He truly didn't want to waste time.

As he held your hips and hit it from the back, both of you groaned in unison. Your walls hugged his cock deliciously and he kept up the pace. When you asked to go harder, he didn't deny it. His thrusts became harder and harder with each passing minute. Your moans were so loud that you were sure you would get a noise complaint.

Good thing the walls are thick.

Mingi hit a particular spot that made you arch your back and he decided to make it better by reaching his hand down so his fingers could rub your clit at a rapid pace. The contact made you squeal and he chuckled darkly before leaning down to whisper dirty words in your ear.

"You like that? You like the way I'm touching you? Yeah I know you do, pretty baby. Fuck you're squeezing me so much. I love it. God I love you so fucking much!"

"I LOVE YOU TOO, MINGI! FUCK! I'M CUMMING! I'M CUMMING!"

"Cum all over this cock. Squirt all over it. I want to feel you come undone like this. Where do you want me? Hmm?"

"INSIDE! CUM INSIDE!"

"You want me inside? You want me to fill you up with my cum? Hmm?"

"PLEASE! FILL ME! FILL ME!"

"Fuck! With the way you beg, I might just do it. Fuck! Here it comes. Take my load."

With one final thrust, he emptied all of his seed into you while you squirted all over his cock. The sensation got him moaning like a pornstar as he still inside you. Once he felt that everything was drained from his balls, he pulled out slowly and groaned at the way his semen was dripping out from your quivering hole. He plunged two fingers inside you and you moaned weakly.

"Mingi, too much... I can't-"

"I know, baby. I just want my cum to stay inside you."

After shoving his cum back into you, he pulled his fingers out and laid down next to you. He pulled you close to him as you two got under the covers. The two of you started into each other's eyes.

Eyes filled with love.

"My guardian angel."

"My savior."

Eventually, the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms, knowing that you would keep each other warm and safe.

You found your peace within him.

[yorshie]

Pick Up The Phone

Bayverse x FemReader PART TWO

tags/summary: violence, torture, cussing, hurt reader, angst, uhhhhh symptoms of shock? (I'm not to the point where I am writing an outright relationship but the undertones are there)

Reader has a date go sideways and the turtles come to the rescue, but there's a difference between seeing violence on tv and seeing someone you care for commit it.

Set in 2023 (Turtles aged up)

Leo would have called this an 'I told you so moment’. 

You wished he was here, would have listened to his lecture on being more careful and not letting your guard down, if only for the fact that suffering through a powerpoint on ‘fifty ways today could go wrong’ would be happening on the way to the med bay, where hopefully Donnie would inform you that your arm was, in fact, not broken, and you were just being a little bit dramatic.

You deserved a few moments of dramatics at this point.

Your phone buzzed again, loud and angry in your hand, but you ignored it, knowing it wasn’t the number you wanted, needed. The screen was cracked, half the touchpad dead, and you weren’t even going to try to answer unless it was one of your friends. 

Your face felt hot, sticky, but it was your arm that gave you worry. It had settled into a prickly pain that felt like a coiled snake, skin feverish and swelling quickly to the point your long-sleeved shirt felt constricting. Thank god it was dark outside, not many people around, easier to hide the side of your body that felt like it had shattered when you went down the stairs.

You paused under a street lamp, looked left and right, behind. The coast was clear, you felt far enough away. Your right hand pressed, shaky, on the screen, and you cursed, your fingers catching on the cracks as you fought with the half dead technology to hit a number, any number, on your short list.

Finally, failing, letting out a rough hiss, you jammed the phone on its side against your chest and held the button for assist.

It dinged, and you tucked your chin, whispering, “Siri, call Leo.”

“Sorry. Did you say ‘Call Leo’?” The answer, loud, carrying, had a shiver break across your shoulders, a cramp starting in your neck as your body tried to compensate the weight of keeping one side stationary.

“Yes.” It came out angry, even quieter, but the phone heard, and you watched as the screen changed, for once not trying to hit the speaker button.

The damaged screen was hot against your face, and you cradled it against the right side, unconsciously moving away from the light as you caught the distant shadow of a figure moving towards you.

The voicemail beeped, and you felt your face fall, not bothering to listen to the whole automated message. You set the phone back on your chest, pressed firm on the half lit ‘hang up’ button, fought a sniffle as it didn’t work. 

You hissed out a breath again, pressed your forehead against the screen, and gritted out, “c'mon Leo, please- please, get your phone, please.”

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

“Hey, we on for movie night tonight?” Raph’s voice echoed throughout the lair as he hopped the turnstiles into the main room, depositing a pack of soda onto the common area table as he went.

“Don’t know,” Mikey’s voice floated from far above, and Raph ducked as his brother swooped down, the propulsion on his skateboard whining as he banked hard and jumped over a pipe. “Babycakes said something about having plans, told me and Donnie to not wait up.”

“Plans?” Raph frowned, cast his brother a look over his shoulder as he paused.

“Yea, Dee thinks it’s that guy we’re suppose to pretend to not know about.”

“Well, you’re doing an excellent job of that,” Raph sassed, already moving, knowing a lost cause when he saw one. He stuck his head into the lab, careful not to move past the neon tape marking the entrance. “Hey, Don? You hear from girlie tonight?”

“No, not recently, but that’s not surprising.” Done answered, popping up from a workbench and moving towards his brother. “I sent a couple messages to her earlier, but I think she muted her phone, hasn’t answered.”

Before Raph could comment, he heard Mikey’s voice again. “Yea, she hasn’t even responded to the epic battle of cat gifs today, and we’ve had that thing rollin’ since Tuesday.” 

Raph snorted, loudly, just to let Mikey know he was ridiculous, but Donnie hummed, brows shifting in confusion. “Hm, well… maybe Leo knows something.”

“Knows something about what?” Came the reply, the eldest stepping out from the dojo, swords clasped in his hand instead of strapped across his shell. 

Raph jerked his chin towards him, “You talk to princess today?”

Leo paused, looked from Raph to Donnie. “No, but my phone’s been up in my room. Usually if she wants to talk, she does it in person.” 

“Just go check your phone, numskull.” Raph gestured, and Leo scoffed, walking up the ramp to his room. 

Donnie was already returning to the lab, grabbing his phone where it sat on the main desk. He frowned at the screen, calling back over his shoulder to Raph. “Got a missed call from her, just now.” The phone buzzed again, lighting up slightly brighter in his face. “Aaand now a voicemail.”

Raph moved to Donnie’s shoulder, crowding up into his space, as Donnie flicked the device open and navigated to the phone app.

“Donnie?”

They both froze, twin shivers working across their shells and down their legs like ice water at the hissed voice.

“Donnie, please, please- I need help-.” 

It sounded like - like crying. 

Raph was suddenly alone, a Donnie shaped hole next to him, as the taller brother all but teleported to his main station and started typing furiously on one keyboard. 

Muffled, a harsher voice in the distance, and then your breath heaved out across the speaker, loud and uneven, the slap of footsteps echoing in the background. Raph could hear the next words from clear across the room. 

“I’m not going back with you, leave me alone!”

“Donnie! We got a problem!” Leo was back. Raph spared him a glance, feet cemented to the floor, and saw the flash of an Otterbox in his hand.

“She called you, too?” 

He saw Leo mouth the word too, before Donnie’s voicemail started up again, and he went silent, still.

It was that harsher voice again, this time clearer, closer. “Hey, c’mon, at least let me take you to the hospital-”

Raph felt something knock into him, saw Mikey shrug his shoulder out of the way, uncharacteristically solemn as he asked: “Donnie, where we goin, bro?”

A loud ringtone blared throughout the lab before Donnie could answer, and Raph all but ripped the seams on his pocket trying to get his phone out. He cut off the cheery jingle about sunshine, Donnie’s hissed “speaker, speaker” reminding him to hit the extra button instead of just screaming into the receiver:

“Princess!?”

“Raph?” And oh, the pain in his chest at that one word.

“Where are you, talk to me.” He felt crowded, Mikey against one shoulder, Leo at his back, but he fought the urge to shake them off.

“Who the fuck is Ra-”

“Your worst goddamn nightmare, if you don’t quit following me, asshat!” He could have kissed you for that, but that ball of ice in his gut solidified at the angry answer fired back:

Oh, so this is why you were guarding your pho-” The voice cut off, and they all heard the painful gasp that followed, your hiss audible.

“Donnie, work faster!” Leo all but shouted, but Donnie was already flying, grabbing gear as fast as he could. They scrambled out of the lab, Raph and Mikey racing for the dojo, hot on the others’ heels as they leaped the turnstiles and raced to see who would get out to the tunnels first.

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

Your call with Raph got disconnected in the struggle, but at that point all the despair, all the pain, got balled up in the center of your chest and turned into rage. You had minutes, maybe fifteen at the most, before the calvary arrived, and the idiot currently trying to haul you back to the street by your good shoulder would be in for a world of hurt.

“Stop! I don’t want to go anywhere with you!”

He ignored you, still pulling you away from the alley, from the manhole cover you’d been trying to pry open.

“You aren’t thinking clearly, why the fuck are you trying to go down into the sewer?” 

“Let. Me. Go.” You stepped forward quickly, stomped his foot, jerked back just as fast. 

“Fuck, you little bitch-”

The manhole cover behind you rocketed off the ground, disappearing into the dark with a loud crash and you felt like laughing at the sheer relief, your arm suddenly free as the man grabbing you was unceremoniously jerked away.

He was emitting a high pitched whine, the sound disappearing the harder Raph squeezed.

That relief bubbled away at the sight of violence, big hands slowly squeezing. You looked up at his face, expecting murder, bracing for it.

Devastated by the look of hatred in its stead.

Someone's arms wrapped around you, Mikey, you distantly thought, but you pulled against the warm push of muscle. “Stop- stop him-”

“Back off, Raph,” Leo barked, and you shivered as Raph dropped the man with a thud.

A quick glance around made you realize that, while relief had been your first emotion, something much darker had a hold of the turtles.

Donnie took up your vision as Leo moved past, large hands cool as he took your face between them and together with Mikey tried to turn you away.

Craning your neck, you could just make out the hiss of steel being drawn as Leo stopped over the crumpled figure on the ground.

A fear wormed its way into your heart, beating louder and louder. “Wait, wait- stop. Leo! Stop!”

He pulled up short like a puppet on strings, and you curled your good arm across Mikey’s bicep, trying for just a little wiggle room. Donnie’s thumbs still tracking across the bad side of your face as you fought to keep your eyes open.

“I need-I need you guys to take me to the lair.” The words left in a rush, your tone almost panicked, desperate that they take the bait. “Please, Raph. Leo. Please, I need you all to take me to the lair.”

“She’s got a broken arm,” Donnie called, as if you hadn’t spoken. “The head wound seems superficial, but it’s a lot of blood.”

You swatted away his hands, kept your eyes over his shoulder, tip toeing, pulling against Mikey. “Leave him, its not worth -”

Wrong thing to say. Raph moved faster than you could think. The crunch of bone against pavement the only warning before a high pitch scream left the man still on the ground. 

The near growled whoops was darker than you had heard his voice before, but Leo only huffed a low chuckle that did nothing to ease your fears.

“Don, She’s nicked here,” Mikey’s murmur jerked you back, made you realize the calloused hands on you had moved. His grip had shifted, one arm across your chest, the other pulling at the hem of your shirt, thumb tucked into the crease of your hip.

Donnie’s finger moved to cover the broken skin, and you hissed, breath broken, babbling: “Stairs. Stairs- I fell down the stairs leaving-”

“Oh?” Leo’s voice reached you, and you cut yourself off, jaw snapping shut despite the fact that the tone wasn’t aimed at you. “I didn’t know you were called ‘stairs’. Nice to meet you.”

You couldn’t see what he did, but whatever it was pulled out a gargled whine. 

Your hand finally unlatched from Mikey’s wrist, grabbed a hold of Donnie’s arm, tightened until you knew your nails were digging in. “Donnie- Donatello! Listen!”

Hazel eyes snapped to your face, and you continued, desperate to establish contact. “You are better than this, you all are better than this. Call it, Dee. Get me to the Lair."

His eyes flickered, you felt hope. “I’m really tired, Dee. My arm hurts so bad, please.”

His mouth pulled up at one corner, as if he knew what you were doing, saw straight through to the panic. He straightened to his full height, and you let that relief blossom, felt the pain in your arm again as he turned.

He whispered something, low, to Leo, and you watched, helpless in Mikey’s grip, as they turned in unison to your failed date.

“If.” Leo lowered himself, and you saw the sway of the blade in his hand, saw the way the man seemed hypnotized by the threat. “You. Ever. So much as think ill of her, we will know. And we will find you.”

Mikey’s chest vibrated under you back as he chuckled, his lyrical tone causing you to shiver. “Look at the big man quiver. Fucked up the wrong tree, bro.”

You bit your tongue, hard, fighting the urge to try and hurry them, goad them into leaving faster, knowing it might snap whatever hold you had and they’d go back into torment mode.

You didn’t release your breath until you all were in the tunnel below, good arm coming up to wrap around Mikey’s neck as he shifted you, careful of your bad side, gait long and even as they ate up miles.

Finally, a good ten minutes in, and you finally raised your head from his neck to ask, “Is my arm really broken?”

Heard Donnie hum an affirmative, and lowered your nose back to tuck against the juncture of Mikey’s neck. “Just one break, in your forearm. I’m hypothesizing you stuck it out to break a fall?”

“I really did take a trip down the stairs,” it felt wrong to try to inject humor, but they were so silent except for the sound of their feet on the cement. You tried to fill the silence again. “He only pushed me against the wall, only tried to get my phone. If I’d been smarter-”

A heavy hand, finger curling under your chin, and you let him, met Raph’s gaze, “If you say ‘only’ one more time, I’m turnin’ round.”

You made a strangled nose, disappeared back into the safety of Mikey’s hold, felt his hand soothe the shiver that had started in your shoulders, down your spine.

Donnie kept the med bay sterile, bleach clean. The white tiled walls boxed you in as Mikey set you on the patient bed, gently removing the grip you had on his wrist so Donnie could take his place.

They filled the room til the space was fit to burst, and you felt the tension, drowned in it with every pass of the soft cloth Donnie rubbed across your face, every brush of your knee against his leg. You had no idea who was wound tighter, you or them.

Finally, when Donnie moved back and you blinked at the harsh light after minutes of keeping your eyes clenched tight, Leo sighed. A deep, chest rattling exhale of breath, and it was like those imaginary puppet strings were finally cut, and you slumped your good shoulder against the wall behind you.

You could almost see him open his mouth even though you were faced the opposite way, and belatedly remembered how you had looked forward to his powerpoint presentation earlier. A smile worked its way onto your face, a twisted thing, gone as soon as you felt the atmosphere shift again.

“The fuck you smilin’ about?” Raph. And you swallowed heavily, mind flickering back to big hands squeezing.

“Raph.” Leo’s reprimand was soft, different from the bark earlier. You suddenly wanted him to snap, wanted the anger. Wanted them to at least stay on one page so you had a hope of processing it.

You felt tears, now of all times, escape their ledge, start tracking down your face as Donnie moved to your arm. You stared at a point over his shell, where the wall met the ceiling, and held it.

“Ah, shit, princess. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” That big hand again, cupping your cheek, and without thinking you curled your face away, heartbeat painful, imagining the strain to squeeze the life out of a man with one grip.

His hand hung in the air, suspended, then dropped, and you tracked it all in slow motion. 

Donnie interrupted, “I’m gonna look at your ribs now, kay?”

You nodded woodenly, sucked in a breath at how cold his hands felt against broken skin.

“You’re gonna feel a little out of sorts for a bit,” he continued, and blessedly Raph moved away. For a heart stopping moment you thought he was leaving, but he only leaned back against the closed door. You tracked over him, then around the room, realized he had gone to the wall furthest from Leo.

Donnie pulled your attention again, “you’re likely already experiencing some shock symptoms-”

Donnie was almost always right, you realized, because at that moment you blurted out: “Thank you, for- coming to-” The words stuck, and the tears wouldn’t stop, and you could still see Raph’s hand hanging in the space next to you. Your arm burned, your ribs ached, but you needed to say it, needed them to know that-

“Hey, babycakes, it’s ok. It’s ok.” Mikey was on the bed behind you, legs sliding on either side of yours, holding you steady with a warm hand on your good hip, and you breathed in sharp, your shiver turning into full body quakes.

Donnie kept a hold of your bad arm, held it out, kept it steady as he continued to work on it, probing the break carefully.

Leo moved, silent, in between a long blink, grip on your calves soft as he dropped to his knees, caged you in between Mikey’s thighs and his plastron.

Raph sighed from where he stood, and you heard more than saw him push off the door, steps loud as he moved to your free side and once again raised his hands.

They curled along your jaw, too big, too strong. Grip careful as he wiped away the tears, cradled your head to keep your chattering teeth still. 

An echo of the earlier violence, but at this point you didn’t care.