#Stop acting like it didn’t turn you on. You’re not fooling anybody.

[rkaji]

And I’m the pervert when you respond to my simple question— the ones you wanted us to ask, mind you, with.. with that?! You’re the perv! Not me, you… you ass!

N-No! I’m not flustered! I’m not blushing! Shut up!

— @luvlils

Did you want me to lie?! You asked a question and I answered it! Simple as that! Don’t call me a pervert when you picked out that question to ask me anyway! And you are blushing— OW?! What was that for?!

[fhrlclln]

dorky!qimir x acolyte!fem!reader

in the midst of finishing up my three fics i’m currently gonna post soon. have some tinge of something from me cuz my brain made up a funny scenario w/ qimir & an overly flirty acolyte!reader

sooo… imagine like reader likes to flirt with qimir, a lot… to the point where he sometimes would hide away from you because how touchy you are and how raunchy your flirting is with him. LOLLL 😭

pt. 2

suggestive themes under the cut

｡･:*˚:✧｡

“qimirrrrr? qimir!?”

“oh, maker.” qimir’s eyes widened when he hears your voice enter the shop. mae rolls her eyes, when she sees him drop the ingredients he was using for making her poison for master torbin as he ducks behind the counter.

“get her out of here!” qimir whispered-yelled at the other acolyte. mae glared down on him, but a small mischievous smirk appears on her lips as she thinks of something as she turns to you, her fellow acolyte. qimir was not one for being this desperate to hide for anybody. it was just that… sometimes you, who happened to grow a… crush or he thinks you have a crush on him, has his whole life turned upside down.

you were borderline touchy with him, he doesn’t know if what you were doing was just to toy with him in your past time or that you have no sense of personal space for him whatsoever. he cringes at himself, remembering the way you would press up against him while he’s working, or sometimes you’d ‘accidentally’ bump into him, your ass brushing against his crotch that makes his whole core shook. and your flirtatious words, he’s overly shocked to even hear some words he doesn’t know can be used come out of your mouth when you teased him, looking at him with your sultry gaze as if you want to eat him up. quite literally.

the fact that it was getting hard to work with you, it was getting hard to conceal the reaction you had caused on him. was he a sicko for actually enjoying your harassment? he doesn’t know, but the tent growing in his pants back then says otherwise. he sometimes wants to give up his act, and maybe you would stop once you know he was your master. pathetic it was that he had to hide from you now, he feels like a coward.

“he’s here!” mae points behind the counter. your eyes light up at mae’s words as you immediately walk towards the counter.

“you traitor-!“ he feels betrayed as he glared at mae. she merely dismisses him, chuckling.

“i’ll come back for my poison.” she says and he’s panicking now. your head pops up from his point of view, he glances up, awkwardly faking a smile at you as you giggled at him.

“hi, qimir.” you greet him with a sultry tone.

“h-hello.” he coughs before making the courage to stand up. you stand up straight now, getting off the counter as he awkwardly avoids your piercing gaze.

“d-do you need… anything?” he asks, wincing when he feels you lean forward, to get close to him. oh, you were loving each and every moment you’re torturing him.

“i actually do need something.” you grin, fiddling with his items on the counter.

“y-yeah?” he wants to burrow himself in the ground.

“mhmm, just need… you.” you cooed, then you walk towards where he stands behind the counter.

“i’m h-here.” he gulps when he sees you get close to where he slowly backs away, raising his hands slightly as if you were going to pounce on him, alas his back hits a wall. “do you need anything else? please tell me you need anything else.” he begs and you chuckled.

“mother of kriff, qimir. loosen up a bit.” you laugh as you don’t get much closer to him, to which he sighs in relief but he remains frozen in place. “did my master send a message to you? about my lessons?”

he relaxes then shakes his head. “no. he hasn’t told me anything yet.”

you frown then sigh. “okay.”

the way you sulk has him feeling like a fool now. he hasn’t given you anything new yet for you to learn, since he was more on focusing on mae now. and he kinda needed a bit of distance from you, even though you didn’t know he was the one teaching you. but the frown on your face makes him automatically comfort you in some way.

“hey, don’t be upset. he’ll come around soon.” he says with a soft and gentle tone. you smile at him and he finally detached himself from the wall as he walks towards you. you don’t say anything. still clearly upset. “if it’s of any, he says that you’re improving very quickly.”

“really?” your eyes shine as you look at him, and he reels in to that, his heart thumping.

“yeah… you’re doing great. so, don’t worry.” he smiles, liking the way this turned out than what he had expected.

except… he didn’t expect what happens after.

“oh, you’re so sweet, qimir.” your lashes fluttered, he’s about to say something else yet you immediately placed both of your hands on the side of his face, pulling him down to your level as you place a quick kiss on his lips.

fuck.

“o-oh…” he feels dizzy, utterly too shocked to process that your lips landed on his. but how soft your mouth felt on his makes his cock stir at the moment.

“i’ll see you later, qimir. i’m gonna go now.” you pat his cheeks, letting your hands drop down from his face, and he stumbles forward, but catches himself. your giggle echoes through the shop as he watches you leave him in a troubled state.

you just kissed him.

he just kissed his own acolyte. and he feels disgusted with himself as he glances down to the evident tent on his crotch. he groans loudly, closing his eyes as he wishes to strangle himself from your sweet torture. he tells himself, just a little more, just a little more he’ll get at you back from that quick kiss. how dangerous you are to toy with him, making him feel like an utter fool, as if he’s still a teenage boy, getting hard from a quick peck on the lips.

oh, you were in it now.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

this is so funny to me. 😭

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Tarnished But So Grand

Pairing: young!Coriolanus Snow x reader

Warnings: death, violence, planting the seeds of Snow’s toxicity

Word Count: 2.7k

Author’s Note: there are some moments where Snow definitely is ooc and others where he is indeed still very much toxic - don’t date toxic boys irl

Before this year, you could have counted the amount of times you’ve snuck out of your house on one hand. Now, though, most nights of the week find you shimmying out of your window and scaling the side of your house, dropping into the waiting arms of Coriolanus Snow. You’re sure that you could have just asked your parents to spend time with the boy, but you liked having something all to yourself, and you liked breaking the rules for once in your life.

There’s something about being with Coryo that just makes you come alive, makes your heart race and your breath come faster. It might just be the thrill of sneaking out of your bedroom window while your parents are fast asleep, but you’re starting to think it’s just Coryo, the way he looks at you and talks to you and holds you. Now, he grabs your hand, and the two of you rush off to the little park you’d decided was your safe haven, a place where only the two of you exist.

“My parents are having dinner with the Creeds tomorrow night,” you mutter, whispering your death sentence. Your parents have grand plans for you, plans that involve marrying rich and having lots of children. You’d been trying to convince them to wait until you’d attended university, until you believed Coryo could make a name for himself, because you simply couldn’t imagine your life without him by your side.

“It’s a big day for everyone then,” he responds, grabbing your hand and trying his best not to look disgusted at himself. He might be able to fool his classmates, but the parents could see the truth, the dark, penniless truth.

“Don’t act so nervous, we all know you’re going to win the Plinth prize, I can’t even think of anybody we know who’d even come close,” you try and lighten the mood, but even under the dark lamplights you see the disbelieving look he sends your way.

It’s no secret that you’re intelligent, and it would be a crime if your parents refused to let you attend university, but you didn’t need the Plinth prize, not the way Coryo did. He tried to hide it, all his struggles, and he’d been successful until you stopped by the penthouse to bring over an assignment he’d left at the academy. You didn’t mind, not even a little bit, but Coryo never fully believed you.

“Maybe we should just run away,” you change topics, leaning into his side and resting your head on his shoulder. He leans his own on top of yours with no hesitation, wrapping an arm around you and drawing you closer. You close your eyes, savoring the moments you know are fleeting because as much as you fantasize about it, neither you or Coryo would ever have the guts to run away.

Trying your best to commit every second you spend together to memory, you listen to the rise and fall of Coryo’s breath as he sits next to you, a shiver running through you as he lightly strokes the exposed skin of your arms. You stay like that for what feels like hours, and even though you’d be more than happy to spend eternity here with him, Coryo stands and kisses you goodbye, needing sleep before the ceremony tomorrow.

Watching him go, you can’t help but mourn what’s right in front of you, can’t help the despair that twists in your chest when you realize that life won’t always be this way. In a few months, there’ll be no more sneaking out, no more secret meetings, no more gentle kisses hello and goodbye. You’re living on borrowed time, and you can’t help the tears that well up as you watch Coryo’s retreating form.

——

Even the mere sight of Festus Creed standing in the academy’s entrance hall is enough to make bile rise in your throat. You almost want to turn and run, but you see Coryo across the room and a smile works its way onto your face and he sends one back, over the heads of all of your classmates. You’re so distracted, so enamored, that you don’t notice that Festus is now standing right in front of you.

“Coming to dinner tonight?” He asks, trying his best to appear charming but all you want to do is scratch his eyes out.

“No, just my parents, I have plans of my own,” you tell the boy, feeling much less cornered when you catch the sight of your savior coming towards you. As easy as breathing, Coryo slips his hand into yours, squeezing once without breaking eye contact with Festus.

It’s a display of ownership and power, that much you can tell, as if Festus wouldn’t possibly respect your own wishes for him to scram and you needed Coriolanus to step in for you because he’d be respected. Even though an act of peacocking like that would typically make your skin crawl, you’re just grateful that Festus has slunk off to bother someone else. Squeezing his hand once before letting go, you turn to talk with Coryo for the first time since you watched him leave last night.

“You look very nice,” you tell him, brushing imaginary lint off his shoulders just for an excuse to touch him. He smiles at you, the soft sort of smile that he only shows to you, but it crumples when Arachne and Clemmensia approach. Your own hands fall from his shoulders, as if you’re not allowed to touch him in a friendly manner, and you turn to face the group and listen to their discussions of the Plinth prize.

The rest of the day passes by in a blur of confusion and despair; not only is there no Plinth prize, but you’re being forced to become a mentor for one of the 24 tributes in the Hunger Games. You’re assigned to Bobbin, a little boy from District Eight, and as evil as it seems, there’s a part of you that hopes that he passes away in his sleep before the games begin, to spare him from the horrible end you know he’ll meet otherwise.

Curled up on top of your bed, all you want is to have Coryo wrap you in his arms and stay there for the rest of eternity. When the time comes, and you shimmy out of your window and down the side of your house, you all but fall into Coryo, his arms the only thing keeping you upright. He doesn’t say a word, just pulls you closer and holds you tighter, knowing exactly what you need.

The two of you stay like that for a while, until you feel sufficiently human again and the worry of your parents seeing you starts crawling forward in your mind, so you grab his hand and start the familiar walk to your park bench.

“Why are we doing this?” You ask, still feeling despondent and your thoughts running a million miles a minute.

“Doing what?” He asks, confusion clouding his voice, and you can tell his brows are all furrowed even though you’re staring at your intertwined hands, “this?” He gives your hands a gentle shake, and he sighs when you nod.

This is a conversation you’ve had many times before, and no matter how many times he reassures you, you know you’ll just ask again in a few weeks. If Coryo knows the two of you will never end up together, not if your parents have a say, why would he spend all this time with you? What’s the point in a midnight rendezvous if he knows nothing real can come of it?

“Because I love you,” he answers the way he always does, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulder and pull you impossibly closer, “and because I know that your parents will change their minds.” That part is new, a testament to Coryo’s need to be the best, to his determination to win. To him, having you marry Festus would be the same as losing to Festus, and he’d never let that happen. He loves you, you know he does, but you wonder how much of his desire to marry you is love and how much is pride?

Before you can spiral, the conversation turns to Lucy Gray: her chances of winning, how likely she is to trust Coryo, how Coryo can increase her odds in the Games. There aren’t any discussions of Bobbin, even though you’ve been tasked with keeping him alive as well, and it’s as if Lucy Gray is all that matters at the moment. And, in the lead up to the Games, she really is all that matters to the majority of the Capital, everyone is so enamored with her it’s as if none of the other tributes should even try because while they might be more skilled, none of them have captured the hearts of the Capital the way Lucy Gray has.

Walking into the academy on the first morning of the Games, you’re full of a sick sense of apprehension, something deep inside you that wants to turn and flee and never look back. You don’t, instead taking a seat next to Coryo and craning your neck as you look for Sejanus. Dean Highbottom had said something cryptic about the boy when you and Coryo entered the room, and you can’t help but think he’s been hurt in some way.

When he enters, he looks well enough as he can be given the circumstances, but that all changes the moment the cameras turn on. Bloody and beaten, Marcus is strung up in the center of the arena and it’s unclear whether he’s alive or dead. It doesn’t matter to Sejanus, who stands and screams at everyone before storming out. The rest of your peers snicker, but you’d do the same if you were in his shoes. Even now, the sight of Marcus and the knowledge of what’s to come makes you want to throw up, but you manage to control yourself.

Bobbin and Lucy Gray both manage to survive the bloodbath, sneaking off in opposite directions as Coral and her gang begin to terrorize anyone they can catch. Even though the Games have just started, you’re already praying for them to end. You’d rather sit through a ten minute bloodbath and have it all be over than have to sit and watch for hours and days on end as the number of tributes dwindles down to one.

That night, you leave with the rest of the remaining mentors, with the exception of Coryo, who’s determined to watch out for Lucy Gray as long as he possibly can. Your parents have the Games playing on their television when you return home, but you ignore it in favor of curling up in your bed and wishing for an end to the violent spectacle. For the first time in months, you don’t bother to sneak out, knowing Coryo won’t be there to break your fall.

At some point during the night, the feeds are cut and when they come back on, Bobbin has been slaughtered. This information isn’t shared with you until you return to the academy with the rest of the mentors, and you’re beyond devastated.

“No one knows what happened to him,” you explain to Coryo in a frantic whisper before Lucky Flickerman kicks you out for having a dead tribute.

“It could have been any of them,” Coryo gestures towards the screen showing Coral and her gang, and you know he’s right. No matter what you do, you won’t bring him back, and you’ll never find out who slaughtered that poor boy. You give Coryo’s shoulder a squeeze before you hurry away, devastated at the loss of such a young life but glad you won’t be forced to watch the Games anymore.

When the dust settles, Lucy Gray is the last tribute standing, even as Coryo has to forcefully ask, again and again, to get her out of the arena. The last thing he needed was everyone knowing he cheated, twice, and taking away everything he had worked so hard for.

They did anyway.

Despite Dean Highbottom’s explicit instructions for Coryo to go straight to the station after gathering his few meager belongings, he knew he needed to make a quick pit stop before he left forever. It felt strange to be knocking at your front door instead of waiting underneath your window, and anxiety coiled around in his belly as he waited for someone to answer. Luckily, it was you who swung open the door, and just seeing your face sent a pang of longing through him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, not unkindly, as you step outside and shut the door behind you. With the Games, you hadn’t seen Coryo in days, and it’s been the longest stretch in months that you slept a full night in your bed.

“They’re sending me to twelve, to be a peacekeeper,” he explains as quickly as he can, leaving out the fact that he’s deciding he’s going to twelve, not anyone else.

“Twenty years apart,” you place your hands on the side of his face, trying to study it and keep it in your memory forever.

“Twenty years,” he confirms, much less urgent than before. He can be a little late, he’s already being sent to hell, but he needs to just look at you a little while longer.

“I’ll be married to Festus by then,” you know that even if your parents let you attend university, there’s no way they’ll wait twenty years before selling you off.

“And then when I get back, I’ll steal you away for good,” you let out a watery laugh at that, the tears unsurprising but unexpected, as you hadn’t even realized they were falling.

“You could steal me away now,” you whisper, pulling his head closer to yours and resting your foreheads together, “we could run away, and then they’ll never find us.”

Coryo entertains the thought for a second, imagines what it would be like to live in some hovel in the woods with you, before pulling back.

“I have to go, if I don’t show up, Highbottom will hunt me down,” he says, in that soft voice he keeps just for you, before leaving you with one final kiss.

The next time you see Coryo isn’t in twenty years, but less than one. Your parents are throwing a party, trying to come up with as many social gatherings as possible to get you and Festus together, but even as you speak with your supposed betrothed, you see a familiar face out of the corner of your eye. His hair is different, and his clothes are nicer, but there’s no mistaking Coriolanus Snow.

You’re not listening to a word Festus is saying, instead hoping that Coryo will find you through the crowd. Across the room, you lock eyes, and it takes every fiber of your being to restrain yourself from running to him. He smiles at you, a charming smile that can fool government agents and parents alike, and you go weak in the knees.

While you don’t run, you do give a mumbled apology to Festus before turning and making your way through the crowd, all but pushing people out of the way until you can wrap Coryo in your arms. He responds immediately, pulling you impossibly closer and holding you tightly against his chest. You can hear the pounding of his heart, and you wonder if yours is any less erratic.

“Well, look at you, Officer Snow,” you say with a grin, settling your hands on either side of his face because it seems impossible that he’s standing in front of you. He laughs, and pulls you closer for a quick kiss, barely a graze of his lips against yours but he just couldn’t help himself. Compared to the twenty years you were supposed to be apart, one year is nothing, but it still felt like a lifetime to the both of you.

“Come on, I want to hear about everything,” you grab his hand and lead him away from the party, up the stairs and towards the room you’d sneak out of just to meet him. Those nights seem like a decade ago, but you’re so unbelievably happy to see Coryo again, it doesn’t matter how long you had to wait.

Tags: @andr0medafallen @hopefulromances @chmpgneprblem

[apocalypse-shuffle]

HAL JORDAN | GREEN LANTERN (dcamu | generalized canon)

—

“Montra” (Hal Jordan x Fem!Reader)

| Hal’s bored but you're really good at capturing his attention (and you’ve been dancing around one another for a while now so why stop now?)

| SFW, gala, infatuated!hal, planning a first date, mutual attraction, reader has short hair (kinda)

| Montra: Olea europaea 'Montra' or the olive in shrub form. (Pic source: Justice League: Throne Of Atlantis animated movie)

| This May be my New Years post (I’m trying) so if it is ✨Happy 2023!✨if I didn’t make it on time then ignore the new year thing (edit: I didn’t make it) I can say this is for Valentine’s Day tho!💚

| 2k+ words

Hal is bored out of his mind. Which Bruce had clearly anticipated now that he thought about it. The man had left him alone with a very pointed ‘don’t break anything’ right before they entered the event as guests of honor. Hal had thought Spooky was being ridiculous, he was a grown man, but currently he wasn’t so sure.

Over the course of the night, as even John started to dryly tease him about how much of a brat he was being - and Hal left him alone because he was not going to be bullied - Hal heard Bruce’s words ring truer and truer.

Like a kid he was waiting for the perfect opportunity to mess something up enough that he could be released. As PR supervisor you’d probably get on him about it but he secretly loved when you chewed him out, it was the most attention he got from you and you were very sexy. Even if you did scare him sometimes.

Ultimately you’d put him in a side room until he could leave with the rest of the League and he was more than game for that. The event was for a good cause, don’t get him wrong, but there was only so much gawking one man not at all used to the spotlight while in a rented Armani suit instead of his uniform could handle.

He's tucked himself away by the bar and it’s worked fairly well to keep him out of sight. After all, the only thing that could indicate he wasn’t just some regular smuck was his lantern mask, and all he had to do was keep his head low to hide that. Problem was, that meant he couldn’t talk to anybody without garnering attention. He’s so damn bored he’s started stealing the olives from people’s drinks, snickering as they walk off without noticing.

Okay so he was a bit of a child.

It’s on his sixth go at snatching the olive from some guy's martini that you show up. One second he’s got his hands on a toothpick speared with the motherload of olives and the next his hand is being smacked.

The olives are almost lost to the air as he snatches his right hand away, but his left hand manages to catch it just in time.

“Ow!” he gives you a wide eyed look. “What was that for?”

His small exclamation makes you roll your own eyes, and he resents that a little, he does.

“Lantern, what are you doing?”

You lean against the bar and he can’t help the way his eyes catch on what you’re wearing. It complemented your figure quite nicely.

He clears his throat. “You reserve no right to ask me that question after you just hit me.”

“I reserve every right when you insist on acting like a right fool. What’re you even doing here? You should be on the floor mingling.”

Hal rolls his eyes as you flag down the bartender.

“I mingled for two whole hours, that tires a man out, so I did the responsible adult thing and hid.”

You order before turning back to him and his mind instantly wonders what you’d look like giving him that narrow eyed look in the bedroom. He goes a little pink. Jesus, that’s an image.

“Oh, you're the model of responsibility. Stealing olives is heightened sophistication.”

Hal winks at you, “I hear it’s all the rage with nobility.” and pops the three olives into his mouth.

“And if somebody saw and snapped a picture? There is no nobility here, Lantern.”

He realizes it’s kind of your job to care about how he looks to the public, you were made the PR representative for the Justice League after one too many smear campaigns led by Luther and you were damn good at your job, but he had a thing about being told what to do. He could admit that to himself very readily.

“So what? I get a slap on the wrist and a go get ‘em’ tiger.” He sighs dramatically, “Hardly seems fair.”

Your laugh comes out in a huff as you accept your martini. He points to it.

“Thought you didn’t like martinis?”

You scrunch up your nose; he thinks it’s adorable.

“I don’t, but I hate champagne even more and I need to look the part,” you raise the glass to him slightly. “So I’ll tough it out.”

You pluck the toothpick and olive out of your drink and hand it to him, taking the tiniest sip possible.

He accepts the olive quite happily and eats it. He ends up choking on the damn thing as you gag and he bursts into laughter however.

“Laugh it up, fly boy. You’re still going back on the floor.”

Hal shuts up real quick and you smile at him.

He can’t help but pout when you tug on his sleeve. Flopping off of the bar stool with a huff but allowing you to link your arm with his.

You pull him back into the crowd and Hal kind of wants to whine (just a bit) but you do smell nice, and the heat of your body pressed up against his side makes him flush a little.

Someone beckons you over, she’s a big investor he’s aware of that much, and he goes along with you because he’s got nothing better to do and if he tried to leave he was sure you’d just pull him back anyway. Plus he’s more than happy to bask in your presence.

He leans over, “Do I at least get something for being bossed around?”

You hum at his whisper and the woman finally takes notice of exactly who’s attached to your arm and waves to him excitedly. Hal smiles at her, but it dissipates quickly once her attention’s back on you.

“Like what?”

You hide your response, whispering more to his shoulder than anything, before immediately moving forward to shake the investor’s hand.

As you’re exchanging pleasantries back and forth Hal gladly lets himself fade into the background. Being at these galas always makes him feel moot; out of his element. It’s just that he’d much rather feel like he’s doing something: treaty negotiations, rebuilding efforts, saving people from falling debris and punching bad guys than smiling at people.

Shaking hands so that big decision makers remember to think about the League come elections.

Observing you it’s not hard to see that unlike him you are in your element like this. You’ve been soft spoken since the day he met you but you’ve always been able to capture someone’s attention when you needed to get a job done. It was admirable.

You went up against the League’s opposers almost everyday with nothing but dry wit and the smile you’re giving the investor right now. She asked about something to do with Calendars for Christ (whatever the fuck that was) and going off of your face you were clearly displeased by it so all you did was stonewall her.

Your hair is short so nothing moves at the top of your head except the ornate earrings you're wearing, green jewels bordered by diamonds that catch the light every time you move.

He kind of likes you in green. It dances off of the brown of your skin nicely. He wonders if you’d ever let him use the ring on you. Was the ring designed for shibari? No. But he was willing to make his constructs wrap around like that for you.

Would you be frightened by something so alien or would you jump at the chance to explore it?

Mm. He wants to find out.

The dress you’re wearing is a black gown with big flowing pleats on the bottom, your heels clack every time you shift your feet even though he can’t see them, and all your jewelry is a stark emerald that catches the eye. Simple, elegant, and with the unintended effect of making the two of you look together.

It hadn’t crossed his mind until someone else came over to crash your three person circle and made a comment that he picked up on. You don’t say anything but he’s sure you’ve heard it by the way your jaw clenches before you turn into him.

“Seems we’re garnering quite the buzz,” he says before you can.

You glare up at him. “Seems so. Now answer my earlier question.”

He thinks it over, eyes roving across your face as you stare him down. You weren’t a very physically intimidating woman but the power you held was certainly scary enough.

If he fucked up you could make his life a lot harder.

“How about you let me take you out and I do whatever you want for the rest of the night?” at your dubious look he rushes to keep talking. “Plus, I mean, you did say you needed someone to convince Senator Parker not to go through with Luther’s fake alien communication efforts.”

He raises his eyebrows up at you in invitation and you squint.

“And who better than the space police to delegitimize his cause, hmm? The wealthy love their law enforcement.” You slowly nod your head. “Alright you can take me out, but I don’t skate and I’m putting you to work for it.”

“Deal,” Hal smiles at you and holds his hand out for y’all to shake on it. “I will happily follow your lead.”

True to your word you put him to work right after that. Excusing yourselves from the group that formed around you and then dragging him off to sweet talk Parker right from under Lex’s arm.

He honestly revels in the nasty look Luther shoots your way as you ply the senator with promises of strengthening his image and sly pokes about making correct decisions.

“Do you really want to place the public's trust in you on a man that can’t seem to keep himself out of maximum security prison? What about his latest ploys before he bribed his way back out of confinement says you can trust his claims, Senator?”

You touch the man’s arm and Hal glares at the way it makes him lean into you.

“You were voted into office because of your care for the people, and today I need you to follow through. There are lives in your hands, Senator Parker, all I’m asking is that you think about them before you choose who to listen to.”

You point over to Hal and he can tell that’s his que. When he comes over he isn’t really thinking when he wraps his arm around your waist, effectively causing Parker to back away from you. You don’t move away from him though, and when he glances at you you only nod towards the senator.

He smiles and moves to shake the other’s hand.

“Hello, Senator Parker, I’m one of Earth's resident Green Lanterns and I can assure you that the inhabitants of other planets closest to us don't want some tacky space outreach center being built on their land.”

“Then what do they want Mr. Green Lantern?”

Hal starts to snicker, but you must feel him beginning to shake because there’s an elbow in his side soon after and he rushes to suck it back in.

“I can assure you it’s not humans flaunting our giant superiority complexes.”

He watches how Parker side eyes Luther before getting closer to him, and cheers in his head. His smile widens even more at the honest look that takes over the man’s face.

“Safe, effective and honest communication. That’s all they want. Impeding on their planets isn’t the way to accomplish that,” he chuckles. “And it’ll be waaay less money.”

“Thank you, Ms. L/n for knocking some sense into me. Luther can be very…persuasive but I won’t be making that mistake again,” he turns to nod at Hal. “I also greatly appreciate your input Lantern, I’ll keep your words in mind.”

The two of you stop at a small alcove after Hal exchanges emails with Senator Parker with the stipulation that he remembers Hal’s only earthside every so often and won’t be able to respond immediately.

“You’re really good at that,” Hal divulges.

You raise an eyebrow in question while going through your phone with hurried swipes. From his angle all Hal can make out is a calendar peppered with a sequence of bright colors. He elaborates with a shrug.

“I just didn’t expect the conversation with Captain Cowlick over there to be so…civil.”

The corner of your mouth upticks wryly and you slip your phone into your pocket while turning to him.

“Why, because I’m black? I was supposed to get angry? Start yelling, maybe?”

What?

Hal trips over the shiny unblemished marble floor.

“No! That’s not what I meant at all,” he waves his hands around to accentuate his point. “I only meant I expected Lex to stomp over and get all passive aggressive since, you know, he hates when people mess with his toys. He’s a giant asshole -and I trust your abilities completely…”

He glances at you, eyes wide and another string of apologies on the tip of his tongue, before he notices the twinkle in your eyes. He bites his lip.

“You’re messing with me aren’t you?”

You blink and instantly the mirth in your eyes dissipates, replaced with the stern yet benign look you dawned when confronting politicians and the press alike.

“Of course not Lantern. I was simply pointing out how your words could be misconstrued.”

Oh, you were definitely messing with him. He feels his lips tug up and shoves his thumbs in the loops of his pants. He leans a little in front of you as you both continue moving so you can see the dubious raise of his brows.

“And that’s the only reason?”

You give a derisive nod. “Mhm.”

Hal finds himself bouncing as he walks. If this was how you acted with him on the job he couldn’t wait to find out what you’d be like outside of work. If you were willing to joke around, even if it was at his expense, it pointed to you not just saying yes out of pity or self preservation. Which-

“You know you don’t have to go out with me just cause I’m the one who asked, right?”

“I’m well aware,” you chirp. “And besides, The Bat is my boss. Not you. If you tried to force my hand he’d slap your pasty ass with a suspension and put you on review real quick.”

Hal blinks, a little surprised at what you’d said, before deciding that -yeah- Spooky would totally do all that. Not that Hal would ever force yours or anyone’s hands for anything so paltry, but still.

“Good, I’m glad,” is what he settles on. “Just making sure.”

You make your way around in silence for a while after that. Hal finds himself going over his mental to-do list and squeezing you in. He was rarely earthside for long stretches of time so he always rushed to run errands during whatever “break” he did have.

He puts the date with you between two possible slots. The night after he checks his PO Box and restocks his food supply of nonperishables -he’d neglected the grocery store the last two times he was home and his kitchen now was depressingly barren- y’all could do dinner or he could do lunch with you in between his morning League meeting and scheduled training sessions.

The two of you find a small alcove cut off from everyone else to stop at and you lightly elbow Hal in his side before taking a step so you’re standing across from him.

“You were pretty good back there by the way,” you raise your eyebrows. “In another life you might’ve made a brilliant politician.”

“Oh god no,” Hal shakes his head with a guffaw as you titter at him; his plans could wait, that was disgusting.

“What? Too dishonest?”

“Too soulless. I like being a mediator, saving people is something I love. I wouldn’t give that and the feeling of flying up for anything.”

“That’s great Hal,” you look him in the eyes.

“We appreciate it.”

Hal smiles at you, leaning into your space.

“Yeah? That ‘we’ include you?”

You nod and get closer to him in tandem.

“Uh huh. You think I work for you guys because I don’t?”

Hal shakes his head.

“You don’t seem like the type of woman to waste your time like that.”

“Exactly. When I do something I do it in full.”

The tips of your noses touch as you breath in each other’s air. He can see your eyes dilate like this and the ring buzzes to alert him of his rising heart rate as he looks all over your face for what feels like the twentieth time tonight.

His throat clicks as he swallows. “Does that apply to us too?”

“It could.”

“Alright, that’s fair. How can I make that answer an absolute?”

He holds eye contact with you, smirk lighting up his face as he watches the way you stumble over your response then frown lightly. You school your expression into something more composed.

You get even closer afterward, lips ghosting over his own, as you reply.

“Let’s see how that date goes, first.”

At your whisper Hal starts to give in to your pull before he remembers something and moves back. Your face falls and he shakes his head.

“I just gotta-” he makes a jerking motion indicating both of you. “Are you feeling what I’m feeling?”

You grab him by the tie and pull him down, “Oh I’m feeling what you’re feeling.”

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed! This is not proofread because it’s fucking long and my attention span can only take so much so…✌🏾

(I am so unsure about my shit once I’m about to post it. Like I hate this now. Why do I do this to myself?)

Edit: Went back to edit some things and realized tumblr cut the end out so I had to add that. Just so y’all know. This app is really starting to piss me off.✌🏾

[mirai1269]

Vincent woke up with sore limbs, aches around his body, and a throbbing headache. He swore he didn’t go out drinking last night, did he?

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead!”

That was his voice, but he didn’t say anything, in fact, when he opened his mouth, only a squeaking noise came out! He stretched his limbs and saw that they weren’t hands. What he saw when he looked up made him freeze.

He saw himself, but that wasn’t him, it was as if looking at a mirror… a giant mirror. The reflection smiled as it closed the cage he was in after giving him water and Guinea pig food.

“Welcome to your new home, I’ll get a better cage later, but this was the cheapest at the moment.” The reflection, no, imposter said as he started leaving his room to go to school.

WHAT THE F😨CK IS HAPPENING?!?! He looked around to get a better clue on what nightmare he was living in right now. He had paws for hands, he couldn’t speak l, he was in a cage, and…..

He was turned into a f*cking Guinea pig while some imposter posed as him.

——— At School ———

“Vincent’s acting strange.” MC stated, looking confused as saw ‘Vincent’ interacting with the old ‘friends’ he swore he said he was done with during lunch.

“Probably nothing.” Leon said, angered that MC was paying attention to that pretentious prick over him.

“I’m going to go talk to him.” MC said as he left before Leon could protest.

“Hey Vincent, I see you made up with your friends.”

“Oh hey… you… yes! we made up.” The imposter said with a hint of awkwardness.

He felt a bit of worry because this guy definitely knew him, but he didn’t know his name. When he looked at the diary, he saw the names of all of Vincent’s ‘friends’ but not of this guy. The ‘friends’ were easy to fool because they couldn’t give a crap about the person he was imposing, they just wanted the money. Was this the guy he called “Honey” in the diary?!

“Can I talk to you alone?” MC said, interrupting his thoughts.

“Umm. We’re kinda busy right now.” One of Vincent’s ‘friends’ said to MC in a snarky tone.

The rest of the friend group stared as if warning him. Surprisingly, ‘Vincent’ didn’t do anything about it, causing the MC to scurry back to his table with Leon.

“That’s weird.” The MC said, well, at least he’s leaving him alone, which is one less thing to worry about.

Leon looked at ‘Vincent’ with a suspicious glare. When lunch ended, ‘Vincent’ went to the bathroom to fix his looks.

—— In the Bathroom ——

“You’re not Vincent, are you.” An low voice said, as a tall, athletic man shut the door and leaned on it, preventing anybody else from entering. He had pink hair, this must have been Leon, his #1 enemy from the diary, and he was likely about to die.

“Leon, w-what are you talking about?!” The imposter said, trying to mask his worry, but Leon didn’t buy it.

“You know what I’m talking about, the real Vincent never acted like this.”

While backing up, he then felt the pocket knife that Vincent carried (for some concerning reason). He wasn’t just about to let this guy ruin his plans of living a luxurious life, I sacrificed way too much to get here he thought while reaching for the knife.

“Don’t worry, I won’t spoil your little secret to everybody, I actually have a proposal.”

‘Vincent’ stops reaching for the knife and listening with both relief and confusion.

“What is it, please, I’ll do anything!”

“You know that guy that talked to you earlier.”

“You mean the one with the short dark hair and-”

“Yes, him.”

“What about him?”

“Let’s just say, the guy you’re imposing as and I have a rivalry between winning his heart. He doesn’t know that you’re not… you, so I’ll just need you to stay away from him, and I’ll keep your secret safe with me. In fact, I’ll help convince everybody to buy your act. Simple!” Leon says, raising a hand for a shake.

The impostor, with great relief, shook his hand and accepted the deal. This was going to be easier than he though.

BANG BANG BANG “OPEN UP THE DOOR, I NEED TO GO!” a student said in desperation. Both Leon and ‘Vincent’ quickly opened the door to let the student in, and headed to their classrooms.

*munching on popcorn* Oooh! This is some plot!

Imagen if the real Vincent somehow manages to escape and make his way to MC's house. Seeing the poor animal, the raven haired boy can't help, but take the poor fella in.

Once Leon visits them, he looks at the newest member of the house with confusion. The pet bites him when he tries to pet it, but snuggles up to MC with ease. With Newt, it ignores him. Leon is buffled, but soon, he notices something. The way this guinea pig squeaks at MC... it sounds terrifyingly like it tries to say 'honey'.

[hirokiro]

pt 8 Princesses, Dragons, and Elves, oh my!

~*

The dragon held him up at eye level and gave a very slight shake, “Don’t test me!” he growled, wings flapping in agitation.

He glared into the elf’s eyes, and saw the terror. Even so Gill gazed back, eyes wide but maintaining contact, breathing tightly. After a few seconds he began hyperventilating.

Glen blinked and suddenly realized what was happening. Quickly, carefully, the dragon put the elf back on the ground where he sank to his knees, breathing hard, clutching his chest.

“Gill I- I’m sorry.” Abashed, he didn’t know what to do “I didn’t mean- I’m sorry! Don’t panic! I wasn’t going to fly! I wasn’t!” Frantic, he crouched down to see the elf more closely, “Gill! Don’t panic! I put you down! I put you down! You’re on the ground!”

“I… I kn-know.” Gill reassured him tightly after a few gasps.

Ohhhh horror! Oh horror, horror he nearly made the elf do that thing again!

Ah! He remembered Gill asking him to make the ground rumble, so he rumbled, sending the vibrations, hoping it helped.

Gill let out a weak noise that might have been amusement.

“Th-that’s not… not necessary.” he said in that same tight tone, as if he couldn’t breathe, “I… I’ll be alright.”

Glen drummed his claws on the ground, “You sure?”

“What’s all the yelling?”

Lana! No no not now! No wait, yes! Yes? No! No no no this was bad!

“Uh. Uhhh!” Glen looked about, “Nothing! Nothing! Just had a minor disagreement! It’s fine! We’re fine!”

“Gill?”

No no! He could see her outline as she left the cave. She saw Gill! Ahhhh! He wished he could just pick up the elf and hide him.

It was a pity the dragon had no concept of childishness in the moment, for he was acting exactly like a child caught hitting another child and trying to cover it up.

“Ss fine… fine…” Gill said weakly.

Ohhh he wasn’t fooling anybody!

“Nnnnnnn!” Glen didn’t know what else to do.

Lana came out into the light and ran to Gill, kneeling beside him, groaning a little from her legs being sore after all the walking the night before. She made reassuring sounds.

Okay, she was helping him. It was all good. All g-

“What did you do to him!?” Lana’s face turned sharply towards him and she glared up.

Despite his pride as a fearsome and dangerous dragon, Glen cringed completely under her gaze. He just felt so terrible for doing this and forgetting Gill’s phobia.

“It was an accident,” he said in a rather small voice for a dragon, “I… I picked him up.

“I wasn’t going to fly, I swear!” he added quickly.

Lana looked down at Gill, an arm around his shoulders, “Is this true?”

Gill nodded stiffly, “It… he didn’t mean to h-hurt me.”

Didn’t mean to hurt! That elf just–!

“I didn’t mean to scare you, you mean,” Glen nervously corrected.

Gill made some small sound the dragon couldn’t interpret. All he got was Lana glaring disapprovingly at him again. Glen found it rather funny despite his distress about the situation. She was so tiny, as if her glaring could cower-

“What was all the yelling about?” She demanded.

This time Glen did have a concept of feeling like a hatchling being admonished by an elder. “Things just got out of hand…” he said lamely.

“What was the argument about?” she pressed, not letting it go.

It had dawned on Glen as they spoke that he was about to be in proverbially huge trouble. He had told Gill to take a break from the issue and what did Glen do the very next day?

He felt like a complete idiot but he would never admit he was in the wrong.

“We were discussing Gill’s fear of flying and where that came from. And then… Well, see, he comes from those obnoxious dragon riders up north.” Ah, the hole was digging itself while he floundered for a way to stop it! “Any dragon would crush one as soon as look at it, you see.”

“No I don’t actually,” she replied stiffly, “I don’t know a lot about them. Adam wrote about seeing some once. Why would you crush one as soon as look at it?”

Glen straightened, a little affronted she wouldn’t see the obvious problem, “Dragon riders, and the dragons to submit to them are an insult to dragonkind!” he sneered, “They’re disgusting traitors and any self respecting dragon would kill them and their riders on crossing paths.”

Lana looked down at Gill, then back up at Glen, “And he’s… a rider if I’m understanding this correctly?”

“I never -” GIll spoke for himself, “Quite got… to that title. For… obvious… reasons.”

“Just breathe, Gill, don’t talk,” Lana said gently, rubbing his back, before she returned that glare to Glen, “Go on.” she prompted.

Ulll-hoo-hoo! He didn’t want to go on!

Glen dithered, not meeting her gaze, “Well. See. I wanted to make a point to him that I ought to kill him on principle, but that since I happen to like him… he should… be grateful and… drop all this about you going… home…”

Lana’s expression froze and, Glen didn’t know how, but the disapproval seemed to increase in intensity.

But then she sighed, “Glen. Don’t go threatening people who are nice to you. Especially if you also like them. That’s no way to treat Gill after everything he’sd been through, don’t you think?”

Normally Glen would have snipped something back about “He had to know his place” or something. But seeing the elf all crumpled up and breathing like he was deathly sick just crumpled Glen’s resolve up in return.

“I’m sorry. It’s just a fact I’m not letting you go.”

“Glen,” Lana groaned slightly, “I told you. I have to go back.”

“Mmno!” Glen sulked.

“Yes!” Lana replied emphatically, “Glen please understand from my perspective. Imagine… I just lost my brother, and my family just lost me. I have to go be with them and grieve for him properly. I can’t fool around out here avoiding my responsibility to them.”

“Someone else can tell them.” The dragon replied sullenly, “I need you.”

“I’m not making Gill do that alone,” Lana replied.

Gill inhaled sharply and Glen crinkled his eyes closed, “Mmm, well, you see. I said he’s not going anywhere either. Because I’m going to keep you both?”

~*

[itsallyscorner]

Baby’s First Heartbreak

pairing: marvel cast x teen!fem!reader, Scarlett Johansson x reader, Elizabeth Olsen x reader

prompt: the youngest member of the marvel cast experiences her first breakup.

warnings: not much—crying, a break up.

A/n: Tom is 19 here because this is set during Civil War. He was such a baby omg🥺

You were always a firm believer in having hope. No matter what the situation was, you knew that you had to at least try before fully giving up. You were only 18, but it was the mindset you grew up with. You were taught to face things with bravery and confidence, you faced things head to head with all your might. Though some things never went the way you planned, you were still the ray of sunshine you were, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, eager to learn and explore the world.

You had the same mindset going into your first relationship. Love was something you’ve always wanted to experience. Sure, you received it from your friends and family. But you wanted the different kind of love. The special one that was shared between two people. The one that made your heart skip a beat and made you breathless. Where staring into that special someone’s eyes felt like you were being transported into another world where it was just the two of you.

You’ve found that kind of love in a boy from your hometown. The two of you had been friends since pre-k, growing up along side each other, and being there for each other’s success and failures. You’ve known him all your life but the feelings didn’t come till sophomore year of high school. It all just clicked all of sudden; that one day where he said you looked cute in his jumper and the next moment you knew you were seeing him in a new light. Junior year, you were both beating around the bush; constantly pining over each other with longing stares and fingers always brushing against each other. Though you didn’t see him all the time due to your job as an actress. You spent half of the school year in your hometown and the rest at Atlanta. Of course he knew of your job and as much as he hated to see you go, he knew you were doing something that made you happy. So he spent as much time as he could with you before your time together came to an end. A few days prior to your flight to Atlanta, under the night sky of your backyard, he admitted his feelings for you. By senior year, the two of you had been dating for half a year. It had been the best moments of your life, you were in love and high on happiness, it was like nothing in life could ever go wrong.

Now here you were, in your trailer on the set of Captain America: Civil War, sobbing you eyes out. You knew loving could hurt, but not this much. You still felt your heart skip a beat, but it was clenching in heartache. You were still breathless, but because you’ve been trying to catch your breath after every sob that wracked your body. You felt broken. The boy you loved had ripped your heart out of your chest and threw it onto the floor, stomping on it till it stopped beating.

You hiccuped as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You were nothing but a fool. A fool who had hope in something that was never going to work. You sniffled as you snatched tissues out of the box on your bathroom sink, dabbing the material onto your eyes and blowing your nose. Your eyes were red and your cheeks were puffy. A sigh of frustration releases from your body. There was no way you could walk onto set without people asking you what was wrong.

You debated asking your assistant to ask your designated makeup artist to do your makeup in your trailer, you didn’t want to be a bother. But your thumbs were already shamefully typing away the request on your phone. A few minutes later Eleanor, your makeup artist on set, arrives at your trailer with her supplies in hand.

She doesn’t directly question you, but she has the look of a concerned mother once she sees your face. You lie to her and tell her you weren’t having a good day and chalked it up to being homesick.

You dreaded going on set. You weren’t sure if you could face anyone without bursting into tears. The moment you felt like you were okay, your heart would clench, reminding you of the ache it was feeling.

You were in your costume, sitting on the sidelines of the set while you rehearsed your lines. The dialogue from the script acted as a distraction from the current pain you were feeling. The tears had stopped but your eyes felt dry, making you blink multiple times to keep them wet.

“Hey, sweetheart.” You look up and meet the stunning blue eyes of Chris Evans. That typical goofy smile of his was etched onto his features. Usually you would reciprocate that smile, but today you just couldn’t find it in your heart to do so. His smile falters when he sees your face.

“Morning.” You greet him, forcing a smile. Concern shadows on his face as he shifts a bit closer to you. “You alright?” He asks, eyes softening at you. Being the youngest of all the Avengers cast members, everyone had a soft side for you. Especially Chris, who saw you as a daughter.

“Y-yeah, I’ve just got—allergies.” You lied, another fake smile forcing itself onto your lips.

“Well have you taken something to help your allergies? Do you need Allegra? Claritin or something?” He looked around ready to call one of the runners on set to get you some meds.

“No! I took some already, a few minutes ago! It probably hasn’t kicked in yet.” You tell him. He eyes you reluctantly, not knowing if he should believe you. He decides to let it pass and nods, “Ok, tell me if you need anything though.”

You hum in response and tilt your head down back to your script.

The day goes on and everyone had caught on to your lack of—being you. The infamous smile everyone knew you by was barely on your face. You didn’t crack jokes with Anthony or share a giggle with Elizabeth. Instead you were quiet, a frown was on your face as you stared blankly at the floor. You didn’t interact with anybody, keeping to yourself and walking off set whenever one of the Russos called cut.

Anthony and Sebastian watched as you walked off the set. You have all finished a sequence of the airport scene and the Russos had given everyone a break while they rewatched the scenes they shot. Anthony’s brows furrowed while he watched your figure go further and further away. He had tried to cheer you up, telling you a joke about how Seb’s arm lube kept leaking out his fake arm. Your response was nothing but a fake laugh—it wasn’t even a fake laugh, more like a huff of laughter.

“She didn’t laugh at my joke.” Anthony thought aloud. Sebastian quirked an eye at his friend, “Does she have to laugh at all your jokes?”

“No, but even if I tell her a corny ass joke, she’ll still laugh at it.” He expressed, throwing his arms up. Sebastian’s lip pouted as he thought back to your behavior on set. You were acting unusual. He turns to Tom (Holland) and asks, “Hey, has (y/n) said anything to you? Like anything bothering her?”

The Brit shakes his head, “Um, nope. Besides filming, I haven’t spoken to her today.”

Anthony crosses his arms, approaching Tom, “Have you tried speaking to her? We’ve been trying to figure out what’s been going on with her today and you’re the closest to her age here.”

“I—I tried to talk to her, but she didn’t seem in a talking mood. I thought I was bothering her so I just stopped.” Tom answered. He gestures to the direction of the trailers, “I could check up on her right now? Maybe I’ll get her one of her favorite snacks from crafties, it might cheer her up.”

Half of a smile makes it way onto Sebastian’s face at the boy’s efforts. Though you were clearly upset and he felt like they were all prodding at your privacy. “Maybe we should give her some time alone.”

Tom frowns at the older man, “But (y/n)’s upset. Shouldn’t we do something?” Anthony agrees with Tom and looks at Sebastian.

Seb raises his hands up in defense, “I’m just saying—maybe she wants to be alone. She went back to her trailer away from everybody. She probably doesn’t want us shoving our noses into her business, we should respect that.”

Chris joins the group along with Scarlett and Elizabeth. He had overhead the group talking and urged the two ladies to join him in on the conversation.

“You guys talking about (y/n)?” Chris asks, hands on his waist.

“Yeah, Seb says we should leave her be.” Anthony fills him in.

“She told me she had allergies.” Chris starts. “She’s an amazing actress, but kid’s gotta work on the lying.” He finishes. Elizabeth and Scarlett glance at each other.

“Well has anyone talked to her at all today? Besides Chris?” Elizabeth asked the group. Everyone shakes their head. Elizabeth sighs while looking around at anyone else who could’ve talked to you. She spots Eleanor hanging along the sides with her makeup belt on, ready for touch ups. Elizabeth calls her over. Eleanor has her brush ready to powder her down, but Elizabeth politely declines.

“You do (y/n)‘s makeup right?”

Eleanor nods, “Yeah, I do.”

“How was she this morning? We’re just a bit concerned since she’s been acting different today.” Eleanor sighs, knowing if she told them it would be an invasion of your privacy. Although, they were all concerned for you and so was she.

“I got a text from her assistant telling me to do her makeup in her trailer today.” She began. “I walked in and her eyes were red, cheeks puffy—“

Chris apologizes and interrupts her, “Because of allergies?”

Eleanor shakes her head, “No, she never mentioned anything about allergies. But she looked like she’s been crying. She was wiping her face when I arrived.”

“Did she give you a reason for why she was crying?” Scarlett questions her.

“She told me she was feeling homesick.” Eleanor answered. Scarlett turned to Chris and shared a look. Elizabeth thanks Eleanor then turns back to the group.

“We need to check up on her.” Anthony says. All the men nodded and began to make their way to your trailer. Suddenly, they were stopped by Scarlett and Elizabeth.

“But (y/n)—“ Tom said pointing to the trailers. Scarlett shakes her head, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Lizzie and I will go. You guys are gonna overwhelm her with all your questions.” Scarlett insists, much to the men’s dismay. They wanted to be there for you, but maybe a mother figure might help you open up with what’s bothering you. They agree and let the two women go to your trailer. Before they can get to you, they get some snacks from crafties for you.

As soon as you shut the trailer’s door behind you, the tears welled up in your eyes again. It only took a matter of seconds until they fell from your eyes and down your cheeks. You heard some people walk by outside and cover your mouth to muffle the whimpers that came out your mouth. You slid down the door and shoved your head into your hands. You leaned forward against your knees as you cried into your arms. You felt pathetic, embarrassed, anger; you were feeling so many things and the only way to let them all out seemed to be crying.

They heard your cries from behind the door. Scarlett sends Elizabeth an alarmed look as she rushes up to your door. She knocked on it repeatedly, causing you to jump from behind the door. Your cries come to a stop while you try to wipe away the tears as best as you can.

“(Y/n), honey, please open the door.” You hear Scarlett say. You remain silent, getting up and dusting your legs off. You stare at the door, debating whether you should open it or not.

“(Y/n), everyone’s worried about you. We just want to help.” Another voice coaxes you behind the door. Elizabeth. “Please let us in.”

Outside, the two women had their ears pressed up against your trailer’s door. Scarlett tries to get you to open the door again, “It’s only me and Lizzie. I promise.”

There was some shuffling heard behind the door. The door pushes open slowly, making Scarlett and Elizabeth back away. A worried expression appears on Scarlett’s face once she sees you. She cups your cheeks, her thumbs gently swiping away some tears that fell from your eyes. The two of them shuffle inside your trailer. You burst out into tears once again when Scarlett wraps her arms around you. She moves you both to sit on the couch that was in your trailer. She lets you shove your head into the crook of her neck while her hands smoothed your hair. Elizabeth sits behind you rubbing circles onto your back. Your cries broke both their hearts. You were a fairly happy girl, to see you in such pain and heartache was hard to watch.

Scarlett rocks you back and forth, trying to calm you down by whispering comforting words into your ear. She presses a motherly kiss onto your forehead once she sees you start to calm down. Elizabeth waits patiently beside you waiting for when you’re ready to talk. When your whimpers turned into hiccups, Scarlett pulls your face away from her neck to look at you. She frowns when she sees your tear stained cheeks.

“Are you going to tell us what’s going on or are you going to keep bottling it up to yourself?” She asks you softly, tucking strands of your hair behind your ears. Elizabeth chimes in from behind you, “You know, sometimes it helps to tell others what’s bothering you. You don’t have to keep it to yourself, (y/n), you could talk to us.” She gathers your hair together, splitting it into two parts as she began to fish tail braid your hair. 

You take a moment to compose yourself before eyeying the two women. You knew you could trust them. Scarlett was like your on-set mom and Lizzie was like one of your aunts. If you could tell anyone on set what was going on, it would be them.

“He broke up with me.” You confess, eyes trained on your lap. Lizzie’s fingers stop braiding your hair, “What?”

“Peyton, he broke up with me.” You whined, not wanting to say it again. You fiddle with your fingers while a tear falls to your lap.

“Oh honey.” Scarlett cooes pulling you back into her chest. You sniffle and wrap your arms around her torso. Silently crying into her shoulder.

“Did he give you a reason why?” Lizzie asks softly. You move away from Scarlett’s hold and lean against the couch with your knees to your chest. Lizzie wraps an arm around your shoulder for comfort.

You glanced at your phone that was on the coffee table, “H-he texted me earlier this morning. He said he couldn’t do the long distance thing anymore and that he has feelings for somebody else.”

Anger flashes in Scarlett’s eyes, “He broke up with you over a text message?” You nod in response.

“What a dick.” She mutters glaring at your phone. It’s quiet for a few minutes. Until you ask them, “Am I not worth trying for a long distance relationship?”

Lizzie shakes her head, “No, don’t you ever think that because you are.”

You sigh and throw your head back, “Then why did he break up with me? Is there something wrong with me? Am I not pretty enough?” Scarlett interrupts your questions by shushing you.

“There is not a damn thing wrong about you. Don’t you ever let a man, let alone a boy, make you question your worth.” Scarlett advises you a stern look on her face. “You are the most sweetest and loveliest girl I have ever met in my life. You’re kind, you care about the people around you—you even laugh at Anthony’s stupid jokes.”

Lizzie snorts beside you and squeezes your shoulder, “And his jokes are the worst.”

Scarlett continues, “You are a talented young woman already making it big in the movie industry and you did it all on your own. You are beautiful inside and out. You’re perfect, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Then why did he leave me?”

“Because he’s an idiot that doesn’t know your worth.” Lizzie answers resting her head on your shoulder. “I know it hurts now but these things happen for a reason. He wasn’t meant for you and you weren’t meant for him. Maybe somewhere in the future you guys will meet and try again. Or maybe you’ll move on with someone new. That’s just how it is. It may sound harsh, but it’s the truth.”

Scarlett nods at Lizzie, “Take it from me, I’ve been married twice. When it seems like you found that special person, sometimes it’ll all come crashing down. And it’s not an easy thing to go through. It’s full of pain, heartache, self doubt and a bunch of other heart wrenching things. But in the end you come out a stronger version of yourself.”

You stare at Scarlett, “How did you do it?”

Scarlett softly smiles at you, “Well, I had lots of friends who supported me every step of the way. But most importantly, I valued myself. I did things that made me happy and took care of myself mentally and physically.”

You bite your lip in thought as you stare at the ground.

“Listen to me.” Scarlett urges you, “You’re young, (y/n). You’re going to meet so many more people in the future that’ll bring you so much happiness and love in your life. Don’t beat yourself up over one boy who decided to leave you because he wasn’t committed for a long distance relationship. You’re going to be okay.” She assures you, cradling your face. Your lips form into a tight smile while you nod in response.

“You have us and the rest of the people outside of this trailer to support you. We’ll always have your back, whatever it is, I promise you that. You’re not going to go through this by yourself.” Lizzie promises you, taking your hand into hers. You hum and rest your head on her shoulder. You pull on Scarlett’s arm to join you and Lizzie. She chuckles and hugs you from behind.

“Thank you guys.” You whisper, genuinely grateful that you had them in your life. Lizzie pecks your temple, “Anytime darling.”

[stariwrites]

Please

Pairing: Sukuna x GN! Reader (The reader is AFAB)

Warnings: Dubious Consent, Oral (Reader! Receiving), Mind break, edging, denied orgasm, monsterfucking, corruption kink, dirty talk, mean dom to soft dom Sukuna, use of little one and little sorcerer as well as pet (only twice though), forced submission just to be safe 

A/N: I had so much fun writing this and this is for @seita “Corrupt a Virgin Collab!” Thank you so much for letting me participate! All characters are 18+  and as always Minors DNI and if you do or if you’re a nameless blog I will block you instantly. 

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: Megumi, Itadori, Nobara, Gojo, Nanami...I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to keep my promise and protect all of you. 

Debris settled over the city. You coughed, cringing at the blood that spilled from your lips at the hit you had taken. You looked around you, watching as more buildings collapsed, people screamed causing it to echo. You couldn’t find anybody no matter where you looked. Your heart raced inside your chest. 

How much longer would you be able to pull this off? Ever since Sukuna and Itadori had been separated he caused nothing but destruction. 

You watched the curse you were currently fighting rush towards you. It’s green spindles shot out only for you to dodge it in the nick of time. The wall where you had been standing in front of was nothing but a hole. You cringed. That could’ve been you.

Before you had time to recover it focused it’s sights on you again, the eight purple eyes stared directly into yours. You tried to get up again only to be met by an explosion of pain. You glanced down at your hand nursing the wound on your stomach only to see crimson seep through your fingers. Shit. 

It let out a wicked shriek, leaving your ears ringing. It charged at you again. You closed your eyes. 

Megumi, Itadori, Nobara, Gojo, Nanami...I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to keep my promise and protect all of you. 

“Protect me?” Gojo’s voice was incredulous as he tossed his head back and laughed. It had been a busy day filled with killing curses and saving people, but at the end of it all of you were able to spend time together and watch the fireworks. “I’m the strongest there is, if anything it would be me protecting you.” 

Nanami huffed at his response, proceeding to whack him upside the head. He whined, turning to Nanami no doubt to start playfully fighting him which would end in Nanami sighing in disappointment.

You could only shake your head at the two of them while Nobara scoffed, nudging your arm with a grin. “Yeah, and besides we’re all going to get stronger so we don’t need to be protected.”

Megumi nodded with a small smile which caused you to huff.

“It’s not like that!” You clenched your fists beside you, before lowering your voice. “It’s just that all of you are precious to me and I’ll do whatever it takes to not see you hurt.”

They were all speechless at your response until Itadori’s face lit up into a bright smile. “Let's do it!” He cheered, jumping into the air. “We’ll be the best group of sorcerers out there you’ll see! Let’s all protect each other.”

The six of you looked at each other with matching soft expressions, a silent agreement that you’d all make it to the very end when the first explosion fired off. Itadori shrieked at the unexpected boom that echoed in the sky causing your laughter to break the silence between each firework. 

You smiled looking back on the memory. It was fun. The people you met, the friends you gained, you wouldn’t have traded it for the world. As you anticipated the final blow one last thought flashed through your mind. You had no regrets.

An explosion of light flooded from behind your eyelids, you braced for impact but none came. Slowly, you cracked an eye open only to have your breathing hitch. Standing where the cursed spirit used to be was-

“Sukuna,” your own voice surprised you. The demon turned to you with an unamused expression.

“Think you can just die like that?” He sneered approaching you. “You fool.” 

You tried to get up, all your senses screaming to fight but you only managed to straighten your posture before wincing in pain. Broken ribs, you assumed, if not worse. “What do you want?” You managed to croak out. 

Standing above you, his eyes were filled with venom. You swallowed silently wishing the destroyed cursed spirit had taken you out. You refused to break away from his gaze while his hand moved to cup your cheek. You flinched from his touch expecting him to rip your skin away with the swipe of his talons, but instead he clicked his tongue at the action.

“Make no mistake little one, If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.” His voice sent shivers down your spine, but your body relaxed at the words. You wanted to shake your head. How could that even be remotely comforting?

You couldn’t dwell on it for long because the next thing you knew you could breathe properly again. You took a deep breath in, almost choking on it. You removed your hand from your stomach only to gape in shock. 

“You,” you looked up at the demon with wide eyes. “You healed me?”

He rolled his eyes. He couldn’t stand the way humans interacted nor did he want to. He craved the chaos he created and only wanted to see more of it, but one sorcerer managed to get under his skin, you. 

You were an enigma, your cursed energy was strong, that was for certain and as obsessed as he was with Megumi there was something about you that drew him to you. Maybe it was the way he could tell you were a virgin. You had so much experience but none with another person’s touch. He thought many times about you being tied up and at his mercy while he edged you for hours causing you to cry out pleas along with his name. 

Unfortunately there was no time to act on what he wanted with him still being inside the brat, but now, now was the perfect time. 

“Why?” The question left your mouth before you could stop it. He wanted to laugh at your perplexed expression paying close attention to your lips. You didn’t realize it, but you backed yourself into a corner. 

“Oh Little Sorcerer,” he crooned mockingly. A sinister smile stretched across his face reminding you just who you were dealing with. 

Squatting down to your level, he let his eyes rove over your body, paying close attention to where your uniform was torn and wrinkled. Instinctively, you covered yourself to the best of your ability which only made him lick his lips.

“You didn’t think I did that without a price,” his voice dropped an octave, “did you?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest while you gasped. There was no way, but noticing the hunger in those eyes that held a predatory gleam you understood what he meant. You couldn’t-

“Get away from them!” Megumi shouted. His footsteps raced towards where you were. Itadori and Nobara were fast at his heels shouting for you. A ghost of a smile fell onto your face. They were okay. From what you saw the only wounds were some scratches and bruises. They would be okay. The relief quickly faded when a talon turned your chin to make you look at him once more.

His teeth were on full display. “Let’s make a contract, shall we? I won’t hurt your friends as long as you do what I want in my domain.”

You raised an eyebrow skeptically. “And what would that be?”

“I get to ruin you.”

You knew you could stall, could buy time until they could help you, but the more you waited the more people screamed.

“So little one, what will it be?” Sukuna’s voice rang heavy in your ears. You could either go with him or more people would be hurt. You purse your lips, you had two choices: either allow Sukuna to take you and buy your friends some time or wait for them and risk more people dying. 

With a deep breath you faced the demon. “If I go with you, you promise that no person, that includes jujutsu sorcerers and civilians will be harmed?”

“Of course.”

Part of you didn’t trust him, but you mulled over the deal, searching for any loopholes. Megumi, Itadori and Nobara were getting closer. 

“Time’s running out, have you made a decision?”

You looked at your friends one last time as they screamed in horror running faster. With a final breath you focused back on the king of curses. 

“I accept.”

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

“Such a pretty little thing aren’t you?”

Obscene sounds echoed throughout the domain as you grinded against Sukuna’s tongue that resided on his abdomen. Small whimpers and broken moans spilled from your lips. Tears slid down your face while the appendage was lapping at your folds, flicking at your clit every now and again. Each grind down had your toes curling. You tossed your head back.

“Shut, ah, shut up!” You tried to shout, but it held no mirth to it. 

Sukuna smirked at your reaction. Still so fiery even after he edged you, you were a fun one that was for certain. 

He’d envisioned this moment many times before, but nothing beat the real thing. He kept your arms stretched above you with one of his hands while the other he used to cup your cheek. He lived for your expression, the way your eyelashes were grouped together with tears as you were forced to keep taking what he was giving you, completely at his mercy.

“What’s wrong little sorcerer,” he snarled. “Can’t take my tongue?” He couldn’t help but grow addicted to the breathy pants you let out as you clamped down at his words. His eyes widened, peering at you with an expression that almost looked impressed. 

“Who knew you could be such a slutty pet. Nobody’s ever touched you like this before and you’re already so fucked out, I wonder what will happen when you cum, hm?”

“Fu-fuck you,” you managed to get out between moans. You refused to give into him, wishing you had more strength in you to glare. You needed to put up a fight. 

He raised an eyebrow with a laugh. “Brat,” he dug his nails into your hips, there would be indents there for days, but he didn’t care. “You try to put up such a front, wouldn’t it feel better to give in rather than fight me? You’re so wet and you’ve been so good, so pliant for me are you sure you don’t want a reward?

The familiar coil in your stomach was about to break causing you to thrash your head back and forth. The burn was becoming painful, you didn’t know how much longer you’d last if he kept denying you. Sukuna noticed, forcing your hips to grind faster. 

“Oh? Is the little sorcerer close? Tell me, do you want to know what it’s like to cum from somebody other than you, hm?” He hummed keeping the brutal pace, watching as you heaved for breath, your eyes glossy and almost rolling back. A twisted grin morphed onto his face at the sight. 

“Don’t tell me I’ve fucked you dumb already,” he bit his lip to keep from groaning out into the domain. The reflection of the water only made you look more wrecked. “Tell me, is this what you’re going to look like when you're stretched out on my cock?”

The image alone had your toes curling. You couldn’t fight it anymore. You needed release. “M’close. M’so close. M’gonna cum. Gonna ngh gonna cum Sukuna. Sukuna,” you babbled, slurring your words.

You were almost there all you needed was one more extra push. 

Before you had time to process what was happening your hips stilled. A loud sob ripped it’s way from your throat. You couldn’t handle being denied anymore. All you could do was struggle in his hold and curse the king in front of you for torturing you like this. That’s when it registered, he was going to kill you like this. That must’ve been his plan all along.

You were about to speak, to tell him to just kill you already when he leaned closer towards you. His lips ghosted against yours. Without thinking you leaned in, desperate to feel his lips against yours, but before you could he pulled away and gazed at you.

You could see your reflection in his eyes, the way you were drooling for him, you were a mess, your eyes glossy from crying, you didn’t recognize the person staring back at you. You couldn’t remember how many times he edged you, but it was unbearable. 

“Beg me.”

Your breath caught in your throat even though you’d been expecting that. Part of you, the desperate want that curled itself into your skin and set your heart aflame wanted to cave in. Wanted so badly to finally get the release you’ve been craving all this time, but rationally you looked at the demon and whispered, “I, I can’t.”

As soon as the words were out you wanted to take them back, disappointment swam within you. You wanted to know what it was like, but the sorcerer in you couldn’t yield. You reminded yourself that you were doing this for them, but that would’ve been a lie.

 You expected Sukuna to tear you to shreds or leave you like this but instead he shushed you.

Your eyes snapped open, not even remembering when you closed them. He only rubbed your back with one of the hands that was on your hip while the other hand holding your arms set them down.

“Such a brave sorcerer, aren’t you? Even when you’re so desperate you still hold so much strength, but don’t you want to be ruined? Don’t you wish you would just be able to let go and have somebody else take the reins?” His voice was uncharacteristically soft like he was talking to something fragile, something that could break. 

“I-”

You couldn’t deny that it sounded nice, to be out of control for once, to just let yourself be ruined by Sukuna. You craved release so bad it hurt. You shuddered against him at the thought of finally being able to lose yourself in pleasure while the cool air of the domain caught up to you.

Without hesitation, Sukuna embraced you in his arms, bringing you close to his chest. You imagined that if he was human, you’d be able to hear his heart beat pressed against him like this. He caressed any inch of your body his hands could reach as he placed a chaste kiss to your temple. You settled in the warmth.

“Shh, just let me take care of you little one,” he squeezed you close before placing two set of his hands on your shoulders to pull you back. It took everything in him not to smile. He had you, he knew he had you judging by the way your face was going from conflicted to completely lax. 

“I’ll ruin you for anybody else,” the hands on your shoulders dropped down to barely touch your waist, tickling you. He began to kiss down your jaw, moving to your neck. “You could rule by my side and stay with me in this space forever, you wouldn’t have to worry about curses,” he sucked a mark causing you to whimper. “Or saving people,” his other hands moved to play with your nipples. “Or those pesky sorcerers.” 

Your mind was reeling, unable to concentrate on any coherent thought. The difference from being so rough to being soft was messing with your head. You were losing yourself, but still tried so desperately to hang on, to not give in. You had friends you needed to protect, but all of that was fading away. 

Sukuna noticed and as he sucked on your earlobe, he used the hands tickling you to meet your hips, positioning you over his cock. “All you have to say is-”

“Please.”

[heliads]

Crows

Everyone has a symbol on their palm that somehow relates to your soulmate. You have a crow, which led to you joining the Dregs in Ketterdam. Every Dreg has a soulmate symbol that in no way relates to you- except Kaz Brekker, as no one has seen his palm at all.

masterlist

You stare at the crow inked into your palm. It stares back at you.

You hesitate for a second longer, then snap your hand shut, letting the unblinking eyes of the black bird disappear back behind your fingers. This is the price of a soulmate, of wandering too far from your home and never finding the one person you were meant to belong to. This is the price of being a canal rat, a Grisha, of being anybody still foolish enough to believe in a soulmate in the midst of all this darkness.

Soulmates may technically be real, but people only believe in them as much as they do Inej’s Saints, or anybody else’s long-held dreams. Between the wars and Shadow Folds springing up across the world, it’s getting pretty hard for anyone to find their soulmate at all. It’s supposed to be simple- one mark on each person’s palm to designate their soulmate, a mark that will disappear at the first touch of their hand on yours. Sometimes, you wonder what mark would be on your soulmate’s skin: a flame or sparking coal, maybe, for your branch of the Small Science, or a skull, for all the death that seems to shadow your path.

The crow has been on your palm for as long as you can remember, as long as anyone has ever had a soulmate. It was there when you were born, but judging by your trend in luck, it’ll probably be there until the day you die. Soulmates aren’t for girls like you, girls who flee their homes to trade a life amongst the Grisha for a death in the gray-streaked streets of Ketterdam.

You were born an Inferni, that much is true. You witnessed the Ravkan civil war, and you were there to flee it for safer tides. You weren’t sure what cruel twist of fate landed you in Ketterdam, one of the worst places for a Grisha, but you were at least able to keep your identity a secret. You’d seen what happened to the luckless Grisha trapped inside neverending indentures, and you know what tortures would await you if word of your firestarting habit got out. So, you never spoke a word, and pretended you were just another otkazat’sya traveler in need of safe harbors.

You hadn’t been wandering the canals long before your path turned into the Barrel. It wasn’t an intentional choice, just an eventual fate that you would end up in the worst part of the twisting sidestreets. There was no escaping the Barrel, not unless you were a wealthy mercher or some other lucky sap who the Saints blessed with the ability to avoid getting dragged down into the muck like everyone else. You learned the names and locations of all the gangs like everyone else: Black Tips, Dime Lions, and most notably, the Dregs.

Your breath had caught in your chest when you heard of them. They frequented the Crow Club, some were called the crows themselves, their leader had a crow on his cane. Everything seemed to point in a glaringly obvious arrow towards your soulmate mark: a crow for a crow. Where else could you have ended up?

You knew better now. You had met Kaz Brekker, the boy with the crow cane, and you knew that any chance of finding a soulmate among his crew was near impossible. You had been walking home after dark one night when you found yourself set upon by a duo of thugs. Not Dregs, possibly Dime Lions with a bone to pick, angry that the Dregs had such control over the pigeons of Fifth Harbor. They had been expecting an easy mark, somebody they could thunk over the head with a pair of brass knuckles and walk away without a scratch. They weren’t expecting you to beat them into the dust in a matter of seconds.

No matter your status or location, you were still a Grisha, and you’d been trained by Botkin long enough to be able to defend yourself. When the goons were finally laid at your feet, unconscious, you had allowed yourself a moment to smile. It was easy to feel low, a gutter rat in the canals of Ketterdam, but being able to use your fists again almost reminded you of the training halls at the Little Palace.

Enjoying this one brief memory, though, was a slip that you shouldn’t have made. When you looked up, you weren’t alone- a boy stood before you, gloved hands clasped over a crow’s head cane. You didn’t particularly know who he was, or make the connection between him and the Dregs, and moved to get out of the alleyway before he decided to make the same mistake as the thugs. He had slid his cane in front of you, fast as lightning, stopping you in your place. “I think we should speak about your future in Ketterdam.”

You were annoyed at this sudden interruption. “I think you should leave me alone.” You had retorted, using your hand to move his cane back in front of him. You had also been irritated, both by the fight and this boy’s brashness, and slipped your hand into his pocket for just a second to retrieve a newly shined pocketwatch. No one could have possibly seen it, this tiny movement, and the boy certainly didn’t, as he let you pass without another word.

You were still grumbling when you got back to the ramshackle building you called an apartment complex, and your landlady had raised an eyebrow when she saw you. “What, have you finally realized that it was a fool’s errand to come here?” She asked, and you shook your head. “No, just bothered by some guy with a crow’s head cane. Weird prop to carry around.” The woman had blanched, face suddenly seeming to age a decade in a second.

She had bustled over to you, voice low as if terrified that the boy might be able to hear her. “That’s Kaz Brekker, you fool. He runs the Dregs. Saints, he might even run this city.” She had hurried away from you then, forcing herself back to her work. Even then, you had known she was wrong. There was nothing the Saints could know about Kaz Brekker, nothing they could even hope to involve themselves in.

You had shaken the experience away, climbing up the stairs to your apartment. When you pushed open the door, however, you saw that you were not alone. The boy from earlier was back, this time leaning against the far wall. He gestured for you to close the door, which you did, albeit hesitantly. You had no idea how he got in- you had changed the locks when you first arrived at the apartment all those weeks ago, barred the windows, made it impossible for anyone except you to make their way inside. Yet here he stood, with knowledge of both where you lived and how to get there before you. It was impossible. Well, impossible for anyone except Kaz. The Barrel was his home, after all, and you doubt Dirtyhands had ever bothered to knock.

His fingers tapped the crow’s head of his cane. “I don’t think we quite finished our conversation. You could do more than just wash dishes, you know. The Dregs could always use a new member. That, and I’d like you to return what you stole from me. I’m impressed, actually. No one is that good at pickpocketing except me, and no one would try something that daring except for, well, me. I think you’d fit in nicely with my gang.”

You had folded your arms across your chest. “And I’m meant to believe that my pickpocketing was impressive enough to warrant a visit from Dirtyhands himself?” Kaz had shrugged, the movement stiff in the darkness. “You can believe whatever you want. I just want to see if you’ll take a good offer when you see one.” After a while, you had accepted, and Kaz had left, but not before whispering something in your ear. “If you steal from me again, I will cut off both of your hands. I don’t tolerate theft, not from me.”

You had heard enough threats to know that he meant good on this one. As it turned out, however, Kaz would not have to fear theft from you again. You found a home amongst the Dregs, a home you weren’t likely to give up due to the thrill of pickpocketing Kaz Brekker. You had a room at the Slat, a place at the table, a voice in the masses. It was something you weren’t willing to trade away.

Even amongst the many crows of Kaz Brekker’s gang, however, you still couldn’t let the issue of your soulmate go. You can remember one night, late into the night’s bells when you, Inej, Jesper, Matthias, and Nina had all made the journey up to Kaz’s office, slumped against chairs and floorboards and chatting the night away. Kaz was sitting at his desk, apparently doing paperwork, but you did notice that he kept coincidentally chiming into conversations even when he said he wasn’t paying attention.

At some point, Nina steered the conversation to soulmates. She held up her now blank palm, proclaiming that at some point it had held a wolf’s head. She had been terrified, she said, terrified that she would have a drüskelle or some other weirdo for a soulmate. Matthias had acted affronted at that, but if he was feeling particularly charitable he might relent and tell the gathered Crows about how he’d had a heart on his hand, and how frustrated he’d been when it had disappeared the second he’d locked Nina away on that slaver’s ship.

Nina had turned to Kaz then, intent on poking the bear and having some sort of fun that night. “So, Brekker, what’s your soulmate mark? Or do you not do that sort of zealot human thing we call soulmates?” Kaz had raised his eyebrows, looking distinctly bored. Of everyone in the room, you’re pretty sure that only you and Inej would be able to tell that he was holding back a smile.

“I’m not entirely a monster, Zenik. I do have a soulmate.” Nina had leaned forward, intent on clarification. “Then what’s the mark? We can’t just take a gander at your palm, remember? They’re hidden by your gloves.” Kaz had let his papers fall back to the desk with a thunk, turning to her with an expression laced with both exasperation and studied disinterest. “It’s a fire. A small flame. Happy?”

Nina had looked fascinated. “Beatific. I wonder what that means. An Inferni, maybe?” She wiggled her eyebrows at Kaz. “Maybe it’s supposed to show that they’re devilishly attractive. Really hot, get it?” Kaz had made a sound that was either a dry cough or his best attempt at a laugh. “Hilarious, Nina. I see why you’re a Heartrender- you could make a person want to die based on your jokes alone.”

Nina had acted affronted, making sure everybody knew that her jokes were hilarious, thank you very much, but you couldn’t help but think about the repercussions of this. What if Nina’s first guess was right, and Kaz’s soulmate was an Inferni, like you? If your tattoo was of a crow, and Kaz’s was of flames, then surely it was too much to just be a coincidence. You’d never know, anyway, because soulmate marks only disappeared on flesh to flesh contact. Kaz always wore gloves, so you’d never find out the truth. Besides, you remind yourself, the chances of this were superbly unlikely. A crow could mean anything, so could a flame. You need to stop getting your hopes up.

Despite the possibilities and impossibilities, you’ve still been running with the canal rats long enough to know that you can’t dwell forever on what might have been. You’re a Dreg now and you need to focus on that instead. When Kaz announces an upcoming settlement with the Razorgulls, yet another one of the gangs that roam the streets of Ketterdam, you’re eager for a chance at something entertaining after a long while of nothing. Kaz will meet with the leader to negotiate their way through a claim on the various pigeons coming and going from the harbors, and that will be that.

However, this is the Barrel. Negotiations are rarely easy. This is why, when Jesper arrives as Kaz’s second, he’s shunted aside to a separate room to stay out the duration of the meeting. Kaz and the leader of the Razorgulls are on the opposite side of the street in an empty courtyard, far away from any help should they need it. Kaz was prepared for this, as always, and set up a plan. Inej will shadow Jesper, making sure that he’ll have a way out if he needs it, and you’ll be shadowing Kaz himself. You’re not sure why Kaz chose you instead of his faithful Wraith, only that he rarely makes decisions based on nothing and you would do best to follow his judgement. The times he’s let you down are few and far between.

You and Inej split up, staying amongst the rooftops to avoid detection. She follows Jesper and the Razorgulls’ second into a crowded tavern, and you head towards the abandoned courtyard. Ahead of you, Kaz’s cane taps against the crooked cobblestones as he wends through desiccated hedges and marble statues severely lashed by time. The Razorgulls’ leader is waiting for him there, but you can’t follow now. Instead, you stick to the edges, climbing stairs and making your way into the empty buildings that watch over the courtyard like silent sentries.

You’re not sure what trouble you’ll be walking into, only that it will exist in some crooked form. There’s no logical reason the Razorgulls would want the seconds in another building unless they were planning something, and no reason Kaz would agree to this at all if he wasn’t sure you could have his back when he needed it. As you creep along the buildings, keeping a careful eye on the proceedings through the few broken windows, you notice that the two gang leaders have begun to speak. You can’t quite hear what they’re saying, only a few whispers here and there.

You’re just rounding a corner, ready to make your way into a neighbouring building, when the lights flash off, landing you in darkness. Instantly, you panic. Lighting is scarce here, only the moonbeams and a couple of oil lamps, but there’s no reason they should have shut down this quickly. You hear footsteps on the stairs, along with two pairs of voices: Razorgulls, discussing how important it is to stick to the shadows so Brekker can’t see them.

Your heartbeat thuds in the dark as you realize they haven’t spotted you yet. In fact, they have no idea you’re there at all. When Kaz was giving directions for the negotiations, he specifically told you to make sure that you weren’t seen, even if rival gang members showed up. If you want to go along with his plan and make sure he lives to see the end of this shoddy deal, you’ll have to stay in hiding.

This, however, is easier said than done. If the lights were on, you would be able to see the wooden beams of the floor and tell which ones would creak and which wouldn’t, which large shapes of furniture to avoid and which holes in the floorboards you should step over. A chill washes over you as you realize what you’ll have to do. You move your fingers together, quick as scraping flint against steel, and a small flame materializes at the pad of your index finger. It’s small, barely visible to anyone except you, but it’s enough to help you get out of the room before the Razorgulls notice you.

Even as the thrill of using your Grisha power after so long sends a charge of energy through your veins, you can’t help but feel uneasy. The only reason you’ve been able to survive in the Barrel and avoid unwholesome indentures is because you never used your power, not once. Even if it was necessary, this still feels bad.

You’ve found a new hiding place in the corner of the room and move to extinguish your flame now that it’s no longer useful. However, it’s been too long since you last used your powers as an Inferni, and your concentration wavers. The flame grows brighter and you start to panic, eventually clamping down your mind and forcing the fire to disappear.

The disappearance comes too late. The Razorgulls have seen some light in the shadow that wasn’t supposed to be there and are now edging your way, careful not to let you out of their sight. You have no choice but to take them down, standing over their unconscious bodies and feeling a wave of nerves crest over you. Kaz specifically said not to mess with the gangs, but you had no choice. You can only hope that this won’t ruin his plan too much.

Quietly, you step through the room and unlock a window, letting the panes move open in the wind. Now, you can hear the voices echoing up from the courtyard, and your heart sinks as you realize that things aren’t going well. The leader of the Razorgulls has revealed his ace in the hole, that he’s got guns trained on Kaz right now. Kaz just laughs, the sound as cold as rocks scraping against a ship’s hull, ready to damn a hundred men to the depths of the ocean.

“Do you, though? Who are the men you sent up- Dirk Struik and Niels ter Avest? Your coffers may be deep, but mine are more extensive. Gentlemen, take down this man, if you please.” Your stomach twists as you realize Kaz was counting on the men you just knocked out. Without them, he’s alone with a man pointing a gun at his skull. There’s no way around this- you’re going to have to break your most cherished rule again.

You thrust your palms out in front of you, letting tendrils of flame arc out of your hands and cascade onto the leader of the Razorgulls. He twists in agony, burns appearing on his skin. He only suffers for a moment or two, however, until he becomes unconscious due to the pain. Kaz’s head jerks up, staring at you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Kaz Brekker truly surprised, but he most certainly was not expecting this.

You don’t think there’s anything you can do except try to explain yourself. You jump down from the open window, letting your heels land lightly on the stones of the courtyard. Kaz seems frozen in place for a second, then moves forward until you’re standing only a few feet apart. Your breath comes wild in your chest. Kaz speaks after the longest of moments. “Where were the guards?”

You hold up your hands uselessly. “They saw me. I had to take them out.” Kaz’s eyes dart to your palms, faster than a sharpshooter pulling the trigger. He takes in the smoke still curling around your fingers, then the crow mark in the middle of your hand. When he speaks again, his voice has lost its icy edge. He just sounds like a boy again, young and confused.

“You never told me you were an Inferni.” You sigh. “It was a secret I needed to keep. You know what happens in the Barrel, the indentures and the tortures. If I used my powers, I would have died a long time ago.” Kaz jerks his head in a harsh nod. “I don’t blame you for surviving. We have all committed worse crimes to live” Your voice gains a confidence it didn’t have before. “Then what do you blame me for? You’re upset, anyone could tell that. If it’s not with me keeping my Grisha abilities a secret, then what is it?”

Kaz hesitates, as if pulling himself back from a yawning chasm. “Me.” You stare at him, at the indecision wracking his brow, then at the way he’s pulling at the glove at his palm. His hands almost seem to shake, like he’s still not sure that he’s doing the right thing. He pulls the glove off, inch by inch, seeming to dread every second that his hands aren’t covered by the black leather. At last, you see it- the mark on his palm, the flame sparking into being right there on his hand.

He reaches out tentatively. “I need to know.” He manages, and at last you understand. You move your own hand slowly, stopping when it’s only a few inches away from his. Kaz squares his shoulders, as if preparing to jump from another broken building, then closes the distance and lets his hand rest lightly on yours. As you watch, your soulmate tattoos shimmer for a second and then vanish, erasing from your skin as if they’d never been there at all.

Kaz lets his gaze linger on the empty skin of your palm, and then he seems to come back into himself, snatching his hand away like he’s flinching from a blow. You can see it in his eyes that he regrets this, that he can’t keep his hand there, but you understand. You can understand quite a lot from him.

Kaz’s voice is like the grating of metal. “I’m not somebody you want as a soulmate. It won’t be easy. It won’t be good.” You laugh quietly in the night. “If I wanted something easy, I would have never come to Ketterdam.” Kaz nods at this, something almost like relief in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.” You manage. Something almost like a smile flits across Kaz’s face. “Good. We have much to discuss.”

[princess-of-inarizaki]

Hi! If you’re taking requests, can I ask for something with Oikawa? Like maybe his knee injury is acting up and Seijoh’s sweet manager (who he of course has a crush on, and she has a crush on him - duh) takes care of him? Thank you, love!

AAAAH sweetheart thank you for this!! I love Oikawa so it was my pleasure to write this. (An anon after my own heart xD I'm melting).

Okay anyways, I hope you enjoy this <3

Taking care of your precious Tooru

Throughout the entirety of practice, you kept a watchful eye on Oikawa. Of course, you looked at him more than usual since you had the hugest crush on him (which makki and mattsun teased you about mercilessly)

But something was different, today. His knee, as you noticed was weaker than usual and he kept favouring the other side so as to not place too much strain on it.

“Oikawa, I think you need to take a time-out” you said gently, as soon as your were sure. “but y/n-chan...”

you simply flashed him a concerned look. A look that plainly said "hey you're not fooling anybody, mister"

Sighing, Oikawa walked over to you and sat on the bench, whilst motioning for the rest to continue their game. The bench was secluded from the training area as a row of lockers separated them (sorta like a makeshift locker room)

“Tooru, love? what were you thinking?” you whispered softly as you knelt down and gently elevated his knee, feeling him wincing in the process.

After he was alright, you began massaging the muscle as you looked up to face him. “don't get hurt, Tooru. I worry when you do.”

Oikawa was having such a hard time masking his feelings then. Not when the two of you were having a moment as intimate as this one. Not when you looked up at him with such concern and adoration.

Oikawa: you really do make it so hard

Y/n: what?

Oikawa: oh nothing. You just make it so hard to resist you. I could kiss you right now if you'd let me.

After relieving some of his pain, you helped him up. “We're going home. I'm walking you back, no arguements, okay Tooru?”

And honestly, how could Oikawa ever argue with you? He nodded as the two of you bid the rest goodbye.

Makki: ten bucks they get together before tomorrow

Mattsun: twenty bucks they get together in the next two hours

Iwa: shut the hell up oh my god let's stop talking about shittykawa.

On the way back, Oikawa gently wrapped his arm around your waist, causing you to blush deeply and smile. “Y/n-chan you smell really good”

“Oh yeah? You're a dork, Tooru” you said though laughs. “no I'm serious. You smell like cupcakes. I could honestly just eat you up right now” which earned him a prompt shove.

His house neared and he dug in his pocket for the keys, unlocking it and gesturing for you to come inside. “I'm sorry it's so messy” he said apologetically and rubbed his neck.

“No that's alright, I'll just make sure you're okay and then I'll leave” you assured him, as you walked into his kitchen to prepare a hot water bottle for him.

After it was ready, you walked up the stairs to find Tooru in bed, scrolling through his phone. “Ah y/n, there you are. Thank you” his face broke into a smile at the sight of you (which really made your heart flutter).

“I'll be leaving now, my love. See you at practice, yeah?” you gently brushed his hair out of his face and turned to leave, but something stopped you.

Oikawa had reached up and pulled your hand, burning passion in his eyes. “I know you brought me a hot water bottle, but you're really warm. Do you want to be my hot water bottle for a little while?”

You blushed as you allowed him to pull you in next to him, his arms immediately wrapping themselves around your waist and burying is face in the crook of your neck.

“I like you, y/n” he mumbled softly. “I like you so much it hurts.”

“I love the way you fuss over me, and treat me so gently. It's like you see me as a person in need of care and not just someone to make use of”

“I want you to play with my hair like this” he whispered as he pulled your hands up to his head “and I want to be able to kiss you like this” as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I want to be yours so badly it's almost like I'm a lovesick fool”

You didn't know what to say and instead just chose to kiss Oikawa's lips gently. “then from here on out, I'm yours. And you are mine.”

He could hardly believe his ears, and just as he was about to say something, you pulled him closer to you and glared “but if you ever overwork yourself or push yourself to the limits I am going to be very upset. You've gotta care about you as much as I care about you, mister”

Oikawa gave you a sheepish grin as he nuzzled into your neck and closed his eyes, seemingly pretending to fall asleep. The action was so cute, it made you fall in love with him all over again.

OH my god. Onto the saga of me finding already completed imagines in my drafts and going "yoooo why have I never posted this?? ;-;" so enjoy !!

Taglist: @tilli-san @dai-tsukki-desu @k-sakusa-old @sunasthing @osamusriceballs

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Hi! This is my first time requesting lol. So this is for the event.

I wanted to request a scenario, with line 2, and akutagawa x reader. And I wanted it to be angst to fluff.

I don’t really care about details so you have free will with this.

Akutagawa x Reader 

2- “I hate it! I hate that I love you!”

I went with a mission scenario. Hope you enjoy!

Words- 1,155

~

Underneath the moon that laid full among the clouds, the night was rather silent. There was no wind to rustle the trees, even the crickets had stopped their chirping. The world was silent in his presence; The black-fanged hellhound, the name given to him. It was always so silent when he took steps outside. Enemies were so easily crushed by his hand. He did it all to be noticed by somebody; A male who had long left the mafia to be a detective.

You had no idea when it had happened, nor how for the matter; but it did. Your heart raced whenever he got close. Maybe it was the way he held himself with confidence, his will to keep getting stronger. Maybe his looks had been the factor to draw you in. Despite being pale and rather sickly in his appearance, there was an odd handsomeness to that look. Perhaps it was how he dressed that made him look so fascinatingly handsome? Whatever it was… you hated it. Hated that you were pulled to a serial murderer. Somebody with such a cold heart, not even fire, could melt the cage of ice around it. He was somebody who cared for nothing but his own strength. 

Yet why did he seem so upset now, staring at you with a cold, heartless rage? His almost non-existent brows furrowed as he glared at your retreating form. His lips threatened to move but the silence hadn’t cracked. Only moments ago he’d almost been taken by surprise. Had you not stepped in and knocked the sniper cold, he would have been shot. Was he thinking you found him weak? Maybe, he thought, at that moment, you were looking down at him. As much as you hated this man for what he did, you would never be able to help the guilt that would rise if you had a chance to help him, but chose not to. If he got hurt and you could have prevented it, that would be a living nightmare of guilt.

The silence of the night faded with his voice. Ending the silence with anger, his ability; Rashomon, activated surrounding him as he growled. “Why did you do that? Do you have a death wish?” taken aback by his aggressiveness you shook your head.

Opening your mouth to respond, you chose your words carefully. “You didn’t notice, so I just… stepped in.” he seemed displeased by the answer.

“I could have handled that! I told you to stay back!” You hated him at times like this. The pounding of your heart grew as he raised his voice.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt.” your voice was meek as you prepared your barrier ability to protect yourself from Rashomon; if Akutagawa chose to attack you.

“I’m not weak! If something like that caught me off guard then, I’d be a fool! Why do you care? I didn’t need you here, I didn't need you anywhere near me! You're just… baggage! I’m perfectly fine on my own!” the words fell from his lips, but there was another emotion behind his words. Though the anger powered over them, you knew there was another reason he was lashing out with words, rather than his ability.

His words cut like knives, each syllable a new cut. “I don’t think you’re weak Akutagawa! I just… I didn't want to see you hurt! I know it’s stupid but… I’m supposed to be your partner!” just until this truce ended you thought. Just until this little truce was over, then you would be left to the dust. He’d leave you. Those tears from his words were beginning to feel like a tidal wave pushing against a dam. Becoming harder to hold back you dropped your head to look towards the floor.

“You act as if you care. If you do, you shouldn’t, I don't have time for such things. I have to get stronger.” he went to turn around but paused, looking at how that simple sentence broke the dam. It was not supposed to happen in front of him, but salty water started falling in drips before your own anger bubbled up, drops turning into rivers.

“I hate it! I hate that I love you!”  you hissed the words through your teeth. Holding your hands in fists, you let out a shaky breath, staring at the tear stains that landed on the pavement. “I hate that I care! I do, but it’s not something I can make go away! Can you at least act like you're not some heartless monster! I know you're not, I have seen times when you show consideration! You’re not a monster, you're not weak or worthless either! You’re human, why can’t you see there are people around you that care!” 

This was what he’d been avoiding; A confession. Somehow you had snuck around the ice and wrapped warmth around the cold. The words you spoke were like arrows. They woke him up, the things he’d been denying suddenly so clear. He was not one for affection or anything like it, but he’d screwed up. Swearing under his breath he grabbed you and pulled you close. “A word to anybody and I’ll tear your tongue out.” he hissed. Carefully he slid one arm from Rashomon and let it lay over the both of you. “I hate it too... This stupid feeling is a weakness.”

Shock radiated through you, but it prevented you from pulling away. You reached for his hair, running a tender hand through it. Your head leaned against his chest sniffing as he clicked his tongue. Turning away to hold the pink of his cheeks. “Idiot,” you grumbled but tossed your own arms around him.

It was a contact he found he enjoyed. This thing called affection wasn’t that bad. He’d never truly been shown any before this moment. One could say he’d been afraid of affection before this. “While a weakness, it also acts as a strength. A reason to keep fighting.” your voice was hoarse from the shouting and the tears, but it was still sweet. 

Maybe you were right, but the fear would always be there. If his enemy found out you’d be targeted. Though you could handle yourself, he would still worry. He hated it, the feelings that accompanied this feeling. “Maybe…” he grumbled the word as you wiggle free. Setting the half of his coat back on his shoulder.

You leaned in with a boldness he’d never seen cross you before. A soft peck on his cheek before turning around completely red. He too went completely red, looking to the side. He was honestly adorable, but you were too flustered to make much notice. “S-see you later?” you mumbled looking back to notice him nod slightly.

“Mhm…” did you... break him? He seemed to not be responding properly. Whatever it was, the feeling inside both your chest was comforting.

[starryeyedweeb]

Walking In On Your Fave Anime Blondes Singing Along to Dolly Parton’s “Dumb Blonde”

Content Includes: Honestly, this could be read as either platonic or romantic- it’s basically borderline crack meant to give you a smile and some laughs. All underaged characters are aged up to 18+. Gender neutral reader, some language

Characters Included: Armin Arlert, Kurapika Kurta, Hawks/Takami Keigo, Tsukishima Kei, Gojou Satoru, Bakugou Katsuki

“Just because I’m blonde, don’t think I’m dumb. Because this dumb blonde ain’t nobody’s fool.”

Armin

This is actually his power song

Before important meetings and strategy sessions where he’s slated be a big presenter, you’ll always hear him mumbling the same words over and over again under his breath, but you can never make out what they are

Until one day when you’re able to connect the dots 

One such meeting was coming up, and you leave for it before Armin does

He had just told you that he’s not quite ready to leave yet, but doesn’t explain why

You don’t think much about it and carry on, until you realize that you left a part of your harness at home and have to turn back

As you walk back through the door, you notice the sound of singing coming from his bedroom

The voice is distinctively Armin’s, and seeing as you’ve never heard him sing before, you’re actually quite excited

You sneak in as quietly as possible, and much to your amusement, you find him singing to himself in the mirror, pointing back at himself and belting the words almost aggressively

“Because this dumb blonde ain’t nobody’s fool!”

You wanted to sneak away and pretend you never saw anything, but you can’t resist bursting out into laughter

He jumps around and yelps, his face turning cherry red

“Y/N! I thought you left! I, um...I- this was...”

“Oh, my god.” A realization dawns on you. “Is that what you’re always whispering under your breath when you’re nervous?”

“Um...yeah. It just makes me feel stronger, I guess. I know, it’s so stupid...”

“No, it’s so cute! I promise,” you assure him. “And it’s fitting.”

“Really?”

“Of course! Even though you’re blonde, there’s not a dumb bone in your body.” You wrap him in a hug. “And you definitely aren’t anybody’s fool. Never let yourself be convinced otherwise.”

Kurapika

He’s had a bad day at work.

A really bad day.

He bursts through the front door one evening, eyes bright crimson, absolutely raving about how sick he was of being pushed around and treated like he’s less than he is, spewing out ultimatums such as “To hell with the intel, I’m never going back to being a bodyguard ever again.”

To cheer him up and to get away until his anger could simmer down, you offer go pick up his favorite meal

And as you approach the door with the food in hand, you hear something odd on the other side

You cautiously open the door and peer inside, discovering Kurapika yelling along to the popular song

No, seriously- yelling

There’s no sense of song to his cadence whatsoever, he’s just hollering louder than you’ve ever thought him capable of

He’s also pulled out a basket of laundry and has started throwing it around the room as he continues on his rampage

(It was the least destructive thing he could take his anger out on)

You tiptoe over to put the food on the counter, but he’s still yet to notice you

When he shows no signs of stopping, his eyes growing redder by the second, you eventually clear your throat

“Pika, what are you doing?”

He stops with a jolt, the ending notes of the song fading away in the background

The red of his eyes drops down to his face as he realizes what you just saw

“y/n...how long have you been standing there?”

“Since the first chorus.” You choke down a giggle. “I didn’t know you liked that song.”

“I don’t, I just...” He rubs the back of his neck. “Silly as this is, it’s just the best way I’ve found to relieve my petty stress in a safe way.”

“So... this is something you do often?”

His face grows so red you think it might burst. “...yes.”

You two stare at each other for a few moments, then simultaneously burst into laughter

The kind where your entire body shakes, your stomach hurts, and tears spill from your eyes

When he doubles over to catch his breath, you cross the room to wrap him in a hug, rocking back and forth

“Can I join in next time?” you teasingly ask. “It looks fun.”

Kurapika wipes his cheeks and rolls his eyes with a smile. “Sure, why not? Just don’t tell anyone else.”

Hawks

This was the first time you had ever slept over with Keigo, and what he listens to while getting ready comes as quite a surprise.

He gets up before you do, and you wake to hear strange music coming through the closed bathroom door

You tiptoe over to see what’s going on, sliding the door open as quietly as possible

Not that he would’ve heard you, anyway, because as he’s doing his eyeliner, he’s humming along to the blaring Dolly Parton hit, swaying his hips in time with the beat

When the song reaches its defining line, he pulls the eyeliner pen away from his face and throws his head back, wailing the lyrics to the ceiling with comedic passion

You stifle your laughter behind your hand as he returns to his task, still  oblivious to your presence

Picking a choice moment to reveal yourself, you burst fully into the bathroom and fix him with a mischievous look

“Whatcha listening to?”

He jumps in shock when he spots you, leaving a streak of eyeliner down his cheek

“Fuck!” He exclaims, pouting at the black stripe. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” you tease.

“I mean, it’s not what it looks like.” He avoids eye contact, hunting around for makeup remover. “Don’t you just have a random song that gets you motivated, no matter how stupid it is?”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.” You hoist yourself up onto the bathroom counter next to him. “Dolly Parton is amazing. ‘Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Joleeeeeeene’.”

“You know what? She is. You’re so right.” He points his eyeliner at you, nodding in aggressive approval. “See? This is why I like you.”

And you can bet your ass that every time you get in the car together from here on out, you’re blaring Dolly Parton

There have been several instances when you’ve shown up to missions with it pounding from the speakers as you sleekly step out of the car, ready to apprehend any villains that dare to cross the pair of you

And it’s the most badass thing ever.

Tsukishima

At this point in your relationship, you thought you had learned all of Tsukishima’s secrets.

You were wrong.

It starts completely innocently, with the two of you going with Yamaguchi for a boba run

And when Tsukishima settles into the driver’s seat, his phone auto-connects to the speakers and sends familiar country twangs through the car at a volume that prompts you to clap your hands over your ears

“Shit!” he mutters, fumbling around, unsure which would do the most damage control: changing the song or muting the volume

“Kei,” you guffaw, “what the hell were you listening to?”

“It was an ad,” he insists, eventually managing to get the volume to a favorable range and select a less-embarrassing song choice

“Don’t let him fool you, Y/N.” Yamaguchi’s head pokes between the two front seats. “Dumb Blonde is one of his favorite songs.”

“And don’t listen to how idiotic Yamaguchi’s being,” Tsukishima bites back, but the pink tinge growing over the top of his ears betrays his lie.

“It’s been one of his top five most played songs for about three years now,” Yamaguchi continues. “I think he relates to it.”

“You’re kidding!”

At this point, you can’t control your giggles, and Kei’s jaw grows tighter by the second

“Yeah, and once he has a couple of drinks in him, he’ll shamelessly belt the hell out of it at karaoke.” Yamaguchi’s gaze flickers to his phone as his finger rapidly scrolls. “Here, I have a video.”

“Yamaguchi, don’t you dare-”

Tsukishima reaches a long arm out to steal the phone, but you grab his hand before he can take it

“Aht aht, Tsukki,” you tease. “You have two passengers that you’re responsible for. Eyes on the road, please.”

As he glowers, Yamaguchi shows you a glorious video of Tsukishima absolutely wailing out the Dolly Parton hit into a karaoke microphone, the teammates around him laughing so hard that they almost appeared to be choking

“That’s amazing!” You squeal, belly hurting from so much laughter. “But I can’t believe that video didn’t spread around like wildfire.”

“Bold of you to assume that I don’t have worse blackmail to use against all of them,” Kei snaps.

“Well, you should know that you’re never going to live this down as far as I’m concerned.”

“I don’t know why it’s such a big deal. Everyone has guilty pleasures.” By this point, his face is the same shade as a tomato, but he fixes you with a knife-like gaze that strikes fear into your heart. “Shall I start listing yours?”

Gojou

(i know he’s technically silver/platinum but he just has blonde energy okay)

The last thing you expect to come home to after a long day of work is Dolly Parton music blaring through your home

And you expect even less to find Gojou standing on the couch, belting the song at the top of his lungs

Beyond the initial shock, you have to admit that he actually sounds quite good, hitting each note to perfection and performing the song with subtle corresponding choreography

“Gojou!” You eventually shout. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Oh, good! You’re home.” He deftly hops off the couch and approaches you with a grin. “I’ve been wanting your opinion on my act.”

“Your act?”

“Yes! The school staff has an annual karaoke contest coming up. I do this song every year, and it’s undefeated.”

“Every year? How have I never known about this?”

“I actually don’t have any idea. I have videos. I’ll show them to you, if you’d like.”

“You’re a little too proud of that,” you giggle. “But if it’s undefeated, why do you need my opinion on it?”

“Because everyone always conspires to try and beat me. I have to keep it fresh. But lately, it’s just been feeling stale.” He furrows his brows, a finger going to his chin in contemplation.

“How are you so serious about this but so carefree when you’re literally about to die?” You grab his elbows and give them a small shake. “Anyway, what I saw certainly didn’t seem stale. Seems like you were having a pretty good time.”

“A good time just isn’t enough anymore...”

You clap a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter as he paces around the room, more serious than you’d ever seen him

Over a karaoke contest to a Dolly Parton song

He snaps his fingers as he finally comes to his realization, approaching you with a sinister smile

“I’ve got it! You should perform it with me.”

“Are you serious? No! No no no.”

“Come on, don’t be so closed-minded.” Gojou grabs your hand and yanks you up onto the couch with him. “Give it a shot.”

After much protesting on your part and much silly encouragement on his, you try it out to pacify him, and end up being quite the dynamic duo

As he wished, you perform the comedic act at the karaoke contest, and satisfy Gojou by maintaining his undefeated record

“You know that you owe me big time now, right?” you ask as he admires the cheap trophy he’s just been handed.

He grins, draping his long arm over your shoulders. “Anything you want, you’ve got it.”

Bakugou

Bakugou discovers the song after Kirishima and Denki put it on his playlist as a joke

Denki had the bright idea to give Bakugou the nickname “dumb blonde” and figured that the prank would be the start of it all

Needless to say, it didn’t go over very well

There was yelling

And a few punches thrown

You eventually have to pull him away, imploring him to calm down

“I’m not going to calm down until that piece of shit is off my playlist.”

You promptly take his phone and hold it in front of him, removing the offending song

“See? Gone. Now please chill out.”

Flash-forward to a week or so later

You happen to walk into the gym for a late night run on the treadmill while he’s there doing weights

Since he was alone before you entered, his music is hooked up to the central sound system, blaring some heavy metal song as he softly hums along in time with his breaths

You don’t think anything of it, giving him a small wave and going to put your own earbuds in

Until the barely-perceptible lyrics seem a little familiar

You pause to listen for a moment, and shoot him a look of shock when you realize that he is, in fact, listening to a heavy metal cover of Dumb Blonde.

“Is this-”

“Shut up,” he snaps, avoiding eye contact and continuing to pump the machine with frightening intensity.

“How did you even find a cover like this?”

“Shut. Up.”

“I’m just so-”

“It just helps me work out, okay?” He lets the weight drop with a sharp clang. “Don’t you fucking dare tell anyone about this.”

You raise your hands in surrender. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good. Now get on with your workout and let me finish mine.”

He focuses his fiery gaze on the faraway wall, but strangely doesn’t bother to change or turn off the song

And you can’t resist pulling your phone out, pretending to take a selfie while you’re actually, in fact, filming him behind you

“I can see you, stupid,” he snaps. “I’m serious. I’ll fucking kill you.”

You jump in fear, the phone falling from your hands.

“I wasn’t!” You fib. “Besides, it’s away now.”

But little did he know, you had already captured everything you needed to see, and the footage was already on its way to Kirishima and Denki

You know that you’re beyond dead once he finds out what you had done, but the amusement of it all is beyond worth it

Besides, maybe now he’d think twice before the next time he makes fun of someone.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

you+me+the Devil, m | myg, jjk | summon

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: The Devil and his right-hand demon are forcibly yanked from Hell to encounter a power they've never seen before, a power that everyone thought was only a rumor. In chains and unable to break free, they are asked to give up part of their souls. And they do. For science. But, mostly, to fuck.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language - if you're religious, maybe skip this one; world building; short graphic descriptions of sexual acts; supernatural and horror (and it gets way creepier during the smut, you have been warned); non-idol!AU - Hell!AU; Devil!Yoongi x chaos!reader x Devil's right-hand demon!Jungkook and switches between their POVs; they don't have your best interests at heart and neither do you.

--

you and me and the Devil makes 3 prologue | the summoning | the collection | 666

-

there’s not a word for what i wanna do to you

One second, the Devil, also known as Min Yoongi, was frowning as he gazed up at his right-hand demon Jeon Jungkook, pondering the whereabouts of the missing soul-shards. The next second, the volcanic ground below him exploded, multiple giant red-black rings adorned with symbols and images creating a circle, expanding a larger and larger surface area, crackles of red lighting and tendrils of black smoke shooting everywhere. It consumed everything, bleeding into every nook and cranny of the throne room, saturating the air with summoning intent. It was happening far too quickly for the Devil to stop, the ground splitting and black chains shooting out, surrounded by a deadly ice-silver signature of the kind of magic you don’t bring home to your mother.

“Fuck–!”

That was Jungkook.

“Ah.”

That was the Devil.

The black chains snapped around their bodies and bound them in an instant. Jungkook snarled and fought with all of his power, black wings flaring out that were instantly crushed and shredded by the enchantment, his curved black horns protruding from his head and being forced back by the power. In contrast, the Devil merely sat there. Yoongi knew he couldn’t stop it, not this kind of magic, if it could even be called that, so he didn’t try. He let the chains wrap around him and shackle him. Instead, he furrowed his brow and tried to trace the source, tried to find the purpose. In order to defeat an enemy, you must be informed. Yoongi lived by this philosophy, which was why he was the Devil.

He could not trace it.

That was very disheartening.

But he didn’t need to worry earlier, because the red-black summoning circle was closing in, and he would find out very, very soon who it was. He had nothing to worry about.

Yoongi was the Devil, after all.

-

You inspected your nails.

Matte black, pointed. You had just done them. You liked to look nice for your guests.

“Hm, the Devil works hard, but I work harder,” you chuckled.

-

This was not what the Devil expected.

Yoongi expected a dark cave, a crowd of hooded figures, lots of candles. Maybe a Bible or a Koran. Devil worshippers, Satanists, cultists, or whatever they liked to call themselves. He fully expected to fight, to kill, to maim, and to fucking enjoy it, because he was the Devil and he served no one.

That was the whole fucking point of leaving Heaven in the first place.

He did not expect this.

You.

“Oh? A new development.”

Yoongi had seen many things in his time. He thought he could no longer be surprised.

He was wrong.

You stood over the two figures chained to the ground, peering curiously at them. A plain black dress with a flared skirt and a lace high collar. Long-sleeved with small ruffled cuffs at the end. No socks or shoes, just long, beautifully sinful legs and pretty feet. Pointed, matte black fingernails at the ends of lovely hands. A single nail was on one of your full dark lips, small amused smile dancing on that pouty mouth.

Your nail pressed into your flesh.

Yoongi wanted to shove his dick into that mocking smirk.

Sharp, distinctive eyes. Unforgettable. Yoongi would not forget the eyes of the fool who summoned him anyway, but your eyes… They were different. They held no malice. No innocence either. No, your eyes were the greatest mystery of all.

They were an enigma, revealing nothing to the one who could tell everything.

Yoongi did not like this. He did not like how him, an all-powerful being, one who could poison the minds of all other beings, was being confronted with a human who seemed very not human.

You were holding something on the crook of your arm. He narrowed his eyes. A black plush goat-man with horns and an upside-down red pentagram stitched on his head. It had little leather hooves for feet and hands. Black leathery wings as well. Another common misconception of the Devil. As if he wanted to be an ugly goat for all eternity. Hmph. But there was something about the way you held it that made Yoongi think it wasn’t an homage to him.

No, you held it close to your breast, next to your heart, squeezing the plush goat-man’s little arm lovingly.

It made him ache with longing.

They were in a bedroom, on the floor next to the bed. Black sheets, fluffy blankets with white stars all over them. Black walls with posters all over them, cute animated characters, haunting imagery, various musical artists, sinful and innocent, a vast plethora that told him nothing of true intent. Modern, sleek furniture. A high-end desktop with multiple monitors. A nice flat-screen television. Many soft plushies of adorable and strange characters, stacked on shelves and in corners, both popular and niche.

Who was this person?

With every passing second, Yoongi was liking this situation less and less.

Jungkook was beside him, disheveled and disoriented, chained down with black. The demon sat up, growling in his chest, trying to exert his power.

“Who do you think–”

“Ah, little Satan, they shouldn’t talk until I allow them, isn’t that right?”

The Devil was not a fool. You were not talking to him. You were talking to the little goat-man in your arms. Yoongi heard a choking sound and he turned his head to see a very large black ball gag ramming itself in between Jungkook’s teeth, snapping closed with a black chain strap behind his pretty head. Jungkook looked livid, trying to bite through it, but Yoongi doubted he could break it.

You smiled at him.

Yes, indeed, Yoongi was liking this situation less and less.

In some ways.

Seeing Jungkook in a ball gag was a pleasant image.

“I didn’t expect it to turn out this way. I was aiming for him first,” you said to Yoongi, lowering the little goat-man and holding him by a hoof. Yoongi wasn’t sure if he wanted to rip apart the plush or be it. He decided that wasn’t important right now.

“Ah, well, this might be better,” you mused nonchalantly. Jungkook was still fighting his restraints, but neither you nor Yoongi acknowledged it. You crouched down, a delicate flash of inner thigh and black velvet panty in his view. Yoongi narrowed his eyes. You cocked a brow, smirk widening. “Two birds with one stone, no?”

You set the little goat-man in front of him.

Sat down, spreading your legs to squeeze the little goat-man with your inner thighs.

There was no question now.

Yoongi wanted to both be the plush goat-man and rip him to shreds.

“I’ll let you speak to me, Devil. You seem polite.” Conversational, calm. Not condescending, which somehow made it worse. At least if you spoke to him with hostility, he would know how to turn it against you.

“You have magic that doesn’t belong to you, human,” he said softly, a raspy renounce in his voice. He festered it with sweetness and warning at the same time, accenting it with a discerning stare.

You grinned.

Even he, the Devil, was unsettled.

“Nothing belongs to anybody. You only borrow it for a short while and then the powers far beyond even you take it back.”

Yoongi felt his heart drop and race at the same time. As he suspected. This was not the work of his father or some a wayward demon. Magic, power, illusionism, these were all words to describe things that could not be described. Entropy holds no bounds and there is no meaning behind it. It exists only to cause anarchy. For some reason, perhaps simply chaos alone, you, a human, was in possession of something even he could not control or understand.

Shit.

He stared into your eyes and they reflected his expression back to him. He tried to search for it, the desires within the heart, the small tendrils of pain that asked to be soothed, the soul begging to be freed. An ordinary demon could be fended off by a strong-willed human for a while, but Min Yoongi was no ordinary demon.

He was the Devil, even if he was bound by your chains.

You tilted your head at him, hair curling around your cheeks and lashes.

Yoongi could take even the weakest flame of desire and stroke it into a blazing fire. Even the holiest of saints could not fight him. Everyone wanted something, even if it was, disgustingly, in the name of his father. And humans, well, they were the masters of wanting things they couldn't have. Easily manipulated, even by each other. The Devil hardly needed to do anything at all. It was only a matter of whether or not Yoongi cared to do it and, most of the time, he didn't give a single shit.

You tilted your head the other way, smiling.

Yoongi did not find a maze or a barrier preventing him from the soul. He found the soul within seconds. It was there, all right.

The Devil just didn't know what the fuck he was looking at.

Why was your soul just you sitting there in the abyss, looking up at him with the same smile you were giving him right now?

And why did he feel nothing emitting from it?

He pulled back, looking into your eyes again. He did not like this.

You leaned forward and touched his horns.

His eyes widened as your fingertips brushed against the large curved black-red horns against the sides of his head. He hasn't even realized they had protruded. How? His horns were a sign of his power, a symbol he used for fear, for appearance, and for the moments of when he was exercising a great deal of his influence. Your fingertips brushed against the second set, the ones that bloomed upwards into wicked black-red spikes. Both sets? His soul-search had him reflexively procure both?

Shit.

He started into your eyes, seeing himself reflected back. Min Yoongi was the Devil. Emotion was no stranger to him. He harnessed it all, consumed himself in the passions and wonders of emotion. There were ones he felt less, simply because of who he was. For instance, there was not much that made him afraid.

You smiled.

Fear. He could feel it rise within him.

Yoongi grinned back.

Was this what he thought it was? He had heard of such things, rumors and whispers, even amongst the angels themselves. The hidden truth that Heaven and Hell belonged in a specific dimension or realm, Order. That there was another realm, the mirror, the reflection trapped, the unknown.

Disorder.

His kind, the high-above, and those between angels and insects, the humans, none of these belonged in the realm of Disorder. There were rumors that Order was merely a concoction of Disorder and that their realm could collapse any moment, erasing all of existence without a trace. Entropy was waiting for them all.

Yoongi understood now.

This was chaos.

The Devil was a master of desire. And a master of deliberately doing exactly what he shouldn't. He should not be tempted by a glimpse of chaos. His father would warn him to stay away from it.

His father could fuck right off.

Yoongi leaned forward, still bound, his horns disappearing. The chains clanged around him, his power rattling underneath. He wasn't doing it to fight them. He wanted to feel it. To understand what could not be understood, to touch the untouchable, because it was there, there right in front of him and he wanted it, he wanted it, and the Devil feeds off desire, even his own.

He wanted those lips.

You backed up.

The denial only made his desire stronger.

You left the plush goat-man sitting there right in front of him.

-

Jungkook was pissed.

Absolutely furious, jaw and head aching from this ridiculously large ball gag, fuming that he had no idea what was going on and that a single human was doing this bullshit. There was no way you were working alone. There had to be other beings behind this. He couldn't figure it out right now, but he would and he would tear them apart, right after he fucked your pathetic human body and tore you apart.

You must be a fool, thinking you could shackle him, Jeon Jungkook, the right hand of the Devil himself, the epitome of pure sin and free will.

He continued fighting the magic, trying to exert his strength, rattling the black chains, ice-silver lashes beating him back down. He tried to release his wings, but they were ensnared, pain shooting up his back. Jungkook cared not for pain. He had felt pain for millions of years. A few seconds was nothing. He tried to release his horns, but he could not, as if the very air neutralized him.

He was enraged.

Maybe would simply kill you so he could spend an eternity torturing you for your insolence.

Then the Devil's horns appeared.

How did he–?

Then you touched the Devil.

Jungkook wanted to scream.

He did, deep in his chest, muffled rage, jealousy, hate, all at once, and both of you ignored him, your fingers grazing Yoongi's horns, fucking smiling, looking unflinchingly into the Devil's eyes, and Jungkook wanted to erase you from existence, destroy every single shred of your soul for not groveling at the feet of Min Yoongi.

The horns disappeared and your hands hovered around Yoongi's head, fingers splayed out around the black hair like a shining halo.

Ironic.

The Devil leaned forward.

Don't you fucking kiss her, hyung!

But you moved away, backing up, gaze lingering on Yoongi before closing your eyes and reopening them slowly, a gradual shift to Jungkook's face.

He snarled at you through the gag.

He had you now. Eye contact and Jungkook could exert at least part of his power, the soul-search to find your deepest desires, your hidden gems, the calamity within that would call to him. He would find it and manipulate it, bend you to his will, turn you into his puppet. Play with you until you begged to die, only to find yourself in his arms once more, his plaything for all eternity.

All he had to do was find it.

You slid to your hands and knees, crawling to him. He felt it inside his chest, his own desire, watching the curve of your back to ass, his cock twitching at the sight, his mind conjuring images of your pretty body on a leash. Jungkook didn't have preferences when it came to bodies. A body was a body. In his hands, all bodies became prettier. You already had the base and he already had the wrath to want it. You stopped in front of him, the black skirt of your dress flaring out. He could see parts of your bare body.

Legs, knuckles, knees.

A small, amused smile on your lips.

Eyes that Jungkook searched valiantly, looking for malice, for innocence, for desire, for the darkest shadows and the lightest light.

Why couldn't he see anything?

This must be part of your magic. No matter. Jungkook had other ways. He was creative and cunning. You would break under his hand. He wouldn't stop until it was done. He was a demon that saw things through, even to his detriment.

His jaw was suddenly released from its prison, ball gag disappearing, fading into ice-silver smoke. He coughed, snapping his teeth, glaring at you.

"You dumb bitch," he hissed, violent resonance in his voice, oppressive and intense. "Do you think you humans are above us with your tricks and schemes? Kneel before those who invented such things."

You tilted your head.

Yoongi chuckled beside him.

Jungkook's brows furrowed. What–?

Your body trickled down like liquid, laying against the dark wood floor, looking up at him. Jungkook froze, maddening desire rising, infuriated at your face looking up at him, plush dark lips parted, hands on your chest, fingers spread out and molded to your flesh under the plain black dress. Sinking in, making him clench his jaw.

Your smile like a Cheshire Cat, eyes reflecting his rage.

Jungkook wanted to straddle your face and shove his cock into that smirking mouth, bulge your throat and cheeks with his girth.

"Is he always like this?" you asked, still not looking away.

"He pretends to be nice when he wants something out of you," the Devil answered calmly.

"Isn't that you?"

You still didn't look away from Jungkook. Why couldn't he find what he needed from your eyes?

"I'm always nice."

"That means you always want something out of someone."

Yoongi laughed, raspy and deep, the sound echoing in the bedroom, filling it up with his sound. Why couldn't Jungkook find it? His rage began to become infested with something else. Your eyes reflected only him.

Like a mirror.

No matter. The demons had other ways.

"Come here," Jungkook purred.

"I wouldn't do that."

That wasn't you. That was the Devil.

Your body lifted as if it was on a string from the center of your chest, fingers and black fingernails trailing against the dark hardwood, head tipped back, the line of your neck hidden by the high collar of lace, shielded from his hungry gaze. Legs curling up, skirt pooling around your thighs, his rage molding with carnal need, festering with something else.

Fear.

You rose to your knees, in prayer position in front of him, almost as if you were about to reach out and touch faith. Jungkook furrowed his brow, watching your presence near, wanting it, ready to coax or rip your desires from your lips themselves. It didn't matter if he was bound, it didn't matter if his black suit was torn up and ugly, it didn't matter if he was bleeding from his efforts to escape this magic.

You were still a human.

He was a demon and he would taint you.

Closer, your lids lowering, entranced by his spell. Jungkook smirked. Too easy. Humans were so, so easy. He craned his neck, lips parting, the palpable lust of his breath exhaling. So close to those pretty, dark, fuckable lips.

"You're really falling for it, hm?"

Jungkook paused. His eyes shifted to Yoongi. The Devil had turned his body to watch, clad in a tailored black suit. In contrast, Yoongi's was unmaimed, as he hadn't fought his restraints. The Devil had black hair like him, parted slightly, with shadowy dark brown, cat-like eyes that glinted with something sinister. Pale skin, almost luminescent. Exposed neck, elegantly laid black silk tie, unlike Jungkook, who preferred not to wear one. Lips that demanded you to plead for your life.

A body that made Jungkook want to sin for him.

That was the power of the Devil.

His eyes shifted from Yoongi to you, who had stilled in front of him. Hands beneath you and knuckles pressed to the floor like an obedient pet. What was Yoongi talking about? He had you right where he wanted you. And yet, he hesitated.

Then you spoke.

Delicate and calm, with no resonance. Human.

"I thought demons had free will?" you whispered. "That not even the Devil could control a demon."

Or was it?

Jungkook watched your lips form the words.

"If he is powerful enough, that is."

-

Yoongi didn't bother warning Jungkook anymore.

The Chaos knew what it was doing.

Clever girl.

-

Jungkook growled, leaning back a little, letting the passion of emotion course through him, wrath, lust, pride. Fear. All of it. Drawing from it, his power pulsing, singing through his muscles.

"Come here, human."

You had to crawl into his lap, his thighs against your thighs, hardness against softness, bringing your lips to his, sudden and sweet with your legs, knuckles, knees. Jungkook smirked, white teeth and canines flashing, urging you to him.

"What a good little girl,” he breathed softly. “I can be anything you desire. All you need to do is tell me."

Your eyes locked with his.

"A kiss, please."

He groaned at the small plea, finally getting it out of you, finally, and he would make you regret doing this, sow every seed of desire within you and reap it all, turn you into his pet on a leash. All he had to do was kiss you.

Jungkook kissed you.

He pressed his lips to yours, ravenous to consume what you had, eager to claim his offering.

You smiled against his lips, a small, amused smile.

It was instant, his hunger to your plushness, the rush euphoric and wild, immediate lust and power dominating him and now he could taste your tongue and fling open the doors, clawing for the soul within, the moment so close he could taste it, taste your moan sliding into his throat, his favorite treat, intoxicating in the way you sucked in his breath to fill your longs.

Jungkook arrived at the last gate, tearing through the door. Looked down into the abyss, triumphant.

You looked back up at him from below.

A small, amused smile.

A nothingness like he had never felt before.

Jungkook's eyes snapped open and widened, staring into the reflective glass of yours, his chest constricted. He had never felt this. Your lips still on his, tongue flicking, taking his breath, and then he felt a strange kind of compression, like everything was being pressurized, tighter, tighter, suffocating, and he gasped in your mouth, recoiling.

The kiss broke, your eyes still on his, lips shiny with his saliva. Your hand was outstretched, hovering in the air, fingers coated with black tendrils mixed with ice-silver, right above his chest.

Your eyes, void of anything but himself.

“What…” Jungkook breathed, hard cock straining against his slacks. “Are you?”

He didn’t understand. You were only a human. Only a human who had done a very stupid thing, summoning the Devil and his right-hand demon to your bedroom. Just a stupid, foolish human. You tilted your head. Lowered your hand and placed both hands on Jungkook’s thighs. He tensed. You pressed your fingers into his slacks, kneading the firm flesh underneath.

Where was your fear? Your malice? Your innocence?

Where was your desire?

He could only feel his own, rising, rearing its beautiful head, teeth bared and ready to strike as your fingers drummed against the fabric of his pants. You had tried to take something from him in midst of the kiss.

Part of his soul.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “What do you want?” he hissed, forceful and direct.

You stopped moving your fingers. He wanted to scream in dismay.

“Only a small thing.” Your lips curved into a gentle smile. “A token to remember our fateful meeting.”

Now, only now, did Jungkook not like this.

You removed one hand from his leg and Jungkook clenched his jaw, watching it rise, nearing his heaving chest, the black chains spreading apart, links snapping with ice-silver sparks, but he was still bound, still chained, and he did now know why and not knowing infuriated him. You stopped, right above his heart, the heart he forgot was there sometimes.

The true irony of this world was that angels gave up their hearts to serve the one above and demons kept them to serve themselves.

Jungkook felt it again, the compression of his insides, making his breath hitch and his teeth grind, the sensation unbearable. Your expression remained the same, the small, airless smile. Eyes reflecting his terror.

“I could take it just like this.”

Not a threat, only a statement. Only a testament to the power within you, a power that Jungkook was beginning to think wasn’t something he knew or understood. The Devil could take souls. He could reap them, he could tear them, he could wring them dry. But not like this.

“I will give you a choice,” you murmured, hand retreating, releasing him from the uncomfortable pressure. “Because everyone deserves a choice, don’t they?”

The chains were lessening, slowly slipping off Jungkook’s body.

“I’ll let you give it to me willingly.”

Your hand on his pants caressed the fabric.

“If you have the power to take it,” Jungkook snarled. “Why not take it?”

Your other hand found his other thigh, squeezing lightly, sparks of heat flying through his veins. The chains slid off him, clashing into the hardwood floor and turning to ice-silver liquid that faded to nothing.

“I do not want to take.”

You stopped your touches and Jungkook wanted to scream.

“It will feel better for you if you give.”

He raised on eyebrow. “Considerate of you.”

You smiled wider. He stared into your eyes and only saw himself.

“What do you think, Jeon Jungkook, the Devil’s right-hand man?”

He felt the tendons on his neck tense, expression twisting into anger. You shouldn’t know his name. You were a human. You would only know if he told you directly. Someone else was behind this. Someone who wanted to kill him and the Devil, thereby putting Hell itself in imbalance.

“How do you know my name?” he seethed.

“You told me.”

What?

“When you looked into her eyes, you told her your name,” confirmed a deep, cavernous voice.

Jungkook started, whipping his head to the Devil beside him. No longer chained, simply sitting lazily on the ground, one knee raised to rest an elbow on it. Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

“Getting soft, Jungkookie?” the Devil taunted.

How…? Was he so absorbed in his own lust and deceiving you that he did not realize? He looked back at you. Your eyes lowered to his slacks and then back up to his eyes.

“Pants can always come off.”

Jungkook raised a hand, running it through his black hair, jaw set. “You are too greedy, human. Do you even know what you’re doing?” he sneered.

Your hands jerked down a few centimeters closer to his crotch, making Jungkook hiss. Your tongue slid out, feathering against the plush dark mauve of your lips. His cock throbbed with need, demanding to abuse the mouth presented. You leaned forward, putting more of your weight on him, welcome weight that Jungkook wanted all over him. He was a demon, after all. He was no stranger to carnal desire.

“I do,” you murmured softly. “You and me and the Devil makes three.”

Jungkook sharpened his gaze. “You couldn’t handle that, human.”

You said nothing.

You simply removed your heat and turned to the Devil, where Yoongi held the little goat-man plush by a single hoof, dangling it next to his lap, making your crawl into it to reach the doll. It was almost an innocent gesture, the way you took it and tucked it into your lap before looking up at Yoongi’s face, lips parted slightly, nearly curious, childlike awe decorating your features.

Jungkook growled like a hurt animal.

Your eyes shifted to him, looking at him under lowered lashes. Dismissive, vacant gaze.

“Yes or no, Jeon Jungkook?”

“Yes.”

The thin black string between you and him darkened, searing with ice-silver, a contract made. He didn’t even know the terms. He didn’t care. No human could outsmart him. And you, you must have been human once.

The problem was, Jungkook didn’t know if you were human anymore.

-

Yoongi watched your eyes return to him. The little black goat-man plush was tucked between your legs, pressed against your core. Slowly but surely, he was understanding. The original vessel was human, now tainted by someone, something, or simply bad luck. It made you something else entirely. You were a creature from the realm of Order polluted by the realm of Disorder. How long could this last? Would you die eventually from it? When you died, what would be left? Was the soul still there? Would he be able to collect it? Contain it? Study it?

Yoongi didn’t know the answers to these questions.

He wanted to know.

“Your turn,” you whispered to his chin, warm breath against his skin. “What is your answer, my Devil?”

Yoongi chuckled. “A shard of soul is all you ask for?” he purred. “What for?”

You tilted your head. “I want to complete my collection.”

The Devil doubted that. He doubted you wanted anything. Something was driving the entropy in a direction, a purpose given to the original human you long ago, and now you did it because it was the only thing left in the shell, a memory of a purpose, the human determination so strong that it could not be killed or erased, even though this body was now only a container for the power within.

The Devil had spent a lot of his time lately doing nothing. Nothing fun, nothing exciting, nothing worthy of his attention. Yoongi already knew everything there was to know about humans. He cared not for those above. But this.

This was new.

This was different.

This was something he wasn’t supposed to know.

He raised his hand, fingers tracing your jaw, staring into the eyes of Chaos. The Entropy. The Vessel.

You.

“I’ll be part of your collection, little one,” Yoongi purred.

And you will be mine, he vowed as the black string between you and the Devil glowed, ice-silver magic contaminating it with the power of Disorder.

-

part ii the collection. if you get in bed, someone will fall in love

--

masterpost

[breakyeol]

Sweet, Sweet Relief

Pairing : chanyeol x reader

Summary: in which your gorgeous best friend knows just what to do to help you relax. 

Warnings: strong language, shy yeol towards the end, explicit sexual content; mild muscle kink?? i think??, dry humping for like two seconds, oral (f. receiving) aka pussy eating king back at it again, fingering, park chanyeol bc the man deserves a warning all his own 

Word Count: 3.3k

a/n; ah yes, best friends to lovers, my favorite cliche. i can’t stop writing for Chanyeol lately?? which really isn’t that out of the ordinary bc the man is literally my muse, but it seems a bit excessive at times yikes. but i also think it’s a good thing because i’m making some leeway with his prince au!!! yay!!! hopefully it won’t be too terribly long of a wait! until then, i hope these drabbles turned one shots will hold you over :) enjoy!

“You’re stressed out.”

It wasn’t a question.

You sighed, head shaking as you spared Chanyeol a glance from the corner of your eye.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re obviously not.” Was his abrupt response, concerned eyes dragging over the length of your tensed features, pausing on the visible lines above your brow and at the corners of your mouth.

He was right, of course. You weren’t alright. In all honesty, you hadn’t been alright for the past month. Your latest assignment was beating the absolute shit out of you, draining your mind and body of all its viable energy and leaving you an exhausted, stressed out disaster of a person.

Unfortunately, you knew that if you admitted it out loud to Chanyeol, he would not let you spend another second staring at your stupid computer screen. But you really had to get the project done by the end of the week or you were totally and royally screwed. And if he couldn’t make you feel better, Chanyeol would end up feeling like shit and that in turn would make you feel even more like shit than you already do and it would be an endless cycle of the two of you feeling like shit and does anybody really need that right now? You were already struggling enough without having an extra pouty, sulking best friend to tend to.

“Chanyeol—“ you began, running your palms over your face as you concocted a number of things to say to get him to stop worrying. But, he didn’t give you the chance.

“I can do it again.”

Your hands fell away from where they’d begun to press against your sore eyes, a look of confusion crossing your features.

“Huh?”

He swallowed, shifting where he sat beside you on the plush sofa. You followed his every movement through narrowed eyes, your confusion building as a shade of pink dusted over his cheeks.

“I–if you want me to... I can do it again.”

It took you a second. To put the pieces together. To remember. For the shock to settle over you. It took a second, but it was with a jolt that you realized what he was talking about. Warmth blossomed beneath your skin, but you forced your expression to fall into that of gentle chiding.

“Yeol. We agreed that it was a one time thing.”

The near rejection had him crumbling in on himself, the blush coating his cheeks intensifying tenfold as he fiddled with his fingers in his lap.

“I know but... I don’t mind. If it helps.” He suddenly straightened his back and you damn near jumped out of your skin as one of his hands fell across your thigh. He stared into your eyes, determination and sincerity burning in his own. “I want to help.”

“Yeah but you don’t have to help like th— ah!” You yelped in surprise as he suddenly pushed you and you fell backwards onto the couch with a soft ‘oof’. “What the h– ell…” your voice gave with an embarrassing crack as Chanyeol crawled on top of you, straddling your hips and caging your head between his arms. The sudden change of position caught you completely off guard, and you found yourself grappling hopelessly to try and get your mind back on track.

“Let me help you, y/n. You know I’m good at it.” His voice had dropped an octave, softening into a near whisper. Heat pooled in your cheek, and you blinked rapidly, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

Sure he was good —probably one of the best you’d ever had if you were being completely and totally honest—, but accidentally fucking your best friend while you are both wasted and horny beyond rationality is completely different than committing the act while sober and capable of discerning between right and wrong. And this— this had to be wrong.

Even if it felt so deliciously right.

Quickly ridding yourself of the thought, you pressed your palms against his chest with every intention to pushing him away, only to falter at the feeling of taut, bulging muscle beneath your fingertips that you were almost certain hadn’t been there the last time you’d laid your hands on him.

“Have you been working out?”

The question was so out of place in the situation that Chanyeol couldn’t rein in his laughter before it came bubbling from his chest in several loud, contagious eruptions.

“A little…” his lips curled into that familiar, boyish grin, “wanna see?”

Asking proved pointless as he sat up before you could conjure up an intelligible response and took hold of the bottom of his hoodie. In one soft motion, he pulled it over his head and tossed it aside without a care. You couldn’t help but gawk like a fool at the sight you were left with.

“W–wow.” You coughed out, blinking rapidly as you absorbed the expanse of the tanned, toned body on top of you. ‘A little’ had been an understatement. The last time you saw him shirtless, you can’t quite seem to recall there being such a defined six pack… or such impressive biceps… fuck.

“Wanna feel?”

His large hand was already wrapped around your wrist before the question escaped his lips, though this time he actually waited for your verbal approval before proceeding. Was it really the best idea to be feeling up your shirtless best friend after he’d just propositioned you? Probably not. Were you going to do it anyway? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Allowing him to guide your palm to his impressive pectorals, you almost moaned at the feeling of the hard, warm skin beneath your greedy fingertips. “Not bad, huh?” He asked, smug smirk twirling at the corners of his lips.

“In a word.” You offered mildly, far too absorbed in tracing the defined ridges of his abs to come up with one of your usual smart ass responses. The faintest of gasps fluttered from his lips as you caressed over a particularly sensitive area, and you didn’t miss the goosebumps that rose across his sun kissed skin— nor the pressure of something hard suddenly nudging up against your hip.

Swallowing thickly, you tipped your head up, making the deadly mistake of meeting his eyes. They were dark, darker than you’d ever seen them, and hooded, pretty eyelashes fluttering across his flushed cheeks with every lazy blink. Something dangerous yet tempting swirled within them, and you found yourself too overwhelmed to hold his intense gaze for much longer, quickly diverting your attention elsewhere.

But, just your luck, your eyes happened to land directly on the second most dangerous feature on his face— his lips. They were a dark, lovely shade of pink and deliciously swollen from the relentless assault of his teeth. The unexpected urge to tip you chin up and kiss him crashed over you with all the strength of a tsunami, heat flooding down between your thighs. Instinctively, you tried to close them, but the shape of his body prevented you from doing such. Unfortunately for your sanity, the pressure of your legs squeezing around his hips gave Chanyeol a different idea all together, a whole new way of absolutely wrecking you.

You almost— scratch that, you quite literally choked on air when he suddenly rolled his hips down, grinding against you. It was more experimental than anything else, testing the waters, seeing just how far you’d let him go. When you showed no signs of pushing him away and telling him to go fuck himself, he did it again, and this time, you really did moan out loud. Chanyeol shuddered at the sound, positively delighted that he’d been the one to pull such a delicate, sexy noise from you.

Encouraged and invigorated with newfound determination, he set a steady, confident rhythm with his hips, rolling them into yours in hard, deliberate, fluid motions.

“Let me make you feel good, y/n.”

A shiver wracked your body, and you found yourself utterly helpless against the deep rasping bass of (what you liked to identify as) his sex voice. It was at least an octave deeper than his regular voice, with a deliberate yet natural hoarseness that shot straight to your core. And no being on earth was immune to it, including you.

“Okay. Fuck, okay,” you caved, breathing heavy and uneven just from that juvenile dry humping alone, “but this is seriously the last time, Chanyeol. We can’t keep doing shit like t–this.”

A triumphant grin twisted onto his rose petal lips, “that’s alright. Just this once is all I need.”

Contrarily, you feared this little indiscretion would make you crave him all the more.

You sighed softly as his head fell into the juncture of your neck, painting hot, open mouthed kisses across the vulnerable skin. “No marks.” You huffed lightly when he resorted to sucking and nipping, and you could feel the pout that downturned the corners of his lips, but he made no objections nonetheless. A trembling breath flooded out of your chest as he descended your body, pushing up the loose fabric of your t-shirt to press searing kisses across your belly, all the way down to the elastic of your leggings. He glanced up at you, and somehow the angle made him look more attractive than he already was.

“Don’t be nervous.”

You shot him a lopsided grin, “who’s nervous?”

He didn’t look convinced, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the skin of your hips. “If you don’t want to do this, that’s completely alright, just tell me and I’ll—”

“Don’t stop.” Chanyeol’s eyes widened at the sudden interruption, staring up at you with all the excitement and hope of a puppy getting a treat dangled in front of his nose. Sinking your teeth into your lower lip, you allowed your thighs to relax, falling open before him. “Please… don’t stop.”

He literally whined, though it quickly pitched into a rough, heavy groan somewhere deep in his chest. Long fingers slipped beneath the tight elastic of your leggings, making quick work of tugging them down the length of your legs. The air was cold against your bare skin, prickling goosebumps shooting up across your freshly shaved and lotion lathed legs (you silently thanked yourself for making yesterday one of your monthly self care days). The chill of the air was warded away by the warm press of his hands against the flesh of your thighs, grip tight enough to bruise.

“Fuck.” You hissed as he feathered his mouth over your clothed pussy, the heat of his breath rippling through your core in tiny shockwaves. Something dangerous glinted in his hooded eyes, and you let out a shaky moan when he flicked his tongue experimentally. The thin grey cotton darkened with a mixture of his saliva and your arousal, and he moaned quietly when your faint flavor hit his taste buds.

“Baby,” he purred softly, rolling his thumb over your clit and prodding the tip of his tongue where he estimated your entrance was. Your head tipped back against the cushion, mouth opening in a silent gasp. One of your hands reached down to weave through his thick black locks, while the other grabbed hold of the armrest behind your head. “Can I take them off?”

“Yes.” You breathed, removing your hand from his hair to brace it against the couch as you lifted your hips, allowing him to pull the black cotton down your legs. He tossed them aside haphazardly, a low groan rumbling in his throat at the sight of your bare core, wet and exposed in front of him. The first time you’d done this, it had been too dark and he’d been too drunk to really appreciate you. So, he’d take his time now. Really take his time.

“You’re so pretty.”

Warmth blossomed beneath your cheeks and you scoffed softly, trying your best to act like the compliment hadn’t made your heart flutter. He dragged his index slowly through your arousal, mouth falling open with a breath of amazement as he admired the glistening wetness that coated it. Chills rolled down your spine, an almost embarrassingly desperate whine resonating in your throat.

“Chan.” The urgency in your voice made him smile, and he looked up at you with eyes sparkling with mischief. You could only watch helplessly as he dragged his finger away from you, and slipped it between his lips, humming in delight.

Fuck. He was definitely trying to kill you.

Luckily for you, that one little taste proved to not be anywhere near enough for his insatiable appetite and, without warning, he pressed his face in close and began lapping eagerly at your pussy. Your mouth gaped, hips bucking up uncontrollably as his nose ground into your clit, his hot tongue licking hungrily at your entrance. Pleasure ignited in your veins like a wildfire, explosive and untamable and all consuming. It stretched through every part of your body, setting your skin ablaze in the wake of his touch.

“Oh my god, Chan—” he groaned against you in response, hooded eyes fluttering blissfully as he lost himself in the taste of your cunt. He was eating you out like his life depended on it, fierce and unrelenting, the sound of it wet and messy. You were moaning his name, thigh tightening spastically around his head, but his strong, calloused hands kept them apart, forcing them open so he could have his way. You almost lost it completely when he wrapped his lips around your clit and started sucking.

Strangely enough, you found that without the intoxication of alcohol in your system, everything he did had that much of a more intense effect on you. It was like every touch, every sensation was amplified by your mere sobriety; the heat of his mouth, the softness of his lips, the eagerness of his tongue, the pressure of his fingers. You felt all of it, every one of your senses going into overdrive.

And god it was so much. And yet, you still wanted more.

“Y– your fingers, Chan, your fingers, please—” you panted, brows knitting as you felt that familiar tightening in your gut. He quickly obeyed, sinking his long middle finger inside of you with such ease you almost felt embarrassed. But there was no room for such emotions when you were so enthralled in the hot rush of pleasure bursting like the most brilliant of firecrackers in your veins.

A second finger was swift to join the first, stretching you out so deliciously that your toes curled. With his free hand, he tugged at your knee, bringing it up to rest over his shoulder. The new angle forced your hips off of the plush cushion below, his skilled fingers burying themselves deeper, pillowy lips sucking harder. It was over the second his digits curled, stroking up against that perfect little spot that had white hot electricity crackling in your blood.

Your orgasm hit you hard and fast. It was hot and overwhelming, the persistent, eager pressure of his mouth and hands drawing it out as long as it could possibly go. He dragged it out until you were limp and trembling beneath him, moaning and whining out broken fragments of his name, too lost in the bliss inducing thralls of your high to feel even the slightest hint of shame.

His ministrations seemed to grow even fiercer through your orgasm, his ravenous moans increasing in volume right alongside yours. He only pulled away when he knew you wouldn’t be able to withstand anymore, resorting to pressing soothing kisses and murmuring breathless praises against the soft, trembling skin of your thighs.

“Fuck you, Chanyeol.” You laughed breathlessly, tossing an arm over your eyes.

“Fuck me? Fuck you, I almost busted in my pants when you came. That was so fucking hot.” He groaned, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip as he crawled back on top of you, caging your head between his arms. You chuckled, warmth spreading through your cheeks. A sweet smile upturned the corners of his mouth. “Did it help?”

The question was less than a breath against your lips, so soft you had to strain your ears to hear it. You swallowed, gaze momentarily dropping to his mouth before returning to his eyes, only to find that they’d honed in on your lips.

“It helped. You helped.”

He inhaled shakily, tongue slipping out to trace the seam of his bottom lip. “Can I help a little more?” He asked, and you felt his bangs feather over your forehead as his head lowered. Hot breath rushed over your mouth. Instead of answering, you reached up and cupped his face, pulling him into a kiss. It was short, shy, sweet. Such a stark contrast to the fierce hunger he’d displayed going down on you not two minutes ago that you couldn’t help the giggles of amusement that came bubbling from your chest. He broke away from you with a bashful smile, gently resting his forehead against yours.

“You suck.” He mumbled, pouting childishly.

“I’m pretty sure you’re the only one that’s done any sucking.” You teased.

“Who am I to argue with the facts?” He sighed dramatically, feigning defeat.

You laughed loudly, an obnoxious cackle that had to be one of the most unattractive sounds you’d ever made, but it was abruptly cut off when he reattached his mouth to yours. You hummed contently, carding your fingers through the short hairs on the back of his neck. The taste of you lingered on his tongue, and he painted the inside of your mouth with it. Warmth spread through your chest, your heart picking up speed as you melted into his kiss, melted into the warmth that the presence of his body provided you with.

“I lied.”

Your eyes blinked open, surprised by the sudden admission. “Huh?”

The look on his face stirred to life a strange, but vaguely familiar emotion in the depth of your chest. A crimson blush darkened his cheeks and his gaze shied away from yours. For a moment, you were reminded of the little, goofy looking boy that shyly handed you a heart shaped box of caramel chocolates on Valentine’s Day all the way back when you were thirteen. He had the same big sweet eyes, the same crimson cheeks, the same large pink tipped ears.

“I said that just this once is enough...” he swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing as he nibbled nervously on the corner of his lip, “but it isn’t. It isn’t enough.”

“What do you mean?”

He cupped the side of your face, thumb tracing the line of your lip. “I want you. I- I want to be more to you— to be more to you than just a friend.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, offering him a sly smirk. “Are you… confessing to me, Park Chanyeol?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

He smiled down at you bashfully. “If you say yes.”

“Hmm…” you squinted your eyes and pursed your lips as if you needed to think it over. But you had a feeling that a moment like this was long past due, so you resisted the urge to draw it out and torture him, opting to give him a more straight forward answer to put his racing heart at ease. “Yes.”

“Thank god.” He groaned happily, smooshing your face between his massive palms and tugging you into a deep, but playful kiss that made your skin tingle. You giggled noisily against his lips, draping your arms over his neck to keep him close. “Does this mean I get to eat you out like that whenever I want?”

“Oh, without a doubt,” you snickered as he pumped his fist, hissing out an eager ‘yes’. You grabbed his chin between your thumb and forefinger, drawing his attention back to you. “And next time...” you tipped your head up to nip at the sensitive lobe of his ear, letting a downright wicked grin curl across your lips, “I’ll gladly return to favor.”

[spencersmagic]

My Good Luck Charm - SR

Part 1 // Part 2

Summary: Y/N is superstitious (or is she?) and Spencer is in love with her. When the printer at the precinct only works when he walks in, Y/N makes sure to bring him with her whenever she needs to print something. 

Couple: reader x season 2! Spencer (because he inspires me)

Category: blurb, fluff

Warnings: cliffhanger (ill do a part 2), use of foul language, allusions to Spencer’s obvious praise kink, pure fluff. Also literal abuse of the environment (don’t print 56 pages). lmk if i’m missing anything.

Word count: 1019 words. 

Masterlist here and join my super cool kid taglist here. 

“Motherfucker! Why can’t you work?” you exclaimed while frustratedly tapping the lid of the printer. You desperately needed to print out the manuscript you had to edit and hand in before midnight. The team was stuck at the precinct, waiting for JJ and Hotchner to convince the local PD in Colorado to invite them to work on a double homicide. However, being a college student, you knew how to multitask. 

You found yourself so consumed with trying to get the printer to fucking print quicker, the manuscript being 56 pages, that you didn’t even notice the soft footsteps of no other than the resident genius.

“Hey, Y/N, are you ok? You seem uhmm-“ he stopped nervously, licking his lips, not wanting to offend you “irritated? Can I help you with anything?”

That was the thing with Spencer. He always tried to help and accommodate to everybody, his extensive knowledge being able to solve almost anything. You smiled, instinctively grabbing his cheeks and softly pushing them together, caressing him, “what a sweet boy” you thought. You loved seeing him all nervous and shaky when you were around, and more often than not you decided to push him, just a little bit, to see how much he could take.

The first time was a mistake. When he managed to get the unsubs location by making a geographical profile of the areas the unsub had operated in, you turned to him and ruffled his hair, mumbling a ‘good boy’, to which he blushed and gave you a small nod, not knowing how to react.

You had apologized, too. Once the unsub was caught, and the team was sleeping in the jet, leaving you and Spencer with a book each, you looked up at him, his eyes already on you:

“Spencer, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with what I said. I promise I wasn’t even thinki-“ he interrupted you all too quickly “don’t worry about it, Y/N, it didn’t bother me”.

From that moment on, it’s become a common occurrence that you’d say things that would push him a little, making him a little jittery. You loved reducing the intelligent man that knew almost everything about anything to a pretty little blubbering mess when your words have the slightest 

And he always came back. He’d follow you like a little lost puppy, loving the way you’d make him feel.

And so you continued. 

Before you could reply to him, you heard the familiar, yet uncommon screech of the printer, indicating that another portion of the page was being printed. From the moment Spencer came, the printer had decided to suddenly work. Page after page was being printed, and you couldn’t believe it, way too caffeinated and exhausted to even fathom the idea that maybe you could work on the manuscript during your time at the job, either at the jet or waiting for the briefing.

You turned to look at him, and then looked at the printer. “Oh my Gosh, Spencer! It’s working!!” you exclaimed, jumping up to hug him. Granted, you were too excited, but Spencer chuckled at your joy over such a mundane thing.

“I’ve been sitting here for ages, and it didn’t work. But now you came and- oh gosh Spencer, you’re my good luck charm!”

From that moment on, every time you had to print anything you would tap Spencer’s shoulder as if saying ‘c’mon, let’s go’. At first he was confused. “I have to print a document my TA just sent, I need my good luck charm”.

Spencer was more than happy to follow you to the printer.

The team noticed it. Of course they did. They would find you two by yourselves in the printing room, either chatting or just hanging out. You’d be looking, mesmerized, at the printer’s newfound efficiency and Spencer would be reading some file he had brought when he mindlessly came in here to “make the printer go quicker”. He knew it was wrong, but to an extent, he loved that you needed him. That this had become a routine of yours. Your own little thing.

They didn’t miss how your fingers would be intertwined with each other, mindlessly, as you waited for your good luck charm to work his magic, either.

Spencer loved it, but he was also clear with his expectations. He wasn’t going to fool himself, thinking you’d like him. How could you? You were so much more open and confident than he could ever be. Granted, he had these traits when he was ranting about some statistic, but he just wasn’t capable of being that person when he talked to you. You made him so freaking nervous.

So when Morgan approached him at the coffee station, Spencer was dumbfounded.

“I’m telling you, kid. She likes you! Why else would she try to grab you whenever she could to sneak into the printing room?” he’d exclaim, slightly amused at Spencer’s cluelessness.

“She’s just superstitious, Morgan” Reid would sigh, desperately trying to not get his hopes up. It would break him all too much.

“I promise you, its deeper than that. I can ask her for you or-“ “no. I don’t want her to know, and she’ll know if you approach her and ask her about it” he said, voice as quiet as a whisper.

“Why wouldn’t you want her to know? What if you’re missing out? What if I’m right, as always, and she likes you? And you’re wasting time that you should be using snogging in your couch and watching that doctor you like so much?” He questioned..

“William Shakespeare once said: ‘Let no one who loves be unhappy. Even love unreturned has its flowers’” Reid recited.

“Kid, I’m not going to act like I understand what you just said. Y/N is not superstitious. She’s interested in you, and doesn’t know how to approach you” Morgan sighs, knowing this is a lost fight. “We know better than anybody that our time is limited. If you don’t do something about your feelings they will consume you, and if you lose her you’ll hate yourself for not even trying”.

“Pay the slightest bit of attention to how she acts around you. I promise you, kid, that girl is in love”.

_____________________________

super short, super special taglist for cool kids only (fill in this form to join :)): 

@lady-anon-x​ @inlovewithbabygirl​

[i-ate-the-whole-entire-pie]

Call Me Mother, Chapter One

I languidly drained the last breath from my cigarette, the drag filling my lungs. My garter straps hung down lazily, tickling my thighs, as they awaited their purpose. Music thumped rapidly, and whoops of delight resounded through the hall. The dressing room door swung open; a small, but curvaceous woman behind it.

Her eyebrows were tweezed to perfection, eyes deeply shadowed, eyelashes false and curled into large feathery swoops; her mouth was like a plump strawberry. I’d always harbored a mild curiosity about how it tasted.

“Mary, you’re up in 10 minutes. I want you at the curtain in five," Cristella said, her hispanic accent thick.

“Is that a new corset?” I asked. Cristella turned me around, and yanked the laces of my corset together. Thank god I haven’t needed to breathe for the last 150 years, I thought. I floated a small influence her way. Gentler, please. She complied, unwittingly. They always do.

I don’t normally use my influence on people I like, but I’m far too hungry to risk her pinching me with this corset. I couldn’t forgive myself if I lost control. She was far too kind to die a death that violent.

“It is. This papí chulo I’ve been seeing said he wanted me to wear it for him. Maybe he’ll tip better," she said, carefully pulling the slack out of the lower half of my corset. I placed my hands over my belly, holding everything in place.

“What’s the crowd looking like?” I tucked the ties away. She jutted a hip out, and began counting off on her impeccably manicured fingers.

“The usual crowd. Old Man Carraway, that one divorcee who drinks like a fish. College kids. Oh, there’s also these dudes in silver masks. Low-key kind of demonic. And some weird guy in like, face paint? He’s painted up like a calavera. I figured they came from that concert that was in town. You know, the one that church was protesting? Say they like worship Satan or something?”

“Sounds about right." I bent down to attach my straps to the garters of my stockings.

“They’re probably here for a private room, so I figured I’d put you on now. You’re good at handling the weirdos." Cristella giggled, watching me struggle to get the backs of my stockings attached. She and I broke into fits of giggles, as she chased me in circles, trying to help me attach my stockings.

“Let me get that. Hurry up and get on stage!” she said, giving me a playful smack on the ass. I pranced out of the room, trying to avoid her grasping mitts.

“Hey! No bruising the merchandise!” I giggled, linking arms with her as we strutted backstage, perfectly in step with one another. She grabbed the microphone from Mike the Mic Guy, gave me a wink, and stepped through the curtain.

“Aaaaand we’re back! Now, this next lady I’ve got lined up for you is quite a treat. She’s as pale as cream, thicker than a bowl of oatmeal, and will definitely step on you. Well, she might if you tip well. For legal reasons, we can’t call her “Elvira,” so I guess we’ll settle for… MOTHER! MARY!” That was my cue. I sauntered through the curtain, my hips moving like a figure eight. I moved across the stage, “Lullaby” by the Cure playing. I always chose various genres of rock for my acts. Not that I have anything against the other girls’ music choices… but there’s only so much female rap you can play in one night. As I began to dance, I noticed the group that Cristella had mentioned earlier. They were sitting front and center, near the edge of the stage.

Seven of the masked figures sat around the Painted Man, as I had labeled him. Two of the masked figures seemed effeminate, and the other five seemed more masculine. They all ranged in different shapes and sizes. Maybe the masks are a fetish thing? Cristella did say that they came from a concert… Something about them seemed off. I did a swing around the pole, dropping into a fireman, trying to catch a scent. It was a whirlwind of scents, none of them too out of the ordinary. Except the beefy one. He smelled like midnight. I don’t know how to explain it. What really caught my interest though was the Painted Man. Specifically, his eyes. One of them was grey, the iris almost black. The other eye had a pale, white iris. It suited him, and it was beautiful, in an eerie way. Those eyes looked at me, as I danced around the stage, and they knew me. If I had a working heart still, it would be racing.

As Robert Smith crooned, I descended the stairs of the stage as sensually as one could in Pleaser heels, making my way to the Painted Man. If I wanted to know what these people were, I’d have to get a closer look. The Painted Man patted one of his legs with a gloved hand, and cocked his head to the side. I took the invitation, but not before I teased him. I crouched between his legs, running my hands up his thighs. As I rose, I walked my hands up his thighs, bringing my face closer to his. His breath graced my skin, smelling faintly of licorice. As he leaned in, for what I could only assume was a kiss, I rose again, strutting over to one of the masked beings. It was the smaller of the male ones. I sat in his lap, letting him run his hands over me as I began to grind on his lap. His growing erection told me I was going to have a busy night.

“Your boss is a little too eager," I whispered, getting a good whiff of him. He smelled faintly of smoke. I put my hands on his chest, trying to keep my balance. No heartbeat.

“What makes you think he’s my boss?” The being asked petulantly. He grabbed onto my waist, as he began to grind with me. I moved his hand to the small of my back, and leaned back in a dip. The being ran his other hand over my belly, in between my breasts, and up to my throat, bringing me back up to his masked face.

“You’re the one wearing a uniform." I darted my tongue out to lick my lips. What is he? My mind raced as I tried to run through every supernatural creature I’d ever known. But then I heard it. I barely even understood it. All I picked up was price and one night. It was Ghoulish. The taller female ghoul was asking about what I can only assume was my hourly rate. Most strip clubs in this part of Vegas were just fronts for brothels. However, it’s hard to sell the idea of prostitution to Mid-Western vanilla tourists. So most of my income was made from stripping. I usually had one or two clients I went to bed with a night. It wasn’t very stable, but then again, I had less expenses than the average stripper, considering my “condition."

“Tell your friend my basic hourly rate is $500. My Ghoulish isn’t any good." I stood up, and made my way to the female ghoul’s lap.

“How do you know Ghoulish?” she asked, a bit of surprise in her tone. I bent over in front of her, shaking my ass for her. She put a couple of bills in the waistband of my panties, punching my previous ghoul in the arm. He forked over some cash as well.

“I’m not human. I’ll leave it at that," I said, stuffing the cash into the top of my corset. Dear lord… All hundreds… The female ghoul rubbed my thighs, turning me back around slowly, so as to admire my ass.

“Could we get a room after your number? I think a private dance is in order," she said, in broken Ghoulish. I nodded, and as if on cue, the lights and music began to fade out. As I began to walk back up the stairs to the stage past the Painted Man, his hand darted forward to smack my ass. God, it really is not the night for this shit. My more animalistic nature took over, and before I could stop it, a hiss left my lips. As if of their own accord, my fangs sprung painfully through my gums. I heard a snap, and looked over to see the largest ghoul stand up. He shook his head. Thank god the lights were low. Embarrassed, I covered my mouth, and made my way across the stage.

“What the fuck was that all about?” Mike the Mic Guy asked, handing a mic to Cristella. I still had my hand over my mouth. Cristella looked worried.

“Are you okay Mary? I can get you some tea if you’re keyed up." I shook my head.

“Please get a room ready. The Freak Parade wants a private dance," I said as I walked away, silently cursing myself. Once back in the dressing room, I threw open the mini-fridge I normally kept padlocked. I looked to the last bottle I had left in my stash. Hopefully it hasn’t clotted, I thought, throwing the bottle back. This wouldn’t end my thirst, but it would certainly quell the burning in my throat. You nearly lost it. You need to bag one of these stupid fucks tonight, or else. I hadn’t had a bad case of blood lust in decades, but the combination of winter holidays, my strict schedule, and FOSTA-SESTA had really cut off my food supply.

The door opened, and Cristella came in with a cup of tea. She looked at the flask in her hand and cocked a brow.

“And you didn’t offer to share. What is that? Cuervo? Henny?” she said, reaching for the flask. I shook my head, and put it back in the fridge, closing the padlock.

“It’s cough syrup. I keep it under lock and key because of that bitch Ronnie. She’s not fooling anybody. You ever see how much her hands shake? Too much caffeine? Yeah, right. We all know what the DTs look like." I began changing into a burgundy velvet bra and panty set, pairing it with some burgundy gloves and stockings. Finally, I found a pair of sparkly Loboutins Lydia had left me. My mind rolled back through the streets of Paris to 1991, when Louboutin opened its first salon. Lydia smiled, as I kissed her shin, helping her into the heel. She looked down at me, her eyes full of love, and the corner of her mouth hiding a kiss just for me.

“Yeah, she is pretty suspish. What happened with those weirdos out there?” Cristella interrupted my memory. I shook my head. Are you just imagining your heartache?

“Oh the big guy was just mad because I didn’t get around to him. That’s why I wanted you to get the room. Plus, I might be able to secure a nice check from these guys. They all seemed absolutely randy," I said. Cristella shook her head, giggling. The gloss in my hand made a popping noise, as I pulled the wand from the bottle. It was my favorite flavor, watermelon.

“I can ask one of the boys to sit in, to keep them from getting too handsy," Cristella said. I shook my head. It would only keep me from getting too handsy, I thought to myself. Bless her heart. I could never make a kill here. I loved the crew here far too much. Plus, I didn’t have a coven. No one to protect me when I fucked up. They kicked me out long ago. It’s the main reason I ended up in Vegas, avoiding the sun when I could, doing my best to keep a legal and convenient profession. Where else could get a job with only night shifts, and a never-ending supply of useless assholes no one cared about?

“I’ll be okay Crissy. Even if they do try something, we have a panic button in there. Don’t worry." I gave her a slimy, glossy kiss on the cheek, earning a shriek from her strawberry mouth. She batted at me, narrowly missing me as I bounded out of the room.

As I approached the bigger of our three private rooms, I noticed two of the larger male ghouls standing outside the door. All of the ghouls dressed similarly, including the female ghouls. But I now noticed the alchemical symbols dangling from their belt chains. The shorter one had a quintessence symbol, the other larger one, an earth symbol. The earth one opened the door, and the quintessence one escorted me in.

“Thank you, Aether. Back to the door with you. Come, have a seat. Dewdrop says there is more to you than meets the eye. Let me pour you a glass of wine, cara," a thick, Italian accent beckoned to me. I walked to the ottoman in the middle of the room, where I usually found myself during private dances.

“I don’t drink during work hours, love. Now, what should I call you?” I looked into the mismatched eyes of the Painted Man.

“You can call me Papa. I’m Papa Emeritus, the fourth. My close friends call me Copia, but I suppose we are not quite there yet, sí?” he said, leaning forward to take my chin in his hand. I nodded.

“While I would love to marvel at your undoubtedly exquisite body, There is some business we should take care of first, piccolina. Do you like Type O Negative?” Cue the record scratching. The dreamy look I normally adopt when with my clients evaporated.

“Excuse me?” I whispered. Papa laughed.

“The band, cara. I was going to have you dance for me later. However, you must have a preference."

“I really don’t understand what you mean," I whispered. Papa laughed again, a big booming laugh.

“I know your secret cara. The ghouls told me. One of my predecessors, Papa Nihil, told me if I were to ever come across your kind, I should try to win your allegiance. Your kind have interesting abilities, specifically the power of influence." Of course that’s what he’s after.

“I don’t do that," I said, looking down to avoid his gaze. Papa tsked.

“I think you will. The ghouls say you smell lonely. Where is your famiglia?” He asked. I shook my head. Lydia’s pained screams echoed in my ears, our last moment together wrenching my heart out of my chest decades later.

“We split because of artistic differences," I said softly. Dewdrop and his companions giggled behind me.

“Forcing people to allow you to exsanguinate them for sport is not ‘artistic differences,’” Dewdrop hissed. The other ghouls laughed. Papa shook his head, and raised a hand to silence them.

“Now now, Dewdrop. It is hard to control one’s basic nature. Sí, tesoro? Tell me, how long has it been since your last drink?” He looked at me with concern. I couldn’t meet his eyes. I knew what he saw. Weak, pathetic, useless… The words were like a disgusting mantra, swirling through my mind, angry and acidic.

“Weeks… It’s been weeks," I whispered. He tsked again. I heard the ghouls chatter amongst themselves. Their pity made me feel disgusting, like a child with sweaty, clammy hands, and odorous armpits.

“What if I told you I could offer you a job and a home? A home where you wouldn’t have to hide your nature. A home where you’d never go hungry again?” I looked up at him.

“What kind of job?” I asked. The ghouls laughed again. Papa shot them a glare.

“I would make use of your gifts occasionally. Nobody would get hurt. You would warm my bed whenever I asked. Maybe pick up a trade or two once back with the Clergy. And in turn, you would get protection, and all the blood you could ever need," he said. I finally mustered the courage to look him in the eyes. What do you have to lose? Besides, you’ve done infinitely worse things.

“You swear on your life, nobody will get hurt? Not a single person?” I asked. Papa nodded.

“I’ll do it. I’ll also require a salary as well," I said, extending my hand. Papa nodded, taking my hand in both of his.

“Anything you need, cara. But first, I think you need a drink. And then we will get the night I paid for," he said. He waved his hand towards the door, which the shorter female ghoul scurried to open. I noticed she sported a pocket chain with an air symbol.

“Bring in one of the more rosy siblings, Cumulus. I suspect our new friend will need the sustenance before we get too far into our plans for the night," Cumulus nodded, and shut the door behind her. Papa stood up, and began removing his suit jacket and gloves; rolling up his sleeves. I could see his blue veins pulsating, causing me to become aroused in a way I cannot quite explain. Involuntarily, my pussy throbbed, and my mouth watered.

“Now now, little one. Be patient. Your drink will be here soon enough. But for now, you will seal our little deal with a kiss, so to speak. On your knees," Papa ordered, gesturing to the floor. I slipped from the ottoman to the floor, crawling on all fours to him. His breath hitched as I slid my hands up his thighs. I didn’t break eye contact as I unbuckled his trousers, nor when I reached into his pants to pull out his sizeable cock.

The door opened, and I heard mumbles, as well as a struggle, and a thud. Of course, both my hands and mouth were preoccupied. I watched Papa intently as I sucked him off. His eyes were rolled back, his mouth slack, and his hands threaded into his hair, as he let out an ungodly moan. I kitten licked his frenulum, stroking his shaft, earning another moan. He bucked his hips into my throat. Sit still, I whispered in the back of my mind. Papa grabbed my hair, and pulled me off his cock.

“Never again, my little bat. Continue," he said, grabbing either side of my face as he began to fuck my throat rigourously. Someone behind me cleared their throat. I wasn’t able to look up, due to my current predicament.

“Can’t you see I’m busy, Cirrus? What is it?” Papa let out a grunt, as his cock twitched in my mouth. I began to fellate him with my hands, wrenching more breathy sighs and groans from him. Within seconds, his warm seed was flooding my throat. I heard Dewdrop cheer, and then a slap, which I assumed was a high five. Papa rolled his eyes and smiled, as I dabbed away the bit of cum that had spilled over my bottom lip.

“Just in time. I needed something to wash down all that salt," I stood, and walked over to the person Cumulus and Cirrus stood in front of. It looked like a plumper woman. She was wearing what looked like a nun’s habit, her red ringlets spilling out from under her wimple.

“All for you cara. Come find me when you have finished your meal," Papa walked out, which left me with the ghouls and my prey. Dewdrop, and the other male ghoul, who sported a water symbol, helped the little nun onto the couch.

“You’re going to let me fuck that tight ass later, right? Nearly busted watching you and Copia earlier," Dewdrop said to me, softly enough for just me to hear. I giggled and nodded, batting him away after he began nibbling on my neck. He patted my ass, and began to pull the wimple from the nun’s head.

“I’ve got this. Why don’t you and the rest of the ghouls get started? I’ll be done pretty quickly." Dewdrop nodded.

“C’mon, Rainy. Come play with my cock, while we watch Mary drink," The water ghoul nodded, grabbing Dewdrop’s hand. I turned my attention back to the nun. She began to stir. I pushed back her hair.

“This is going to hurt a little bit. But I will make this quick and painless. You deserve an easy death." The nun, barely awake, nodded, and turned her head. I cradled her head, and brought her throat to my mouth. With a final kiss to her soft, peachy flesh, I sank my teeth into her throat, not letting a single drop of her blood go to waste.

It felt like drinking water after being stuck in a desert for a week. Her blood was sweet, clean, and thick, and it quenched my thirst quickly. Her body began to go limp in my arms, and her skin turned cold. It’s still not enough. I had to force myself to stop. Never drink the last drop. It might just be the last thing you do, my old mentor’s voice reminded me. I let the little nun drop back to the couch, and turned to face the ghouls. Cirrus sat with Cumulus, each with a hand in the other’s pants. Rain was bobbing his head up and down slowly, as Dewdrop played with his hair. Dewdrop looked up at me.

“Hot," he said. Cirrus nodded, and refocused her attention on Cumulus. Rain moaned, causing Dewdrop to hiss. I looked at them all, lust clouding my gaze.

“Make room. It’s my turn," I said. Dewdrop pulled my mouth to his, not fazed one bit by the blood coating my lips. Cirrus began to explore the space between my thighs with her long, gorgeous fingers. Rain held my hair, kissing and nipping at my neck. A girl really could get used to this...

Hours later, after all of the ghouls had had their turn, even the two from the door, I was back in the dressing room. I opened the envelope the earth ghoul, Mountain, had handed me on the way out. My eyes grew like saucers as I counted the money inside. I had only expected eight grand; two hours, eight clients, multiplied by $500. But as I counted, I realized I had 15 grand in my hands. The door opened, breaking my wealth-induced trance. It was Papa.

“If you would really like the job, come to this address in two weeks. Bring only what you must. Put everything else in storage," he said, handing me a card. I was confused.

“Why two weeks?” I asked. Papa smiled.

“Because it’s polite, cara. Don’t forget your letter of resignation."

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

This is the first thing I've wrote in years! I hope you all enjoy it! A special thanks to @gasolineghuleh for all of their help!