#and darkening my eyebrows if i feel like it. and then masking up so there was no point w the mustache thing

[corvidaedream]

im always filled w an impish urge to add to those "you dont need a whole makeup routine, just eyeliner and mascara" posts w my own makeup routine like

"yeah, all u really need is about 5 minutes of putting brow tint on ur mustache and ur good to go"

[pearlymel]

·˚ ༘ ·If bad, then why does it feel good?˚. ༉‧₊˚ ft. Sylus.

SUM. You happen to share genuine feelings with the supposedly man you hate.

WC. 2.5k

WARNINGS. not mc fem! reader, fluffy smut MDNI, emotional feelings, unprotected sēx, soft needy sēx, enemies to lovers type shit, not proofread.

NOTES. Just sylus. Nothing more.

It always comes down to this.

The constant hatred for him, you want to literally pierce a bullet to his head. Why does he have to smirk everytime you try to throw curses towards him? Why does he have to press those dangerous lips over yours to shut you up?

Why does it feel so good everytime?

Damn him.

Lately, something—someone has been bothering you. A certain hunter from Linkon city who seems to have earn herself some attention from the leader of Onychinus.

You squint your eyes at the memory of their interaction, it was pathetic. He didn't seem to have any hatred for her whatsoever, he even seemed to help her.

Is he really pretending to be the good guy in front of her? Or was it all a facade?

“you're zoning out,” Sylus drawls lazily while tapping a finger on your cheek to bring back your attention to him.

Right, you were trying to kill him, again.

You still had him down against the seat while you were above him, still careful not to perch yourself on his lap. Your index that brushed too closely to the trigger shook even more when his thumb played dangerously close to the trigger, resting right on top of your index finger, and you feel like the air is being taken away from your lungs.

“It seems like this isn't entertaining you anymore,” you shoot him a stare and he raises an eyebrow, “perhaps… miss hunter is being too soft on you.”

You watch at how his eyebrows raise in amusement, he knew he had the upper hand in this situation, and it was clear to him that you did as well.

He noticed your voice change, and how your fingers still trembled against the gun still pointed at his chest. Even in your feigned bravado, you couldn't mask your unease. Too easy.

"My," Sylus' eyes darkened as he looked up at you with the slightest curl of his lips lifting upwards, "Are you.. jealous?”

This is ridiculous, and you feel offended even. “Why the hell would i be jealous of stray cats?” you argue back, and he seems almost pleased by your answer, “atta girl.”

Not being able to handle him anymore, you make the decision to press on the trigger without thinking, that the loud bangcaused you to gasp in fear as you drop the gun from your hand.

So close.

Sylus remained still for a few moments as he glanced to his side at the bullet hole on the seat beside his head.

“You missed.” He stated, like he was disappointed.

“Did you not want me to miss?!”

He smiles, "And spoil the fun? Never." Clearly he was playing with your feelings at this point.

He brought a hand up, his fingers tangling into the messy strands of your hair, pulling firmly enough to tilt your head to the side. His eyes studied your own, his gaze roaming over every part of your expression, trying to figure out what you would do next.

"You should try again." He said lowly, his voice almost a whisper. "Maybe you'll hit me this time.”

You press your lips into a thin line at the proximity between you, and your hands find his shoulders, “you can't die.. yet.”

"Oh, don't you worry, sweetie. I'm not gonna die so easily." He let out a dry laugh as if it was obvious.

"That is, unless you end up killing me.”

The change in your expression didn’t go unnoticed by him, the worry, the concern, the frustration, the anger. It's all so interesting.

His hand left your hair to snake around your waist to finally pull you down on his lap, and that's when he felt your hands come to hold his face so dearly, your eyelashes fluttering between his eyes and lips.

You held him close to you as if he was the only thing that mattered—and he was, really.

You embraced him like you were lovers, like you were holding someone dear in your arms. With your arms looped around his shoulders, to pour all your love into his lips, you always did that whenever you kisses. Always soft, sweet, and slow.

Yet Sylus wanted to return the kiss deeply, his tongue trying to seek yours in a desperate, hungry manner. Like he's never kissed you before.

You part your lips for his tongue to delve further in, exploring every inch of your mouth as if he were trying to memorize the taste, the one he's already used to, but it only seems to be sweeter with each exchanged kiss.

He let out a low moan, feeling completely consumed by you. His hands continued to roam your body, exploring every contour and curve, every dip and valley, as if he was trying to commit you to memory.

You pant softly when his lips leave yours to graze the skin of your jawline and neck, but you tug ay his hair before he could do anything.

“no marks.”

“and why?”

“I can't walk around looking like that—”

Then it hits you, what the hell were you even doing?

You push yourself off him, stumbling slightly back when you stood up abruptly, but you don't reach for the hand that's out for you to balance on.

“This is messed up.” You say your thoughts out loud before you could stop yourself, and your fists clench to your sides.

He leaned forward to follow after you, leaving the warmth of the seat behind him, he then speaks with a tilt of his head, "I'd say what we've been doing is pretty normal for our relationship, wouldn't you?"

You sigh, “normal? What even are we?”

Ah, that question.

"Oh, you know. We’re just enemies with a mutual hatred for each other, who just happen to kiss each other on the regular. Nothing out of the ordinary here, sweetie." His tone dripped with sarcasm, “totally nothing odd here.” you try matching his sarcasm with a glare.

He met your glare with his own gaze, his expression suddenly turning serious.

"Why are you acting like doing this," he gestured between the two of you, "is something completely new? Has it ever occurred to you that doing this may actually feel good?" He paused for a moment, watching your expression twist into confusion, “you say you hate me, but let me ask you this: what do you feel when you're around me? Hate, or something else entirely?”

"I—” you press your lips shut when you realise you don't even know the answer to that. How did he feel about this?

"it feels like a drug yet I can't let go off." You settle with your answer quietly.

He takes a slow step forward, “you make it sound like an addiction, sweetie.”

“it is an addiction.” you confirm bluntly, and his smirk widens further.

“Mm, a drug you can't let go of.”

“A drug i need to let go of.”

He stops at his tracks, "You,” Sylus stares down at you, “think you can just let go of me that easily?" He asked, before moving closer, his body practically looming over yours now, trapping you against the wall. His hand came up to rest on the wall beside your head, his arm caging you in.

You're trapped, with nowhere to go, “i made a mistake, I'll leave—”

“No.” he captured your wrist in a tight grip when you tried making your way out.

Sylus’ grip on your wrist loosened when you winced the first time he grabbed it, his hand shifting down instead to intertwine his fingers with yours.

"You really think I'd just let you walk out that door and never see you again? You must be joking," he scoffs, his tone taking a lower route, and you're surprised.

"You're... you're mine, damnit.”

You blink twice, “since.. when?”

He lets out a sharp exhale, his patience and self-control slowly fading. "Since our first shared kiss," he practically growls out, "you may be a difficult, infuriating, little brat, but goddamnit if you're not mine.”

Sylus can see the range of emotions flickering across your face as you digest his words, those same expressions he always sees, this time, it's all anger and frustration.

"You look like you're about to explode, darling," he says, his voice coming out in a mocking drawl. "Want to shout at me? Let it out. Tell me how much you hate me again, because we both know that's bullshit.”

“it's no—”

“don't even try to lie to me,”

“i hate y—”

“lying, again.”

“Sylus.” You let out sharply, you were getting tired or him cutting you off.

He listens, it doesn't feel too shocking now. You're just.. overwhelmed.

Do you feel like crying? Yes. Do you want to really cry in front of him? No, of course not. But the tears threatening around your eyes is too hard to wipe off now.

And Sylus tenses when he realized the gravity of the situation, he doesn't waste time to lift your chin up. And the sight makes his heart ache abnormally.

“don't,” he whispers softly before taking you in a warm embrace, where your face us pressed against his chest.

You exhale, the hug is genuine, it feels like he's hugging your heart. You wrap you arms back around him, no wonder you always feel your little heart beating around him.

"we're both stubborn, hot-headed, and too proud to back down," He whispers against your hair, “But beloved, i… am sorry if i failed to see your genuine feelings.”

You tighten your arms around him, beloved, you like the sound of that.

You tip your head back up, and you can notice the way his eyes seem to soften… like that one snowy time.

And you lean to peck his lips, it makes him smile before he returns the kiss with a gentle press of his lips onto yours.

…

You mentally agreed with yourself that you would stop at kissing. Only a few kisses here and there… It felt too easy and natural to listen to his whispers

Your eyes rolled back almost every time he nudged against your sweet spot, making your jaw slack, and you don't let go off the hem of his blouse for not even a second with how of a tight hold you had on the fabric.

You would both get like this everytime your emotions were heightened. You crave this, it's a need at this point.

But this time it's different, it doesn't feel like two beasts ravishing eachother, this feels… slow, and romantic.

You both were not even fully undressed.

"Sylus," you whispered breathlessly, followed by a soft whine with how full you felt with the inches buried deep inside you.

spreading your legs even wider, Sylus pushed himself deeper until you took all of him. His hands caressing your trembling thighs, "Feel me, what you do to me." His hips snapped forward in a slow rhythm, grinding against your sensitive clit with each thrust.

Sweat glistened on his skin as he worked you over, oh how tortuous it felt with you clenching around him, your slick walls fluttering and massaging his aching cock. The wet sounds of your skins filled the room, obscene and erotic.

Sylus reveled in it, in the knowledge that he was the one making you break so beautifully.

Leaning in, he captured your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your desperate moans. His tongue delved into your mouth, claiming you thoroughly as his hips continued their slow rhythm—threatening to just thrust in fast and hard.

Yet he knew better than to ruin the moment.

Breaking the kiss, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your intoxicating scent. "Do you want to cum?" he murmured huskily, his words vibrating against your skin. "I want to feel you come all over my cock." His fingers found your clit, rubbing firm circles over the sensitive nub but your hand tries to pry his fingers away, you didn't want this to end just yet.

“Please no, i-i want to feel more of you.. harder.” a plea, and he swears you're going to be the death of him.

"Greedy princess, aren't you? Wanting more of me even when you're already stuffed full." He punctuated his words with a particularly deep thrust, grinding his pelvis against yours. You could feel every thick, hard inch of him buried inside you, stretching you deliciously.

His hands now gripped your hips bruisingly tight as he started to move faster, harder. Just like you wanted, he was only following along.

"I'll give you more, sweetie. I'll fuck you so deep, so hard, you'll feel me for days," Sylus promised with a chuckle, and you arch your back while pulling at the fabric of his blouse, "gonna ruin this pussy until it's molded perfectly to my cock."

True to his word, he picked up the pace, pounding into you relentlessly. And you wanted to scream.

“h-hah, right there—” your head rolled back and your lips stayed parted, your eyes half-lidded and you could barely feel your legs.

Sylus could feel his own release fast approaching, his balls drawing up tight, but he gritted his teeth, holding himself back. He wanted to make you come first, wanted to feel your slick walls spasming around him.

"That's it, sweetie" he panted, “Mmh—ah—!” and you cry out when you came, it felt different, you feel wetter than before, you just squirted without even realising from how fucked out your head was.

Sylus groaned as he felt you gushing all over his crotch, your body quivering and quaking in the throes of your intense orgasm. "Fuuuck, that's it my love, let it all out," he rasped, continuing to thrust into your fluttering heat as you rode out the waves of pleasure.

As your climax subsided, leaving you boneless and panting, Sylus slowed his thrusts but didn't stop. He rolled his hips in deep, languid strokes, savoring the feeling of your slick walls clenching around his throbbing length.

Sylus drank in your needy whimpers and moans with messy kisses this time, “I love you," he babbled, and you barely comprehend what he had just said.

And with a final thrust, Sylus buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself deep inside you. He groaned long and low, his hips twitching with each spurt of his release into you.

You both gaze into eachother's eyes after calming down, your eyes trying to search for the love in them.

“what are you starting at?” You mumble first, breaking the silence. He caresses your cheek at first, “etching your face in my head.” His answer was simple, yet it meant too much to you.

“Did you mean it?” You can't help but ask, “when you said you.. love me?”

Sylus’ lips spread before pressing a kiss to your forehead, “i love you.” He whispered his declaration of love to you quietly for the second time.

[sunsetsimon]

GAGGHHH i need a pt. 2 of blue collar simon😔😔

ask and ye shall receive hehe

☼ he's so serious about quality when it comes to attire for work. buying expensive work boots, cargo pants, and jackets to protect himself from the elements. a toolbelt hangs heavily on his hips, weighed down with multiple screwdrivers and a hammer. they sway with each step he takes, ordering the rookies around when he sees them sitting doing nothing.

"get your asses up, we've got work to do," simon orders, slapping one on the shoulder from behind, nearly making the grown man jump out of his skin.

☼ you can't help but swoon when he comes in from work, dressed head to toe in dirt caked gear. his tanned arms are kissed with a light sunburn from being exposed to the sun all day, a small bruise here and there. his frown immediately turns to a smirk as he sees you, noticing the way your doe eyes look him up and down, contemplating if you want to climb him like a tree now - or later.

"what's that look for?" he asks, kneeling in the doorway to unlace his boots. you approach him, running your fingers through his messy blond hair to rid it of a few specks of drywall, he almost groans.

"nothing... just admiring my husband," you say, a mischievous smile on your pretty lips that exposes your true intentions.

"mm," simon hums, reading you like a book. he runs his fingers along the back of your thighs, up under the hem of your shorts that barely cover the thin cotton of your panties, waiting excitedly with a bow on the front - a present for your hard working husband of course.

"haven't even been home for a minute and you're already purring for me," he says, rubbing his thumb in a circle on your clothed clit, making your knees weak.

☼ very overprotective and possessive if you come to his job sites. oh no! he left his lunch, you realize, quickly changing and following his location through your phone. when you arrive the area is sectioned off, materials lie around in piles and dust flies freely, giving you a tickle in your throat. you look around at each person, unable to discern who's who, masks and hard hats making everyone look the same.

"lookin' for someone?" you hear. a man a few feet away from you asks, pulling down his mask to reveal a short brown beard - definitely not simon.

"yes i'm looking for simon!" you say, continuing to look from person to person but not seeing him anywhere.

"huh.. he's this way," the man gives you an odd look then waves, signaling you to follow him into the dirt.

men gawk as you walk by, power drills pausing mid air as they wonder what this pretty little thing is doing walking around their job with a large black lunchbox in her hands. as you get deeper into the site you hear a gruff voice that you'd recognize anywhere. his back is to you, speaking loudly to someone as he points at different places on the bare boned structure.

"simon!" the man announces his presence, making simon turn around, his eyes immediately locking on you. he doesn't excuse himself or acknowledge who led you to him, only grabbing your wrist and leading you away from their lingering eyes.

"the hell are you doing here?" he asks, his brown eyes darkening so intensely it intimidates you.

"i brought your lunch!" you say innocently, lifting the lunch box into his view, "you forgot it at home."

different emotions flash across his face rapidly, until he lands on one that softens his furrowed eyebrows, grabbing the heavy pack from you with a sigh - relief is what he feels. "would've just grabbed something nearby, love. these guys must've been looking at you like you're their next meal or somethin."

"maybe, but they should know now i came for you."

simon licks his lips, turned on by your loyalty, your want to provide for him and take care of him while he works his ass off so you can stay home and look pretty. he grabs you by your chin, pulling you into a sloppy wet kiss that lasts a bit too long to be considered appropriate for the public. he's obviously making a statement to the curious eyes that linger from his men. mine.

"lemme walk you out," he says nonchalantly when he pulls away, ignoring your blushing cheeks at the very intense display of affection, leading you with a hand on your lower back that slips down to take a grip of your plushy ass when he notices someone staring too hard.

[shysuccubusstuff]

day 25: Hate fucking + Deepthroat + Agoraphilia + Dacryphilia + Gaming + Degradation + (slight) Mindbreak + (slight) DubCon? - Streamer! Kinich

Summary: The streamer company you work for decided to throw a huge party in order to congratulate the great revenue of this year, inviting only the greatest. That included you, as well as that mysterious streamer called Pixel Dragon.

Content: Kinich has this kind of alter ego (Ajaw's personality) when he streams, that is the reason why he's extra mean!! + Non proof-reader, as always.

Word count: 4,5K

Note: I've been trying to end this for so many days but I always ended up burning out so it took me so much time... I didn't even realise that I had written 4K words... Sorry for taking so long, I hope all of you enjoyed this little Kinktober!! I'm already working on some other stuff for different fandoms ♡♡ Stay tuned!

It was November, finally the time in which the great parties for streamers took place. You had been invited, of course, after all, you had been able to remain the top creator during over five months, tightly followed by that gaming streamer, PixelDragon.

The name was a bit cringy, but he had been able to quickly rise to the high rankings thanks to his great skills on many of the different games he had tried, ranging from FPS to soul-like games.

When you finally arrived, you were greeted by the smiling sponsors, taking your hand and guiding you to the darkened room, the place being lightened by the dim red lights. You took a sit close to a masked man, the man moved to the side, allowing you to sit close to him while he checked his phone. You were barely able to imagine the face underneath, his lips shinning under the red lights.

“Are you going to drill my face the whole evening?” The man kept his gaze fixated on his screen, his fingers scrolling down mindlessly.

“How did you even---? Sorry, I was just curious about what you truly looked like under the mask.”

“Well, you are not definitely getting any glimpse if you keep it like this.” He turned off his phone, putting it on his pocket and looking into your eyes, his green orbs glistening as the spotlight moved towards where you were. Outraged, you decided to get up, rapidly taking your stuff before fleeting the scene.

By the time you were back to your usual self, the party had already reached its’ highest peak, with the music booming all over the place and the floor feeling sticky form all the drinks that had been spilled. You threw yourself against one of the many sofas that were laying around the place, suddenly hitting your head against something extremely hard. You turned around annoyed, only to find a red-faced man, his hazed green eyes shinning under the red lights of the club. “Are you ok?” Your words were a bit dragged, your whole mouth feeling a bit funny as you tried to talk as normal. “Do you hear me?” You screamed to his hear, perhaps he wasn’t answering because of the loud music. The man moved to the side, his face looking slightly annoyed.

“I can hear you perfectly, no need to scream.” He furrowed his eyebrows, moving a few strands of hair that were bothering him.

“Who are you? I didn’t see you before during the dinner.” You took out your phone, scanning through the many names of people that had been invited to the party. “I suppose you’re not the one called PixelDragon, am I right? God, that dude seems like such a prick, he’s always flexing about his skills during the collabs, even when we are supposed to be friendly about them, plus, he has been keeping his identity hidden even to his own workmates, I get that he wants to avoid leaks, but it’s not like the rest of us would be such losers, even I, who kind of hates his guts wouldn’t do something so fucking low. He always acts as if he’s far too good for the rest of us and it gets me so pissed off, though, I do have to say that he does have some good points, like his great abilities, or his deep voice, and yeah, his hands may look kind of sexy while smashing the buttons but that’s all, you know?” The alcohol was definitely getting the best of you, as you wouldn’t be able to stop your yapping even if you tried. “Are you listening to me, mister?”

“Yeah, I am. I hate to say it, but this might be a skill issue, like straight up.” The man laughed out-loud, his hand moving a few strands of his hair out of his face.

“Nice one, jackass, real funny. Anyways, how come I missed such a hot dude in the diner? You were def one of the masked ones, right? Promise I won’t leak anything, not like it would benefit me, you know?” You laid your head on one of his shoulders, turning around so you could touch the small part of his chest that was exposed because of his unbuttoned shirt. “Are you trynna get someone to accompany you tonight? You will def get a good one with me, handsome…” You smiled, enjoying how he started to react to your touch.

“You sure get comfortable with some random man, what if I’m some weird sicko that is planning on kidnapping you?” His right hand moved towards your hip, caressing it as his gaze started to darken.

“Then you wouldn’t be here, this place is exclusive for those working for our company, it’s ok, I can find some other dude, don’t wanna pressure you or anything, let’s see each other later, yeah? Next time you should tell me the name of your channel, we could make a collab or something!” You got up, leaving him with his words still in his mouth.

By the time you finally opened your eyes again, you were being taken by the arms of some random man, you quickly struggled, trying to get him to let you go, “Hey, don’t know who the fuck are you, but you’re def not someone I---”, the man put his hand on your mouth, turning on the flashlight on his phone so you could see his face, it was the hot dude at the party.

“Sorry, I saw some weird due trying to take you home, I know I can also be considered a weirdo, but hey, at least we talked, I guess, let me take you to your room, I won’t try anything weird, ok?” Your body relaxed, allowing him to carry your limp body to his room, finally allowing you to lay down on his king size bed.

“Thanks, hot stuff, promise I will compensate you tomorrow…” Just as you were about to drift to sleep, a known voice resonated from the man’s phone, it was that damn PixelDragon. Annoyed, you quickly got up, the nauseas getting to you, forcing you to stop for a second before speaking.

“Why are you listening to that jackass? He thinks he is some kind of big shot just cause the president started to pay more attention to him than to those who have been more time in the company. He may have nice hands and all, together with a real hot voice, but that is all that he has, he ain’t even that good, I mean---”

“You talk too much about him for you to simply hate him, aren’t you like lowkey wishing you knew how he looked? All your yapping about how he isn’t that huge of a streamer makes you seem even more of a fan than those crazy ones that send him his panties and stuff. Bet you want him to finger you with his slender fingers real bad, uh?” Your face flushed, feeling your head even more warm than before.

“You’re def projecting, I don’t want to fuck him or anything like that, why would I want that asshole’s fingers inside me—”

“Oh yeah? Then you will have no issue with that same asshole touching your whole body, uh? I’m sure that you have already imagined it so many fucking times. Tell me, are you really that naïve that you didn’t think eve for a moment that the man with the dragon-like mask was actually PixelDragon? It’s not like the mask that the president gave me was that mysterious, but I suppose that you can’t expect nothing great from an airhead like you, right?” The guy smiled as he started to change his clothes, leaving his jacket, gloves, and his necktie on top of the small desk that was within the room. “How about we do that collab that you wanted so much? Bet you would love to gain some more attention from my viewers, right? I can do a special live, just for you, what do you think?” You stopped for a moment, I mean, you were actually just a masked youtuber, and you were only focused on mature audiences, so, there should be no issue, right? You could probably use the mask he had used during the party. You nodded, crawling out of the bed and getting closer to the setup that he had already built for the duration of the event. “Oh, I forgot, can you plug in the cable under the table? I forgot to do it, but I have to keep on preparing the stream.” Once again, you were simply able to nod, getting on all fours and going under the table.

“Hey, there’s no plug missing or something like that, are you sure---?” You covered your mouth as soon as you heard the sound that marked the beginning of the live. You hit his leg, trying to remind him that you were still under the table, he lowered his gaze, trying to avoid making it much obvious. He smiled wickedly, moving one of his hands towards his trousers, carefully pulling down the zipper of his pants together with his underwear, the tip of his cock being left dangerously close to your mouth.

“So, yeah, we had a small gathering for the company, not that important, now it’s time to finally get back to what truly matters, am I right?” He read some of the comments that were already pilling up, answering with snarky comments to some, while he simply laughed to others. How was he even able to act as if he wasn’t with his cock out? A wicked idea crossed your mind, you could suddenly get out of there, making sure that the viewers were able to see you run out of frame, thus stealing his spotlight even further. That sounded like a great idea, of course, that changed until you realised that this little plan would lead to the boss yelling to both of you. Just as you were about to try and get out, his legs trapped you, causing you to end up almost hitting your face against the raging erection. “Oh guys, wait a sec, I gotta check that everything is in order.” He stopped the live for a second, making sure to disconnect the camera and mic. “Didn’t you want to make a collab?” Your face flushed, you weren’t really sure if it was because of how you felt your blood boiling, or maybe it had much more to do with the fact that his cock looked delicious, his tip flushed with a slight red tint. “If it’s too much for you, you can simply leave, I swear I won’t say anything to no one from the company, not like it would benefit me, right?” He moved to the side, allowing you to leave if you truly wanted to. You were about to do so, but then you realised something. Wasn’t that like admitting defeat against him? He would get the upper hand, making you feel as if you had to be grateful for his “mercy”! Not on your watch, oh no, so you swallowed all the embarrassment that you had been feeling, starting to leave small kisses all over his length. “I supposed so, oh wait, let me help you with a little something.” He got up from his chair, rummaging in his suitcase and then sitting back again, he made a sign for you to turn around, so you did, your ass facing his way. Suddenly, his slender fingers were moving your underwear to the side, a small object being inserted inside your cunt. “There, I hope this can keep my precious slut in place while I work, wait for me.” He waited for you to move back to your place, his eyes filled with a certain sense of superiority.

“Shut up, you’re just making it more difficult for me, keep your mouth shut for a while.” You nagged, trying your best not to stutter as you started to feel the small device starting to move. Just then, you heard how the live started back again.

“I’m back, missed me?” He went back to reading the comments with a playful smile. “Oh, shut up, not like I spent more than a few minutes. K, now let’s try to see who will be able to join the game….” He waited for a few minutes until the results of the online roulette popped up. “Well, congrats, I’ll send you the link to the VC, hope you all are ready.” You listened to him; it was quite impressive how he was able to keep his voice stable despite having your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock. “Dude, it must be real sad to see me play almost everyday and most of you are still hard-stucks, sucks to be you, uh?” His snarky comment caused the viewers to get wild, some were praising his skills, while others had gotten truly angered by his remarks, the sound of the flow of comments filled the room. You were just about to smirk at how even his own fan hated him, but your moment of bliss was suddenly stopped as soon as you started to feel how the small vibrator had suddenly moved much more rapidly than before. You clenched the fabric of his shirt, glaring at his extremely satisfied grin. “Anyways, get ready for it, promise me not to cry in the chat, I don’t want my mods to get tired from deleting your comments.” As the game started, you could perfectly hear how he was clearly cleaning the floor with his viewers, this was of course the perfect time to mess him up, right? So you did.

You started to move your tongue, slowly licking on his tip, while sometimes wrapping it over his length, making sure to let out a few noises in case that would actually rile him up, your eyes completely fixed on his face, not noticing even a single frow. If he wanted to play hard to get, then you would simply raise the stakes. You introduced his tip into your mouth, sucking on it as you used one of your hands to masturbate what was still left outside. It was then when one of his eyebrows furrowed, his lips forming a straight line as he tried to keep his mouth closed as best as he could, you were already celebrating your victory over him when you heard the sound that marked the end of his first victory, your head suddenly being pushed further down.

“GGs, next time send someone who is at least as good as me while playing with a stirring wheel. Let’s for the next game, yeah? No need for a break.” The players were once again chosen at random, quickly preparing the next game as one of his hands kept pushing your head, only releasing it when the game finally started. Your eyes were already watering a bit from the difficulty to breath, so you decided to step your little game even more, starting to take his whole length (or at least as much as you were able to manage without feeling as if you were about to throw up. His face quickly flushed, the grip on the mouse starting to strengthen, his jaw clenching and his eyes starting to darken. Despite his clear reaction to you, he was shameless enough to start to buck his hips, forcing his length further inside your mouth, not stopping even as you hit his lower stomach, trying to get him to either slow down his rhythm, or to simply give you a small break. Sadly, none of the choices were given to you, forcing your poor mouth open, his hand sometimes lowering just to carefully caress your hair.

Once again, you were soon able to hear the chat being flooded by comments after the great crushing he had done to his helpless viewers. “I gotta go now, remember to keep on playing so you all can at least hit me with a single bullet next time. See ya.” He quickly turned off the stream, his hands quickly gripping your hair. “Bet you had fun, uh? Sucking my cock while you heard my chat blowing up, pretty sure you must have been wishing they heard you under my desk sucking my cock. You must be fucking dripping, uh? Show me just how much you’re craving it.” He lend you his hand to get up, your legs almost giving up on you as you tried to stand up, his lean arms stopping you from falling. “Oh, I was sure that you were supposed to hate me, didn’t expect you to be the type to fall head over heels, but I mean, who wouldn’t fall in love with someone as hot---” His sentence was cut short as soon as you hit him on the stomach with your elbow.

“What the heck is that attitude? You kept on pushing my head against you, next time I will just bite your fucking dick off, bet that would give you more action that you have ever had.” You wiped down your tears, together with the saliva that had been running down your chin. “Why the heck would you even have something so--.” You stopped before ending the sentence, wondering just what would happen if his ego got even bigger.

“So… what? Finish the sentence.” He playfully touched your hair, his big hands petting you as if you were something precious. The heat was starting to rise to your cheeks, so you hit his hand, your gaze moving towards his temporary set.

“What is the code for this mic, pretty sure it’s one of the most expensive ones, right? Bet you must be blowing up your checks uh?” You got close, tinkering a bit with his stuff, moving all that was lying on top of his desk and looking around in case you were able to find a single tip on how was he able to keep his skills on point,  “Man you’re really—”

“Look, I’ve been trying to just act as if nothing is going on, but come on, you’re so bad at acting it’s almost embarrassing. You always walk around with that huge smile on your lips, shaking your hips as if you were trying as hard as possible for all the people around you to lick you from head to toe… You enjoy the attention, right? It gets you so high to feel as if you are better than the rest. Never had anyone show you where you truly belong, guess it’s my duty to do it then.” He took you by the arm, throwing you to the bed with just enough strength for you not to damage yourself. He quickly got on top of you, his body pressing against you as his hands started to get rid of all your clothes, your blouse and your skirt being thrown to the floor, soon followed by your bra and your underwear. “Since you want to behave like a brat, might as well and treat you like one.” He suddenly kissed you, his kiss being filled with hunger, rather than love or lust, he was planning on eating you whole.

“Come on, you’re just saying that to scare me, right? There’s no need for that, just, just let me go for now, I can, I can talk to the boss, you’re just being like this because you’re trying so hard to scare me, I get it, no need to keep this any further, just---” You put your hands on his chest, trying your best to avoid his eyes as they scanned you up and down.

“Open your mouth.” Your sentence was once again cut off, the room being filled with the sound of his clothes falling to the ground close to yours. He crawled, swiftly making his way to your face, his hardened dick facing you. “Do you expect it to suck itself? Open.” He grabbed his cock with one of his hands, the tip of his cock rubbing against your soft lips. You silently opened your mouth, unable to think about anything smart to say because of the current situation. “That’s right, open wide.” He carefully inserted the tip of his cock in your mouth, a deep breath leaving his mouth from the pleasure. “God, you should really consider becoming my own if you decide to leave the YouTube thing… you have such a pretty face and your body is just perfect, I will treat you as a queen, how about it?” His voice kept resonating inside your head, almost sounding a bit too good to pass on it, well the vibrator that was still inside you was definitely not helping you to stay sane. You sank your nails into the palms of your hands, trying to keep your own mind together while he kept on thrusting your mouth. “Just like that, you’re doing so good for me…” Tears once again swelled your eyes, your nails now digging on his abdomen as you tried to get him to let you rest even if it was or a second. “Oh, it seems you’re still able to put up a fight, let’s just change this then.” He finally let you breath, coughing as you were finally able to breath, this didn’t last much more, as you were suddenly lifted by him, then letting you sit on his lap, both of you facing the big mirror that was hanging on the wall. “You just need to realise what position are you on.” He lifted your body for a moment, taking off the vibrator, slowly inserting himself into you.

“Wait! I need a second to…to adjust, it’s difficult to do this without like, actually preparing.” You let him slowly make his way inside of you, finally bottoming out. “Fuck, just what do you even--- Shit…”

“Guess I was finally able to shut that reckless mouth of you, shouldn’t you thank me?” Of course, he just refused to give you even a single moment of peace, always running his mouth even as you were clearly able to feel his cock throbbing.

“Sure, like your dick isn’t barely holding on, you talk so much shit for someone who is balls deep inside me, I may not be able to kill you in the game, but I’m damn sure I will last much longer than your sorry excuse of a dic—” Your words were cut off as soon as he lifted you abruptly, your air leaving your lungs as his tip hit your cervix.

“You really don’t have any fucking clue about when to keep your mouth shut, uh? Always answering back even when I have the upper hand… Fuck.” His hips kept on bucking against you, not stopping even as the veins on his neck pumped up from his effort of not cumming. “This is no use, fuck…” He got up, not before taking the vibrator that had been inside you, his arms still holding you from under your thigs, walking until you were quite close to the mirror. “Look at your fucking face as I make you cum, yeah? Just fucking watch.” His hips started to move again, the position making it impossible for you to grip at anything in fear of him letting you fall, still, you tried to cover your mouth with both of your hands, denying him the possibility of hearing those sweet moans that were leaving your lips. “Cat got your tongue? You’re surprisingly quiet for someone as chatty as you, let’s see if I can fix that.” The rhythm of his thrusts sped up, forcing your eyes to roll to your skull as your insides got rearranged without you being able to do anything about it. Just as you were about to cry from the overstimulation, he suddenly let you stand on your two feet, well, if not because you almost fell face first to the floor, his hands gripped your hips with strength, his fingertips leaving marks on your skin. He took out the egg vibrator he had used previously, rubbing it a bit around your entrance before carefully inserting it inside you, he then decided to play with you a little by gliding his dick up and down, his tip constantly grinding against your clit. Before you were able to say anything, he entered you at once, the stretch making you squeal as your nails once again dug into his skin.

“Sure…Sure talk a lot of crap when you have still been unable to make me cum even once, your dick is so lame—” …Well, you surely had it coming this time, maybe the previous one as well, and well, maybe more times than just the last ones. But you never learnt, apparently.

“Fucking brat, just learn your position!” His last straw had been lost as soon as he saw on one of her streams you had been non-stop laughing at his supposedly small cock and your lack of bitches. He tightened his grip on your hips even further, lifting you from the floor and slamming his hips against your tender ass, your lips parting as those lewd sounds were once again filling the room.

“St-stop! My mind is turning really weird… Give me a second please!” You once again tried to hit him as an attempt to ease the unyielding rhythm he had established. He lowered one of his hands, suddenly levelling up the small roulette that controlled the vibrations, his fingers then moving on to start rubbing your clit, a degenerated smile appearing on his face as he saw your cunt dripping and some of the juices leaving your poor hole each time he slammed himself against you. Your vision was already starting to blurry a bit by the time you felt as if he was giving you even a tiny break, even the, it didn’t seem to have any plan of stopping, not even as you could faintly hear someone’s voice and hits on the wall from the close-by rooms.

You could clearly tell that he was about to cum, his lips bucking from time to time as he tried to keep that relentless rhythm. Just as you thought he was about to cum, he rapidly pulled out, his sperm staining your cheeks and part of your lower back. “You don’t even deserve my cum inside of you, next time you’ll learn how to keep your mouth shut, brat.” He let you down on top of the bed, walking towards one of the small doors that still concealed the rest of the room. Suddenly, he was back, a warm towel being passed around your whole body, his eyes showing a slight sign of concert. “…Name’s Kinich, I forgot to say it, I’m sorry.” …Was that brat really blushing? Fuck, even you were now flushed because of his teasing… Right?

[nahoney22]

Hi there, I've never done a request before, so fun! 🤗 Could you do angst/fluff (enemies to lovers) with fem reader and Crosshair? "What are you staring at?" / "You, is that a problem?" I'd love for the fem reader to give Cross a dose of his snark, so maybe she's the one saying "You, is that a problem?" Some snark to fluff would be wonderful. Thank you for all you do! ❤️

Under the Moon 🌊

🫧 pairings: Crosshair x Female!Reader

word count: 2k

prompts:

• “What are you staring at?” / “You, is that a problem?”

Crosshair didn’t like new people so naturally, he didn’t like you. Or did he? He can bark but you show him that you can certainly bite back.

warnings: Safe for Work, Enemies to Lovers, Kissing, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Bickering, Sassy Moments, Light Angst, Scar/Burn Insecurities, Female Reader.

authors note: sorry for the wait, hope this is okay @megmegalodondon 🫧

The Marauder buzzed with activity, each member of the squad engrossed in their routines. The hum of machinery and quiet murmur of voices filled the air. You were content assisting Tech when a burning sensation prickled on the side of your face, like the intensity of a laser sight. You didn’t need to turn to know who was staring.

Since joining the team, Crosshair’s disdain had been clear. From the moment of his return, he made it obvious he didn’t like you. The others mentioned he wasn’t fond of people in general, and new members who acted like they knew everything were especially irritating to him. Unfortunately, that was you to a tee. Your confidence and cleverness only seemed to amplify his irritation.

As you worked at the main console running diagnostics, you felt Crosshair’s gaze drilling into you. Stealing a glance, you shot him a look of annoyance, but his face remained an impassive mask, eyes like cold steel.

You muttered under your breath, turning back to your task, but his presence was an undeniable distraction. Despite his abrasive attitude, you couldn't ignore his striking looks—though you'd never admit it aloud. His chiseled jaw, the intensity in his eyes, the way his hands worked methodically over his rifle — it was all infuriatingly attractive. Sadly his snarky attitude was less than desirable.

“Can you keep the static to a minimum?” Crosshair’s sharp voice cut through the silence, jolting you from your thoughts. His brows were furrowed in irritation, lips a thin line.

You rolled your eyes, fingers pausing on the controls. “It’s called doing my job, Crosshair. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

He set his rifle down with a clatter and stood, his tall frame casting a long shadow over you and his eyes bore into you. “My job is to keep us safe, and I can’t do that if I can’t concentrate.”

“Oh, please. Like your concentration is ever that perfect,” you retorted, standing to meet his gaze. “Or maybe you’re just looking for an excuse to complain.”

His brown eyes darkened, a dangerous glint in them. “I don’t need excuses to point out incompetence.” He stepped closer, the tension between you thick.

“Incompetence? You—” Your retort was cut short by Omega’s innocent voice from her corner, breaking the charged atmosphere.

“Why do you two always fight? It’s like you actually like each other or something.”

Wrecker, lounging on a crate nearby, let out a booming laugh. “Yeah, it’s like a schoolyard crush! You both just need to admit it!”

Your face flushed with embarrassment, heat rising to your cheeks. “What? No! That’s ridiculous,” you spluttered, glaring at the two of them. “Crosshair would be the last guy in all the galaxy I’d ever get with.”

Crosshair crossed his arms, a smug smirk playing on his lips. “Feeling’s mutual.”

Tech glanced up from his datapad, adding his two credits. “Statistically, opposites do attract. It’s not entirely out of the question.”

You and Crosshair turned on him in unison. “Shut up, Tech!”

He raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Charming. But that just proves my point.”

Your embarrassment deepened as the rest of the squad chuckled. “I’m done with this,” you muttered, turning on your heel and storming away from the others.

Omega’s voice trailed after you, “We were just teasing!”

The next day, you were tasked with scouting a base for Rex, determining the best points for a future infiltration. The dense jungle surrounded you, the air thick with humidity, leaves glistening with moisture and you’re still in a sour mood from yesterday which is only to worsen. As you navigated through the underbrush, Hunter’s voice cut through your thoughts.

“You and Crosshair will go ahead together. Maybe sort out your differences while you’re at it.” Clearly, yesterday’s bickering had reached his ears, and this was your punishment. Crosshair merely grunted, a typical response, and began moving ahead without waiting for you. Reluctantly, you followed.

The jungle was alive with the chirps and calls of unseen creatures, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and foliage. At the coordinates, Crosshair suggested a lookout point, but you were less than convinced. “You’re out of your mind if you think that’s a good vantage point,” you stated, shooting him a stern look.

He raised an eyebrow, his face a mask of annoyance. “And where would you suggest, General?” he drawled, sarcasm dripping from every word.

You pointed to a higher spot, frustration evident in your voice. “There, we’ll have a better view of the perimeter.”

Crosshair crossed his arms, a mocking smile on his face. “That’s weak. We’ll be seen.”

Your face flushed with annoyance because this wasn’t the first time he disagreed with you, it was almost every single time.

“Or maybe you can’t handle the climb and that’s why you’re opting for the lower point?” You challenge.

His smirk faded slightly, and he took a deliberate step closer, invading your space. With a fluid motion, he removed his helmet, locking his intense eyes on you. “You’re new here, Kitten. Maybe you should learn to trust my judgment.” His voice low and testing.

Your heart pounded, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. “Trust your judgment?” You scoff, doing your best to ignore the petname he just gave you. “You’re so arrogant!” you retorted whilst also trying to ignore how his proximity affected you.

Crosshair leaned in even closer, his breath brushing against your face. “Arrogant? Or just right?” His gaze flicked down to your lips, lingering. “You should watch that pretty mouth of yours.” The air between you crackled with tension, and for a brief, electrifying moment, it seemed like he wanted to kiss you. Or maybe you wanted to kiss him.

But did he just call you pretty? Was he mocking you? Either way, you find yourself in a sudden daze as you’re hypnotised by his eyes. The realisation hits you hard, leaving you momentarily speechless and strangely drawn to him despite your better judgment.

His breath is warm, scented but breathing deadly silent. If you closed your eyes, you probably wouldn’t even assume he was mere inches from you but he was and it was consuming.

Before either of you could react, a blaster shot rang out, shattering the moment. “Cover’s blown,” Crosshair snapped, his voice yanking you both back to reality. He sprang into action, and you followed, the adrenaline overtaking your argument.

Maybe, it was best to leave the arguing for after the mission.

Later that night, the squad had returned to Pabu, the mission a success despite the rocky start you and Crosshair had caused by not paying attention.

The others were inside the Marauder, their laughter and chatter a comforting presence. The warm, humid air wrapped around you as you stepped outside, needing space to clear your head, especially to think about what had happened earlier with a certain Sniper.

The tropical night was alive with sounds—creatures chirping, leaves rustling in the gentle breeze, and the distant call of birds. You wandered down to the beach, the soft, damp sand cool beneath your bare feet. The waves lapped rhythmically at the shore, and the moon hung low in the sky, casting a silver path over the water.

As you walked along the shore, you noticed a lone figure lying on the beach. At first you panicked thinking someone was injured but upon closer inspection, silhouetted against the moonlit horizon, it was Crosshair.

He lay on his back, arms folded behind his head, staring up at the vast expanse of the night sky. His usually stern features seemed softer in the moonlight, lost in thought.

For a moment, you considered turning back, but something compelled you to approach him. The sand crunched softly beneath you feet you drew closer, stopping a few feet away. You don’t say anything at first and then end up doing something unexpected—you lay down beside him, your eyes tracing the same stars he was watching. Did he do this often?

Supposedly all the time he spent in a cell made stargazing a rare luxury.

The usual tension between you seemed to vanish in the night air. Crosshair remained silent, his face expressionless as you both lay there, the silence stretching out, surprisingly comfortable.

After a few minutes, you turned your head slightly, your hair brushing against the sand as you watched him. His profile was illuminated by the moonlight dancing; casting sharp shadows and highlighting the lines of his face.

Just like you had noticed him staring at you the day before, he sighed. “What are you staring at?” he asked, his voice low and rough, like gravel.

“You. Is that a problem?” you replied, tone challenging.

He shifted slightly, his eyes flicking towards you before returning to the sky. “Are you looking at my scar?”

“No,” you replied with a small frown, not realising that might be a sensitive topic for him. You had heard about how he got it, but it wasn't something you consciously noticed.

“Good. Look away,” he grumbled, but there was no real anger in his voice. Instead of arguing, you did as he asked, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

After a few minutes, Crosshair sighed once more. “Tech was right.”

You turned your head, confusion knitting your brows together. “About what?”

His gaze remained fixed on the moon, his profile bathed in its soft light. “Sometimes, opposites do attract.”

You were taken aback, eyes widening and quite unsure of how to respond. “Really?”

He nodded slowly, the movement almost missable. “I secretly admire how you take my comments on the chin and aren’t afraid to speak your mind. It’s... admirable.” His voice was awkward, as if admitting his feelings was a foreign concept. His usual mask of indifference slipped slightly, revealing a hint of vulnerability.

Surprise washed over you. All this time, you had thought Crosshair hated you. His constant criticism, the way he always seemed to challenge you—it had all felt like disdain. But now, you realized it was his strange way of showing respect, of acknowledging your strength.

“You could’ve gone about it a different way, y’know?”

“I know.” He responds stiffly.

You smile softly. “That’s a strange way to apologise to me as well.” You jest.

There’s a very faint chuckle that parts his lips as he says, “don’t push it.”

A heartfelt silence settled between you, the sound of the waves the only interruption. But, you still had one thing on your mind.

Breaking the silence, you asked, “Earlier, during the mission... what do you think went wrong?”

Crosshair's expression hardened slightly, his eyes narrowing. “We were distracted. We weren’t focused.”

You bit your lip, gathering your courage. “I thought... for a moment, I thought you were going to kiss me. Would you have?”

Crosshair fell silent, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

Oh no. Why did you have to open your mouth?

Embarrassment flushed through you, and you began to sit up, ready to leave. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

Before you could finish, his hand reached out, gently stopping you. He said nothing, his gaze intense and unreadable as he held onto your arm.

Slowly, he sat forward and tilted your face towards his, his touch surprisingly gentle. Without a word, he leaned in and kissed you, a brief but electrifying connection that left you breathless, your heart trying to leap out of your chest.

The kiss was soft, tentative, as if he was testing the waters. He pulled back before you could even comprehend what was happening, his eyes searching yours, and for once, there was no hostility, only a vulnerable sincerity.

“How’s that for an apology?” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, his breath warm against your lips.

You lick your lower lip, having to suppress a dreamy sigh as you could taste him on your tongue. “Surprising.” You say softly, completely smitten all of a sudden.

He smirks, eyes scanning your face. “I’ve never seen you so bashful,”

“Yes, well, kissing someone who you thought was your enemy tends to have that effect.”

He chuckles, lifting his hand and tucking some hair that was dancing in the soft breeze behind your ear. “How about another one?”

You grin, leaning in close. “I won’t say no to that.”

Masterlist is pinned ♥️

Tags: @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @the-bad-batch-baroness

@greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @lulalovez @green-alm0nd

@ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka

@theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone

@ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog

@pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87

@ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @photogirl894

[lilyswritings]

late.

synopsis: your boyfriend’s superhero antics give you a fright, and it’s up to him to reassure you of his well-being when he returns home from the fight. 

author’s note: i’ll admit, this has been sitting in my drafts for the longest time... likely since no way home came out! but i’ve been trying to get back into the swing of writing, and i figured it was a good idea to start with finishing up some works in progress before diving into anything new. so here’s some peter angst and fluff, just like the good ol’ days. enjoy!! 

wordcount: 1,613 

18. “It’s late. Shouldn’t you be asleep?” 25. “What the hell were you thinking?!” 48. “Why are you crying?”

Peter Parker x Reader

      The window to the bedroom slides open, a figure in blue and red quietly stepping through the frame and carefully sliding the window shut behind him, all the while listening intently for any signs of life in the apartment beyond. Satisfied that he hasn’t woken his aunt, Peter turns around only to be startled by a figure sat in the darkness of the room, criss-cross on his bed. 

      “Shit.” He curses, huffing out a laugh when he realizes it’s only you. “It’s late,” Peter starts, tugging his mask off and tossing it onto his desk as he turns towards his closet to grab a t-shirt and sweatpants. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” 

      He doesn’t notice how silent you are until you don’t respond, when he turns around mid-unzipping his outfit to find you staring at him — like you’ve seen a ghost. Later, he’ll blame the shadows in the darkened room as why he didn’t immediately notice the shine of dried tears on your cheeks, or the way you’d bitten your nails down to the skin like you always did when you were panicking. 

      For now, though, he’s too focused on getting out of his suit and into comfortable clothes, the events of the evening still making his brain run haywire as he runs everything that he did that went wrong through his mind, planning for next time. 

      “Look, I’m sorry for returning so late,” He begins, tugging the suit off. “I lost track of time, I meant to text you but I think my phone got smashed in the fight and I’m probably going to have to at least replace the screen if not the whole thing.” He rambles, until finally, he’s changed entirely into casual clothes, and he lets out a sigh. When he turns around, finally, your expression has morphed from one of shock into anger, and he frowns at the sudden shift in emotion. 

      “What?” He asks, immediately wracking his brain for what he could have done to piss you off in the last few minutes. In response, you push yourself up and off the bed, coming to stand face-to-face with him as you take in his injuries, brow furrowed and arms crossed.

      “What was that?” You ask, gesturing vaguely to the window in reference to his escapades of the night.

      “Oh, it was just that Rhino guy again, turns out he escaped from prison and was trying the same ol’ shtick of—”

      “Rhino?” You cut him off, hands moving to your hips, and Peter winces, realizing his error. 

      “Yeah, uh, I know I said I wouldn’t take him on again by myself, but he was actively driving away with some radioactive materials and the police weren’t even close to him at that point so if I hadn’t stepped in chances are he would have gotten away and—”

      “So you went alone? What the hell were you thinking?” You demand, not letting him finish, watching his eyebrows tug together as he becomes defensive. 

      “Hey, come on, I can handle myself. I’m Spider-Man.” Peter retorts with a cocky smile, although still evidently confused, and you shove at his chest. “What the hell—” He begins to argue, smile dropping.

      “It’s not funny. You could have been killed!” You hiss, barely containing an angry shouting match as you try to keep your voice down to not wake Aunt May up. 

      “Are you— Why are you crying?” Peter asks, finally, and you freeze, only now noticing the feeling of tears running down your cheeks. He steps forwards delicately, hands up, and you step back, watching his expression morph into one of hurt.

      “What’s going on with you?” He asks, obviously confused, and you fling a hand out towards your open laptop as your other hand comes up to hastily scrub at your cheeks, as if to erase the tears altogether. 

     Peter, still looking at you with concern in his eyes, hesitantly sits down on the bed and turns the laptop on. The blue glow of the screen lights up his face as he reads the open article, mouth opening slightly as he pieces together your reaction. 

      The headline ‘Spider-Man: Gone For Good?’ stares back at him, along with an attached video of himself in his costume being smashed into the side of a building and remaining there, unmoving, until the video cuts out. ‘Spider-Man severely injured... Worried crowd of onlookers... Has the city’s hero been defeated?... No sign of hero since the incident...’ Peter’s eyes skim the article, before he turns to face you with a softened expression, noticing that you haven’t stopped crying, though you’re frustratedly scrubbing at your face in hopes of wiping away the evidence.

      He stands up from the bed and approaches you, and this time, you let him place his hands on your shoulders as you wipe at your face. “I’m so sorry,” He starts, voice quiet, moving to tilt your chin up with his hand. “That must have been really scary for you.”

      You swallow thickly, taking in a shaky breath as you lock eyes with him. “It said you were dead.” You whisper, voice breaking slightly on the last word. “The video—” You stop yourself, tears beginning to well up anew in your eyes, and Peter winces.

      “I’m sorry. I didn’t know there was a news station, I was just— I needed to rest for a minute, that was it. I had no idea...” He curses himself internally — he should have been on the lookout for cameras, what if he’d taken his mask off? He never wanted you to see him in a fight, let alone see him get hurt that badly. 

      You nod, hand coming up to rest on his cheek, eyes skimming over the bruise on his cheekbone that seems to be disappearing with each passing second. Yay healing powers, you think sarcastically. “Okay. I’m sorry for snapping at you.” You take in another breath, this time less shaky. “I was just so scared.” You admit, and there you go again, fresh tears falling as you curse and look down at the floor.

      Peter takes that as his cue to envelop you in a hug, tucking your head into the crook of his neck and tugging you closer, arms locked around you protectively. “I’m here. I’m okay.” He utters the affirmations into your neck, pressing a feather-light kiss there as if to prove it. 

      “It’ll take more than that to get rid of me.” He huffs into your hair. Though his words are obviously meant to lighten the mood, the cocky attitude reminds you one again of your initial frustration, and you impulsively pull away and launch your first forward to punch Peter in the shoulder. 

      Of course it only ends up startling him, and the impact feels like you just punched a wall — curse you, superhero muscles — and you pull your hand back with a muttered curse. His dark eyebrows tug together as he holds a hand over the spot you hit. 

      “What was that?” He asks, eyes darting from your fist to your face, tone concerned although you detect a hint of amusement in his soft brown eyes at the instant repercussions for your outburst. 

      “It’s not funny. You fucking scared me.” You grumble, cradling your now-throbbing fist against your chest, and he huffs out a short laugh. “Don’t laugh at me.” You scold, though your anger is dissolving by the second just due to his reassuring presence. 

     “I already said I’m sorry—” You frown at his casual attitude. “—don’t punch me again—” He interjects hurriedly. “—but I am sorry. Really sorry. I’ll be more careful next time, I promise.” 

    “You’d better.” You frown, still trying to eradicate the image of his prone form lying among the rubble, no sign of movement or life. “Or at least fucking text me, or, or call me, or— send a Spider-signal or something! Next time your phone breaks, I want you to use a payphone.” You decide, nodding, and he laughs under his breath. 

      “Okay,” He concedes, stepping closer to you and kissing you on the forehead. “I’ll build a little pocket into the suit to hold some quarters.”

      You roll your eyes at the sass, but your smile betrays you as you lean into his touch, his arms coming up to encircle you. “Don’t be a smartass.” You mutter into his shoulder, and he laughs. 

      “Can we go to bed now?” He asks, pressing a kiss to your temple, and you nod. “I’m wiped, and I think you might be too.” You nod again, sighing and going to pull away from him, but he holds you tighter and your brow furrows in confusion. 

       “I thought you wanted to go to bed—” Your words are cut off by a squeal of surprise and he holds you fast to his chest and shoots a web at the wall above his bed, tugging the both of you onto the bed in one swooping motion. 

      You land sideways, eyes wide, and erupt into a stifled laugh at his antics. “You’re insane, it would have taken us all of ten seconds to walk over and get in bed!” You scold, and he finally lets you go and shrugs, pulling the blanket up and over the both of you.

      “And this way, it took us one second.” He smirks, and you smack him on the chest. 

      “Okay, Spider-Man.” You retort, voice mocking, but he smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead, wrapping his arms around you once more. The room goes quiet, your breaths slowing and deepening as you lie in Peter’s arms, and just as you are about to fall into a deep sleep, you smile as you hear him utter three lovely little words.

      “I love you.”

[masked-watcher]

A fool for you

Words: ~1.9k

Pairing: Soap x Ghost

Tags: fluff, confession, simon feels unworthy of love, johnny proves him the opposite

Warnings: None apply

Artist: @evisen

"A bloody flirt, that’s what you are." Ghost shook his head, a smirk hidden away behind his mask. The scot laughed heartily, bumping his shoulder against the other. Not minding it any attention. He was kind of used to bodily contact with Ghost, after all their missions together. It felt natural, comfortable. On both sides. "Could teach ya somethin here 'n there. Push yer luck with the lasses.”

The taller man chuckled lowly, his gaze intense as he studied Soap. He raised a brow, a flicker of amusement sparking in his eyes. "Is that so?" He mused. "Should I take notes, or do you prefer a more hands-on approach, Johnny?”

Soap smirked, a snicker rolling through his body. "Seriously though, Si... You never let anyone close. I'm worried about you." His voice got quieter as his tone got serious. Simon’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing at those words. He hated it when the sergeant expressed concern for him. It made him feel weak. Vulnerable. "I don't need your worry, Soap. I'm fine." He muttered, his voice gruff and defensive.

Johnny simply looked at him, staying quiet but not less observant of the building tension. The silence between them was deafening. Ghost could feel Soap's eyes on him, studying him, analyzing his every move. It made his skin crawl. He didn't like being seen, being understood, being exposed. Normally wasn’t one to simply back out of situations. But here he was. Staring up at the ceiling, avoiding that sky blue gaze.

After what felt like an eternity, he spoke up, his voice quieter than before. "You don't understand, Johnny.”

"Then explain it to me... I like to think I'm your best mate. So you can trust me. Not just on the battlefield." The sergeant smiled, brows furrowed. It was a funny display and Ghost's expression softened marginally at his words. He closed his eyes, letting out a weary sigh. He knew Soap was right. He trusted him more than he trusted himself, sometimes. When he opened his eyes again they were met with an intense and searching gaze.

"It's...complicated." The lieutenant grumbled, his voice sounding tired.

"I'm sure I can follow."

Ghost exhaled slowly, his eyes focused on a spot on the wall. The tension in his shoulders seemed to ease a bit. "I don't let people in, Johnny. Because I can't afford to. Not in this job." He paused, his voice getting quieter. "We lose people constantly. I've lost people...people I cared about. Letting someone in means letting yourself care about them. And when you care about someone in this line of work...it's a liability. It distracts you. Leaves you open to weakness.”

It made sense, of course it did. Soap battled those thoughts way more often than he'd like to admit too. But in the long run, it was a mistake. After all, one cares about their teammates too, no? He shifted a little. "...You let me in.”

Simon's gaze snapped to the scot at his words, his expression flickering with a hint of surprise. As if that was something he had to point out. "That's...different." He muttered, voice growing quieter. His eyes trailed over Johnny's face, taking in his features, his expression, his eyes, the way his eyebrows furrowed together, the scar on one of them. He was silent for a moment, wrestling with his thoughts, his feelings. Then he spoke again, his voice a near whisper. "You're the exception, Johnny.”

"Am I now?”

"You know you are."

The taller man shifted in his position again. The proximity was both comforting and overwhelming at the same time. He could feel the warmth radiating off Soap, spreading through his body wherever they touched.

"No one else gets under my skin like you do. No one else understands me like you do. It's...dangerous.”

"Dangerous for who?" Soap was quick to ask back. A lopsided grin playing on his lips, not quite grasping the emotions this conversation held for Simon. What it meant for him to admit these things. He was so used to being close to the lieutenant that sometimes he forgot just how isolated the man usually kept himself. That he barely exchanged words with most, let alone hold a conversation. That hands would be broken so fast if anyone just so much as tried to touch the soldier with the skull mask. And then there was him.

Whiskey brown eyes stared at Soap. Ghost felt exposed, vulnerable. He hated it. Every single second. "For both of us, Johnny." He muttered, his voice a rough growl. "You think I don't have nightmares about losing you out there, one day? About seeing you get shot, or blown to bits, or captured and tortured?" A shaky breath was exhaled. "I care about you. More than I should."

A pause.

"You make me weak, Johnny.”

"And you make me strong." The stubborn sergeant flatly replied, standing his ground, looking into the eyes behind the mask. Eyes searching Soap’s face, accompanied by a bitter chuckle. "You think so? You're the one who's always charging into danger, throwing caution to the wind. You have no regard for your own safety. You're reckless and stubborn and careless." And loyal, creative, funny, a sight for sore eyes… His mind silently added the thoughts he would never dare to voice. Bloody hell, he could list a thousand things more.

Soap chuckled lowly. "I can afford to do that because I know yer always got my back..." He averted his gaze. "And I need to get back to you at the end of the day. That's outta the question.”

Simon's expression softened at the sergeant's words. The warmth now also spread through his chest. He reached out, grabbing Soap's chin and forcing his eyes back up at him. "You're bloody suicidal, Johnny. That's my job." His tone was a mix of frustration and fondness.

The scotsman smirked. It was his dumb, naive, lopsided grin that made something in Ghost stir every time. "As if I'll let you have all the fun alone.”

Ghost exhaled a low growl, a mixture of annoyance and amusement. He had half a mind to shake Soap by his shoulders, knock some sense into him. But there was something about that stupid grin that made his heart flutter. He hated it. "You're impossible."

"Been called worse before." The grin was just widening. Especially as he leaned a bit closer to the other man. His eyes studying the mask. Ghost tensed slightly as Soap leaned closer, his heart skipping a beat. The scent of him filling his nostrils. He wanted to pull away, to maintain his usual aloof demeanor, but he found himself frozen in place. His grip on Soap's chin loosening, finger tracing along his bottom lip. "You're playing with fire, Johnny." He muttered.

At that, the sergeant laughed, shaking his head slightly. "Ye saw me blowin up more stuff than fireworks going off at new years. Yer really think I'd be afraid of some heat?”

"One day that fire's gonna burn you alive." Simon exhaled a rough breath, his knuckles grazing against Soap's jawline.

"As long as that fire is called Simon Riley..." The shorter man whispered, looking up at Ghost through half lidded eyes, voice quiet. Almost... Vulnerable.

Ghost's heart was on the verge of just combusting, eyes snapping to the scot, his breath hitching in his throat. He felt his walls crumble, his carefully guarded facade slipping away. Hearing Soap say his name like that, so soft and earnest… It shook him to his core. Swallowing hard, his eyes searched Soap's face, looking for any hint of mockery or jest. But he saw nothing but vulnerability, a rawness in Soap's expression that mirrored his own.

"Johnny..." He whispered, his voice ragged. "You can't say things like that. Not when I'm trying to keep myself together."

He paused, his thumb brushing over Soap's lip.

"Why ye have to be so stubborn?" Johnny leaned closer to him, his lips parting slightly when the thumb brushed over them once more.

"I'm not the stubborn one here. You're the one who never backs down, the one who never listens. Always charging into danger like a bloody madman."

"So you saying this time the danger's you?"

Ghost huffed out a soft, gruff chuckle. He couldn't deny the truth in Soap's words. He was dangerous, a ticking time bomb, a man consumed by his own inner demons. "Yeah, Johnny. Sometimes I think you're safer out there in the field than you are with me."

He paused, his voice quieter now.

"You make me lose control. You make me want things I shouldn't want."

The sergeant didn't back down. His expression getting softer. "Such as?" The question was barely above a whisper.

The lieutenant felt his resolve crumbling further under the others' gaze. He could feel himself getting pulled in, drawn to Soap like a moth to a flame. He let out a ragged breath, his pulse quickening in his ears. "Things I could never have, Johnny."

He paused, his eyes flicking down to Soap's lips for a split second.

"Things I don't deserve."

"And who decided on that bullshit?"

A bitter chuckle rumbled in his chest. "You think I don't know I'm a mess? That I'm damaged goods? I'm not exactly the kind of person you bring home to mum and dad." His voice growing rougher as he went on. "I've done things, been through things… I've got scars, both inside and out that would scare the livin' daylights out of anyone."

"...That's not the Simon I see." The scotsman spoke up. "While those things are a part of you, they don't define you. That's not all there is to you. Despite what you think of yourself..." Looking down at the space between them, his hand found the others. Fingers delicately brushing over the back of the glove.

"...Loving you is easy."

Ghost felt his chest tightening. He felt raw, vulnerable, exposed. No one had ever seen him like this, had ever looked past his gruff exterior and seen the mess underneath. Not like that. He wanted to argue, to push Soap away, to protect himself from the vulnerability. But he couldn't. Johnny was like a drug and he was hopelessly addicted.

"You're a bloody fool, Soap."

Soap chuckled softly, the sound carrying a mixture of amusement and affection. His thumb tracing comforting circles on Ghost's hand. "Maybe I am." He admitted. "But I've never been one to back down from a challenge, especially when it comes to you, Si. I'd rather be a fool for you than anyone else." His gaze held steady on Simon's masked face, unwavering in its sincerity. Ghost met that gaze, the intensity of their connection palpable in the quiet space between them.

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into, Johnny." The taller man warned softly, though the corners of his mouth tugged upward in a faint, hesitant smile.

"I know enough." Johnny replied softly. "And I'm not going anywhere."

[zoropookie]

WHAT YOU WON'T DO FOR LOVE (WYWDFL) — NINE

YOU couldn't be having a worse halloween night. choose your fate with your fellow readers and see if it gets better!

chapter 7.5 — chapter eight — chapter ten

soulmate!wanderer x gn!reader

You didn't think you were ever going to get an opportunity like this again.

In the midst of apprehension and fear, you stood there next to your captor stiff. Standing in the lingering shadow of your own fate, heart beating fast in your chest, the drumming in your ears getting louder with each second passing. You don't know if it was the winds shiftiness that was making you unsteady, or the sore wrists you inhabit, but something was clawing in your chest.

You couldn't let it show, not now. The car hummed lowly in front of the two, and as you narrowed your eyes towards the guy, your throat tightened. You had a window, one moment to speak up and this would probably all be over. You wanted to cry for help, as unrest clamped hard on your throat.

"I'm only checking to see if you kids need any help," She called out, her voice soft but probing, like she already knew something wasn't.

"We're fine," He said, low and controlled with a certain gravel, cringing at his pacing. You felt like you were splintering apart. "Everything's fine. We're a little tired from a show."

"A show?"

Yeah, if we're calling wild goose chases 'shows' now, I'm sure you won't tell her that, though. You could only smile with a more comfortable aura this time to mask the tension, but your eyebrows were furrowed. "College adaptation of Scream. Spooky...!" You wanted to raise your arms to do jazz hands, but you doubt that would make it look any less suspicious.

The woman's eyes lingered on you a minute longer, face creased with confusion. She hesitated, glancing at the man beside you, slowly absorbing what could be going on here. She tapped on the wheel in thought, her head tilted. "My granddaughter loves those movies, I believe," She said slowly. "Maybe you two go to the same school as she does?"

You looked at your kidnapper, to which he looked at you back, the both of you with side eyes. The dryness in your throat making it more difficult to speak. "Yeeeeah!" You both drawled.

"What a small world. Pretty sure she was the only one who at the rehearsal, we told her to get out, but she just kept insisting." He forced out, the smile on his face twisting into a little bit of a rougher one as he started becoming impatient. The laugh from his throat was hollow, almost foreign, as if it came from someone else. You were crumbling yourself, breaking down bit by bit.

"That sounds like my Julia," The woman said lovingly. "Be sure not to keep those ties on you for too long there, okay? You two are quite dedicated to the craft, I hope to see you out there!" Her voice was soft, probing, but with hardly any suspicion anymore.

It was unfortunate how bad your heart dropped in your chest that there was no. A specific feeling crawling up your spin like icy fingers, she gave you one last look, as if she was trying to find something, a little...unspoken cry for help. You stayed quiet as a mouse, still. "Have a good night, you two." She reached for the gear shift, and the car hummed softly.

She pulled away as the two of them smiled, eyes tracking the slow moving car. Her taillights casting a faint red glow over the darkening streets. She was gone, and in the moment that you two were standing there in the wake of the closest call you could muster, the brief flicker of what you thought was hope was extinguished again.

You squeezed your eyes shut in exhaustion. You were so fucking close; so agonizingly close, even. The universe was turning its back on you yet again as you stare at the distant and foggy path.

But...? For some reason, you felt relieved, too. Not with how your situation faired currently, but that you may have saved a life. You didn't have that much going for yourself right now, so it was nice to feel like you at least did something right. That feeling in your chest made you want to climb mountains, though for a brief period of time until you looked back at your kidnappers severely handsome face.

He seemed to be in thought too, but for a less innocent reason you could easily scope out. "What now? You gonna cut me up and stuff mashed potatoes in me like I'm a turkey? Do it."

"I'm glad you still have the heart to make jokes," he replied, cocking his head slightly as if trying to figure you out. "It makes me feel less bad for what's going to happen next." His fingers drummed adroitly on the hood of the car, each tap threatening your neck like a coiled snake.

"Oh, fantastic!" You threw your conjoined wrists up in defeat. "You know what? You're full of shit, right? Because you don't even know if I saw you stab your friend, and even if I did, why would I snitch you out when you're quite obviously going to come for my cheeks?! You should be thanking me that I saved your ass, but instead you're doing this bit where you act all mysterious and try to keep me on my toes. Jokes on you, I've watched Twilight before. I know what guys do to chase their toys."

"That's nice." He droned. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I have no idea why you want to kill and murder me, either, but we move on, I guess!" You spat, before sitting on the gravelly path and loosening your shoulders. "I give up. If you want to leave me like roadkill on the side of the road, do it. I don't want to go home, anyway."

He was irritatingly handsome in this light, like a villain carved from some god damn ancient myth, indifferent to your fate. Like you were just a mere mortal to him, and his lips quirked in a small and solemn smile. As per usual, he found it funny that you were throwing your hands up and surrendering. "I didn't go through the trouble to do that."

"Yeah you did. You're all the same." You shot back, your voice sulky and heavy. "It's always this fucked up game to keep you from getting bored. Until you find the next one."

He knelt down, the darkened gravel crunching under his shoes. "You don't know shit about me to even be concerned on whether you're dying today, or tomorrow, or any time soon." He said so quietly his voice was almost a sharp whisper only you could hear. He was turning your words over in his mind, shaping it himself. His face was inches from yours again, holding a long gaze. "But you're right about one thing."

Your stomach churned, and just as your fears predicted, you sucked in a deep breath, your mouth falling ajar before looking down at your shoulder. It took you a minute to process what happened before a large, crimson stain ate away at what was left of the fabric there. You felt warm, a different type of pain from what your body was already experiencing.

"I do get bored easily."

You could barely grasp onto what he was saying properly from how your shoulder screamed, excruciating lapses of pain rushing through your body so prominent that you fought not to pass out. You didn't care to try not to cry and wail in pain, you had nothing to lose.

Crimson spilled from your hands as he forced the knife out, the gushing of the liquids leaving him to marvel at your inner turmoil. Impenetrable enjoyment, as you already noted flowing through his body as he let out a resigned sigh. He lifted his hand to grab violently at your face, holding it with little regard in his hands, the metal of the ring on his thumb almost splitting a part of your chin.

"No more." He said finally, tone devoid of his previous one. "We're done playing, 'soulmate'."

no poll for this chapter! (you guys are kinda bad at this, no offense. see you next week!)

taglist ♢ @kinvasions @kazumiku @animeobsessed56 @levianamor @auroratumbles

@mellowberrie @scarawiki @xxxion @shutingstar @feikyuu

@mercy-not-merci

[elysiaheaven]

𝐇𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬-𝟒-𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗙𝗼𝘅'𝘀 𝗪𝗲𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴- 𝗝𝗶𝗮𝗼𝗾𝗶𝘂 𝘅 𝗙.𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

Words:2425

While you floated beside Jiaoqiu, your ethereal presence a constant reminder of the peril he had unknowingly dragged himself into.

You were silent for a while, letting the distance between you and the others grow just enough before you made your move. Your eyes glinted with mischief as you suddenly floated closer to Jiaoqiu, your fingers ghosting over his arm before you started creeping along his hands, your touch unnervingly soft. He shuddered under your fingertips, feeling the unnatural cold of your presence.

"You never answered my question..." you whispered, your voice dripping with a flirtatious tone that sent shivers down his spine. You leaned in, brushing your lips near his ear as you spoke. "Why did you save me, Jiaoqiu? You could've left me to the curse, to the statues. Yet, here I am, free... and married to you."

Your hands slid up his arms, fingers trailing over his shoulders as you circled around him, playful but ominous. "Come on... you *know* the truth." Your lips curled into a sly smile, and your eyes darkened as you leaned closer. "Tell me, darling, was it because Of little Mozey?"

Jiaoqiu swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest as you haunted him, each word feeling like a hook digging deeper into his mind. He couldn't shake you—your presence was everywhere, suffocating him with your teasing flirtations and dark insinuations.

Feixiao and Moze turned slightly, noticing how close you were to Jiaoqiu, their expressions shifting into something cautious.

Feixiao raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to figure out your dynamic. "I was surprised when I heard you got married from Baliu..." Feixiao's tone was neutral, but his sharp gaze missed nothing.

You turned your head slightly, giving them a knowing smile, but your attention never really left Jiaoqiu. They couldn't hear the secret conversation between you two, the sinister undertones of your haunting voice, the way your hands crept around him like a shadow that wouldn't leave.

But Jiaoqiu knew. He felt it in every breath, every beat of his heart. He knew what you were saying wasn't just harmless flirting.

It was a threat wrapped in seduction.

You leaned even closer, your lips brushing the skin near his neck, sending chills down his spine. "Tell them, Jiaoqiu," you whispered softly, almost mockingly. "Tell them what *really* happened. Tell them how you saved me... and doomed yourself."

Jiaoqiu's hands clenched into fists, his pulse racing, but he couldn't speak. His throat felt tight, words failing him. You were too close, too overwhelming. He wanted to shake you off, to push you away, but fear and uncertainty rooted him in place.

You laughed softly, the sound echoing in his ears like a melody designed to drive him mad. "You'll break eventually," you murmured, almost too quietly for him to hear. "And when you do, darling... I'll be right here."

"Well, Since you two are whispering so sweetly me and Moze will walk forward." Feixiao turned her heel with a smirk thinking she was teasing Jiaqoiu

His gaze was intense, and as he looked up at you, a flicker of resolve passed through his eyes. You could see the struggle within him, the conflict between his fear and his determination.

"Red strings," you murmured softly, letting the words slip from your lips like a whisper. "They bind us together, you know."

Jiaoqiu's eyes met yours, and for a moment, silence fell between you two. His expression was a mask of cold resolve, though the flicker of pain and desperation was evident in his eyes. Without warning, he closed the gap between you, his lips crashing against yours in a desperate, forceful kiss.

"Be quiet," he said, his voice low and urgent against your lips. "It won't take a second for me to expose you, to tell everyone what you really are."

His kiss was fierce, almost violent, but it held an undercurrent of something deeper, a twisted mixture of anger and sorrow. When he pulled back, his eyes were steely, filled with a chilling hatred.

"You deserve to die," he said coldly, his voice like ice. "You are a monster."

You giggled, the sound both innocent and sinister as it escaped your lips. "Oh, Jiaoqiu," you whispered, your voice dripping with amusement. "You think that's going to change anything?"

Without hesitation, you leaned in again, capturing his lips in another kiss. This one was softer, almost tender, as if to mock the bitterness of his words. You could feel his resistance, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he stood there, caught between the desire to fight and the undeniable pull you had over him.

When you finally broke the kiss, you looked at him with a playful smile. "It's cute," you said, "how much you hate me. It's almost endearing."

Jiaoqiu's face twisted with frustration and disgust, but you could see the resignation in his eyes. 

"Let me remind you," you said softly, your voice a seductive whisper, "no matter how much you hate me, you're bound to me now. If you try to run, You'll die!"

You floated away, the shadows of your smile lingered, leaving Jiaoqiu alone with his turbulent emotions.

You floated through the dimly lit place. The weight of your emotions pressed heavily on you as you reached a secluded corner where the air was thick with silence. Tears streamed down your face, a strange mix of sorrow and bitterness.

"You did it, Eiji!" you cried out, your voice echoing through the empty space. The words were directed at an unseen presence, a ghost of the past that you couldn't quite escape. "You made me into the villain!"

Your sobs were punctuated by a haunting, melancholic laughter. It was a bitter sound, filled with a sense of tragic irony. "You made me look like the monster, the one to be feared and despised. And all the while, I've been alone, suffering in a way that no one could ever understand."

You sank to your knees, the delicate folds of your kimono cascading around you. The tears continued to fall, mingling with your laughter as you looked up, your gaze unfocused and lost. "You turned me into this... this villainous spirit," you murmured, a hint of anguish in your voice. "You made me the scapegoat for all the wrongs that happened. And now, here I am, trapped in this role, abandoned by everyone."

The sorrow in your voice was genuine, a reflection of the pain you felt deep within. Despite the cruel smile you often wore, the reality of your situation was harsh and unforgiving. You were not just a villain, but a being cursed to wander alone, misunderstood and despised.

In the silence that followed, you composed yourself, wiping away your tears with a trembling hand. The sorrowful laugh faded, replaced by a quiet, resigned acceptance. You knew that the path you were on was one of solitude, a path you had been forced to walk. 

Standing up, you took a deep breath, your resolve hardening. "If I'm to be the villain," you said softly to the emptiness around you, "then I will embrace it fully. But remember, Eiji, it was you who created this fate for me. And now, I'll live it to the fullest, for better or worse."

As you prepared to face whatever lay ahead, the sorrow and bitterness in your heart remained, a constant reminder of the complexities of fate and the roles that you had been forced to play.

There's no point in telling what happened in the past, Will people even believe you?

Timeskip!

Feixiao looked at Jiaoqiu with a mix of concern and confusion as he handed her the bowl of soup made from the herb. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken words, and the air seemed to crackle with tension.

Feixiao took a careful sip of the soup, her eyes narrowing slightly. "This herb... it came from the abandoned part of Luofu," she said, her voice calm but her gaze sharp. "Why would you go to such lengths to obtain it?"

Jiaoqiu, standing nearby, looked visibly broken. His shoulders were slumped, and his usually confident demeanor had crumbled. He took a deep breath, his eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and resignation.

"Because... because I had no choice," Jiaoqiu admitted, his voice trembling. "I had to do something for you, and to do that, I had to go to that place. Remember this herb will make your condition less problematic."

Feixiao's eyes widened in concern. "But what else happened there? What are you not telling me?"

Jiaoqiu's gaze fell to the floor. "I married someone," he said quietly. "Someone who... helped the Foxians enslaved by Borisin."

The revelation hit Feixiao like a thunderclap. Moze's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing with finally Jiaoqiu telling the truth, Feixiao looked at Jiaoqiu, her face a mask of disbelief and concern.

"You married her?" Feixiao asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "The one who helped enslave the Foxians?"

Jiaoqiu nodded slowly, his face etched with pain. "Yes. She's... she's the one who has caused so much suffering, and yet, I found myself bound to her by fate."

Moze stepped forward, his eyes cold and unyielding. he said sharply. "You should have known better. We need to deal with this—"

"No," Jiaoqiu interjected, his voice firm despite his distress. "I made the choice. I married her to save you, Moze. To save you, and now... I must deal with the consequences of my actions."

Feixiao's gaze softened slightly, though the worry in her eyes remained. "You've done everything you could, Jiaoqiu. But we need to address this situation carefully. We can't let the past mistakes dictate our future."

Jiaoqiu nodded, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. "I know. I just..."

Feixiao's eyes widened with fear and determination as she realized the full extent of the curse tied to Jiaoqiu's marriage. The curse not only bound Jiaoqiu but also threatened his life should anything happen to you.

"Jiaoqiu," Feixiao said urgently, "you can't tell anyone about this. We need to find a way to break the curse without revealing too much. For now, just focus on getting better."

Jiaoqiu, still reeling from the emotional toll, nodded, but his gaze was distant and pained. Feixiao took a deep breath and drank the soup, feeling its healing warmth spread through her. The soup seemed to take effect quickly, easing her discomfort.

Suddenly, you reappeared, your presence marked by an unsettling, ghostly aura. You floated in, a distorted smile stretching across your face like a doll's mask. Without a word, you wrapped your arms around Jiaoqiu from behind, your embrace cold and unnervingly tight.

Feixiao's face turned into a grimace of anger and fear. "Stay away from him!" she shouted. "Or I'll—"

"Or you'll what?" you cut her off with a laugh that sent shivers down everyone's spines. "You're forgetting something crucial. If anything happens to me, Jiaoqiu dies too."

Feixiao's expression hardened. "We'll help Jiaoqiu break free from this curse. We're not letting you win."

You gently kissed Jiaoqiu's foxian ear, causing it to twitch involuntarily at your touch. The tender gesture contrasted starkly with the menacing gleam in your eyes. As you floated toward Feixiao, your gaze was cold and unfeeling.

"All those pretty ears of yours," you said with a sinister edge, "don't always hear the truth. And now, I have something to achieve." Your voice was low and almost hypnotic. "I need to become human again. I'll do whatever it takes to make that happen."

You dragged Jiaoqiu closer to you, your grip firm and inescapable. "Twenty days," you declared, "that's all the time I need to reclaim my humanity. And in that time, I'll break him completely, if necessary. I suppose in the dream, you saw thirty days...Jiaoqiu..Nope, It's 20!"

Jiaoqiu's eyes filled with dread as he looked at you, understanding the gravity of your words.

"Well, after you become human, Will you leave him alone?"

"Maybe."

"I'll go to my house now..." Jiaoqiu cut off everyone.

"We'll come with you." Feixiao came forward with Moze too, You looked at them with cold eyes.

You all made your way back to Jiaoqiu's house, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Jiaoqiu walked ahead, his steps hesitant, weighed down by the knowledge of the curse and the creeping dread that you had invoked. But as you floated close behind him, your eyes were fixated on his delicate foxian ears.

You couldn't resist.

Hovering closer, you reached out with gentle fingers, lightly brushing the tip of one of his twitching ears. Jiaoqiu flinched, his body stiffening at the touch, but he didn't pull away. Your fingers played with the soft fur, a mischievous grin creeping across your lips. Each flick of his ear under your teasing touch sent shivers down his spine, though he tried his best to ignore it.

"You're so...adorable," you whispered, your voice dripping with both sweetness and danger, your breath brushing against the back of his neck. "How can I not want you?"

Jiaoqiu swallowed hard, his fists clenching by his sides. He was trying to keep his composure, but it was becoming harder with every playful touch.

"Stop," he muttered through gritted teeth, though the word held no power.

You leaned in closer, your lips grazing the edge of his ear. "But why should I stop?" you purred. "Aren't we bound together now? Doesn't that make you mine?"

Feixiao and Moze were ahead, oblivious to the torment you were putting Jiaoqiu through. With each teasing touch, each soft whisper, his resistance weakened.

"You're mine now, Jiaoqiu," you murmured, brushing your lips against the ear again. "You can't escape me. And I won't stop until you fully understand that."

His breathing became uneven, his mind fighting against the pull you had over him. He hated this, hated how you had tied his fate to yours, but the way your touch lingered on him... it was as if a part of him was slowly giving in.

They neared the house, you pulled back slightly, but not before running your fingers one last time over his sensitive ears, making sure he felt every lingering touch. Your smile was predatory, knowing you had an effect on him.

"Let's go inside," you said softly, a hint of laughter in your voice. "We have... so much to discuss, don't we?"

Jiaoqiu stayed silent, his mind racing with dread. You were relentless, and he knew that no matter how hard he tried, you weren't letting him go. 

[hawkins-losers]

yesss we want the elvira x eddie

This has been on my list since season 4 came out... Forgive me for writing it 2-3 years later (how long has it been since season 4 came out? Feels forever ago)

Happy spooky season! I miss writing for these characters

—

In girl world, Halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it. 

Early in October, you decided to test the waters by making Eddie watch a movie with a character you had been thinking of dressing up as this Halloween. Witches were always your favorite, but you wanted to see his reaction first, see if he would like it. 

Although you doubted this character left any men unbothered.

Your dress was a little risqué, the deep plunging neckline making the girls shine. It took a few trials and errors to get the makeup right, but you finally got it and made your way to Eddie’s house. His jaw was going to drop. 

When he opened the door and saw the Mistress of the Dark standing there, he nearly choked. ‘’Jesus Christ," he breathed, the sight making blood rush south.

A smile of satisfaction bloomed on your lips. ‘’My appearance is kind of a shock to everybody.’’

Eddie quickly pulled you inside, not wishing for his perverted neighbor to use you as material to rub his cock and saggy balls. Those tits were his to stare at and touch and suck…and fuck.

‘’Are you trying to kill me looking like that?'' He lets out a low whistle as his gaze continues to roam over your figure. 

You leaned in closer, letting your voice drop to a sultry purr. ‘’I thought of wearing her spider bra with the tassels, but figured that might actually kill you on the spot.’’ 

Eddie’s eyes darkened, and a grin tugged at the corners of his lips. ‘’The spider bra?!’’ he repeated, vividly remembering the specific scene from the movie where Elvira wears it. ‘’Fuck.’’ 

‘’I even practiced the twirling she does with it,’’ you added, a wicked glint in your eyes.

Eddie groaned. ‘’I’m gonna have that image in my head all night…’’ He moved closer to you and gently placed his hands on your hips as he looked down at you, a smirk on his lips as he imagined you in the spider bra. ‘’Do we have to go to Harrington’s party?’’  

He would much rather stay here and have you to himself. The costume could stay on, he can work around that.

‘’Of course we do, we promised Steve we’d be there,’’ you said, taking Eddie’s hands off your body so he wouldn‘t try to convince you to stay in. ‘’And I told Robin I would help her with Vickie. I can’t let her down.’’

Eddie groaned once more. He felt like a child who got told ‘no’ after asking if they can get dessert before supper. 

‘’I didn’t say we can’t find a room at Steve’s and have some…fright-night fun.’’ 

Your voice was laced with a suggestive promise, which made the corner of Eddie’s mouth curl in anticipation. ‘’Now, you’re talking, Mistress of the Dark,’’ he breathed, leaning in, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours.

But before he could kiss you, you slipped from his grasp and took a step back. ‘’Where’s your costume? Steve said it was mandatory.’’ 

Eddie, still in his regular band tee shirt and jeans, held up a Michael Myers mask and pointed at a lump of blue on the couch. ‘’Here.’’ 

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you gave him a once-over. ‘’Your work mechanic overalls and a Michael Myers mask? That’s the lowest effort one’s ever made for a Halloween costume,’’ you scoffed, shaking your head. 

A creative person like Eddie could have done so much better. A few weeks ago, he talked about being Aragorn from Lord of the Rings. He would have looked damn good as a rugged ranger, with a sword and medieval warrior attire. Maybe then you would have agreed to skip Steve’s party. 

He rolled his eyes. ‘’Oh come on, it’s not that bad. Michael Myers is a classic, babe.’’ 

Halloween and its antagonist were a cult classic, but costume wise, it was unoriginal. There’s probably going to be at least three other Michael Myers at the party. 

‘’If by classic you mean a very common and lazy costume, I agree.’’ You grabbed the overalls and pushed them at Eddie’s chest. ‘’Now, hurry and put it on. I need to get there before Robin starts to drink and the word vomit gets unstoppable.’’

—

Taglist: @broadway-or-noway @violetsleftfist @thelaststraw3  @cursedandromedablack  @Slashersimpfor  @savagejane1   @wh0reforbucknasty   @eddiemunson-slut   @slvdsjjk  @hehehehannahthings  @dreamdancers-world  @eddiemunsonbby  @notbeforelong  @lexi-2004 @violetrainbow412-blog  @tatespillows  @alwayslexii  @lilygreennn   @milkiane  @imahomeslice  @bunnygrl16 @cwritesforfun @marauders3rawh0re  @your-mom21 @parkersmyth @voguesir @milkiane @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @lilygreennn @alexxavicry @charlie-chick  @wandamaximoffs-deadchild  @horrorstreet  @rmeddar123  @pastel-abyss-x @lil-tracys  @luvmybbies  @chloepricesgrafitimarker  @inluvweddiemunson @i-like-trains @kittenfrostt @simp-for-slasher @m-rae23 @kenzi-woycehoski @amberputh  @sea040561 @wayfaring----stranger @amberputh @starstruckspring @nluvwitheddiemunson @yourfavoriteakutagawakinnie @kiszkathecook @Original_babababoo @kittenfrostt @yourfavdummy @kenzi-woycehoski @violetsleftfist

Eddie Munson taglist: @nighttwingg @yourfavoriteakutagawakinnie @heizenka @eddiemvunsongf @Eddie_munsons_girlfriend @magicalchocolatecheesecake @eddiemunsonistheloveofmylife @avril-reblog-cave @Fandomfaeryreads @harrys-tittie @straycatarang @fourlokiss  @eddiemattress  @ghoulishlygrey   @paola-carter @bubsonnobx @pauldanoswifereal @ofherscarlettwitchways @kiszkathecook  @truewdw1 @bubsonnobx @ohhrexella @Dreamtiara @pastelbabygirl19  @steves-robin @eddiemunsonbby @jenlouvre @bonked-beyond-belief2  @tvserie-s-world @bootlegmothman420 @courtmr @chrisxevans-seb @satinselenite @thikkiesixx  @jennilynn63  @nia-um  @welcometohellfirw @strangermarvelgirl @sugar-simz @fandomloversvaries @miakatharinaa  @julsss321 @m1rkw00dpr1ncess  @Minksblog @soph69420world  @ameliakf13 @nancewheelersworld @parasadic-blog @nluvwitheddiemunson @veniceb1tch88 @ali-r3n @Luv.eddie @stephylovesmayahawke @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetheart-im-the-boss @jusstdreaaming @hoeformunsonandhargrove @buckyswhxre @tomspidertingle @stormyparker @thechoiceslookgrimm @ilikechocolatemilkh @bbylyneth @bobafettsleftglove @princesseddie @yourfavdummy @xbreezymeadowsmunsonx @rosaliesrealwife @munsonswhore86 @eddiescvmslvt @slightlyvicked

[cheollipop]

imagine lazy night with seonghwa watching a movie while ur head is in his lap and him gently massaging it... THIS COULD BE SOFT BUT IT COULD ALSO GO THE OTHER WAY🫣

the movie gets too boring and reader starts getting needy so they pleasure seonghwa and seonghwa does it in return too🤗

btw i love ur work🩷🫶

hi anonnie!! thank you so much ahhh I'm really glad you enjoy reading my fics ^^ <3 I hope you like this one too~~

nsfw under cut—minors dni!!

seonghwa pawed at the couch, his palm slapping against with the soft cushions in search of the remote, fingers circling the device and hurriedly pressing the 'volume down' button. soft pants and frantic shuffling – previously masked by the movie playing in the background – now freely resounded in the living room. a gentle thumb ran over seonghwa's eyebrow to will his eyes open, deep brown glimmering back at you through hooded lids, his mouth parting as heavy exhales blew over your chin.

you adjusted your position, digging your knees further into the couch beside seonghwa's hips and plastering your torso to his, leaning forward to slot your parted lips together. teeth, spit, and hot breathing—it was barely a kiss, your lips meeting and separating as you fervently held on to each other. seonghwa's arms circled your waist, guiding your movements over him, rolling his head back when your clothed pussy glided over the hard outline of his cock, twitching and leaking precum over the inside of his boxers.

one of his hands slipped down to your ass, his biceps flexing as he began moving you over his bulge, "fuuuck, just like that, love," his eyes fluttered shut, fingers grabbing a fistful of your covered ass. "so good for me," he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth where a line of drool was beginning to slip out.

"hwa... hwa..." you repeated, an echoed whisper of his name interrupted by airy moans. your clit caught on his cockhead with every roll of your hips, sending warm waves of pleasure through your body and driving you to seek more. more kisses, more skin, more seonghwa. more, more, more. until your back was arching and your chest pushed into his, tucking your face into the crook of his neck while you reduced to a spasming, moaning mess in seonghwa's arms.

one hand still squeezing the flesh of your ass, guiding you over his shaft until your orgasm left you with a subtle tingling in your gut, the other moved up your spine to cover the nape of your neck. he twisted his head to press a kiss to your temple, whispering over the heated skin, "just a little more, yeah? can my pretty girl take it?"

you nodded, face tucked into seonghwa's neck while you braved through the overstimulation, slowly moving yourself over his cock and reveling in the tight groans elicited from above. "want hwa to cum in his pants, just like I did," you muttered, sensing the fingers around your nape tighten slightly.

"whatever my sweetheart wants," he cooed, voice tight.

with another kiss to the side of your head, he maneuvered you over his cock, breathy moans blowing over the shell of your ear as seonghwa used your clothed cunt, his thighs trembling under you while easy praise rolled off his tongue—a blend of 'good girl,' 'you take me so well,' 'feel so good,' and 'just a little longer' making you sink your teeth into his covered shoulder.

you could tell he was about to cum when the deep baritone of his voice cracked, desperate whines reverberating in the dim room as he held your weight down over his throbbing cock, shooting ropes of hot cum into his pants. his body shuddered under you, his fingers tangling in the hair at your nape to pull you off his shoulder, a pool of saliva darkening the material of his shirt. you felt like you could come again at the mere sight of him—plush lips parted and eyes glazed over, glassy with tears. his chest rose and fell with uneven breaths while he took you in, all fucked out and docile in his lap, a pool of cum staining his grey sweatpants under you, his cock twitching under you as it emptied that last of his load between the soft fabric and his skin.

wrapping your arms around him, your head fell onto his shoulder and your lips on his neck, peppering tender pecks over the heated skin. seonghwa didn't complain about the mess in his pants, content to simply have you in his arms, smiling to himself when a soft snore startled him away from the movie he was watching over your shoulder.

[swordymacaroni]

Closer

A/N- I just wanted to post to feel like I accomplished something in life.

Ship- Simon Riley x Reader

Warnings- First-person POV(is that a cw??)

I swallow the remnants of my bitter beverage in one scalding gulp. It does nothing to ease the anger prickling under my spine. How dare he? Meanwhile, the Luitentant, unaware of my internal seething, continues to look over the paperwork, occasionally making disgruntled noises when he messes numbers up. I huff audibly, and he glances up at me, eyebrows raised. I quickly turn away. I would rather stab my eye out with forks than willingly talk to him.

I blink out of my haze when he waves a hand in front of my face. “What?”

Behind his mask, his expression looks to be one of resignation when he says, “I’ve asked you three times if you want me to refill your coffee.”

I choke on thin air. It’s the invasion of the body snatchers. Because how else do you explain Big, Bad, Simon "Ghost" Riley voluntarily inquiring if I require something for my elevated comfort?

The anger prickles under my skin. How generous of him to ask me if I needed more coffee mere hours after he humiliated me in front of the other recruits. Simply for being three minutes late.

I invoke my inner devil so promptly I shake myself to the core.

“It’s funny. You think we’re that close.” And just for the sake of some flare, I flip my hair over one shoulder, taking my bottom lip between my teeth. A vein in his jaw tightens. Triumph blooms in my stomach. I love pissing him off, especially given the circumstances. I slide him a holier-than-thou look as I move to detour around him.

In a flash, I’m pressed between the wall and one hundred and eighty pounds of pure muscle. My mug clatters to the ground and a faint sound of broken ceramics is heard, but I  pay it no attention. Simon’s hands are on either side of my face, closing off any means of escape. His eyes darken at the edges, face inches away from mine. I try not to notice how warm he is compared to the cold bricks against my back. When he speaks, his breath fans over my cheek. “Is this close enough?”

[emma23]

The strip club debate:

Santiago Garcia x reader

————————————————————————

The soft hum of the restaurant filled the air, glasses clinking, the occasional laughter rising over the smooth jazz playing in the background. It was one of those upscale places Santiago always seemed to choose when he had something special planned, though tonight felt casual. You sat across from him, twirling your straw in your mojito, watching him as he skimmed over the menu with that laser-like focus of his.

The dress you wore was a little bolder than usual, low-cut with just the right amount of edge. It was one of those "I-feel-sexy-but-effortless" moments, something you rarely indulged in. Santiago noticed. Of course, he did. His eyes had wandered down once or twice but always flicked back up quickly, that stoic mask he wore cracking just enough for you to catch the smirk on his lips.

You leaned back in your chair, studying his face. “So,” you began, your tone playful, “are there any good strip clubs around here?”

Santiago froze for a second, then slowly lowered the menu. He didn’t blink, just stared at you with the kind of blank expression that could make anyone else uncomfortable. But you knew him too well.

“What?” he asked, deadpan.

You shrugged, biting back a grin. “Just curious. I mean, we’re in the city, right? Big, flashy lights, money flying around—there’s gotta be at least one good one.”

“Y/N…” he started, his voice filled with warning.

“Come on, don’t be so uptight. I’m just joking,” you teased, leaning forward, elbows on the table as you fiddled with the straw again. “But seriously, if there was a good one, would you take me?”

Santiago’s jaw clenched, and he exhaled sharply through his nose. “You’re not stepping one foot in a strip club.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Not even as a spectator?”

“No.” He picked up the menu again, flipping it open like the conversation was over.

“But girls are hot,” you said, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips.

Without even looking up from the menu, he replied, “More the reason you will not go.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. His seriousness was part of what made this so entertaining. Santiago had always been so... controlled. Strategic. Measured in everything he did. Teasing him was like poking at a bear—dangerous, but thrilling when he growled.

You leaned even closer, voice low and teasing. “I could go behind your back, you know.”

Santiago finally glanced up from the menu, his gaze locking onto yours with that intense, calculating look that always sent shivers down your spine. “You’re welcome to try.”

He paused, throwing a disinterested glance back down at the menu before speaking again. “Do I need to put girls on my shit list as well?”

You laughed, almost choking on your mojito. “What? You can’t just... add girls to your shit list!”

He shrugged, his gaze still boring into you. “I can if they’re competition.”

You placed a hand over your chest in mock offense. “Oh, so now you’re saying I’d ditch you for some hot girl?”

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m saying you’ve got terrible taste in decisions, and you’d probably think it’s a good idea.”

“Hey!” you shot back, unable to keep the grin off your face. “I do not have terrible taste.”

Santiago’s eyebrow arched, a sly grin pulling at the corners of his lips. “Really? Should I remind you of that time in Bogotá?”

Your face flushed instantly. “That was one time, and I had a plan!”

“Your ‘plan’ involved jumping off a roof onto a moving car.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

Santiago shook his head, his smile growing wider. “Barely. You got lucky.”

You huffed, leaning back in your seat with a playful pout. “Fine. No strip clubs. But what if I just look? I can appreciate beauty, can’t I?”

Santiago’s eyes darkened just slightly, that familiar possessive edge creeping into his voice. “You can appreciate it all you want, just not in some club with half-naked girls.”

You smirked, feeling a thrill run down your spine at the way his voice dropped. “Oh? Jealous, are we?”

“Jealous?” he repeated, his voice soft but dangerous. “No. I just don’t like sharing.”

The tension between you two suddenly shifted, the playful banter turning into something heavier, something more charged. You could see it in his eyes—the way they locked onto you, no longer teasing but serious, dark with intent.

You leaned forward again, your lips curling into a grin as you whispered, “What if I like being shared?”

Santiago’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “You’re walking a thin line, Y/N.”

You bit your lip, your heart racing in your chest. “Oh, I know.”

He put the menu down, leaning forward across the table, his voice low and commanding. “Finish your drink.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden change in his tone. Without another word, you picked up your mojito, sipping it slowly, deliberately, all while keeping your eyes on his. You could feel the shift between you—electric, intoxicating. You weren’t even thinking about the strip club anymore. In fact, you’d forgotten about it entirely.

The moment you set your glass down, Santiago stood up, holding out his hand. “Let’s go.”

Your pulse quickened as you placed your hand in his, letting him lead you out of the restaurant. His grip was firm, possessive, and you could already feel the heat building between you, the anticipation making your skin tingle.

The ride back to the hotel was silent, but the tension between you two was palpable. Every time his hand brushed against yours, it sent a shockwave of anticipation through you. By the time you stepped into the hotel room, you could barely breathe, your heart hammering in your chest.

Santiago closed the door behind you, his eyes dark and intense as he stepped toward you, his voice low. “You like pushing my buttons, don’t you?”

You grinned, stepping back until your legs hit the edge of the bed. “Maybe.”

He stalked closer, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips. “You know how that ends for you.”

You shivered under his touch, your breath hitching. “Yeah. But it’s fun.”

Santiago’s eyes flashed with something dangerous, something possessive, as he leaned down, his lips barely brushing against yours. “Let’s see how fun you think it is after tonight.”

Hours later, you lay tangled in the sheets, your body still buzzing from the intensity of what had just happened. Santiago lay beside you, his arm draped over your waist, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin.

You turned your head to look at him, grinning sleepily. “Okay, maybe strip clubs are overrated.”

Santiago chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your temple. “Told you.”

You sighed, nestling deeper into his embrace. “But seriously, if I ever find a good one…”

He pulled you closer, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “Not happening.”

You smiled, closing your eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

Santiago smirked, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Good luck, sweetheart.”

As you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but laugh, realizing that no matter how much you liked pushing his buttons, Santiago always knew how to push yours right back.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

[witches-dream]

Destroy yourself, or save me

Soul Jam Eater AU with Goldenspice

Chapter 4!!!

[chapter 1] [chapter 2] [chapter 3]

[you're here!]

A/N: Originally chapter 4 was gonna be looong, but i haven't posted in a while and this is already at about the length of the previous, chapter, so sure I'm gonna post it and what was gonna be the second half of chapter 4 shall be chapter 5. Enjoy!!

(also im gonna start putting a portion of the chapters under cut to save space lmao i don't like long posts that take a while to scroll past. And I'm gonna apply that to past chapters as well)

***

After last night, Golden Cheese's hands got badly burnt, so she had to spend the following few days with hands dipped into the healing springs. The atmosphere wasn't exactly pleasant, as the servants now distrusted Burning Spice even more than before. This extended especially to the man who entered the room where Goldie and Mozzarella were playing word games to pass the time.

"Hey there, Smoked Cheese~" Mozzarella sang.

"Smokes! Came to entertain your queen?"

"I'm here to discuss a serious matter, Your Majesty."

Goldie knew what this was about, but she was willing to listen. "Your Queen shall hear you out."

"I know Your Radiance has got sights on the legendary weapon, but Burning Spice... That man knows nothing but destruction. He is a dangerous individual, and I believe it will be best for all of us, Your Radiance especially, to give him up." Smoke spoke with conviction, but Goldie did not falter for a second.

"Unacceptable. I am not going to back down on my decision," she said, and Smoke's face darkened under his mask.

Of course, Goldie thought, Smoked Cheese didn't know what happened that night. Burning Spice may be violent, but he is not cruel; she saw the way he went silent when realizing he was wrong. And she heard his voice go calm and serious when it was about working together. And on the way back, though mockingly, he offered to carry her home. She knew there was good in him somewhere, and she was committed to dragging it out, by force if necessary.

"Besides," Mozzarella added with a chuckle, "Smoke, you were a lot like him in the beginning."

"What? Preposterous." He seemed genuinely confused at the remark, but Goldie could totally see Mozzarella's point.

"Oh yeah! Was it not you who said, 'prove your worth before you can claim me'. I was just a child back then, and fighting you was a real pain!" Golden Cheese laughed.

"You were just as defiant and rebellious as him." Mozzarella continued, watching Smoke's face get red. "Actually, no, you still are~"

"Exactly! And look at you now, all concerned about your queen!"

"Respectfully, him and I are vastly different. He takes pleasure in hurting you, My Queen. He's a lost cause." Smoke tried to defend his point, but it didn't seem like Golden Cheese or Mozzarella took him seriously.

"Maybe that's the way you see it, and I might agree to some extent," Mozzarella said, "But I'm simply curious about how this is going to go."

Smoked Cheese furrowed his eyebrows, but didn't add anything else.

"Smoked Cheese, I appreciate your concern for my well-being, but I wouldn't be your Ever-Radiant Queen if I didn't have everything under control."

"Your hands are ruined." He said, doing his best to look away from the wounds.

"They will heal in no time. This is a necessary sacrifice to claim what's mine." She was being childish, Smoked Cheese thought, and yet her smile was mature and resolute. When she was like that, there was no point in arguing.

"Very well... Your Radiance knows her limits far better than her advisor does." He put on his usual tricky smile.

Smoked Cheese sighed and prepared to leave, but Golden Cheese got up from her seat and hugged him. If he had been in a better mood, he would've made fun of how short she is, with the top of her head barely reaching his shoulders, but he could also feel the way she avoided touching him with the palms of her hands.

"Excuse me, Golden Cheese, I have matters to attend to."

"Sure, you're free to go." Goldie smiled at him after lingering for just that bit longer. She watched her subject go before returning to the springs.

"Did you hear the way he switched?" Mozzarella asked after a moment of silence.

"You mean from 'My Queen' to 'Golden Cheese'?"

"I was talking moreso about the way he went from standing his ground to sucking up to you like he does whenever he finds you disagreeing with him," Mozzarella hummed. "But, yes, it seems that you hugging him made him slip up."

"Oh yeah, I suppose he does do that." Goldie chuckled. "It's just that he only refers to me by my name in a more casual setting, so suddenly showering him in affection like that took him aback~"

"So? Are you gonna do anything about him... Both of them, actually?" Mozzarella asked. Goldie looked away, deep in thought.

"Nah... No need." She shook her head. "I trust our Smokes. And as for Spice, I'll tame him like a wild animal if I need to."

"I'm looking forward to that." Mozzarella smiled.

After some time, Mozzarella relocated to her office with giant holographic screens and keyboards that looked like they required more hands than just two. One could think that she would be programming a rocket to go into space, but 9 times out of 10 she would actually be playing games.

Without knocking, Burning Spice slammed open the door. All the tech in the room was so beyond his comprehension that his brain decided it would be better to ignore it completely.

"Where's Cheese?"

"In the healing springs, why?" Mozzarella said, smiling gently. "Are you worried about Her Majesty?"

"Couldn't care less," Spice blurted, "I'm bored outta my fucking mind." As he was about to exit the room, Mozzarella spoke up.

"Wanna play a game of chess? Or senet perhaps?"

Burning Spice looked at her like she was crazy, before laughing like a maniac. "Games? Who cares about shit like that?"

"I was not aware you were someone who turns down a challenge." Mozzarella teased.

"You think I haven't played all these silly games to death in my time? There's only one thing I want, and that's--"

Burning Spice was interrupted by an obnoxious alarm that rang throughout the room.

"Oh, it seems like there's trouble in the town." Mozzarella turned to her computer and clicked a few buttons to reveal a map with a blinking red dot on it.

"... Why the fuck do you have cat noises for your alarm of all things?!" Spice shouted over the noise.

"Cuz it's funny, obviously?" Mozzarella laughed and turned it off.

Golden Cheese burst into the room.

"It looks like we have a mission on our hands!" She proclaimed, but got weird looks instead.

"Your hands, Your Radiance..." Mozzarella drawled.

"What kind of queen would I be if I couldn't handle a couple of burns?!"

"That's the spirit!" Spice cheered.

Mozzarella shook her head and sighed. "Don't encourage her..."

Burnt and Smoke entered the room, and Burnt said:

"We will handle this."

Golden Cheese looked over everyone in the room and clapped her hands (regretting it immediately).

"My bright mind just got a great idea!" She proclaimed, and stepped aside to perfectly frame her four weapon partners. "You four can go!"

"Four?" Smoked Cheese couldn't believe his ears.

"You must grow a bond, for you are neighbors and and battle companions now."

"Those slugs will just get in my way," Spice roared, showing his axe blade at the ready.

"I understand the thought behind your decision, Your Radiance, but this is redundant." Burnt Cheese commented, collected as always. "I believe just two are enough for this mission."

"Come now, heed your queen's words and obey her orders!" Golden Cheese's voice rang across the room, loud and clear, and the weapons were forced to bow to her authority. All except Burning Spice.

"We need to get moving then!" Mozzarella did a little stretch and headed out, following Smoke and Burnt.

Spice followed suit, reluctantly, while muttering, "This is better than nothing." He shot a glare at Goldie when he passed her, but she just smiled. It made his blood boil. He needed to take it out on whatever monster they were going to fight, or he swears there'll be nothing left of the castle.

***

A/N: I'm having trouble writing Spice in a way that doesn't just make him annoying ;-; hopefully i don't end up writing him wildly out of character lmao (why is it that when i imagine stories, they're ✨perfect✨ but when i sit down to write them, they're just nooot 😭😭😭)

[jessicamarbles]

Weight

It moves as if learning to walk again. I give no signal that I see it. Just let it stumble toward me, exertion dripping from each clumsy jolt.

“I found it harder today, Miss” it says, smiling weakly.

“Oh?” I feign surprise, holding out my hand for the cup. Whisperbone with gold pleats, so thin it’s near translucent. Fragile to the point of decadence. It places the tea onto my flat, outstretched palm, trying to control the shaking in its exhausted limbs “Sounds like you need another.”

The glint in its eyes darkens and I feel my mouth go wet.

“B-but-” it begins.

I quiet the protest with a raised eyebrow.

I tie the straps tight - two on each arm, two on each leg, one across its forehead, a gag across its mouth – then test the HotPoint. A single, blistering white dot radiates from its tip.

“Pain is a process.” I remind it as I make incision. It tries to flinch, squirm. I know this is not rejection; our bodies play saboteur to the lives we yearn for. And I *am* sheering open its calf with a laser hot enough to melt lead, after all. A little resistance is expected.

The HotPoint is as exact as it is excruciating. Seven dermal layers down I find the sweet spot: loose enough for an insertion but too deep to remove the weight without it clawing itself open. “We need you strong” I remind it “You want to be strong for me, don’t you?” It cannot speak, nor nod, nor move, but it blinks at me.

The sheet is an ultra-condensed steel alloy. Magnetised, but the Doll needn’t know that. I push the weight under its flesh and let the serrated edge do the work, curving round the shin bone till its leg is wholly encased by the metal.

I’ve told the Doll the weights make it stronger, and it’s true. They have. Any place but here they’d make it superhuman. But I control the Station, every aspect, and I adjust the magnetic fields in direct proportion to its increasing muscle mass. Thus its body feels heavier and heavier after each operation, its limbs more rigid, its movements more tiring, even as it gains in power under my employ.

All the effort, all the overcompensation, sharpens its mind, not just its body. It will join its first combat with the wrath and fury of an unchained god. I hope, then, it will understand why it was lied to.

“All done” I whisper, leaning close, as I unbuckle the Doll and watch it try to rise. It falters, naturally. It’s carrying an extra thirty kilos in its left leg, even without the magnetism. I place my arm around its waist and help it back towards its quarters, my face a mask of kindness. “I’ve left something for you on your bed. You may need it tomorrow.”

The next day, it crawls to me, fighting tears. My tiffin is balanced on its brand new saddle. It is too tired to stand, too weak now to fight the weight I’ve put inside it. I take my tea and cake directly from its back, never acknowledging the grunts and shudders my table makes. I turned the magnets to high this morning. It can barely hold itself up.

“Better today?” I ask at last, my face the portrait of innocence. Even exhausted, the Doll knows better than to hide its eye from me when it speaks. It meets my gaze, sweat livid on its brow.

“I am as you wish me, Miss.” It answers, sweetly, without a hint of reproach.

I sip my tea and wonder if it knows.

[s3mi-ch4rm3d]

can we stay for a while and listen for heaven?

A/N: my first fic !!!! i wrote this between the hours of 1 and 4am so i hope its not shit asjkffjkd

please please please reblog, comment and like !!! if you have any feedback please feel free to drop it too (:

"You’d told him earlier that this building was his home. You were wrong – he fights the urge to say it now. To chant ‘The four walls have nothing to do with it. My home isn’t this house, it’s you. It’s here, in my arms’ until his throat runs dry. "

desc; veteren!reader x simon riley. he comes home on leave after a (kind of) disagreement. all fluff, some non-sexual nudity (a soft little affectionate shower scene). should be fairly gender neutral!!

"Hear the storm dances outside Something set free is running through the night And the dark awaits us all around the corner But here, in our place we have for the day Can we stay a while and listen for heaven?"

Simon “Ghost” Riley, more weapon than man, almost falls to his knees weeping at the sight of you.

You stand, some thirty-feet ahead of him, holding a pistol aimed at his head with perfect precision. Hair wild and sleep-tousled, one of his shirts hanging to about mid-thigh, eyelids drooped and eyebrows furrowed in confusion, lips forming a perfect ‘O’ and he swears to whatever divine being still watching that one day he’ll be brave enough to marry you. 

He’d poetically liken himself to a man returning home from war, but the simile cuts a little too close.  

You lower the weapon, flick the safety on (he narrowly bites back the urge to praise you) before launching it towards the sofa and launching yourself at him. He ignores the burning in his injured side and returns the fervour, arms finding your waist with practised ease. After almost fifty hours awake, Simon allows himself to feel the exhaustion that permeates his bones. He sinks into you – into your warmth, your scent, your love. He fears he’ll never be able to let go again.

You somehow detach yourself enough to blink up at him, eyes still half-lidded. “You’re back,” you whisper, voice so roughened with sleep that he can only make out half the syllables, “thought you were comin’ back next week?” 

“Sorry, darlin’. Should’ve given you a heads up.” He hates how fatigued he sounds, even to his own ears, but he can’t keep up the act. Not with you. 

“Nonsense, Simon Riley.” Your nose scrunches, voice mimicking severity. The way your mouth sounds the shape of his name ringing through his head like a stricken bell, “This is your home, too. You know you don’t need permission to come back.”

He doesn’t know, not really. Especially not at the moment. He’d half expected you to shove him back out the door duffle still in hand if he were honest. After almost two weeks of not speaking, of dodging calls and ignoring texts, he figured he’d deserved it. The knot of guilt begins to twist his stomach. 

You must sense his hesitation – reading him like a book always was a favourite pastime of yours – because you press your face back into his chest, squeezing him briefly before releasing him.  He barely has time to mourn the loss of your warmth before you’re hooking your pinky with his, intertwining your fingers. 

You lift yourself onto your tiptoes, face hovering just a few centimetres away from his, before you whisper.

“You’re not getting into our bed smelling like shite, Si. ‘M hosing you down." 

He watches as the corners of your lips turn up into one of your signature lopsided grins and before he can stop himself he’s leaning in to kiss it, mask be damned. Since there are no merciful gods left, you duck out of the way before his mouth can stick the landing, letting out a squawk of laughter as you swipe out of the way of his arms. He finds his lips mimicking yours beneath the fabric. 

“You’re not kissing me til you brush those fuckin’ teeth, either. Dirty man.”

“I thought you liked the way I taste, love.”

You snort, pinky latching onto him again, leading him towards the bathroom of your darkened house. Reiterate your previous statement by muttering a “filthy man” under your breath. The radiance of dawn spills through the closed blinds as the sun begins its endeavour across the sky once more. Simon follows dutifully behind you. 

Your unoccupied hand fumbles before finding the string of the light switch. You give it a firm tug and cool light blares into the room. Simon barely has time to hiss before you’re tugging it off again, encasing the room in darkness once more. You hum softly, murmuring apologies as you lead him to the toilet seat. 

“Sit. I swear I have fake candles somewhere, I’ll find them.”

An objection rises in his throat, although he obeys instantly, perching on the lid of the toilet. He watches in the low light as you flit about the room, rummaging through bottles and loofahs and sponges before letting out a small “aha!”. 

You methodically disperse small, white discs around the room, clicking them on as you go. Warm light flickers throughout the room, much less overbearing than the beacon overhead. You turn to face him again and he lets out a sigh through his nostrils. You’re far too endearing like this; completely dishevelled, all soft smiles and teasing words. 

He can see it with a bit more clarity now, the way worry has been eating at you. In the dim 'candle' light, he notices the state of your lower lip, chapped and bitten, and the smudges of blue that frame your eyes. The knot that sits at the base of his stomach twists again, digging in, and he tightens his jaw to stop himself from spilling I’m sorry’s like a mantra.

“You planning on washing your clothes as well as your body, babes?” 

Your voice pops the bubble of his self-pity. He blinks thrice, grateful for the mask to hide the downwards tilt of his lips. He attempts to sound breezy as he replies, though it comes out with more bite than he’d like. Typical. 

“Figure it’s the quickest way to stop smelling of ‘shite.’”

It’s your turn to sober yourself as you cast your eyes over him, eyebrows furrowing. You must catch it; the way, however subtle, his body responds to his injury – hunched slightly to one side as if trying to curl protectively around it. He straightens his spine at your scrutiny. 

“You’re hurt,” you whisper, voice so tender, as you take two slow steps towards him, “your side?” Your eyebrows furrow, hands absently reaching for him. 

“It’s nowt, darls. Just some bruising. I…” He rolls the request around on his tongue. He swears it burns, to ask more of you after you’ve given so much. “I need a hand. Can’t really… bend. Sorry.”

Your reaction is immediate. You drop to your knees in front of him, hands reaching for his laces, face set in gentle determination. 

“It’s no bother, handsome.” You’re quick to soothe, to reassure. Always so quick to give him what he needs. He softens like warm butter. “Get started up there, and we’ll meet in the middle.” You toss him a cheeky wink, face still tinged in a trace of worry. 

Never one to deny you anything, he does as he’s told. Starts with his mask – easy enough. He’s too tired to have any reservations now, especially when you’ve spent so many nights devoted to tracing his scars with your lips. He unhooks the straps and slips it from his face, drops the piece of fabric onto the bathroom counter next to him. 

His shirt is… a little bit trickier. He struggles to lift it up above his head, but he manages it soon enough. On his own, despite your assurances that you can help with that, too. He’s a stubborn creature. 

Meanwhile, you’re dutifully and methodically working off his boots. He’s seen those hands broken and bruised, snaked around the grip of so many guns. He’s in awe of their softness; the duality of hands once soaked in blood, now working so gently to undress him. 

True to your word, always, you meet him in the middle. Soft hands ghost over the mottling of bruises littering his left side, shades of purple and blue deep and rich. You frown, casting your eyes up to meet his. Your teeth go to bother your lower lip again but he leans forward to intercept, covering your mouth with his own. 

You hum absently into the kiss, feel the graze of his hand against your jaw, the soft exhale through his nose. You both stay like that for a moment; making no move to deepen the kiss, keeping it light and sweet and oh-so tender. 

You disconnect, your frown banished. He watches through his lashes, eyes half-lidded with relaxation as you stand back up, hands moving to the hem of his your shirt. Simon reaches to help, you swat his hand away. 

“Ah-ah! Just sit back and enjoy the show, Riley. I don’t give ‘em out for free.” You wink, cocky grin rising to your lips. God, he has it bad for you.

“Show me how it’s done, love.”

You put him to shame. Lift your shirt off with one confident sweep of your arms. His hands twitch with the effort to keep them by his sides. The rest comes off just as easily, barring your fluffy socks. You almost end up flat on your arse, cheeks flushed as you slouch against the bathroom counter repeating ‘stop laughing, Simon Riley, or so help me God–’

A few moments later and you’re both in the shower, standing under a stream of water just below scalding. He hisses as the jets hit him, rolling down the planes of his back, slowly loosening the knots along his spine. You’re standing so close, nearly pressed against him, and this time he doesn’t stop himself from slipping an arm around your waist. Your bare forms merge and he feels like a ship returning to harbour. He feels tethered.

You’d told him earlier that this building was his home. You were wrong – he fights the urge to say it now. To chant ‘The four walls have nothing to do with it. My home isn’t this house, it’s you. It’s here, in my arms’ until his throat runs dry. 

The way you tilt into his grasp, your arms winding so naturally around him, slotting against him so perfectly makes him think you already know the words by heart.

After a few minutes, you break away. Simon is just breathing out an objection by the time he notices the loofah in your hands. You squirt a splodge of soap onto it and a wave of your signature scent fills his nostrils. His objections die on his tongue. 

You work the soap into a lather before gently taking one of his arms, eyes flicking up to meet him for a moment in a silent question. He answers with a nod and you get to work, systematically massaging away the layers of grime and dirt. You work in small circles down his arm, scrubbing his armpits and washing the grit from beneath his fingernails with precision, before moving onto his other arm. 

And so the time passes; both arms, across the chiselled plains of his broad chest, down to his navel, spinning him around so you can work your way up his back. Then you’re onto his legs, his feet, before you move on to washing his hair. 

He has to stand facing away from you (much to his despair – you look so focused, your tongue almost poking out in concentration), head tilted back to give you access to the top of his head. Still, you stand on your tiptoes, rubbing and massaging the shampoo into his scalp with firm but doting hands. You hum as you work. 

He’s flooded with warmth at the depth of your devotion. 

Hours or seconds pass by, simultaneously too much and too little time, and you’re done. You guide his form back around to face you, rising up to place a sickeningly sweet kiss to his lips. His body is sagging as the exhaustion finally drapes over him like a well-worn blanket. He blinks to keep his eyes open.

“Your turn?” He murmurs, voice a jumble of syllables. 

“Mmh, I’m okay, babs. We need to get you into bed,” you hum. His eyes close for half a second and by the time he’s opened them again, the shower is off and he’s wrapped in a soft towel. 

“Our bed?”

You huff out a breathy laugh, “Yeah, Si, our bed.”

Pinkies entwined, you lead him once more. Sunrise is fully upon you now, a kaleidoscope of peaches and tangerines spill through gaps in the curtains to bathe the bedroom in pinks and golds. You guide Simon Riley, now far more man than weapon, to his side of the bed. The man barely makes it to a horizontal position before reaching for you -- a request that you happily oblige. 

You settle against him with the same practised ease, curled against his uninjured side, head tucked against his clavicle. He hums beneath you, arms slotting into their designated space around your waist. 

A few moments pass. You’re certain that he’s already asleep when his voice, deep and full of timbre, cuts through the tranquillity. 

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, his large hands dragging up the notches along your spine. “‘M stupid, and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t– you don’t have to, Si. I get it.” You exhale against his collarbone, arms tightening around him. “It was a bad time. I didn’t mean for it– it just came out. I get it.”

Simon murmurs in disagreement, but he returns the motion. Arms squeezing your sides like he needs an anchor, something to hold on to. 

“I shouldn’t have ignored you. I was a coward. I–”

His head turns, lips grazing over the crown of your head. His eyebrows furrow and he freezes for a moment before whispering, voice so quiet you have to strain to hear it. 

“I feel it, too. I can’t– I can’t say it, but I feel it. I do.”

You feel the corners of your lips twitch up involuntarily. This absolute muppet of a man – watching you all evening like you’d hung the stars one by one, like you were some divine creator, some source of eternal beauty that could make the angels quiver. You bite back the urge to laugh, and instead tilt your head upwards, graze your rough lips across the underside of his jaw. 

You whisper back, trying to pour as much love and devotion as you can fit into three words. 

“I know, Si.”