#angel doesn't have a blue tongue but I liked the way it looked

[miscellanekas]

It's been a while and I wanted to post something, so have Angel from the LM server prompt from all the way back in December....

[rafeysbunny]

heyyyyyyyy! I have a thought. Do you think that reader could get rafe to beg? Like maybe he did smth that pissed reader off so she’s been ignoring him but rage just can’t take it anymore? I love your writing so honestly just go crazy

-👻 anon

a/n. first ask, i'm so excited! in answer to your question: yes! absolutely, yes! this man is soo pussy whipped, he'd do anything for reader. ty for the request, babe!

two hours of you giving rafe the cold shoulder it's all it takes for him to break. he knows he fucked up greatly, but you're just being so mean that he cannot help the way his lips curl into a pout as he kneels in front of you, pleading for your forgiveness.

only you could get rafe motherfucking cameron to beg like this.

"baby, 'm so, so sorry," he apologizes, big hands gripping onto your plush thighs tightly so you can't get away from him this time, not again. "forgive me, yeah? i know i screwed up, and i'm sorry."

his lips start peppering kisses over the sliver of bare skin under the hem of your top as he keeps muttering words of repentance, the actions making your heart melt. "it won't happen again, i promise to you, angel."

"i'm really pissed at you right now, rafe," you address him for the first time in hours, voice tone sharp.

he doesn't care how cold you sound, though, the fact that you're finally talking to him instead of ignoring his presence nearly makes him cry happy tears. how embarrassing is that? he can't believe you got him this hooked. he should be the one in charge, not you, but, let's be honest, he's too in love with you to even care anymore.

"i know, baby, i'm sorry," he repeats for the hundredth time, puppy, blue eyes staring up at you entreatingly. "what can i do for you to forgive me? i'll do anything, just please, stop being mad."

"anything?"

a mischievous smirk spreads across your pretty face, your mind already conjuring up all the filthy ways he could make it up to you.

"anything, angel."

that's how he ends up tied up to the bed, hands desperately tugging at the fluffy, pink handcuffs in a failed attempt to break free of them while you ride his pretty face. he's fucking drowning in your pussy, dick achingly hard inside his pants.

what a shame you won't make him cum this time, as a little punishment.

your hips rock against his face unabashedly, feeling the way his eager tongue parts your chubby folds to drink up your sweet essence, occasionally slipping inside your pussy to fuck you with it. his nose is rubbing your puffy clit every time you grind down, which has you mewling and shuddering atop him.

"i love you so much, baby," he'd mumble against your cunt, totally mesmerised by the hypnotic sway of your hips and your taste.

your flesh muffle his words and grunts, but you understand what he says and look down at him with adoring eyes, just to find him staring up at you in the same way, pink lips glistening with a combination of your arousal and his spit.

the sight is enough to send you spiralling into a mind blowing orgasm that makes you let out the most lewd moan you've ever made, body shaking as your legs close around his head, almost suffocating him.

"fuck, i love you too," you breath out, the aftershocks of your climax making your brain dizzy. "i forgive you, rafey."

honestly, he doesn't quite understand how this could be a punishment for him, but he's not one to complain.

more.

[hopesworlld]

౨ৎ got to love me harder, baby

౨ৎ 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 — jealous!anakin x fem!reader

౨ৎ 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 — anakin doesn't make you cum, so then he does again, and again, and again

౨ৎ 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 — 1k

౨ৎ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 — swearing, insecure anakin, anakin kinda scares reader for a sec, smut ( unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, spanking, oral sex f receiving, fingering, pinching, over stimulation ) think that’s all !

౨ৎ 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸𝘀 ! — i was possessed by some sort of smut demon and wrote this in a haze in about 30 minutes and i kinda love it. so thank you for requesting this i loved writing it !

part one ( kinda ) part three masterlist

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“holy shit,” anakin hissed, burying himself deeper inside of you, his hips twitching with the force of his thrusts, the sick squelch of your juices echoing around the room as anakin chased his relief, glasses askew on his face in such a way that it could have been endearing had his cock not been bullying your cervix. “feel so good, baby,” he told you, eyes meeting your, piercing blue stained onyx with lust. 

“ani, just like that, oh my god,” you cried, lifting your hips from the bed to meet his thrusts, grinning at the way anakin gasped, eyes rolling into the back of his head, he was sheened with sweat, golden skin glimmering beneath the dull lamplight, he looked ethereal, lips red and flushed, tongue lolling to the side as he hammered into you, closer, closer… 

“i’m gonna cum,” anakin told you, words babbled, as he sank into you once again, you could feel your own phantom relief curling up your spine, sinking into your core in white hot flashes, but as quickly as it had started it began to ebb away as anakin let go, a cry escaping his lips as he came flooding your gummy walls with thick hot spurts of cum, he continued to thrust for a few moments, fucking you through the oversensitivity before going still and collapsing down atop of you. 

“good boy,” you whispered, brushing your hands through his amber curls, “did so good for me, angel,” you murmured, planting soft kisses along his hairline, the taste of salt lingering on your tongue. 

“you… did you cum?” anakin asked, pulling back, his eyebrow pulled into a firm line, you smiled at him gently, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to his pouty lips. “you didn’t… i didn’t feel you?” his lips trembled, tears welling in his pretty blue eyes. 

“it’s okay, ani, i’m okay,” you told him with a reassuring smile but anakin shook his head, he pulled backward, tugging his cock free from your soaking core, looking down at the mix of your juices and his cum spilling from you with glaring hatred. 

“no, you think that's okay?” he growled out, “think it’s okay that i can’t make my girl cum?” he demanded, searching your face for answers but he didn’t seem to find what he was searching for, “you think i’m pathetic don’t you? can’t give you what you need,” you quickly shook your head, pushing yourself upwards on the bed and reaching out, cupping anakin’s cheeks between you palms but he pushed you off, anger flashing in his teary eyes. “don’t,” he ground out, voice trembling.

“anakin, calm down,” you said soothingly, “lots of girls can’t just come from penetrative sex, it's not your fault it was just a bit fast tonight, you always make me feel so good, okay, a one-off doesn’t matter,” you told him, but your words fell upon deaf ears, if anything your words seemed to upset him more as he grasped your shoulders and shoved you back down onto the bed, your head slamming against the pillows, you gasped, looking to anakin with wide eyes but he was gone. you had never seen him look so… feral, his chest was heaving, tears staining his pretty face but he looked mad, more angry than you had ever seen him and you couldn’t help the little burst of panic that flared in your stomach. “ani,” you whispered unsurely. 

“you think i can’t make you cum?” he asked, words like ice as he stared down at you. 

“i didn’t say that,” you argued helplessly but anakin didn’t seem to care what you had to say right now as he grasped your thighs with both hands and wrenched them open, spreading you out before him, his grip was harsh and you were sure if he continued like this he would leave bruises along the delicate skin. 

“i’ll fucking show you,” he muttered and you were unsure if he was even talking to you anymore or himself, but you didn't have time to overthink it as anakin buried himself between your thighs, plunging his face into your cunt and sucking your clit into his mouth, a surprised moan fell from your lips as anakin suckled on the bundle of nerves with vigor. anakin had eaten you out many times before, but usually, it was soft, gentle licks and caresses with his tongue before he delicately entered his fingers into your sopping hole and opened you up for him, but right now, he was fucking devouring you. he switched between sucking on your slit and licking large stripes from your core up to the top. 

it was messy, the sticky sounds of your release coating his tongue and him slurping as he took every little thing your body gave him. it wasn’t long before you came for the first time, completely mesmerised by the sight of anakin between your thighs, and the way he ate you out like a man starved. you thought that was it as you finally came down from your high, body tingling, but anakin didn't pull away, instead, the spill of juices that escaped you seemed to encapture him more, he greedily sunk his tongue into your gummy walls desperate for more. 

“anakin,” you moaned, hands falling to his curls and tugging slightly, trying to pull him away from your sensitive cunt but he yanked your hands away and planted a firm slap on your thigh that had you screaming, pain mixing with pleasure as anakin went down on you. you had never seen him this worked up, so dominant with you, usually he liked your guidance, and whispered words of assurance as he kissed your cunt to release, but right now he was pussy drunk. completely lost in your taste as he went back to your clit, slipping two fingers into your cunt and pumping, a cry fell from your lips as you jerked against him, but anakin didn’t stop, instead curling his fingers inside of you hitting that spot that made your toes curl. “fuck,” you screamed as another orgasm crashed over you, your vision went white and everything around you seemed to spin, but still anakin wasn’t done. 

“anakin, please, i can’t,” you gasped, once again trying to pull him away from your swollen cunt but anakin scowled at you, eyes rasing from your cunt for only a moment and the look he sent you worked almost immediately as you fell silent. he began lapping at your clit, little kitten licks before switching to larger drags of his tongue, his face was soaked, a mess of cum and drool, you whimpered as he began to pump his fingers faster, slipping a third one in to continue the stimulation as he played with your clit. 

“oh my god,” you shouted, “ani, i don’t know if i can cum again,” you hissed as he harshly suckled your clit back between his lips, grazing his teeth over the most sensitive part and you were falling once again. this orgasm even more powerful than the last, it crashed through you, welling in your stomach and coming to a crescendo, and you screamed, tears spilling from your eyes as you thrashed against the pillows, face soaked with sweat and sticking stray hairs to your forehead and temple. 

“ani,” you screamed hoarsely as he once again locked himself between your thighs, arms warped around your ankles like a vice so you couldn’t escape, your hips writhed against him as he suckled your lips, tongue sliding across your sopping hole, slurping and swallowing you whole. you had never felt such intense pleasure in such a short amount of time in your life, your legs were aching, tears spilling down your cheeks as you cried out, begging for him to stop, or never stop, you weren't sure what you wanted. all you knew is that anakin had ruined you for anyone else, he has always been it for you, from the moment you met, but now, you knew you could never leave, not as he sank his tongue back inside of you and pulled one of his hands free to pinch as your clit, it was hard, his blunt nails sinking into the sensitive skin but it was enough to send you spiraling. 

you couldn’t be a hundred percent of what had happened next, all you remembered was tears spilling down your cheeks and screams pouring from your lips as you hit the peak of pleasure and your entire body went rigid, but when you managed to tear your eyes open once again anakin was hovering over you, a bright smile twisted on his cum soaked lips. 

“ani?” you whimpered, sobs ripping from your throat, your entire body was trembling and your legs felt numb, your mind fuzzy from pleasure as you looked up at him with wide eyes. 

“baby,” he crooned, leaning down and pecking your lips, smearing your face with your release. “did so well for me,” he said happily while you could only blink up at him, jaw slacked. “you’ve never cum that hard before have you, sweetie?” he asked and all you could do was shake your head dumbly. “that’s why you need me, always gonna make you feel good, aren’t i?” and you nodded in agreement, completely blissed out as anakin sank down beside you. 

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feel free to send me more horny asks guys i’m home for two weeks for easter and need some entertainment while i’m here ! mwah !

tags: @johnbassplayercutie @anakinscrybaby

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hi baby!! dont worry!! it was about reader getting so stressed and annoyed while building a gingerbread house that they throw it in the garbage because its going all wrong and carmy finds it hilarious lol then he builds one for her hehe<3 love u

Perfectionist.

Your boyfriend being a professional chef has its perks - especially when it comes to gingerbread houses.

pairing - carmen berzatto x female reader warnings - cursing word count - under 1k!! short and sweet author's note - just a little dose of carmy at christmas for you. thanks baby angel for sending this request in (twice!!) <3

masterlist. inbox.

"Fuck this."

Carmy hears your raised voice and immediately comes running, coming to a halt in the doorway of the kitchen.

"You good, baby?"

"No."

The frown on your face is amusing him to no end, fighting to keep his smile from breaking out. He doesn't want to minimise your feelings, but you're cutest when you're mad.

Carmy takes in the scene in front of him, surveying carefully. There's chunks of gingerbread scattered across the table, icing dripping from the tablecloth. Your kitchen looks like a candy store exploded - sweets in red, green and blue littered over every surface. You're caked in frosting, hair falling into your eyes as you take deep breaths to try to keep your anger at bay.

"I knew this wouldn't be easy, but fuck me, Carmy... I'm on the brink of a breakdown here."

He makes his way over, grinning like an idiot. It's not often he gets to help you with things - you're fiercely independent, determined to get stuff done all by yourself. He likes teaching you, getting to feel like he's easing your worries a little.

"You want my help?"

"I said I'd do it," you huff, on the verge of stamping your feet and pushing the table over.

"It won't kill you to ask for what you need, baby."

You roll your eyes, bottom lip caught between your teeth. It's difficult for you to admit defeat, but you might rip your hair out if your gingerbread collapses one more time.

"Can you help me, Carm?" you whisper.

"What was that, honey? Say it again?"

You sigh in exasperation, slumping back into your chair.

"Can you help me, Carmen? Please?"

He beams at you like the cat that got the cream, making his way over to sit next to you at the table.

"Lets start again, hmm?"

"Good idea."

You pick up the remnants of your gingerbread house and throw them so forcefully, the trash can almost tips over. Carmy laughs, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

"I think we've finally found the one thing you're not good at, honey. It's a Christmas miracle."

You can't help but chuckle, leaning your head back to rest against his shoulder. He presses a kiss or four into your neck, nosing at the spot under your ear.

"Okay, Mr Michelin Star. Show me what you got."

You bake, first, Carmy explaining how to get the perfect texture you need for structural soundness. He even gets out a ruler, measuring the rolled out dough so the sides will be even.

He kisses you lazily while your gingerbread is in the oven. You're propped up on the counter as he stands between your legs, arms thrown around his shoulders. He tastes like cinnamon and spice, groaning when you lick the sugar straight from his tongue.

When it's cooled, you begin your assembly, sitting back while Carmy trims and remeasures. He draws out a template with a pencil and cuts accordingly, ensuring each piece has a straight edge. You watch in awe as he works, so careful, so attentive. You're fighting not to jump his bones at any given moment.

It's time to build, and Carmy has the perfect plan. He's made a thickened sugar syrup that acts as a glue, hardening when it dries and keeping everything together. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he concentrates, determined not to mess this up for you.

He steps back, then, to let you decorate. You clearly have a vision, your picturesque idea of what you wanted your original creation to look like. Carmy makes you multiple bags of icing in different colours, and melts down candies so you can make windows and doors. He opens packets of chocolates, and carves into them with a knife to make little trees for the yard.

Hours later, when you're both covered in powdered sugar and melted chocolate, you step back to admire your masterpiece.

"Holy shit, Carm."

"We did good, huh?"

"Is there like, a business in this? Can we do this for a living?"

He laughs, the sound vibrating through you from where his chest his pressed to your back. He's got you tightly in his arms, swaying gently to the soft music that plays from the radio.

"What were you saying about finding the one thing I wasn't good at, Berzatto? Hmm?"

He spins you, pressing his forehead into yours.

"I take it back. I take it all back, baby. You're good at everything."

"Especially gingerbread houses."

"Especially gingerbread houses."

You lean up to kiss him, wiping some frosting off his cheek with your thumb.

"Thanks for not making me feel like an idiot."

"I would never. Life is a learning curve, baby, You taught me that."

"I love you," you whisper. "And just so you know, we're never eating that. It's going to have to be display only."

He laughs, full chested and whole hearted, moving his hands to cradle your face.

"I love you too, baker extraordinaire. We don't need to eat it, anyway. We've got all this candy to get through."

You reach behind him to pick up a chocolate, tossing it into your mouth.

"It isn't as sweet as you," you wink.

A blush rises up his cheeks as he rolls his eyes, pulling you in closer.

"Merry Christmas, baby."

"Merry Christmas, Carmen."

[elllisaaa]

i saw that you said you like writing "bf!thoughts" so i was wondering if you could make one abt jeonghan ??? 🤭

BF!JEONGHAN who can be a little menace when he wants to because it's in his nature, but everyone can see the very obvious soft spot he has for you.

from the outside, the way jeonghan is always teasing you and the way you're always getting back at him can seem a little strange, but all your friends know that it's only your way to communicate. in public, jeonghan is not very touchy even if he always stays close to you and that you never leaves his sight. but in private, he's so affectionate that it's hard to think that it's the same man. and it's only because he feels so at ease, so safe with you that he allows himself to be this vulnerable. it's not rare for him to go home exhausted and fall directly in your embrace, your fingers threading through his hair and massaging his scalp because it's his favourite thing ever - he almost purrs like a cat every time you do that. jeonghan is a little cuddle bug that only wants to be loved once you and him are alone, and you're more than happy to provide him that. also, he's never not sleeping in your arms and when he's particularly tired, he will ask to be the little spoon.

"i just want you to hold me close tonight angel."

jeonghan loves to hear you talk about the things you're passionate about, sometimes striking up conversations about a subject you're particularly interested in just to see that little sparkle in your eyes when you explain to him some complicated biology concept he doesn't even understand. whenever you go on a rant like that, he looks at you with the softest eyes and it makes you melt every time. as i mentioned before, he's a good listener, meaning that he always knows what to say or to do to help you feel better and that he will stay there listening to you for hours if you need to get something out of your chest. usually, you do the talking, both because jeonghan loves the sound of your voice but also because he prefers to show his love through acts of service ; like doing the dishes or cleaning your apartment for you, doing the laundry or the groceries when you're caught up with work or uni. it's his own way of telling you that he loves you immensely.

"it's nothing much angel, i know you hate it when your apartment is a mess. you know you can count me, right ?"

even if you're his girlfriend, that doesn't jeonghan from teasing you. he's even more playful with you because he knows that you can get back at him and that he knows you enough to not cross any boundaries. and if that does ever happen - which is very rare - jeonghan is quick to say sorry and to remind you that you're his favourite person in the world. he also loves to be praised by you, every compliment you give to him makes a cocky smirk appear on his face. but sometimes, when you blurt out some praises out of the blue, jeonghan can't help but blush a little and stumble over his words as he tries to find a clever response. but often, his heart beats too fast for him to think straight. when he's like that, he hides his face in the crook of your neck and whines about how mean you are because he can't cope with you being so sweet.

"yah ! don't say it like that, you're gonna make me blush."

BF!JEONGHAN who doesn't stop being a menace when you take things to the bedroom, in fact he becomes a little monster.

of course this man is the master of edging, there is literally not a single day passing by without you being edged. once he starts denying your orgasms, he won't stop until you're crying and begging for him to let you cum. jeonghan loves to have control over the pleasure you get, and that extends even to when you can touch yourself or not when he's away. that is only because he loves when you're all needy and desperate for him. jeonghan is always ripping one or two orgasms away from you with either his fingers or his tongue before even giving you his cock. and when he finally does, he doesn't let you cum before he's satisfied with how much he ruined you. when jeonghan feels the need to torture you even more, he takes out the toys, forcing a vibrator against your clit until you're squirming around saying that he's too mean, and he just looks at you with a smirk on his face. the way you're repeating "thank you" over and over when he finally lets you cum over his cock is what really gets him going.

"wanna cum ? not yet angel, i want to touch you some more. you can wait for me, right ?"

jeonghan loves it when you're needy for him, think it's cute and arousing to have you so desperate for him sometimes, but that doesn't mean he won't tease you about it, be that through actions or words. he's totally capable of putting in only the tip of his cock because he wants to see you cry for him. and he will definitely degrade you through his words - telling you that you're pathetic when you're begging for his attention, calling you a slut when you ask to suck his cock, calling you a whore when you're whining for more as he's fucking you at the slowest pace possible. it's cute how you try to deny his words as best as you can, how you try to do anything and everything to please him and do better. but that doesn't stop jeonghan from cooing at you with a condescending tone every time, until tears gather in your eyes. though, he's a king at taking care of you after - praises, a glass of water and all the kisses you need.

"what did you say ? you want more ? you're such a slut for my cock, always so greedy for it."

he still has some more loving moments, especially when he's tired and needs to relax. when he's too exhausted to fuck you himself, jeonghan lets you get on top of him and ride his cock, his hands weakly helping you move your hips up and down. the prettiest airy moans slip from his lips every time you drop down on his dick, and he's often quick to cum, too tired to hold back - and you're happy to help him relax. jeonghan also loves to be taken care of sometimes, and when you're all over him, it both inflates his ego and turns him on. he adores when he just came home and you're already eager to drop down on your knees and take him in your mouth. he likes to be cocky about how you're the one being always needy for him, but the moment your lips or hands wrap around his shaft, his brain turns to mush and he cannot think about anything else than covering your hand in his cum, especially when he's had a long day.

"don't stop angel, you're so good at this, gonna cum all over your pretty face."

[priceyprice]

Simon is not a believer.

He doesn't believe in things like the earth is flat, aliens are green with antlers, superstitions, and other things. He doesn't believe in angels, demons, myths like greek mythology or spirits —instead of ghosts, he believes that spirits are a form of energy and not just a white silhouette of a person—, he's not of a much believer of anything. He hardly has emotions, years of shutting down everything he felt since all his trajectory and his dark past, so there's no way he believes in something.

Oh, that's until he saw her.

The moment he saw her, the thought of not believing in angels was vanished like the thin smoke of a cigarette.

She was standing in front of him, introducing herself like the new member of the team with her sweet voice that sounded like honey dripping from her soft lips. Her face was soft and delicate, something he had never seen before. When she extended her hand for a handshake, the soft texture of her almost melted him on the spot. How can she be a sergeant with that delicate face? How can she kill on the battlefield with those soft hands?

She was a true angel.

A few weeks later, when they were on a mission, Simon realized how much he underestimated her.

She could kill like a demon.

She could kill anyone in matter of seconds. There was no remorse or sympathy behind those pretty eyes the second she stepped into battleground.

Now, Simon believes in angels and demons.

Almost a year later, when Simon finally was in a relationship with her, he discovered other beliefs.

His room was filled with soft moans, whimpers, and the sound of the bed creaking. His hands were on her waist as hers were on his broad shoulders. He was sitting on the edge of the bed while she was on top of him riding him like her life depended on it.

Their kisses were messy and sloppy, teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance, not caring of anyone who would pass in front of the room, abusing of his power as they know no one will snitch on the lieutenant.

Her hands roamed down to his chest, taking him by surprise when she pushed him down so he was lying completely on his bed. His eyes found hers, confused about why she used all that force on him, thinking maybe she didn't wanna do it anymore.

Before he could process what was happening again, she started to ride him again faster. A low growl formed on her throat.

Simon hissed and closed his eyes for a second. "Fuck... you're too fast."

"I don't care." She answered, almost sounding like a whimper.

His hands flew to her hips, and he opened his eyes, only to found the most perfect view he could ever had.

Her hair was disheveled, his impatient hands taking the blame for all her strands in different directions. Her expression was contorted to one of pure ecstasy and a few rebel strands of hair and droplets of sweat adorning her forehead. Her skin was glowing like the morning sun rising up behind the mountains. Her hips moved like the waves on a night with a full moon. Her soft skin against his was like the clouds adorning the very blue sky.

That's when Simon came to the realization that he believed in something more.

In goddesses.

She looked like a total goddess trying to search for her release, panting and sweating, up and down, using him for reaching that state of pure bliss.

When they finished, they lay down on his bed, hugging each other without saying anything. Skin red and sweaty, covers dirty and wrinkled, room smelling like sex and their scents. They didn't care as long as they were embracing each other and forgetting about the world after his room door.

At that moment, Simon started to believe in something else.

Heaven.

As much as he wanted to avoid the bitter events, he couldn't simply do it. One day, on a mission trying to find a gang leader and a human trafficker, they kidnapped his lover. Leaving no trace behind to have a clue and save her.

The way his heart fell from his chest was worse than any other things he had experienced in life. Those gang members took away his reason to live, his reason to breathe, his reason to love.

Simon discovered another belief that day.

Hell.

And he will bring hell to every person who touched even a single strand of hair from his lover.

He will bring the devil himself just to save her.

[Part 1 here]

[Part 3 here]

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[vashs-turtleneck]

Spoiled Rotten.

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY) Summary: Vash's idea of you spoiling him isn't what you had in mind, but if it makes him happy... Pairing: Vash the Stampede x f!reader Word count: 3.1k Content: smut, face riding, oral (f! receiving), established relationship, pwp

NSFW BELOW, 18+ ONLY, MDNI!

It's been a frustrating few days, finding yourselves travelling between towns without being able to catch a break from all the bandits hot on your tails. The previous town was particularly awful, barely managing to step into the damn place before being chased out by the townsfolk cursing the humanoid typhoon's name. He's hiding how much it's bothering him, but you can tell Vash is feeling less than under the weather.

When he gets like this, it's not uncommon for him to seek out your touch when you're finally in private, under the roof of some worn down inn, his arms circling your waist, his face pressing against the back of your neck.

"Mayfly..." He whispers huskily, shakily, like he's trying desperately to hold himself back, his breath hot on your skin.

"Please."

He doesn't have to say anything more for you to know what he's looking for. He wants solace, a chance to forget the world for even just a moment, and you're more than happy to give it to him.

It's not long before his lips are on yours in a heated kiss, before all your clothes are scattered all over the floor of the dusty room, your back pressed against the worn linen of the bed, his body caging yours beneath him, looking down at you like you're something to be worshipped.

It should be the other way around. With everything he's been through, be it recently or decades prior, it should be you looking down at him in marvel right now, worshipping every inch of his patchwork skin until his face is filled with nothing but blissful euphoria.

His mouth is on your neck, lips and and teeth sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin while his hands trace the curves of your naked body.

"Vash..." You whisper out softly, your hand tangling through his soft blonde hair.

"Yes, mayfly?" He breaths out against your neck, not pausing his ministrations as his tongue traces patterns against your skin.

"I- I want-" Your words get cut off as he sucks on a particularly sensitive part of your neck, stealing your breath. You know that he knows exactly what he's doing too, because you can feel the smirk on his face as you trip over your words.

"What do you want? Anything for you. Just tell me."

'Anything for you.'

Yeah, you know. You know he's always so eager to put your pleasure far before his own. Right now though, what you want is nothing more than for him to let you take care of him for once. If there's something that could help him forget the guilt he feels dragging him down every waking moment, you want to know what it is. Yet, he's always so tricky and coy, even when you're trying to take care of him, somehow always managing to turn the tables and make the evening all about your pleasure every time.

"I wanna take care of you." You whisper shakily, his relentless tongue dancing along your pulse point, carving a subtle arch into your spine.

"Hm?" His mouth leaves your neck, finally giving you a moment to breathe, his head tilting up towards yours and those pretty baby blues staring at you curiously. "What do you mean?"

"I wanna do something for you, Vash."

But he just chuckles softly at you, shaking his head as his thumbs trace little circles into your waist.

"You're already doing plenty for me. Just lay there and keep looking pretty, angel."

He goes to dive back towards your neck, but you swiftly press your palm to his mouth to stop him, his azure eyes blinking wide in confusion at you as he mumbles an incoherent 'mmgh?' against your hand.

"Oh come on, you know what I mean. Let me take care of you, please? I wanna do something special for you." You tell him, your fingertips moving to trail along his jawline.

"You don't have to do anything for me, mayfly. I'm perfectly happy right here."

You sigh, feigning annoyance at his reluctance to tell you what he wants. He's so difficult when it comes to his own urges, but tonight, you're keen on getting the words out of his mouth.

"Really? You don't have anything you can think of that you'd like?"

And you don't miss the slight flicker in his eyes, but he says nothing, staring at you silently as his cheeks start to turn pink.

"Oh, you do have something in mind, then." You tease, pushing him a little further, resting your hand on his cheek as you wait for his answer.

"W-Well... y'know..." Vash says sheepishly, his face flushing a deep scarlet now.

Your eyes narrow on him, tilting your head as you wait for him to tell you. Your curious expression only flushes him more. Why do you have to always be so cute and caring? Always so willing to fulfill his desires.

"I guess there has been... something I've been thinking about." He mumbles shyly, his eyes not quite meeting yours as his cute little blush covers his handsome features.

"Tell me." You press a chaste kiss to his cheekbone, right on that adorable little mole beneath his eye. "I wanna make you happy. Wanna spoil you."

Your words make his heart soar. What he did to ever deserve someone like you, he'll never know, but you're a blessing he'll never stop thanking universe for.

"Oh, mayfly. You always make me happy." He coos, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he plants a featherlight kiss to the corner of your mouth. "And you spoil me every time you give me the pleasure of being with you so... so intimately."

He can tell by the look in your eyes that you're still intent on indulging him tonight, so with a breathy chuckle and an exasperated sigh, he gives in.

"You really don't give up, do you?" He says playfully, but despite his initial reluctance, he can't deny the part of him that wants to let you spoil him, his thoughts sending a new wave of heat straight down to his already throbbing cock.

"Alright, let me just..." Vash rolls off of you, laying his back flat against the creaky bed before he holds his hands out to you and gestures you to come closer.

Oh, does he just want a blowjob? Easy enough.

You go to situate yourself between his legs, your hands already reaching for his cock before he jolts up and gently graps your wrists.

"Oh n-no, mayfly! That's not what I meant." He sputters, letting go of your wrists and rubbing the back of his head with his prosthetic. He looks away when he sees the puzzled look on your face.

"I mean, not that I don't like that. I actually really like that, and you're really good at it too. You're always so good to me. You're too good for m-" You press your finger to his lips to shut him up. He's rambling, clearly flustered now. You know he's always had a hard time voicing his needs and wants, never feeling like he deserves to have them fulfilled in the first place, but your mind is set on spoiling him tonight, and you want to know what he wants.

"Vash, love, relax. It's okay. Just tell me what you want, okay?" He nods against your finger on his lips, azure eyes looking at you so intently you feel like you might drown in them. You move your finger from his lips, gently cupping his face as you wait for him to speak.

"I want..." His words trail off again, overcome with this overwhelming shyness to share his desires with you, but there's also this intense longing in his eyes. "Mayfly, I want you to... to sit on my face."

You blink.

Oh.

Oh.

"S-Sit?"

Vash looks at you, blushing with a sheepish little grin on his handsome face as he nods.

"Mhmm. I've been wanting this for a while actually, just been nervous to ask you."

Of course. How like Vash. Of course his idea of indulging himself would be to have your cunt pressed in his face while he pleasures you.

"Only if you want to, of course!" He sputters nervously. "If it's not something you want, that's okay, I don't mind. Really!"

"Well, of course I want to, but..." You trail off. The thought of Vash plunging his tongue deep inside you as he pulls your hips to his face sounds like the best idea he's ever had, but you can't help but feel like it's a bit one-sided.

"But I wanted to do something for you, Vash."

You can see him trying to hide just how excited he is, like he can't contain the beaming smile creeping up on his face. His hand trace along the curves over your body before resting on your hips, his excited grin quickly being replaced by a hungry smirk.

"Oh trust me, mayfly. This is for me."

His sultry tone sends a wave of heat down between your legs. His hands are already strongly gripping your hips, urging you to shift yourself forward as he gets comfortable on the bed.

"Come. Sit. Spoil me. Please." He purrs.

With his hands guiding your hips, you climb up the length of his body until his head is situated between your thighs, giving him an incredibly intimate view of you, his pretty baby blues fluttering between your face and your pussy with an eager little smile on his face.

"Just tap on my leg if you need me to get off of you, okay?" You say, feeling his soft hair tickle the insides of your thighs.

"Like I'd ever tap out." He chuckles as his hands gently trace the curves of your hips and thighs, waiting impatiently to have them soundly pressed against his face.

Vash groans audibly, his eyes fluttering as he watches your cunt drop against his greedy tongue, your thighs pressing down on each side of his head, encasing him between your legs, exactly where he wants to be. His deepest desire was manifesting itself in this very moment, the lewd fantasy of greedily pulling apart your wet cunt as you ride his face to your heart's content finally becoming a reality. His tongue immediately begins to lick at your sex, tasting you as he wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer, holding you in place and urging you to ride his mouth. He groans as your moist heat swallows his face, a shiver running up his spine as his breaths catch in his throat. His lips curl into a smug grin as his tongue brushes against your sweet, soft flesh, moaning softly, relishing in the taste of you.

"Mmm, you spoil me, angel," he whispers, his voice low and hoarse, trembling ever so slightly, like he quite contain how excited he is right now. "Let me drown in you."

Vash has always been quite enthusiastic when it comes to eating you out, taking his time and savoring you like he's trying to make it last as long as he can, wringing out your pleasure and enjoying every drop you have to give him.

But this time is different. He's ravenous, hungry, his mouth latched to your slit like his life depends on it. He's taking his frustrations from these last few days out on your pussy in the best way possible, completely gorging himself on your body in a way that has you already seeing stars. You have to grip the bedframe firmly to keep yourself hovering above his face, your legs trembling from the onslaught of pleasure he's so lovingly wrecking your cunt with.

"Mayfly..." You hear his hoarse, lust striken voice call out to you. When you gaze down, you see his hazy blue eyes staring back up at you, glassed over with a deep hunger that you don't see often.

"I told you to sit." He says, emphasizing his point but gently pulling your thighs down harder, dropping more of your weight onto him.

You're surprised as he tugs you down, but you maintain your weight, holding yourself up, whining out a weak little, "I- I don't want to smother you."

He chuckles at you, licking a teasing stripe from your inviting little entrance all the way up to your clit just to hear your voice crack with pleasure.

"I want you to smother me." He breathes out, his words completely genuine despite how lewd they are. "I'll be fine. I'm tough." He adds with a playful wink.

His eyes are filled with pure, unadulterated elation, looking up at you like you're the one doing him a favor, like worshipping every inch of your pussy is the sweetest gift you can grant him, and if it's what makes him happy, you'll give it to him.

You lower your hips down towards him, letting your weight fall against his face while his hands lovingly support your body, a sweet sigh leaving his wet lips.

"Good girl," he whispers, his voice trembling with anticipation, his eyes glued to your most intimate areas as he feels you drop down on him. "That's it. Just press your weight down on me, baby. Don't worry about me."

Strong hands encase your thighs, pulling you down eagerly and parting your knees further, opening up every hidden bit of your drooling flesh to his greedy mouth, his tongue expertly dancing over every intimate corner of your pussy.

One of your impatient hands lets go of the bedfreame to grip at his soft blonde locks between your thighs, eliciting a needful, longing groan from the man beneath you. He growls as he presses his face into your plush folds, his nose teasing your clit with every hungry movement of his mouth.

"Oh fuuuck, mayfly."

Vash shivers as he feels the touch of your thighs spreading further apart, his fingers gripping the meat of your legs as he holds you in place, devouring you like a meal. His tongue flicks against your lower lips before wrapping his mouth around your sensitive little bud, making you gasp and shiver as he looks up at you.

You feel the cool metal of his prosthetic slowly release its grip on your thighs, his fingers gently slipping underneath you. You feel his dexterous digits spreading your pussy open, holding back your wet folds and exposing your aching entrance to himself. His tongue flicks and slides against your drooling hole, his breath catching in his throat as his mouth fills with your dripping arousal. You moan out wantonly when you feel his hot, skillful muscle push inside you, gathering your slick on his tongue like your juices are a reward.

The taste of you, the sound of you, it's all too damn much for the man lovingly nestled between your thighs right now, turning him on so much that he can feel his cock aching to plunge himself deep inside you. Yet he wouldn't dream of leaving his spot between your legs, every little whimper and whine that leaves the tip of your tongue only further fueling the fire burning inside him.

His hips begin to move, his cock pathetically thrusting upwards into the air above him in tandem with his tongue as he works your cunt, his body tense with need as he looks up at you with hungry eyes. A low moan escapes the humanoid typhoon, his lips spreading apart as his flesh hand moves to grip your ass and pull even closer to his face.

"M-Mayfly..." He says, his voice sultry and low, sending vibrations through your pussy that shake you to the marrow, his tongue blindly mapping your drooling sex as he pushes and pulls your body and forces you to grind against his face. "Fuck, angel. Keep using my mouth."

Despite being concerned for the muscles in his neck and his ability to breathe, you give in to what he wants, gently swaying your hips and letting yourself fuck his face the way he wants you to. His eyes glow brightly as he watches you, his tongue relentlessly stroking against your flesh as you pleasure yourself on his face until you feel like you might burst.

"Spoil me more. Drown me in you," he says breathily, relishing in the knowledge that he can make you spew such pretty noises and make your eyes roll back until all he can see is white.

"Va- Vash!" You cry out his name like a choir between frantic gasps for air, feeling your body about to explode in a pleasure.

Your climax hits you like a typhoon, slamming into you with such roaring intensity that would have had you falling over had it not been for the bedframe and Vash's strong grip on you. You hear a mewling whimper leave his lips, muffled by your body, and you feel him spasm and twitch beneath you before he comes along with you, plastering his chest, thighs, and even a bit of your back with hot spurts of his seed.

Despite the mind-numbing orgasm you're both still feeling the aftershocks of, you don't feel him pause for even a moment, his lips and tongue continuing to greedily devour your twitching and pulsing sex like he's in some love drunk haze, drinking the floods of your arousal like it's second nature.

Oh god, he's not stopping, his tongue lapping and swirling and overstimulating you until you feel like you're about to implode. Funny enough, it's you that ends up tapping out, fingers tangling through his blonde wisps to get his attention.

"Va- ah! -sh, t-too much!" You whimper out, gently tugging at his hair, to which he only moans out deeply in response.

"Mmmm, 'm sorry..." Vash murmurs hoarsly, licking one last firm and hungry stripe along your sopping cunt before his grip on you finally loosens.

You carefully move off his face, situating yourself on his chest as you take in deep gulps of air. When you finally look down at him, you're dumbstruck by the heavenly sight of him. His eyes are glassed over and hazy, his face flushed a pretty scarlet all the way down to his heaving chest, his own cum painting his abdomen, dripping down the meat of his thighs, dousing the twisted sheets beneath him, your juices coating his face as his tongue absentmindedly licks away the taste of you. He almost looks drunk, completely and blissfully fucked out.

"Vash, are you oka-"

"Can we do that again? Please? Please, mayfly?"

And who are you to deny him when he looks like he's drowning in the crypts of euphoria and begs you so gleefully.

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

If someone were to have asked you what music you thought MODERN!ANAKIN SKYWALKER listens to, you would've had no idea what to say. Even now you're a little confused, as some alternative-rock crossed with hazy indie dream-pop plays in the room while you're seated on top of him. His large hands clamped on your hips have you rocking faithfully over him, his head of wild curls propped up by the pillow underneath it, intense eyes boring into yours as you listen to music that you would've described as "a little depressing." It's what he chose, and the steady beat reminds you to take your time grinding down on him. The rhythm of your hips match the tempo, and you slow your roll. Every deliberate movement of your body ripples your muscle and tissue in a most delicious way, the kind of demonstration that has Anakin's teeth aching to bite into it. "That's it, angel, you like showing me how pretty you look on my dick?" There's an edge to his voice, lower than usual, gruffer. A darkness in his eyes as he blows a breath through his flared nostrils when he adjusts, jostling you in a way that brushes his tip against your cervix.

You curse, and brace against his broad chest with a splayed hand. "Baby, you gotta be careful. I'm not ready yet." you confess, rutting through the minute sting as his blunt fingernails dig into your skin. You try to distract yourself, give yourself some time to loosen up. "What are we listening to?"

Through furrowed brows and a breath he sucks in, he answers you, "Glare, Quannnic, Loathe, a little Deftones. Do you want something else?" By the sound of it, he knows not everyone shares his music taste, and you tilt your head at him, endeared by the way his tongue sticks out between his lips. Obviously he doesn't take it personally if you choose something else.

"No, no. I like it." you say, winded. Even if it's a little slow, you try to take advantage of the opportunity for more conscious sex. Less about getting to the end as quickly as possible, and letting waves travel through your body, moving like fluid over him to massage his cock with your insides.

"Oh, fuck, princess. I like it like that. Keep moving it like that." his praises shoot straight through you, loosening you up enough to ride him a little harder. Those blue eyes focus where your bodies conjoin, watching the glimpse of his shaft peer through your lips as you rock. Your cute little clit brushes his trail of pubic hair with each move, and he bites down hard onto his lip. He can feel you getting wetter, more flexible. He glances up to meet your gaze, his abdomen curling to flex and protrude every muscle as he fights himself to stay put and not take over. "Are you ready yet? Can I fuck it?"

[a-ikuoliver]

HAPPY BLOG BIRTHDAY 🎂🎉🎈glad you're here!

This event looks so fun and cute. The menu is everything 🥰

May I have a Blow Job with Bakugou or Dabi?

🖤🐈‍⬛ Kitten

HI KITTEN i am actually so sorry this took so long BUT i hope you enjoy this, i was a liilllllll bit cheeky with yours teehee AND THANK U @ghostbeam & @unearthsaturn FOR HELPING ME U ARE LIFESAVERS birthday bash intro + rules + menu | event masterlist

"table 14 is a pair of fucking cun—"

"careful, sweetheart, people will start thinking i'm some sorta bad influence if you keep speaking like that." placing a short straw into the cocktail shaker, touya places his finger on the open end, lifting out a sip of the sweet cocktail, offering it to you. sapphire eyes flash when you roll your eyes at him, but silently accept his offer, sticking out your tongue for him to place the opposite end of the straw on, dropping a taste of the drink in your mouth.

"what's got you so riled up?" he waits for you to swallow, scrunching your face at the taste of the pure alcohol burning down your throat.

"jesus, touya, have you even shaken that thing yet?"

there's a flash of silver when he laughs, all sharp canines and surgical steel as he smacks the cocktail shaker lid down with a tattooed palm, "not yet, answer my question."

with a sigh and a cross of your arms, you grumble your reply, "i have a blind date tonight."

"a date? want something for the nerves?" shaking with one large hand, he reaches for the closest liquor to him with the other, shaking the half-empty bottle with a devilish smile.

"careful, people will start thinking you're some sorta bad influence," you repeat, your coy smile mirroring his, a flash of a smile as sweet as honey, sweet enough to fool touya's father into thinking you were never at the scene of the crime (the tattooed, pierced bartender notorious for worming his way out of write-ups, a tongue as silver as the bar through it; you, however, never stayed at the scene of the crime long enough to even be a suspect on enji's radar). touya's always too happy to play into your little innocent act, the slap on the wrist worth the mischievous flash in your eyes every shift, the squeeze of your thighs when he spoke to you in that scratchy, low tone, playfully chastising you from behind the bar.

"c'mon, one shot and i'll let you clock out."

"let me? daddy makes you manager for one night and you become a tyrant," you're speaking to him like a petulant child, tutting at him while grabbing a pair of shot glasses down from the shelf, "mix us something good."

slipping out from behind the bar, you drop the glass over to a woman at the other side of the bar, the same saccharine smile you saved for customers and touya's father, the one making you look just positively angelic, well, as much like an angel as you can in that low-cut shirt.

pouring amaretto into the tall shot glass with one hand, touya reaches for the irish cream with the other, his eyes locking on the whipped cream canister close by. glancing back around to you, he's never been more grateful for a customer to be keeping you from him; with his borrowed time, he slips the whipped cream canister far in the back of the fridge, behind the bottles of beer, behind the chilled wine.

you round the corner of the bar, dragging your feet dramatically, "now i really need a pick me up before the date."

touya smiles again, that mischievous smile that got him out of trouble wherever he went, having women at the bar swooning, sweet-talking his siblings into slicing lemons and limes so he could sneak out the back for a cigarette (the habit he promised to end, in exchange for that pretty, shiny tag saying manager), "need you to run out the back for me first, sweetheart,"

"touya. you can't actually stop me from clocking out just because you're manager, that tag doesn't mean you can coerce your employees."

"you wish," he holds his pinkie up, sea-blue eyes gleaming with faux innocence, "tried to make you a blowjob, you know, get you ready for your date."

touya ignores your snort, the roll of your eyes, instead focusing on your arms crossing over your chest, your squeeze of your tits together, "i ran out of whipped cream, and you know i can't leave the bar alone."

"when have the rules stopped you before, huh?"

"i'm a changed man," tugging at his name tag, his thick, silver rings click against the plastic, the foreign taste of innocence on his tongue.

his pierced bottom lip is stuck out once more, batting infuriatingly long lashes at you until you huff, "you owe me, todoroki."

abandoning your apron along the way, you tug the door to the cooler open, feeling the weight of touya's gaze shift away as a tall blond sauntered to the bar, painted fingertips tapping at his phone screen.

crimson meets cerulean over the dark wood of the bar, touya's hands behind his back, making quick work of the knot of his apron, still watching the blond as he fished for the whipped cream, "hey, i'm lookin' for—"

"she's busy." dropping his apron aside, he tops the shots with a squeeze of the whipped cream, trailing behind you to the cooler with a wink to your date.

[djarinova]

Brother's best friend

Gojo Satoru x f!reader

Your brother's best friend has never been anything other than mean to you, so why has he turned up to your bedroom window with no invitation? content - 18+, oral (f receiving), fingering, possessive gojo, dubcon, overstimulation, mean gojo, slight yandere but not really, college au, finger sucking, cum tasting, petnames (angel, sweetheart, kitten, princess, baby), male masturbation words - 5.0k

brother's best friend!gojo who is always in your house during school holidays. practically living with you for weeks at a time, somehow not missed by his own family and always annoyingly welcomed by your parents—who offer to let him stay whenever he wants. 

brother's best friend!gojo who teases you mercilessly. always managing to think of new ways to insult you— your clothes, your hair, the movies you watch, and even the way you chew—but somehow never getting caught by your parents, who always see him as this golden boy your brother so happily brought into your lives.

brother's best friend!gojo who enjoys making fun of your taste in guys most of all. the first time you brought a guy home Satoru acted like it was Christmas come early. he never left your date alone, practically stuck to his side the entire dinner, asking question after question—faking friendly curiosity in front of your parents, but revelling in your dates obvious uncomfortableness at the probing and personal questions asked as soon as they left the room. 

brother's best friend!gojo who ensures you never bring the same date home more than once when he's around. knowing that when you walk your date out the door they'll say something in an awkward tone about how protective your brothers are, leaving you to explain,  actually I only have the one brother, the white haired one isn't related to me, a weird feeling of shame and guilt hanging over your head when your date never calls you back. 

brother's best friend!gojo who comes over while you're home alone, planning to fake ignorance and assure you that he really had no idea your brother wasn't home, but that he's happy to wait for him to come back—not wanting a pretty thing like you to be all alone. but who instead catches you fucking your ex-boyfriend—the one who you said to your brother was the biggest piece of shit you'd ever met. the one who you'd sworn you'd rather bite your own tongue off than ever see again.

brother's best friend!gojo who can't help but listen to the sounds of your moans—which he is confident are fake—through the door. pressing his ear against it's smooth surface and screwing his eyes shut. he can't help but picture your face contorted in pleasure, wishing he was the one fucking you. knowing that you would never need to fake it with him. 

brother's best friend!gojo who doesn't come around for almost a full three days after this. you remark to your brother about how the two of them must be in a lovers quarrel, but you can't help the unease that creeps up on you as the third day comes and goes with no visit—you don't care about him, not like that, but the lack of his annoying presence feels like it's left a hole in your house. 

brother's best friend!gojo who texts you out of the blue—his number saved into your phone under a very unsavoury name—asking if you could let him in. confusion clouding your mind as you head towards your bedroom door. the loud tap you hear against your window causing you to turn quickly on your heels and you don't know how you hadn't seen the shadowy figure loitering outside your window before now. 

brother's best friend!gojo who doesn't look like himself. his usual well crafted fake-but-doesn't-look-it bed hair is now unmade and unruly. the cocky half smile/ half smirk always plastered on his face has been replaced by deep bags under his eyes, a harrowed look on his face, and darting eyes. 

"Gojo…" your voice is unsteady. 

You were expecting the usual back and forth—the teasing, the mocking. You were confused by his appearance at your window, sure, but you've never seen him like this—so jumpy and insecure… it's unsettling you. 

"Don't fuck him again" Satoru's voice is low, so low that you almost don't hear him. 

"Wha—" 

"I don't want you anywhere near him again." Satoru keeps his eyes down, refusing to meet your gaze. His hands are deep in his pockets, and you can see his feet shifting. It's making you nervous. 

"Him… And you?… It's not right. You shouldn't have—I won't let you again—" 

He clears his throat, and the sudden loud noise startles you, making you take a shaky breath. Your ears had become too used to straining to hear the words Gojo was saying—his change in volume almost left your ears ringing, even if it was only a cough. You cup your hands together to try and subdue their shaking, and your jumpiness doesn't go unnoticed by the man in front of you. 

You try to speak again, willing your words to come out stronger than you feel. "What are you talking about?" 

"He doesn't deserve you. He's not right for you. You have to understand what I mean." Gojo's voice starts to rise as he reaches the end of his sentence.

He takes a step towards you, refusing to put up with the distance you are so clearly trying to put between the two of you. He reaches his hands out towards you, gripping your upper arms in a way that is almost painful. 

"The people you've dated, the ones who fucked you and never called you again, they don't deserve you. No one is good enough for you."

You grimace. The reminder of your failed attempts at love and the fuck ups you've let screw you is nothing new from Gojo, but something in his voice makes your heart race. The look on his face causes goosebumps to cover your skin. You can feel his fingernails digging into your flesh, the pain acting as a reminder that he shouldn't be here—your brother's best friend, the one who teases you and mocks you mercilessly, the one who doesn't care about you beyond being a punchline for his jokes—he needs to leave.

"Gojo, you have to go—"

"Don't call me that. I don't want to hear that name fall from your lips again—you call me Satoru from now on."

Your eyebrows knit together, and you wipe your palms against your t-shirt the best you can—a pointless effort to try and calm yourself down. You have no idea what has gotten into Gojo—Satoru—you inwardly correct yourself despite your confusion.

"What are you doing here?" You finally ask, your voice quivering as you do so, unable to stop your nerves from showing.

Satoru smiles, but it's still not his usual smile, his mouth contorts in a way that makes you want to shrink away from him—his tight grip on your arms making this impossible. It's unsettling, everything about him has seemed unsettling to you this evening. You want to run. Your regret at letting him in through your window threatens to swallow you whole, and yet… you can't look away from him. He still commands your attention, your focus, like he always does when he's in your house. Except this time it's different, you don’t feel safe with him, not exactly, but you know he’s not going to use his words to harm you—he's not going to call you names or make you feel insecure or mock your clothes. He’s mesmerising—you realise with a start—you’ve never been this close to him before, never allowing yourself to look at him with anything other than disdain. With his cocky attitude and his sneer wiped off his face, he's actually quite pretty. His eyes glow with an iridescent blue shine—you realise you'd only ever seen them through your own narrow glare, your harshness towards Satoru clouding your vision, never letting you see the true brightness of his eyes, only ever seeing what you wanted to see. The angles of his face make him even more alluring, the way in which every bone and sharp edge fits him perfectly—as if someone had spent time crafting him to be God’s most beautiful creature. 

Satoru watches you as your eyes glaze over, as if you were deep in thought about something—someone, he hopes. He notices when you absentmindedly run your tongue across your lower lip. He notices when your breathing changes pace, and when your hands fall limp at your side, the shaking finally subsiding. He watches all of these things happen, but what gets his attention the most is when your mouth falls open. 

He doesn't know how he's managed to stay away from you for this long. All those years he's spent teasing you and making you feel small, being friends with your brother, being welcomed into your family as if it was his own—he never imagined he’d be here, finally giving in to what he truly desires.

He remembers the first day he met you, your brother had given him warning that you’d be home, “just ignore my little sister, she's barely a year younger than us but she can be a real pain in my ass sometimes”. Satoru had thought nothing of it at the time, chuckling lightly as he stepped through your front door. He was ready to chill out and watch the game—on the couch your brother had been raving about for almost 3 weeks—a cold beer in his hand and his feet resting on the coffee table. But he had stopped almost dead in his tracks at the very first glance he got of you—your hair swishing behind you as you hurried about in the kitchen. 

You hadn’t heard the two of them enter the kitchen, too busy clearing up the final few freshly cleaned dishes you had washed. The small gasp you had let out had made it obvious you scared easily, and you turned quickly on your heels when your brother had cleared his throat. You had smiled ever so politely at Satoru when your brother had introduced him to you, in the way that people do when they meet someone for the first time, but Satoru could tell you were wary of him, even if he wasn't sure exactly where your hesitation came from. 

He had watched you and your brother converse, teasing conversation bouncing between the two of you—it was friendly, despite the slight contempt in your brother’s tone earlier. Satoru had leant against the doorframe while he watched you, he had found himself fascinated with how you moved. He couldn't take his eyes off of you, every movement you took, every step and stretch and smile had him entranced. 

It wasn't until you were on your way out of the kitchen that you finally spoke to him for the first time. He watched as you walked towards him, you had a plate of food in one hand, and your other hand had come to rest on your hip. Your eyes had narrowed as you looked at him, clearly bothered by his choice to lounge in the doorway.

“Hello…? Are you going to stand there all day? Or can I actually move around in my own house?”

Your brother had scolded you as you pushed past Satoru and headed towards the stairs. And you had stuck up your middle finger in return. Your brother had apologised for your behaviour, but his apologies had fallen on deaf ears, Satoru didn't care that you were rude, he didn't care that all you showed towards him in that moment was dislike, and he didn't care that he hadn't had a chance to properly talk to you. He knew one day he would have you—he needed to have you. Your obvious disdain for him would make the day you finally submitted all the more sweeter—he didn't care how long it took. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask again, your voice stronger than it was before.

Satoru turns his head, looking down at you as if the fact that you were still here was a surprise to him. You felt his fingers flex slightly, sending a shiver down your spine… He still had his hold on you, you began to wonder if he would ever let you go.

“I’m here to make you mine.”

He said it so plainly that it took you a second to register what he was saying. 

He wanted to make you his…? But why? He’d never shown any interest in you before. He’d never once left any evidence in your interactions that would’ve caused you to believe that he liked you, let alone that he wanted to make you his… whatever that meant...

“I don’t believe you…” You whisper, your voice so quiet that Satoru only caught your words because he was waiting for them.

“You don’t believe me?” Satoru’s tone is teasing, and he has a smirk on his face, but something about his words makes your breath hitch.

“No… You—you’ve never—you don’t—you aren't serious.” You take a breath. “You don’t like me, you barely tolerate me. Whatever the real reason you decided to climb into my bedroom tonight, it's not that…It can't be.”

“Why can’t that be the real reason, huh princess? You don’t think you’re good enough for me? Is that it?” Satoru doesn't wait for you to answer. “Do you seriously think I would be here right now if I didn't like you? All the things I've done for you…Do you really think it's a coincidence that none of your dates ever called you back after they met me for the first time? Do you think you would be invited to all of those parties on campus if I wasn’t there making sure every idiot jock and blonde bimbo knew who you were? All of the lecturers and T.As I’ve threatened to make sure you get the best grades possible…are you telling me you don't appreciate any of that? That I shouldn't have bothered with any of it…"

Satoru turns to leave, finally releasing you from his tight grasp, but he knows you won't let him get very far. There's no way you aren't dying to ask him what he meant by all of that. You need him to clarify. He's certain of it. 

You let out a small squeak, warmth beginning to spread from your face down to your neck. Unable to stop yourself, you take a step forward. 

"Wait…" 

You practically fall into Satoru's back, failing to notice that he hadn't got very far, too busy rushing forward to notice much of anything. You hear a low chuckle as he turns around, one of his hands coming to cup your face. Shock runs straight through you as he begins to gently rub his thumb across your cheekbone, his other hand now resting on your waist. The sharp difference of his hold on you makes your head spin, no longer is he harsh and rough like before, he's instead holding you as if you are the most fragile thing on earth. As if one fast movement would cause you to break in two.

"I'm right here, angel. I'm not going anywhere."

Satoru is blinded by his glee, he can't believe how well this is going for him. The fact that you were just the one chasing him…

"You needed me that bad, huh?" He means for it to come out teasing, but the need in his voice is evident, even to your surprised ears. 

Satoru doesn't waste one more second, he's waited long enough, all those years he's known your brother, all those years he's visited your house… if he doesn't get a taste of you now he knows he won't be able to stop himself from pouncing on you the next time he sees you, even if you're surrounded by your entire family. And that's probably not something they want to see, he thinks. 

You can sense something different about Satoru as he looks down at you, as if something just shifted inside of him. His eyes are dark, laced with hunger, and your eyes can't help but follow as he licks his lips. You let out a small gasp when you feel yourself begin to move, Satoru guides you gently, but with haste, back towards your bed. Your knees knock against the edge and Satoru lets you slip from his grasp, watching as you lose your balance and fall backwards onto your mattress. 

You scurry to the end of the bed opposite Satoru, trying to put some distance between the two of you, but your efforts are for naught. Satoru crawls toward you, closing the gap with little effort, until he's right in front of you again. He watches as you turn your head from side to side, looking for an escape route, he thinks, but he knows you won’t find one. 

His hands reach for your ankles, grasping them tightly as he pulls them backwards, shifting your entire body until you lie flat on the bed. He wastes no time, lying himself on top of you immediately, unable to suppress a groan at feeling your entire body under his. 

He attaches his lips to your neck, planting open mouth kisses all along your jaw and down to the base of your throat, you let out a whine at the contact and try and reach your hands toward his shirt, looking for anything to grip on to. Satoru notices your movement and grabs your hands with his own, still focused on kissing your neck, he manages to pin both your wrists down on the bed next to your head. 

“Please don’t try to move, kitten.” He pouts, breathing the words against your neck, and you feel a shiver run down your spine.

Satoru reattaches his lips to your neck, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. As if fuelled by your moans, Satoru presses himself against you, trying to relieve himself of the ache that is beginning to form just below his waistband. You whine when you notice what he’s doing, craning your neck you manage to see his hips moving as he rubs himself against your leg. You try to move your arms, riggling them in an attempt to free yourself, but to no avail, Satoru’s grip gets even tighter the more you move. 

You let out a shaky breath as Satoru moves his kisses further down your neck, he smiles against your skin when he feels you tense up. But just as he reaches your collarbones he pulls away, wanting to admire his work on your throat. 

You are covered in his marks, dark purple splotches paint your neck like you were nothing more than a canvas for Satoru. He gently traces the marks with his fingertips, moving the few fallen strands of hair that block his view. Pride swells in his chest, knowing that anyone who looks at you will be able to guess what you've been up to makes his cock throb. He presses himself hard against your leg, groaning loudly, and he bites his lip when he sees the look in your eye. 

You can't explain why, but hearing the noises Satoru makes from only pressing himself against you makes your whole body tingle. The realisation that you want to hear more sends a jolt of embarrassment through you, but your arousal outways any shame you feel. You arch your back slightly, aiming to press yourself closer to Satoru's cock, you can already feel the outline against your leg. He lets out another groan, this time looking you straight in the eye. He smiles when you look away, as if you hadn't fully realised what you were doing, or maybe you were just embarrassed, he thinks. 

“Do you like what you feel, princess?”

You nod, watching as Satoru sits up. He gently traces his fingers along the side of your face, before moving further down your body until his head hovers over your thighs. You suddenly feel self conscious about what you're wearing, and Satoru must notice—at the same time it dawns on you—that all you're wearing is an oversized t-shirt. You see him lick his lips, his hands coming to rest on your hips. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, and your legs shake ever so slightly. 

He locks eyes with you as his hands move under the hem on your t-shirt, the touch of his hands on your skin makes your heart beat faster. He hooks his fingers under the band of your underwear, pausing, before he begins to pull them off of you. You buck your hips to make it easier for him, and he whispers a small thank you. 

He discards your underwear someplace behind him, now too focused on your naked cunt to think much about anything else. He shuffles further back, pulling you with him until you are right at the edge on the bed. Satoru kneels in front of you, his hands resting on your thighs, as he bends his head his breath warms your skin, tickling you. You screw your eyes shut as his tongue comes in contact with your cunt, he smiles against you when he hears you whine at him, a breathy “move, toru” leaving your lips. But he wants to work slowly, he wants to focus on the noises you make, and try to figure out exactly how you like it. He wants it to be perfect.

You watch as Satoru’s hands grip your thighs, his fingers dig into your flesh. You let out a loud moan when he presses a hard kiss to your clit, and your eyes roll back when he uses his tongue, lapping up your juices from between your folds, the unfamiliar sensation makes you squirm. 

Your scent overwhelms Satoru’s senses, and he suddenly feels a new wave of want overcome him. His lips wrap around your clit, and he rolls it against his tongue. You purr underneath him, your body responding deliciously to his movements. 

The only noise in the room comes from Satoru slurping at your pussy, he works tirelessly, his head buried between your thighs, waiting for you to cry out his name again. He would do anything to hear you moan for him, but he doesn't have enough patience to wait for you to be comfortable enough to do so—if he has to work two, three, four times as hard to hear your pretty voice, he will.

Your eyes snap open when you feel Satoru’s mouth disappear from your clit, already missing the sensation of his mouth on you, your head turns, aiming down towards him when your mouth is met by one of his hands. He forces two of his fingers inside your mouth without warning, slipping them past your lips and pressing them down on your tongue. Your head moves almost instinctively, sucking and rolling your tongue against the digits with a confidence that Satoru reads as practiced ease. The thought of you doing this with someone else makes his chest burn, red hot jealously courses through his veins, making his head dizzy. 

His fingers disappear as fast as they appeared, and you whine at the sudden loss between your lips. But Satoru leaves you no time to complain, he forces his spit covered fingers past your folds, and he watches as they get enveloped in your warmth. His eyes roll back, and he bites his lip to stifle a groan. 

“Fuck—you're so tight, princess—shit.” 

He pumps his fingers into you frantically, his heart racing wildly because of the pace he's set himself. He's ruthless in his speed, and it makes your head spin.

It's not long before your legs begin to shake, your breath hitching as you draw closer and closer to the release you so desperately crave. Your whole body thrums with electricity, the way Satoru is touching you makes your mind cloudy, unable to think about anything more than the pleasure he's giving to you. His fingers fit perfectly inside of you, and you're sure he was made to be there. 

Your pussy squelches lewdly, and Satoru smiles, uncharacteristically soft, and not at all fitting for the situation he currently has you in. His eyes dance across your figure, watching your stomach spasm as he brings you closer to your orgasm. He feels you clench around his fingers, your breathing getting increasingly more rapid. Your eyes meet his and the look on Satoru's face makes you squeeze your eyes closed—as if not looking at him will make the oddly lovesick look disappear from his face.

“C’mon, baby—please—need you to cum now… need to feel you cum around my fingers, baby. Please please please.”

Satoru has no idea why he was begging you to cum, all the times he had pictured having you like this, he was always the one in charge. He was always the one to keep his composure, waiting for you to lose yourself within the pleasure he was giving you.

Something about his voice made the knot inside your stomach tighten. The need written on his face, coupled with despair with which he was begging for you to cum was too much for you. Your arms reached out, gripping Satoru's shirt tightly. You breathed his name over and over—torutorutorutoru—as if in prayer, letting your orgasm wash over you. Satoru cursed as you came around his fingers, your tight pussy never stopping him from pumping his fingers into you, helping you ride out your orgasm for as long as he could. 

You didn't know the last time you had come that hard—if you ever had, the amount of times you had to fake it for your exes was uncountable. Your chest heaved, your breathing still erratic as you let your eyes flutter closed. Satoru had slowed down his movements, removing his fingers from you with a pop! 

He brought his hand up to his face, letting your scent waft over him. He licked his lips, drawing his tongue across his fingertips before letting his mouth drop open. He slipped his fingers inside, groaning as he did so. But the mere remnants of your cum on his fingers was not enough. He needed more.

He dropped back to his knees without a thought, hands gripping your thighs even tighter than before, causing you to open your eyes. You were unsure of what he was doing, but before you could ask, or take a look, his tongue was lapping up the juices from your pussy. 

All you can hear are the noises Satoru was making against you, your own moans are quiet in comparison to his. He groans against your cunt, and desperate for some friction he grabs a pillow that had fallen from your bed and stuffs it between his legs. He slurps all the mess you'd made from your previous orgasm, making sure not a single drop was left untasted. 

Your hands dart straight to his hair, gripping the strands tightly between your fingers. You try to move his head, desperate to give yourself some reprieve from his unfaltering assault on your already overstimulated pussy. But he is too strong. His head burys itself deeper between your legs, focusing now on your swollen clit. He sucks the bud into his mouth, planting kisses and rolling his tongue across it mercilessly.

The pillow between his legs was not forgotten, and amidst the wet noises coming from your pussy you are able to hear Satoru's own moans. He thrusts himself against the pillow's material, rolling his hips and giving his rock hard cock some long awaited attention. 

As he got himself closer to release all he could think about was how desperately he wanted his cock inside you. He wanted to paint you with his cum, mark you as his, make sure you never thought about letting anyone else inside his pussy ever again. 

He groans at the thought, and shivers rock your body. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as Satoru continus his brutal assault on your clit, your hands still tightly gripping his hair but you could feel your strength diminishing the closer you got to your second orgasm. Broken sobs and whispered whimpers are all that escape your throat, your mind is scattered, an overstimulated mess. Satoru could not have been more thrilled at your state, only lifting his lips off of you for a second to praise your behaviour.

“You're doing so well for me, sweetheart. Letting me wreck your pussy like this—hhhng fuck—gonna reward you, baby—shit—we’re gonna cum together, okay?”

All you could do was nod weakly and let out a quiet hum to answer Satoru's question. Your whole body was shaking, your legs were completely out of your control, and Satoru considered himself lucky you hadn't accidentally hit him in the head because of how much you were moving. 

He smiles against your clit, your overstimulated moans coupled with the tears he knew were falling from your eyes brought him hurtling towards his own orgasm. It took all the strength he had to focus on making you finish, his thrusts against the pillow becoming more sloppy and his moans getting louder and louder as he sucked and nipped at your sensitive clit. 

Your arms jerk against his head, falling down to land on the mattress next to you, as your breaths shortened Satoru was certain you were about to cum, a cry from your lips solidifying this suspicion—“mmcumminhgg”.

Satoru's eyes rolled back, “me too, sweetheart—fuck—cumming with you, cumming with my needy slut.”

Your eyes squeeze tightly shut as you come for the second time, but you could feel Satoru spasm against your abused cunt. He whines from below you, still sucking your clit, while he painted the inside of his boxers with ropes of his cum. 

Your body shocks begin to ease as he moves his mouth and begins to plant kisses along the inside of your thighs, but your legs still feel wobbly and your head is still spinning from how powerful your orgasm was.

Satoru drags himself onto his feet, momentarily standing before flopping his body on top of yours. He shifts until he is comfortable, burying his head in your neck and breathing in your scent.

“You're so perfect. My perfect, perfect girl. I love you so much—god—yes, I do.” Satoru breaths, the words barely louder than a whisper. “You're mine now, I am never gonna let you slip outta my fingers, never gonna let anyone else touch you.”

[devildomsoup]

Silly little headcanons #1

Lucifer

Definitely has a favourite pen and everyone dreads the day he will have to change it.

He once shrunk Cerberus and carried him around in a handbag because he had to go to the vet.

Joint pains (no, I will not elaborate)

Has a picture in his wallet of his brothers and MC. Luke is also there for some reason.

Mammon

Will turn off the lights and walk out of his room. Walks back a few moments later to check if he remembered to turn the lights off.

Boops his younger brothers on the nose when he says goodnight.

Considered dying his hair piss yellow at some point.

He swears that Luke is just an annoying little chihuahua that he doesn't care about. But the pictures of him accompanying Luke to the cinema suggest otherwise.

Leviathan

He forgets to throw out socks with holes in them. So sometimes he will just walk around with socks that are barely holding on.

Has a controller that only MC is allowed to use. He will not even use it himself.

Can touch his nose with his tongue

Accidentally called his brothers "Ruri" on multiple occasions.

Satan

Has an album on his phone with pictures of him and Lucifer. Will deny it if you ask him.

Once cursed the entirety of Lucifer's record collection. The curse in question made it so the only song on any of the records was Baby Shark.

When he wants MC's attention he will go "pspspsps."

Satan has put on his blue jacket normally a grand total of 6 times.

Asmodeus

Will wear heels with just about anything. Yes, that includes sweatpants.

A lesser demon once found out about MC's deepest insecurity and started using it to insult them. Asmodeus found out and sent the demon flying through a wall.

He either sneezes like a cat or like an old man. There is no in-between.

He reminds everyone in HoL to drink water and will make sure they do so one way or another.

Beelzebub

Not allowed to be alone in RAD's art supply room. He will eat the paint if left unattended.

He only had 4 shirts until Asmodeus forced him to get more.

Takes Luke with him around RAD when Simeon can't. Also scared of any demon that looks at Luke the wrong way.

He has carried every single one of his brothers to bed more than once. Lucifer is no exception.

Belphegor

Follows the cat rule. If it fits I sits.

Don't tell anyone but his favourite blanket is the jackets of his older brothers.

Will sometimes force people to take a nap with him. Does someone look tired boom it's nap time.

Pops his back really loudly whenever he wakes up

Simeon

Will show anyone and I mean anyone pictures of Luke like a proud father.

Got scammed once and now he's afraid of opening links.

He once accompanied Beel to a workout and ended up destroying a punching bag.

Do not under any circumstances let him be alone in the candle section of a store. Purgatory Hall already has a closet full of them.

Raphael

Tried to kill a fly with one of his spears.

When asked if he wanted anything special for his birthday he requested a cake made by Solomon.

Enjoys watching butterflies flutter around. He will stand absolutely still if one lands on him and stay like that until the butterfly leaves again.

Wins every staring contest.

Luke

Has gotten lost in stores, parks and RAD so many times that he now has a bracelet with the contact info of Simeon and Barbatos. Even though he has his own D.D.D.

Mimics Simeon and Raphael to appear like a mature angel.

He will never admit it but he makes drawings for the brothers.

Luke and MC have a secret handshake.

Solomon

Immune to the pain of stepping on a lego.

Once accidentally turned himself into a rat and nearly got murdered by Barbatos.

Enjoys watching romcoms with MC.

Can and will randomly appear in MC's room tell them a horrible joke and then vanish into thin air.

Thirteen

She has the most random things in her pocket. Watch her pull out a porcelain frog from one of her pockets.

She had a buzz cut at some point.

Will drag you out of bed in the middle of the night so you can test her new inventions.

Loves playing with people's hair. It doesn't matter what texture or length it is. Just let her play with it.

Diavolo

Has a rubber duck collection.

Was introduced to vocaloid and now he won't stop singing World is Mine.

Gives the best hugs. 10/10 would hug again.

Buys Barbatos flowers every week to show his appreciation.

Barbatos

Knows how to tap dance.

Let's MC call him Barbie.

He receives small trinkets from the Little Ds.

Will cradle MC like a little baby when he is stressed or just missed them.

Mephistopheles

He enjoys soup.

He says he hates hugs. But in reality, he might even shed a few tears if you hug him.

A master of building card houses.

Once took care of a bat until it was healthy enough to live on its own.

[actual-changeling]

An angel and a demon walk into a bar.

It sounds like the beginning of a joke, one that would have annoyed Crowley greatly before- before. Maybe it would have been mildly amusing, were it not for the fact that it is a pub, not a bar (a mere technicality that somehow still mattered), and it is the first time in seven months that he is looking Aziraphale right in the face.

He chose the place, walked right out of the bookshop and across the street the second Aziraphale looked at him with his stupid purple eyes and opened his mouth. Same table, same drinks. New silence.

A demon leads an angel into a pub so he does not kiss him again.

Less of a joke, more like the beginning of a nightmare he has had every single time he tried to sleep, woken by whispered words either confirming his worst fears or greatest desires; both incite fear, one way or another.

The low table between them is enough of a barrier to prevent a repeat of their last interaction, it has to be, although this time Aziraphale is looking at him with violet-coloured longing and an apology on his lips, no longer pleading, no longer angry. He is asking for forgiveness, and if that isn't a deeply ironic twist of fate.

Before either of them says a single word, Crowley finishes his drink and raises his hand to order another one, clinging to the familiar sting of alcohol in his throat to burn away the questions lingering on his tongue.

An angel followed a demon into a pub because he loves him.

Aziraphale wishes he could tell himself Crowley looks like he did seven months ago, that he hasn't changed, but he is done lying to himself, to either of them. Behind his shades, dark, darker if that is even possible, he can feel his golden gaze heavy on his face, familiar and the answer to an empty longing in his chest.

His drink goes untouched as Crowley downs one, then another, and it is after the third that he finally begins to talk.

"What do you want?"

Bitter, sharp, spit at his feet with an anger he expected and yet doesn't know how to react to. Underneath it is pain—more pain than any being should ever have to experience—and instead of trying to carry some of it for him, he only added to it.

"I want to apologise."

"Fine." Crowley shoves his empty glass away and gets up. "I don't forgive you."

Reflexively, Aziraphale reaches out and curls his fingers around his wrist when Crowley tries to walk past him, blinking up at him with eyes the colour of dying Myosotis.

Forget-me-nots.

They both freeze, the point of contact a crack in the walls they have spent centuries building and seven months rebuilding, and he knows he has made a mistake immediately.

Crowley stares at him, still as stone, until he suddenly rips his arm out of his grasp, almost cradling it against his chest. With dawning horror, Aziraphale realises he is shaking, tremors running through him like waves breaking apart on a rocky shore.

"Don't you dare touch me." Panic, not anger. Pure, unfiltered panic blooming beside a mountain of fear that could outlast an eternity.

"I-" He doesn't know what he wants to say, what he is trying to say, what he needs to say to make him stay. Oh, the irony of it all.

Crowley leaves the pub, and the Supreme Archangel stays behind.

Not a demon anymore, not technically, he is done with sides, and deeds, and choices; he never makes the right ones anyway. His wrist hurts with the ghost of a kiss, and he cannot get the glint of purple where summer sky blue should be out of his head. 

The Bentley is waiting for him, providing an escape from the noise, the people, him.

Apologies instead of I'm coming back.

A sickening aura of holiness tinged with the burn of ozone instead of books and dust and soft, silly angel.

Seven months of waiting, of pleading with God, of cursing Her, cursing him, cursing the entire fucking world for taking and taking and taking from him without pause, without even a fragment of mercy.

For this.

An angel returns to heaven. Crowley curses the stars and cries.

[the-kr8tor]

In Deep Water

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 8.7k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW vomit mention, CW Inaccurate medical procedures, CW injury, TW blood, CW violence, TW death, CW guns.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

Navigation

CHAPTER 7 >>> CHAPTER 8

The laughter gets louder as the source of it shows itself aboard the black hellion, the fog makes way like a curtain opening to start a performance.

Hobie's grip is tight, fingers weaved around your arm, bruisingly strong. Your nails dig into his flesh as the uniformed man tilts his head to look at you, his toothy yellowing grin thrown in your direction. His powdered white wig flutters in the breeze, medals glinting off the single lamp on the bow, hands resting on the pommel of his pristine sword. The angelic figure head is a stark contrast to the devil sneering down.

The blackened wood of his ship groans as it continues to break a part of the revenge. The sails unfurled behind him, blue wings fluttering in the wind.

The angel of death has come.

“Look at what we have here.” He clicks his tongue, eyes boring a hole through your skulls, he narrows them into slits, and like a snake, he slithers as close as he can, tethering close to the edge. There's a flash of emotion in his eyes, snarling, the navy man chuckles, the mere sound makes you want to cower. “Hello little birdy, now how far did you fly to get where you are now?”

Hobie clenches his jaw, stepping over to hide you from his view. His hand never leaves yours, the dull ache from his hold says that this isn't just a nightmare.

You want to wake up even if it means losing his hold on you.

“Oh where are my manners? Mummy would whip me if she ever knew I didn't introduce myself to a lady.”

Hobie shifts his weight, ready to pounce if need be. You grab his shirt, making sure he doesn't do anything drastic. Subtly flicking your eyes to the side, you see the crew do the same. They look at you with fear in their eyes, the hunter’s gazes illuminating their contorted faces.

You can't help but let out a shuddering breath, the sound echoing around the open waters, hoping to get your cry for help to somebody who can do something, anything to get you and everyone out to safety.

“My name's Captain Mathias Bradshaw.” He drawls, thin lips curling into a smirk. “This here is my little merry band of sailors who has a bone to pick with—” pointing at Hobie with his thick finger, white cosmetic smeared on his palms. “Him. The red hydra. I forgot to greet you yet, long time no see you rapscallion.”

You hear Hobie's shallow breathing. Grey eyes thundering, a storm brewing, lightning flowing through his veins. The only reason why he doesn't let himself loose on Mathias is your touch.

“You see here, sweetheart,” The man addresses you and you only. “For the past three years your so-called captain and I have had a bit of a tiff.” He chuckles coldly. “A rivalry of sorts.” He pauses, looking over his shoulder. “Is it still a rivalry if you're leagues above your rival?”

“No, sir.” A gruff voice says, hidden behind the mist.

Mathias turns back around. “Well, we got our answer then.”

Hobie sneakily murmurs to you. “Hide—”

“I'm not done talking!” The sudden outburst makes you jump in your skin.

“You should've been done with your senseless dialogue a long time ago.” Hobie straightens his posture, head held high, a picture of a pirate captain. “Come down here and fight like a fuckin' man, show me your flames and I'll show mine.”

The man scoffs, amusement in his green eyes. “Flames? Yours is barely a spark.”

Hobie scoffs. “Let's be done with it then. Get the closure we both want, fight me in single combat.” Mathias knits his brows, Hobie smirks. “No? Thought you were a gentleman, where's your fuckin' honour?”

A booming laugh replaces Mathias’ scowl. “I guess it died with your little red hair—”

Hobie lets go of you, drawing his gun, pointing it directly at the monster's head. The crew takes this as their cue, doing the same, pointing their weapons towards the men surrounding them.

There's hunger in his eyes, beneath the swirling grey there's a hunger waiting to be fed.

The enemy ships don't even aim their cannons at the revenge, instead they float still in the water, unmoving, the men aboard their ships smirk in your direction like you're being served to them on a silver platter. It's then you notice the sons of the sea’s ship is no more. They took the brunt of the hellion’s collision.

No longer their sails fly, their crow's nest and pieces of wood lay floating in dark waters.

Left behind, slowly drowning in the depths.

You feel droplets sliding on your cheeks, for a second you thought it's your tears. And then more and more of it comes pouring down, splashing on the wooden floorboards.

Thunder booms from a distance, lightning flashes in the sky, lighting everyone's scornful faces.

A few of Karl's men stand with Hobie, clutching their injuries. You don't see Robbie, his lack of presence makes you glare at the sneering men.

“Say her fuckin’ name.” Hobie says through gritted teeth. “After what you did— Say her name.”

“Eh.” Mathias shrugs, “I forgot.” the laughter of his men echoes in the mist.

“You fucker—!” Hobie's hand shakes despite this, he draws the golden gun, aiming it at the navy man whose smirk gets wider.

“I recognize that little blunderbuss.” He chuckles, wiggling his pointing finger, “She pointed that at my head too, you'll be unsuccessful just like she was.”

It takes every fiber inside Hobie to not just shoot and face the consequences later. But he's surrounded, his crew is surrounded, they have no chance of escaping death if he shoots. The only option he has is through single combat and to appeal to the man's ego. He's hoping the idea works.

One look over his shoulder, one glance at your trembling face and he's back to that day, the day MJ was lost. He prays that this day doesn't end the same way three years ago.

“Little dove,” Mathias’ devilish eyes roam over your trembling body. “Look at you,” he chuckles lowly, “I'd say dear ol' Hobie here got an upgrade just because this one's got her head still glued on her neck!”

Hobie almost shoots him until someone from his crew screams, their voice full of malice, venom dripping with every utterance.

“Fuck you!” Gwen exclaims, “Don't you have any honour? She's dead and you're still spitting on her watery grave! After everything you've put her through!”

“Ah! Gwen Stacy, the ballerina turned pirate. How you doin', miss Stacy? I heard your father's still down in the stables, trying to repay his debt to the crown.” he rags her on, scoffing.

“You're still defending her? She's a traitor, a navy spy. The greatest one we've ever had in fact. Her only downfall is loving a bunch of…” he sucks in his teeth, trying to find the word. “Thieves like you. Love got her head cut off and love will be your ruin too.” Flicking his eyes to you, he observes everyone's faces after his tirade.

Hobie steps between Gwen and Mathias, his guns still raised, eyes brimming with the anger of a forsaken God. Yet he remains calm, clearing his throat, standing tall.

“Mathias Bradshaw, I challenge you to single combat, a duel. I win, you let us go. You win and you get to take us all back to the capital.” Hobie's voice booms louder than the thunder above. Lightning strikes near, the water sizzles at the contact. “I know a man of your stature can't say no.”

The man in the uniform guffaws loudly, broad shoulders shaking. “Oh that's hilarious, you think you'd win against me, little pirate? Hmm?”

“Yes.” Hobie doesn't miss a beat.

Mathias smiles, “I guess this one's less messy than what I was planning. Name your terms.”

“Guns only, five bullets. You get shot three times you lose.”

“I'll add a tiny thing to your wager.” The navy man looks over to your direction, pointing his crooked finger at you. “Same terms but I get to keep your little bird.”

Hobie turns to you, wide eyes staring back at you. “No—” He's already shaking his head before you speak up.

“Deal!” You roar above the thunder storm, deciding your own fate. The rain is getting heavier, drenching your terrified self. “The captain will take your terms as long as you honour it.” Nodding to Hobie, he holsters his weapon away from you.

Mathias cackles in the background.

Gently holding on to your arm, you already know what he'll say.

“Don't. Do you know what you just agreed to?”

“I do,” you stare at his raging eyes but they're tender when he looks at you. “I know you can take him, I trust you.” Taking his hand away from your arm, you squeeze him once before pulling him towards you. “Don't play fair, because he won't.” you whisper. “Fucking obliterate him, for MJ.”

Hobie takes you in like it's the last thing he'll ever do. He imprints your touch in his mind, wanting to remember the softness of it when the bullets get too much for him to bear.

He nods slowly, still unsure of your decision. If you trust him enough to sell your soul then he'll fight to the death so you don't have to.

With one last look at you, he turns around, facing up to the man he loathes the most, wanting to just strangle him with his bare hands. Maybe he'll do just that.

For the crew.

Mathias takes his blue coat off, grinning the entire time.

For MJ.

He grabs on to a rope, rappelling off the black hellion, landing in a thunderous impact on the deck.

For you.

Now that he's leveled with your gaze, he's a lot smaller down on the deck, stout with a round belly, face painted with white lead that's currently melting in the downpour. Hobie's taller and slimmer but he makes up for it in his agility and speed. You've seen him fight but Mathias' form could be compared to Finn's build, all muscle and strength hidden behind his uniform.

You're glad this was a duel of pistols if it was any other fight Hobie could be in trouble.

A few of his men do the same, jumping off the hellion while the ones on the smaller ships stay on board but keeping their eyes peeled.

Surrounding the bloodsail pirates, the hands of Mathias' men never leave the pommels of their rapiers. Hobie clenches his jaw, now standing before the king's flame, he can't help but gaze behind the man, back to you and his crew.

Gwen goes to your side, lacing her trembling fingers through yours, Pav sidles behind you, clutching the back of your vest. Miles stands next to Gwen, holding her other hand. You see them look at eachother with a knowing glance and glimmering eyes.

Your eyes meet Hobie's, you give him a nod, eyes full of fury, and trembling lips. You mouth a ‘Bleed him dry’.

The simple act of Hobie smiling at you, makes you tear up. It's the same one he gives you after you patch him up, it's the same one when he handed you the hot chocolate. It's the same smile that makes your heart flutter in your chest.

You're afraid as you part with the crowd to the side of the duelists, lest you get caught in the crossfire. As the one in front, you get a good look at the enemy on the other side, all lined up perfectly like the obedient soldier men that they are. You roam your eyes to their faces, wondering how they could obey a man like Mathias.

You assume the uniformed man walking towards the duelists is Mathias' right hand man. Left eye covered in an eye patch, his hazel eyes observe you. He's carrying a large wooden box, pristine and smooth at the edges with golden locks and embellishments. He opens it with a creak, rain water landing on the wood and soaking the velvet inside.

“You're the challenger, you get the first pick.” Mathias gestures towards Hobie, all smiles like he's not about to meet the end of a bullet.

You stand on your tippy toes to take a peek inside. There are two dueling pistols, flintlocks. One white as fresh snow, one is black like the hellion.

Hobie takes his pick, pocketing what you assume is the five bullets. The black gun in his hand shines when a lightning strikes the mast of the hellion. You hear splintering wood in the distance.

He steps back in place, measuring the metal’s weight in his hand.

“Good choice.” Mathias eyes down the gun. “Death has touched that one.”

Hobie glares, baring his teeth. If only that was enough to kill the man before him.

Mathias takes the remaining gun, wiggling it in his hand. “You ready, little pirate?”

Hobie doesn't show an ounce of fear. “You're going to die today.”

“How confident, confidence alone won't help you aim straight.”

Your entire body shakes whilst they stand back to back, guns raised on their sides. They walk slowly, counting their steps.

The pouring rain doesn't help, raindrops obscuring your vision, the cold mixing in with the ice in your veins.

With every step Hobie takes,

Five

with every hit of his boots on the floorboards,

Four

your heart tries to escape,

Three

pulse hammering,

Two

threatening to give out. Afraid of what's to come. No one else dares to make a sound.

One

Standing end to end on the dock, they turn around swiftly.

After a beat, the man with the box yells. “Fire!”

Bang!

The sound echoes out in the dark, above all the rain and thunder.

Hobie hits his mark, Mathias groans, clutching his dominant shoulder. Smoke bellows out of their guns, dissolving into the rain.

Your words are repeating in Hobie's head ‘Don't play fair’ you say, then he won't play fair.

He notices his bleeding arm, looking down he sees the bullet nicked his skin, leaving an angry gash in its wake. The wood behind him gets the brunt of the bullet, the metal embedding inside, splintering a gaping hole.

You jump when Mathias laughs along the thunder. More and more lightning pierces the sky. You can taste iron in your mouth, not realizing the pain from biting the inside of your cheeks.

They reload, Mathias’ man observing with his watchful eye, making sure they both adhere to the rules; but you highly doubt he's doing it for fairness sake.

Metallic clanking, gunpowder clinking against steel, Mathias' voice enters the fray to your dismay.

“You know, you were too easy to fool.” He starts, finishing up his reload. “You never asked why I left my lieutenant in your hands and why was it so damn easy for you to get my travel documents.” Smiling, the lead on his face melts further, dripping on the floorboards, the white paint mixing in with his blood. “Just like I said, love will be your downfall.”

Hobie doesn't have enough time to squabble, instead he would let his aim talk for him.

“Twenty paces!” The eye patch man yells again.

Hobie and Mathias move forwards, getting closer and closer to each other. You want to put a stop to the duel, but you have to trust Hobie that he'll make it, that he'll win. He has to.

You dare not blink.

“Fire!”

Bang!

Hobie almost keels over, his shoulder heavily bleeds, trembling hand holding his flesh together. You see him smile underneath the pain, following his gaze, Mathias clutches his shooting hand, groaning and hissing. It looks like Hobie shot a hole right in the man's hand. The white gun lays on the bloodied floor, discarded.

Gwen's hold on you tightens, you can hear Pavitr sob quietly.

You catch Hobie's eyes. There's hope in the swirling grey, nodding, you encourage him, mouthing an ‘end it’. He seems to understand, straightening his stance, he reloads the gun as best as he can with an injured shoulder.

Mathias wheezes out a strained laugh. “I gotta hand it to you, your aim is pretty good.” He stands, grabbing his gun on the way up with his uninjured hand. “No matter how amazing your aim is, you're still bloody blind!” He screams, spit flying out of his mouth.

“My two bullets that's in you say otherwise.” Hobie tilts his head mockingly.

“No, no, no.” Mathias clicks his tongue, waving the gun wildly. “You still don't get it do you? You're not asking questions, letting everything fall into your lap, thinking God's on your side on your little revenge quest. But he's not,” he chuckles. “Sacrificing my lieutenant was the best decision I've ever made, especially knowing the fucker can absolutely sing. Loose lips sink ships, little pirate. Do remember that. Especially since you didn't seem to learn from it last time.”

Hobie's face falls, dread filling his chest.

“Bribing the governor to plant my travel documents and telling him to go unwind in a brothel for a couple of days was well worth my coin.” Mathias stretches his shoulder, reloading his pistol with bloodied hands.

He continues. “The two idiots at the gates were…well idiots, I barely had to do anything to them. The lock was a false security to make you sweat a little bit.” The king's flame proves himself. “You're blind. You've focused so much on taking me down that you didn't notice the little details. It's either that or you're also deaf, preferring not to hear your crew's concerns.”

“Not a very good attribute for a supposed captain.” he shrugs, he says his words mockingly.

“Fuck you!” Hobie aims directly at his rival's head.

It's all his fault, everything that led up to this point is his fault.

The gun trembles in his hold. Mathias looks pleased, smiling at Hobie.

“You know the rules.” Mathias sucks in his teeth. “Don't fire until lieutenant Dubois says so or I win and I get your little bird.” he looks over at you. “Oh we're gonna have so much fun together, every night, every day.” His laughter makes you want to grab the nearest knife and shove it down his throat.

You don't back down from his disgusting gaze. “If he doesn't kill you, I will.” Pavitr tries to hold you back. “And it won't be quick.” your voice shakes from sheer anger.

“I look forward to it, duchess.” Mathias spares you one last glance.

You don't notice how Hobie looks angrier than he did, he's clearly holding back. His glare alone could burn a hole through Mathias' skull. Yet he stands tall, getting a second wind; he's gonna shoot a hole in his skull instead.

His head goes a hundred knots per hour, thinking of all the what ifs. What if he just listened, what if he didn't let her stay, what if, what if, what if, the words are tattooed in his mind, clawing and biting at his psyche.

“Ten paces!”

They walk in sync, closer to each other more than ever. Pausing in place, they stare each other down, Mathias' smile never leaving his lips. Hobie's scowl gets deeper with every second that passes.

“Fire—!”

“Fuck this.” Mathias lunges in surprise, grappling Hobie.

Hobie doesn't get a chance to dodge, his gun clattering on the floor as the heavier man tackles him to the ground. The wet floors make it hard for Hobie to find leverage against Mathias who's currently choking him with his large arm.

Chaos ensues, everyone breaks the line, unsheathing their weapons, fighting, steel and skin clashing. Pistols going off left and right, but your main focus is on the two men writhing on the floor.

You hear Hobie choke so you run faster, taking a fallen dagger from a corpse, you quickly dodge people, determined to save Hobie.

“This is what happens when you let your feelings decide for you!” Mathias yells above the mayhem.

Finally making it close to them, in one swift movement, you stab Mathias on his back, crimson ebbs on his white shirt like spiderwebs. He screams, letting go of Hobie.

You don't spare him a glance as you take Hobie by his arm, dragging him below deck. Shutting the doors closed, Mathias bids you farewell with one last cackling.

Guiding him through the corridors, you hope the winding hallways help make it harder for the enemies to find you.

“Y/N.” He wheezes out.

“Don't fucking talk.” Your feet brings you to the galley. Sitting him down, he plops like a fish on the chair, head lolling to the side.

Slapping his cheek, he wakes back up with a groan. “Actually, keep talking. Stay awake, please.”

Hobie nods, “I need to go back up, I can't leave them there.” He tries to stand but your hands stop him, making him sit back down.

“You can't help in this state. Let me treat you then you can go and help.” You look in his pained eyes. “Please, at least let me help with your shoulder.” your other hand fumbles to his back, searching for an exit wound. You already know the answer when you feel the hot crimson weeping out from the puncture left behind.

You plead with your eyes.

“Alright, do what you have to do. Make it quick.” he nods, you leave his side to light a fire in the hearth, laying a metal poker on top of the hot coals. “Can I tell you a story?”

“Whatever keeps you awake.” Taking out the first aid kit from your bag, you notice your hands tremble. They never shake when you're treating someone, with your back turned away from him, you swallow down a sob.

“There was this girl, she had red hair like one of those…” he sighs, injuries aching, throat throbbing. “Apples.”

You reach his side once again, trembling fingers dipping into the wound ointment. “You have a way with words.”

He grabs your shaking hands in his, “Are you alright?”

You pause in your frantic movements, blinking rapidly. “Y-you’re the one who's bleeding right now.”

“You're shaking.”

You twist your wrists away from his touch. “I'm alright, worry about yourself and your crew.”

“You're a part of my crew”

“Shut– just…” you exhale. “Continue your story.”

Hobie nods, eyes drooping. “She just one day showed up on the docks, asking for a place.” He inhales sharply. “I needed to fill the second ship so I agreed, I let her in. I shouldn't have done it.” His eyes well up but no tears fall. “I should've turned her away but she was determined, she had the skills to stay— can you give me somethin’ for the pain? A fuckin' rum or wine, anythin’”

“No alcohol, if you want to bleed out be my guest.” You hold a cloth above his wound, pressing down to stop the bleeding as much as you can.

“Fucker!” He stomps his foot, “you can be such a little shit sometimes you know?”

You can hear the struggle upstairs. Weirdly enough, there's no sound of cannons firing.

“I know—” the ship tilts suddenly, flinging you and Hobie brutally to the side. You do your best to shield his injured self, taking the brunt of the impact, back stinging from the wall.

He lands on top of you, arms on your side, face hidden on the crook of your neck. You can feel his staggered breathing on your skin.

Bottles and pans fly towards you two. Pushing him away, you guide each other to the corner of the room, huddled together, protected by the hearth.

“Shit!” Hobie protects your head with his hand when a pot flies towards you. The ship keeps turning and tossing the both of you until it finally straightens out, you can feel how fast its going by how wild the utensils are swinging.

“Someone got hold of the helm.” He whispers, his cool hand on your tender shoulder. “We're running.” Hobie doesn't say it with pride or dejection, he utters it with embarrassment.

“That's good,” you stand up, giving him a helping hand. “We can get out—”

The unmistakable sound of a cannonball whizzes past and the ship lunges harshly on the side again. You can hear frantic yells from above.

Hobie takes your hand, “I need to get up there.”

Helping him up, you nod. “And you will, let me close that wound off and give you something for the pain and we'll go back up there.”

“Y/N, you can't—”

“We will go up there.” the fire in your eyes makes him obey. “Sit down, I'll make this quick but not painless.”

He flops down, masking the pain with a grimace. Inhaling, he continues. “I let MJ in.”

You pause for a second before taking the metal poker. “Even after seeing all the bloody signs.” He sighs. “Maybe I am blind.”

You hold his face tenderly. “You were, but you still have a chance to change that. You can still help your crew. Make it right for their sake.”

He holds the back of your neck, kneading the skin with his bloodied fingers. “I don't regret letting you stay.”

You look at him apologetically. “You will after this.” Shoving the leather pot holder in his mouth, moving aside his clothes. “Inhale” you place the hot poker directly on his bullet wound, cauterizing the gaping hole.

It sizzles, Hobie holds on to your sides tightly, bunching up the fabric in his hands. Muffled screams eaten up by the leather in his mouth.

You move the rod away once it's done. Hobie's eyes roll in the back of his head. Slapping him lightly, he wakes back up.

“Stay awake, hey. Look at me.” He stares at you through half-lidded eyes. “There you are, captain.” You smile to reassure him. He gives you a tired nod. “Now for the exit wound.”

Hobie inhales, more than ready this time around. His skin is clammy, eyes red from the brimming tears. He clenches his entire body, determined to get it over with. Twisting around in his seat, he hopes the ship doesn't rock as you push the searing metal poker on the back of his shoulder.

With a muffled yell from him, you take the tool away, letting it cool down. Moving his head with your hand, you look at him apologetically.

“I'm sorry, if I warned you first you would've flinched.”

Hobie spits the leather out of his mouth, patting your cheek with his sweaty hand, he leaves it there, stroking your skin.

“I wouldn't have flinched.” He chuckles through the searing pain.

“Of course you wouldn't.” You hold his hand that's on top of your cheek. “You did good.”

He laughs, hand leaving your skin to hold your hand instead. “Not the first time I've felt fire.”

You smile, without thinking, you lay your forehead on his as more cannonballs fly around the revenge.

“You did good too.” He whispers. Eyes closed, he leans away. “Now get me something for the pain and let's get the bastard.”

You smile, nodding to him. Taking a bottle from your bag, you rub mint oil on his upper lip, igniting his nerves, keeping him awake.

“That's the only thing I have that could help. I can't give you alcohol.”

Hobie tentatively stands up, “Maybe after this then.” He groans, slightly limping. “‘m gonna need an entire crate of ‘em.” he thinks adrenaline is enough to keep him on his feet.

He faces you, a ghost of a smile on his pained face. Hobie bends at the waist, you scramble to help him but he refuses with his hand raising to stop you. Taking something from inside his boot, he grabs a shiny and slender thing.

“Here.” Hobie hands a silver dagger to you, intricate carvings of a turtle and a sea snake looping around the glimmering handle. “Somethin’ to defend yourself.”

“Are you sure? It looks—”

“I don't mind givin’ it to you.” He closes your hand around the hilt. “Make sure this one hits his neck this time.”

“I will.” Your eyes fill with determination, adrenaline still coursing through you.

He wobbles towards the door, sparing you a smile on the way.

“Hobie,” you call after him. “Continue your story after this?”

“Only if you tell me yours.” He looks over his shoulder, giving you the same smile he always has.

You scoff with a small smile, “Maybe I will.”

“Let's fuckin’ go and be pirates then.”

��

Getting up the deck was tedious work with all the rocking and shifting from the ship and the wild waves, add that with all the cannon balls whizzing past, it was like riding an angry bull. Meeting halfway with Karl on the way there made it easier, filling your chest with hope.

“Where's Robbie?!” He frantically yells, forehead bleeding, hands gripping Hobie's vest.

“I-I don't know.” Karl's face falls. “But we'll find him, I know he got out.”

“Got out from what?” His voice trembles, “what happened, Hobie?”

Hobie holds his friend’s wrist, “I'm sorry.” Karl weeps. “Go find Robbie and your crew.” He shakes his head. “And get the hell out of here, he's after me not you.”

Karl's eyes fill with tears, flicking towards you who look on with sad eyes. “What about you and the others?”

“We'll find a way out. We always do, remember?” Hobie reassures him with a smile. “Take one of my dinghies, and row the hell out of here.” he takes Karl's hands away from his vest. “We'll see you back at the old place, yeah?”

“You fucking better, Hobart or I'll drown you myself.” Karl takes your hand briefly, nodding. “I hope I see you again, doc.”

“Me too, captain. Find Robbie.”

You part ways with Karl, praying that he finds Robbie and what remains of his men.

“Ready, trouble?” Hobie gets your attention by brushing his pinky against the back of your hand.

“I'm right behind you.”

—

It's war.

The moment Hobie opened the door to the deck you smell petrichor and blood in the air.

You get a glimpse of the battle before he could shut the doors. Bodies, both pirates and navy alike lay motionless on the floor. The sound of thunder mixes in with the pained yells, flashes of lightning illuminates the night sky and you see the faces of the dead clearly.

Two-fingers lay face first on the deck, arms bent at an angle, blood pooling from his head. Through the smoke and splintered wood, Foul screams when a sword plunges through his heart, silencing him immediately. Danny takes a bullet for Finn who promptly avenges him with his cutlass, swiftly separating the man's head from his body.

One face you were hoping was among the dead was missing. Mathias isn't on board.

Something flashes in his eyes when he looks at you. Grabbing your arm, he leans in, your heart stops.

Hobie moves past your head to press his forehead on your shoulder. Bathing in your presence, hand squeezing your skin

“Hobie?”

He smiles, moving his hand up to cup your jaw. Chuckling, he cleans his dried blood off your cheek with his thumb. “Do me a favour, Scuttlebutt?”

“What is it? We need to get up there!”

Hobie ignores you, leaning away. “Survive for me would you? Live, find your family. Promise me.” He sniffs, eyes glinting.

“What?”

“Just promise me, trouble.” He shakes you.

“Alright I promise. Can we—”

“I'm sorry.”

“What—?” Hobie pushes you hard, you fall off the steps, landing on your behind, he exits without looking back, shutting the doors closed. “What the fuck?!”

You rattle the doorknob but it's no use, he locked it on the outside. Frustrated, you try to kick in the door, hurting yourself from the hard wood.

“Fuck! Hobie!” You bang the door, peeking through the keyhole you see carnage as Hobie makes quick work of the remaining men. “Let me help!”

The sound of cannon balls going off almost deafens your eardrums. If only you had your lockpick you could open it.

Your lockpick.

It's a stretch but you still run towards your cabin, feet thudding loudly, echoing around the hallways that you've memorized.

You feel relieved after seeing your door. Shouldering it open, you frantically search for the metal on the shelves. The tip of it scratches your hand but you don't care, already bolting off towards the exit. Running off with your bag tied around you, hoping the medical kit inside is enough to treat the wounded, you hold the lockpick in your hand while you run.

Your hope dwindles with every cannon hitting the ship.

Doors whizz past, ankle stinging, the sounds of screams and gunfire makes you sprint faster.

You don't notice the blood soaked hulking man leaving Hobie's cabin.

Running into him, you stagger, tumbling down, heart falling into your stomach as he looks down at you through his nose.

“Hello there.”

Scrambling to get to your feet, you slide under his legs, stabbing his achilles heel with your lockpick. The man screams in agony, you take the opportunity to sprint like you've never ran before. You'd take running away from O’hara any day.

Your lungs scream for you to stop, but you go on as you hear thundering stomping behind you.

There's no exit and you can't run forever.

The metallic click rings behind you, rounding the corner, you barely dodge the bullet aimed at you, nicking your hip.

“Shit!” You almost fall yet you continue on, entering the library, you shut the doors behind you, locking it swiftly.

Lifting your hand away, the sight of your own blood turns your fear into fury. With your trembling hands, you unsheathe the dagger from your belt.

You have a promise to keep, and you never break a promise.

Hiding behind the armchair you always sat on, you crouch down, gripping the dagger, ready to strike like a viper in the sand.

You look back on what she taught you, “Strike fast and hit hard. Don't give them a chance to get back up.” her voice whispers it to you and you intend to follow it.

The door bursts open, splintering the wood to a thousand pieces.

“The captain wants you alive, little birdy. This doesn't have to hurt if you just come with me, eh?” You hear him chuckle lowly, blatantly lying to you.

His heavy footsteps thud closer.

You use the shadows as your guide, the oil lamp left open on the corner table does the work. For once you thank Gwen for forgetting to close the light.

“I can help with your wound. Glue your wings back together again” he whistles. “The red hydra can't help you with that but I can. I'm a surgeon you see.” Getting closer and closer, you time your strike right.

You come out of your hiding place with a battle cry. Still crouches down, “I highly doubt that!” Slicing his tendons in one quick movement. The second he falls to his knees, you stab him in the neck.

Stepping back, he chokes in his own blood. With wide eyes you flinch when he stands, seemingly unaffected but his shaking pupils say otherwise. With a garbled noise from your assailant, he reaches for you.

“What the fuck?!”

With a split second decision, you dodge his hands, moving backwards, throwing books from the shelves which bounce almost harmlessly on his head and body.

There's a loud thrumming sound outside, its warbling is almost mechanical but definitely something an animal could've made.

He heard it too, pausing in his movement for a second before he lunged towards you. With a scream, your back against the corner, he jumps you.

Your head hits the wall in an ugly crunch, seeing stars, sliding down the wall, landing on the floor, he chokes you with his bare hands. Indistinct noises escape from his mouth, your dagger nowhere to be found in his throat. His entire body hides anything in front of you, drowning your vision, filling it with your murderer. His blood drips down on your face, almost drowning you in it.

You know he's running on fumes but based on your vision fading, lungs gasping for air, you think you'd go out first before him.

Hands grazing something metallic on the floor next to you, you inch your fingers towards it. Finally finding your grip, you smack it on his head.

You've got a promise to keep after all.

He yells, the oil from the lamp spreading on his skin and clothes, engulfing him in flames.

You frantically roll away, killing the fire clinging to your clothes until there's nothing left but burned cloth.

The flames light up the entire room in orange and reds, the paper around him helps feed the fire as he tries to desperately put it out.

There's that thrumming again.

You watch on, holding your tender neck. Your face is flat, eyes reflecting the fire that's quickly eating at the man. Fabric burns on his flesh, flesh turns into charred muscle, the fire eats at that too until he falls, silence hanging in the room except for the fire cackling, ashes and flames surrounding his corpse.

You stand up, ratty shoes stepping over fire to grab the fallen dagger with a thick cloth from your bag.

For a second you stand amidst the fire.

The thrumming outside and the warmth wakes you up, flames licking at your clothes, it's heat scorching your skin, nose filling with smoke. Even with all the pain you still escape with your life, determined to keep your promise.

Running outside the former library, the cracking of splintering wood fills your ears, you instinctively dodge, backing away before the mast of the revenge falls on your head.

Shielding your face, you cower. The mast stills, sharp wood lay next to your feet. Tentatively opening your eyes, the sounds from above are clearer in your ears, all the screams and guns going off, you hear it loud and clear that you can decipher whose screams belong to whom.

The fog enters below deck through the gaping hole left by the broken mast. All the while, the smoke from the library rises up, replacing the mist.

Your exit.

You don't hesitate to climb up. Jagged edges of sharp wood rip amd snag your clothes, stabbing your skin. Finding leverage, you manage to prop yourself up on the deck, meeting face to face with a lifeless Ned.

The light in his eyes is gone, unsung music escaping from his open lips. Skin dirtied by flowing ichor.

You don't hear anything else other than skin meeting skin in a brutal dance.

“No.” You quickly jump up, leaving the fire behind you to consume, to devour what's left of the revenge. “Ned?”

Desperately feeling for a pulse, your heart wretches in your throat, saliva filling your mouth, bile rising up from your gut.

There's no pulse.

With a choked sob, you close his eyes for him. The sound of wet punching makes you turn to your side. Hobie's eyes are wild, vicious and desperate, bloodied knuckles pummeling the man under him. Skin broken, nose cracked, skull open for the world to see. Yet, Hobie doesn't stop even with the obvious signs of death. Fueled by rage, he paints the wooden floorboards with the man's brain.

It all feels sickenly real, your heart is still beating in sync with his punches but there's so much death around you that you feel like you're a part of the dead. Blood and smoke filling your senses, adrenaline slowly washed away like the tides.

You're sitting in a graveyard and nobody else has noticed.

“Hobie.”

His fists pound harshly through the man's head, splintered wood now embedded in his skin.

You apprehensively crawl towards him, your various injuries aching, blood seeping out from your hip. The chaos around you still continues on while he still doesn't stop.

“Hobie—” your fingers brush his arm, he flinches back, fist raised to knock you out. But he halts, knuckles kissing the tip of your nose, painting it with crimson.

With wide eyes, he heaves, muscles tensed, grief all over his expression. You shove your fear down, holding his raised knuckles, moving it away gently. You hold his face in your other hand, smearing the fresh ichor on his cheeks, staining your own skin.

“It's done, he's dead.” You nod, caressing his face, turning it away from the carnage below him. “Hobie,” you unclench his fist carefully, shattered bone and hair sticking to him. With a shallow breath, you let the tears flow on your cheeks. “He's dead.”

His face flashes with fury only to be triumphed over by misery. With a heavy heart, he nods.

Behind Hobie, a uniformed man raises his pistol, without a second thought, you take the golden blunderbuss from his waist, hastily aiming it directly at the man's head.

Your ears ring, the smoke from the gun blinds you for a second before you see your target fall dead with a bullet right between his eyes, blood splattering like fireworks from his head.

Hobie looks at you in surprise, taking his gun away from you carefully. Hands soft on your raised skin. He pats your cheek and you could only shake your head.

“We need to—” the ship collides with something, Hobie holds you close, covering you away from debris. With his embrace, he protects you. Scarred hand on the back of your head, face hiding in the crook of your neck. Leather, sea salt and blood invades your senses.

The hellion is once again looming over the revenge, its golden façade cracking under the damage made by Hobie's ship.

Mathias shows himself, looking worse for wear, he wobbles on two feet, clutching his injuries.

You hear footsteps around you, raising your head, eyes widening at what's left of the crew, they stand behind you and Hobie. Wiping blood off their faces, reloading their guns, sharpening their swords. The red sails of the people's revenge still fly above, more than ready to take what they're owed, no matter what it takes.

Gwen's blond hair is dipped in ruby red, hands tight around her blunderbuss. Miles wipes his face clean, stepping next to Gwen with clenched jaw. Pavitr stands directly behind you, face covered in what you hoped to be someone else's blood. He nods, reassuring you.

Yuri and James take one look at Ned, their expression alone could make you weep again. Finn, crouches down next to you, nodding wordlessly, blue eyes glossy.

Hobie exhales, with shaky legs he stands up, helping you back to your feet. Gripping your knife, you scowl at the man above.

“How cute. The power of friendship isn't enough to save you.” Mathias says through gritted teeth.

The rest of his crew arrives, there's less ships than before, proving how the bloodsail pirates is a force to be reckoned with. They have what Mathias doesn't have, giving them something worth fighting for.

Mathias nods, signaling his ship to turn their cannons towards you and your family.

You step in front of Hobie. “I have a proposition!” Yelling above the rain and metallic clanking, you push away Hobie's hand from your shoulder.

“What is it?” The man rolls his eyes, looking incredibly bored. “We can't be here all night.”

“Me,” the crew voices their concerns, Hobie takes your hand, face terrified.

You smile, “it's alright.” Whispering to him and the crew only. With tearful eyes, you turn back to the devil above. “You seem like you really want me, so fucking take me instead. Let them go.”

You feel the heat beneath your feet. The fire devours everything just a few feet below you.

They all yell your name behind you. Protests fill your ears but you choose to ignore them. You feel his calloused fingers squeeze your hand.

The man guffaws, “Holy shit! You like them that much?” He observes Hobie's contorted face.

“You like her that much?” He chuckles. “You know what? I don't even want you that much, sure, get on up here, birdy!”

There's that thrumming and warbling again. It's much clearer now that you're above, it seems like it's coming from beneath the ship.

“Come here and take me then!” The rain mixes in with your salty tears. Raising your arms, shoving everyone away, you taunt him. “But let them go or I'll plunge this dagger through your eye!”

“Christ, you're as insane as him. Perfect for eachother eh?” he sighs, gesturing for his cannons to cease. “I'm already satisfied even though a few of your men escaped from a dinghy but eh, I'm sure I'll get them soon enough. Just like how I'll get you one day, little pirate. I'm a very patient man, I'll wait three more years if I have to.”

Hobie's face is full of anguish when he swivels you around to look at him. “Don't fuckin' do this. He won't keep his word,” he flicks his eyes to Mathias, then back to you, grey eyes darker than before. “the moment you step foot on that ship he'll kill you.” his mind comes back to that fateful day.

He can't let that happen again, not to you.

You look at him softly. “I know, but I'll make it hard for him, that'll give you enough time to escape. Hobie, I have nothing else, just this.” swallowing the lump in your throat, there's heat under your eyes. Taking his hand, you squeeze it once. “Let me do this, for you and for them. You still have to get your revenge so let me do this. Don't let him win.”

“You promised.” His voice cracks.

“I don't think I can keep it now.” You flick your eyes behind him, the crew looks on with grief marring their eyes. “They're too young for this, Gwen, Pav and Miles, they deserve to live too.”

You hear the rope fall from the hellion's deck. “I'm glad I got stuck in that net even though you made me walk the plank.” chuckling through the tears, you give them your best smile to remember you by.

“Don't leave.” he pleads.

Sliding your hand away, you take one last look at them, making a sketch of their faces in your mind to remember when the inevitable happens.

“I have to go now or this won't work.”

The captain has no plan on how to fix it, how to fix everything, and he beats himself bloody for it.

Turning around, with every step you take feels heavier than the last. You make amends to her in your mind, praying that it reaches back home. You also thank her, but you don't regret running away that day.

You'll never know what lies for you up north or if there's someone there waiting for you. If there is someone, you apologize to them too.

You leave traces of yourself to the people behind you with the hope you live on through those pieces. That at least they won't forget your name.

The howling wind and rain whips at your drenched form, committing the feel of it to memory.

Grabbing the rope, you fight the urge to look behind.

“Hurry up, birdy!” Mathias cackles. “Come on then—!”

The thrumming is deafening, everything seems to freeze mid motion.

Giant mounds of flesh rise up from the water. Snake-like features curl above, rising to the heavens, cutting through the grey clouds.

You can't help but be mesmerized by the beauty of it. Iridescent scales glimmer against the lightning, cracked scales teeming in gold. the lightning bolts ricochet off their scaly skin, unharmed.

More serpents appear from the depths, towers of scaled flesh. They rain sea water from above, dripping from their massive bodies.

One curls just above the hellion, opening its eyes, revealing an entire ocean in its orbs.

You can't stop looking at it, petrified.

“Dragons.” You say in awe.

“Y/N!” Hobie races towards you. His hand brushes against your shirt, so close yet so far.

You get yanked up with the hellion, grip still frozen on the ropes. Holding on for life, the beast has curled around the ship, in your peripheral you see men jumping off, splashing down into the depths, taking their chances in the cold.

Facing the creature, they trill and thrum, crushing the hellion and the navy ships in their massive jaws and swirling flesh.

You wake up from the trance they had you in, almost losing your grip off the rope.

“No!” You screech, saving yourself, arm socket straining against your weight. Twirling the rope around your hand, you tie it just like how they taught you.

Palms burning on the hemp, looking down, you're hanging high above the revenge. You watch as the crew frantically unties a dinghy while Hobie and Finn stay behind, they're too far for you to make out what they're doing.

Your only chance is to jump in the water but you know that'll be the end of you.

Water parts for something swimming fast under the water, it moves towards the Revenge. You scream their names in an attempt to warn them.

“Gwen!” Your throat struggles from the screaming. “Brace yourselves!”

The serpent crashes on the starboard side, away from where the small boat hangs. Hobie clings to the remaining mast, knife in his hand. Heart pounding, you watch as Gwen runs towards Hobie, he yells, she shakes her head but in the end she bolts for the dinghy. You nod, hoping she saw that you forgave her.

The beast constricts around the helion, crashing the oak and its gilded carvings in its wrapped body.

You sway in the wind with the serpent’s movements, praying that the rope hangs on to the figure head. The figure head of an angel looks down at you, lifeless eyes observing your slow demise.

This is the end for you, you've never thought you'd be killed by a mythical being turned into reality but here you are, hanging on by a thread, waiting for death to come.

With one last glimpse at the revenge, you see the fire finally reaching above deck. Gwen and the others lower down on the dinghy while Hobie grabs onto a rope, cutting the knot off the steel rings, remembering James' teachings, if he keeps doing that he’ll get yanked up, and with the wild wind, it will surely be a disaster.

You yell his name in a futile attempt to stop his effort at saving you.

Finn raises something in his hands, heaving it over his shoulder.

You sharply turn your head when a snapping sound fills your ears. The hemp untangles, with the rope breaking in the middle, you close your eyes.

The sea serpent lets out a guttural scream, the sound alone sends shivers down your spine. It uncurls around the hellion and you get a glimpse of a sharp harpoon sticking out from its eye.

Falling with the hellion, the serpent's eyes turn from blue to a bloody red, bathing everything in its gaze in crimson. it's the last thing you see before you shut your eyes.

You feel a familiar arm around your middle, looking over your shoulder, you think you've already died.

“I've got you!” Hobie yells, with him carrying you and his hand grasping on the rising rope, he struggles to hold on.

So you help him, wrapping your arm behind him, you hold the rope in the other, face close to his as you two fly above the revenge, swinging and whipping uncontrollably in the storm.

The beast trills, jaw unhinging, its rows of shark like teeth in full display.

“Shit!” Hobie manipulates the rope to swing you two away from its sharp teeth.

It fails to catch you, instead it turns its attention to Finn on the deck.

“Finn! Run!” Your blood curdling scream gets his attention, yet he pays no heed.

But everyone already knows it's too late, with one last fight in him, he raises his harpoon, yelling, meeting the serpent's opened mouth halfway.

It swallows him whole.

You just stare at where Finn once stood, he leaves patches of his ichor on the floor.

The revenge sinks, fire and water engulfing Hobie's home, your home.

“Love!” The name rots in his mouth, it gets you out of your frozen state. “I—”

The last standing mast cracks and breaks apart. You lose your grip on Hobie.

And you fall once again. For a second you fly, eyes peering towards the clearing sky, with white clouds in your vision, you brace for impact.

“MJ!”

That's the last thing you hear as you fall in the depths in a harsh splash.

A/N: so sorry for the late update!! Hope you like it 🫶 (if i forgot to put any warnings on the tags please tell me)

[charliehoennam]

angel part 2

pairing: louis bloom x f!reader

summary: louis and his newfound crush slip deeper into their attraction after the 'wet dream'.

warning: this fic contains dark themes such as stalking, dubcon/noncon, smut and others. Read at your own risk. 18+ ONLY.

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

The early morning sunlight begins to stream into your room. Its beaming warmth stirs you from your deep slumber.

Your head is pounding. The room feels it's still spinning around you and your mouth is drier than a desert.

Water would be really good right now, but you're not ready to get up yet. Your limbs still feel heavy and sore.

As consciousness slowly permeates back into you, you realize the soreness concentrates down between your hips. You lay in bed and think back to the dream you had.

You're riddled with confusion. You've had plenty of hyper realistic dreams before, but this felt different.

It felt so real and so good that you wish it had been real. You brush it off deciding to believe you're just so hung up on your neighbor. Being single for as long as you have been, his kind gesture and his piercing blue eyes are incredibly hard to not find so attractive.

You could still feel his warm breath on your skin. His hands felt soft and rough altogether gliding over your supple thighs and groping at your breasts. The memory of his wriggling tongue in your pussy already has it growing wet again.

You must've been really wet in your sleep judging by the stickiness on your sex. It seemed sort of clean; it must have rubbed against your bed sheets or something. It explains the small crusty stains on the cotton fabric.

Looks like you'll be doing laundry today. You needed to anyways. The stack of dirty clothes that you'd been ignoring during the packing process has piled up.

Louis watches you stir around in your bed from where he's stood behind his dull green curtains.

"So pretty even when you wake up," he thinks to himself.

He's so hypnotized by you, he doesn't even look down at the bowl of cereal in his hands as he eats calmly wondering if you know.

He watches your hand slide down between your legs to feel around, blissfully unaware as you search for any residue in your sore pussy.

His stare is relentlessly fixed on you. He can't look away, not that he even wants to. His heart drums faster in his chest along with his thoughts.

Does she know? Did she wake up? Is she going to touch herself? Did she enjoy it?

Inebriated with intrigue and curiosity, he stands frozen with one wide creepy eye peeping out from behind his curtain.

His mouth dries with anticipation, hoping you would touch yourself at the thought of being fucked by him. He can almost hear his blood rush in his head as his breath catches in his throat. He wishes he could hear every sound you make.

Lou doesn't even notice he's holding his only breath as you investigate your body, running a hand over your sore breasts and swollen pussy, when he sets his cereal down on the flower table by the window.

"I can't believe it," he thinks to himself. "That little filthy whore liked it. Can't get enough. Just the way I like it."

While you're asking yourself how this came to be, wondering if your little wet dream became a masturbating sleepwalking session, Lou's got his pants and belt open to unleash his heavy twitch dick.

With every recollection of your soft skin, the taste and the warmth of your pussy, his precum oozes from his domed head, allowing himself to smear it over his veiny member adding to the lube of his spit.

He can imagine how sweet your moans must sound. He would give anything to hear them while defiles your innocent body, plundering for the mind-numbing high.

It brings him to the idea of setting up cameras in your apartment, which doesn't sound so bad.

How come I hadn't thought of that before? He questions himself mentally, being the perverted voyager that he is.

He makes a mental note to plan that later. His mind is too impaired to churn out the details for that. Right now, all he can focus on how your hand is still between your legs.

As you think back to every possible explanation, your mind seems to only concentrate how realistic your dream felt.

You could smell the musky cologne of his body. You could feel his cock pushing and pulling in and out of you. You could feel his tongue wiggle between your folds once he was done pounding it ruthlessly.

The more you think about it, the more you ache for your neighbor.

The thought of him fucking you into your mattress drives you reach your heavy arm to your nightstand and pull out your vibrating friend.

The soreness of your limbs and the throbbing headache aren't enough to silence your pussy's craving. And it yearns for Lou.

Lou watches with a dry mouth hung open as you grind the humming cock against your pussy, drenching it with your slick to push it in.

You lick your lips and moan as you let the vibrator tease your clit, imagining Lou's face so clearly hovering over you as his dick penetrates your cunt.

The thought of the heavenly sounds your bodies would make as his hips snap against your sweaty hot skin.

You imagine threading your fingers into his silky hair as he buries his face between your legs, his tongue invading your core. The intensity of his thick-browed gaze up at you, gripping you with greedy hands and hunger as his mouth works it's wonder on you.

The watch on Lou's wrist rattles softly in the quiet of his apartment as he tugs his dick; his only little compliment to your performance.

With your legs spread wide, you push the vibrator into your slick slit and begin fucking yourself into your own bliss.

You're so fucking horny and drenched that the squelch of your pussy overcomes the vibrations of your toy. You're so hungry for cock and so pretty unknowingly putting yourself on display, holding one leg back to your chest as you fuck your pussy.

You're moaning, gasping and kneading your breast while Lou struggles to not cum just yet.

He wants to wait to cum with you. He wants to cum together because you're his. You were meant to be his and you have to cum together. He needs to feel - or at least pretend enough - that he's right back in your vice of a cunt, dicking you down raw.

His breath hitches as you get closer together and closer and closer until the pulling tension finally snaps in your cores, sheathing you both euphoric waves of pleasure.

"Fuck," he sighs looking at the curtains he'd just stained with ribbons of pearly white cum.

He really needs you again.

He wants more. He'll always want more.

Looking back out the window, he sees you slowly getting to walk to the bathroom and exit from view. He correctly assumes you've gone for a shower, but he needs another round.

With the camera hooked up to the tv, he finally sits back on his couch with your panties in hand. He presses play and begins to watch his work of art from the previous night, he threads his cock into your panties and begins to stroke his length.

He takes a bit of time to notice all the little intimate details of your home that reflect your tastes. Stroking his softened cock to its hardened state again, he makes notes of most of the things you love.

What a lucky little angel you are. He should be watching the news to see what his team's managed to capture without him. Yet here he is, prioritizing you. Worshipping you. You just don't know how truly special you are...yet.

Louis's head falls back as the vulgar images and sound lull him into bliss.

He remembers how pretty you looked. So exposed just for his eyes. All and only his even if just for a while.

Louis's chest heaves as he stares at the TV. You look so peaceful in your sleep. He wonders if he'll ever get to sleep beside you.

While Lou jacks his cock off to the dirty homemade video with your panties hooked around his cock, the fresh scent of the dark brew in your coffee pot wafts through your apartment, infiltrating your bathroom as you wash yourself in the shower.

The warm water rinses away the soreness of your body as you sit on the ground under the running shower.

You close your eyes to enjoy the soothing calm of the shower. Your mind begins to wander. What is it about him that has you so hung up on him?

Sure, he's attractive. He's no LA fitness model. Just a thin, young man with a deadly smile, luscious brown lock and piercing unyielding eyes that could burn a hole tight through you.

He looked fairly common, but there was still something there within that brought a chill up your spine until the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end.

To be entirely honest, you can't tell if you're attracted to him or scared of him. But whatever it is, it's pulling you like a magnet.

As he waters his treasured flower, he notices across from his window that you're gathering clothes and bedsheets, preparing a laundry basket as you nestle the laundry soap and softener upon the piled fabrics.

He sees this as an opportunity to get closer to you presenting itself. And given the mess he's made on the curtains and your stolen panties, he knows it'll have to be laundry day for him as well.

The complex you share has a community laundromat for the tenants. He presumes that's where you're going, he needs to get there before you do. He needs you to think it's all a mare coincidence.

He watches you wide-eyed as you set your basket down on the couch.

Your toast's popped up in the toaster.

He sighs in relief, knowing now he has enough time to gather his laundry and soap to race to the laundromat to get there before you do.

He stumbles through his apartment, gathering whatever he can find to toss aimlessly into his laundry basket. Then he gathers the curtains from his window to dump them into the basket, along with your dirty lace panties.

He kinda hates that he ruined them. Now, he'll have to wash them and that will wash away your precious scent. No worries, though. He'll just steal another next time and make sure he keeps that one sealed and cleaned to sniff whenever he craves your pussy.

Grabbing a few more clothes, not really caring if they're clean or dirty, he takes one more glance out the window and see that you're still enjoying your simple breakfast.

Dressed in a pink shirt, he ties his brown locks back away from his face and carries his basket on his hip as he calmly makes his way to the laundry room confident in his plan to win you over.

You finish your slices of buttered toast and coffee before wiping your hands together and quickly rinsing the dishes.

The move must have really taken a toll on you because your body is beyond tired, but you still need to push forward though all you wish you could do is sleep under your covers.

Taking a cold water bottle from the fridge, you walk out of your apartment with basket wearing a simple top, short denim shorts and a pair of flip flops.

As you approach the laundromat, you can hear a machine working already from the hallway. The door is wide open, providing more light into the dull dark laundry room.

Outdated washers and dryers line the the walls of the room - if you can even call it that. It really looks more like a building basement with the lack of windows.

You freeze for a minute as you quickly make out the familiar figure standing with his back to you as he calmly sets his clothes in the washer one item at a time.

After a glance over his shoulder, he turns around his head to flash a smile that attempts to seem more welcoming than devious, though faint worry radiating from your amygdala questions his succession in asserting comfort.

"Y/N, right? The new neighbor?" As if he could ever forget your name.

"Yeah. You're Lou, right?" you reply politely returning the smile.

Without any control, your pussy squeezes around nothing arching for him once again as you're reminded of your dream.

"Are you settling in alright?"

"Yeah, I am. Still have some unpacking to finish, but everything is going well. Thanks for asking."

"Sure thing. Oh, " suggest washer number 3. It works the best if you ask me. Don't bother with number 9. It'll take your coins, but it doesn't work. I personally believe it's intentionally rigged to steal our money."

"Thank you for that. I'll have to keep that in mind," you smile politely.

You wonder if it's actually true or if he just wants you to be closer to him given that washer number 3 is right next to him. Why wouldn't he take the best washer instead?

Brushing off the worrisome questions, you feel like you barely know him enough to make judgements about him, so you walk over to the washer beside his and start loading it up.

"Thank you for the cookies again. They were really good. I almost ate all of them."

He smiles to himself. Almost? That could only mean you didn't eat all of them, meaning there are more of the sleep-inducing cookies that can provide him with another opportunity and hopefully tonight.

His dick twitches at the excitement.

"I'm glad you enjoyed them. Although I admit they're much better when eating within the first two days. After that, they start to go stale."

They don't, but he can't risk you not eating them.

"Guess I'll have to finish them all today. What a sacrifice," you reply ironically flashing a smile at him.

He chuckles at your jokes, trying his best to mimick genuine amusement.

"What an awful way to indulge."

"Did you make them from scratch?"

"Oh, of course" he lies. "They're my late grandma's recipe."

He never even met his grandmother or grandparents. He was given up to adoption at an early age. He lies to add a personal taste; he hopes he can win you over a little with a family-friendly detail.

And he does.

"Aw, that's sweet," you swoon. "Did you learn how to cook with her?"

"She taught me enough to get me by."

"Well, she taught you well. Those cookies were delicious."

Yes, you are. The best thing I've ever tasted, he thinks to himself.

"She taught me how to make a wonderful chocolate cake as well. I'd love to make it for you sometime," he beams at all the possible opportunities that flash through his mind.

"Yeah, I'd love that! I love chocolate cake. But you gotta let me make you something too," you reply feeling a little too spoiled.

"You don't have to do that. I love baking," he hasn't the slightest clue how to make a cake from scratch. Thank God for box mix, though.

"Well, I wouldn't feel so bad about accepting all your treats. Why don't you at least let me take you out then? My treat."

"Are you asking me out?" he smirks locking his eyes on you.

"I might be. Doesn't have to be a date if you don't want to."

Your cheeks flush with warmth as he catches your not-so-subtle invitation.

"Yeah, I'd love that. And I appreciate a woman that isn't afraid to take the initiative."

You smile brightly feeling like you just took a step in the right direction.

"I'm free tonight if you are? I know a great place that serves authentic Mexican food."

"Sounds great to me. How about tonight at 8?"

"Perfect, sweetheart" he grins.

His idea to win you over is actually working, all according to plan.

[bored-storyteller]

Warning: gore, cannibalism (between ghouls)

Author's note: I realized that I was much braver with Uta at first. Let's try again.

Tokyo Ghoul, Uta x Human!Reader

What is mine

There is a smell of blood in the putrid air. Your blood.

The ghoul holds you in its arms like a sacrificial victim.

“That's mine.”

“I didn't know, sorry...I'm not the type to go around stealing other people's food, believe me.”

Looks nice, him. He has dyed blond and blue hair that escapes from his wildly done bun. His locks fall on a face that would look like an angel's, if it weren't for those veins that flow like streams from the black and red eyes of a demon. He doesn't have to shine with intelligence since he doesn't wear the mask, or maybe he trusts too much in his abilities, for someone so average.

Uta picks you up when the younger ghoul hands you over to him: you are cold, you are shaking, you are crying. He doesn't know if you're paralyzed with fear or blood loss from that wound on your shoulder.

Your blood tickles his sense of smell, and his palate. Your fingers grip his sweater, and he holds you just tighter. He doesn’t blame the other one, your perfume is intoxicating now that your flesh is uncovered.

He mustn't be happy to give up on you, he wouldn't if Uta weren't so much stronger than him.

The Mask Maker gently puts you on the ground, he feels your fear: you are afraid of everything now, even him.

That person tried to take you away from him, to keep you for himself. And that person expects him to get you now.

“Luckily I'm hungry.” He says as he looks into your eyes. If you can be more afraid than you already are, he doesn't know. But it doesn’t matter.

The ghoul with the beautiful face was going to say something, but it's hard to talk when your vocal cords are torn.

The carotid artery hangs from the bite mark like a slack string, part of it between Uta's teeth; a flick of the tongue and it disappears between the lips.

The eyes of the predator victim are wide open, incredulous. Gorgeous, perhaps.

How long can it take for that slit throat to heal? A lot of time. Too little.

Uta bites again, blood gushes, there is a muffled scream.

The taste of that meat has nothing to do with the smell you give off, but Uta is hungry.

He's hungry, and your broken skin makes him lose control.

Someone must be eaten by him.

That ghoul wanted to eat you.

He wanted him to eat you himself.

He was about to lose you, in a way or another.

His hands dig into his chest, the intricate black patterns on his fingers covered in ferrous red.

“What a greedy you are... you already ate, huh?”

The stomach of the other demon is full, Uta wonders who is in there: “It was he a boy? A girl? Young or old? An unfortunate student? All of them?”

Uta smiles. That won't be of any use now that it's out of the body, it's not right to waste it.

He won't even need his intestines, right?

And the heart? What does the unfortunate one do with his heart?

The bones crunch as they crack and open, like the crust that covers the filling.

Maybe it still moves, or maybe it doesn't, but it doesn't matter.

The teeth sink in like in an apple, they tear it, now there is no more life. But is the soul still there?

Uta is full, but still gobbles it up. He devours that body that is not meant to be eaten, that modifies his, that drives his mind crazy. Assuming Uta can go any crazier than that.

No, he can't freak out, there's you. But Uta is crazy to love you.

“Uta!”

Your voice sounds desperate. How long have you been calling him?

He looks at you with his delicate face smeared, the top of the other ghoul's skull hanging from his fingers gripping his blond hair.

Now he comes to you, he promises you. He just has to make sure you don't get eaten too.

“Is there still a soul in these eyes?” He asks the half head as he brings it up to his gaze. He can't even tell where the jaw and tongue have gone, but that's not a problem.

Those eyes that stare at him glassy and half open Uta hates them. He doesn't even bother to remove them from the eye socket; he rips the first one off with just his teeth and swallows it whole, then does the same with the other one. It's not difficult, and if inside there is the core of that stupid, then he lets it rot in his depths together with the remains of his body.

Now there is no more danger for you.

The head rolls away, no one will wonder what happened to someone like him. It's a ghoul who disappeared in the fourth ward, at the end.

Uta calls your name as he leans in front of you, sweet and gentle as ever.

He watches your hand press on the wound on your shoulder: "Let me see." He asks you softly.

You obey, but you still smell of terror. You've never seen him eat like this, not someone like him.

The fingers that used to butcher now fearfully touch the edge of your wound.

"It's not serious... you’ll be ok, everything is fine." He murmurs reassuringly, barely licking the blood that drips from you. It will be enough to remove that hateful taste from his tongue.

His hands take your face, holding it like never before. His thumbs wipe away your tears and massage your cheekbones as he contemplates you. The blood is now on you too.

He looks into your glassy eyes and something unknown stirs inside him.

He is losing you. It's the only thing he can think of. You seem so distant now.

How he can stop you, unarmed as he is. Not even the idea of consuming your body to hold you within him brings relief, and he doesn't know why you upset his functioning.

But Uta is bizarre, there is no situation in which he follows a rule of his.

You are so different from Renji to him, your delicacy makes you complicated and elusive. Your delicacy prevents him from breaking you.

He can't afford to lose you too, he understood it when his chest tightened on smelling your blood. You and Renji are the only things that still make him walk in this world, which still allow him to experience lively emotions. It's not the RC cells that risk driving him crazy, it's you.

“I love you.”

His whisper is so sweet you might think he's about to cry.

It seems strange to say, those are not words that are well suited to a language like his, especially in a world where secrets must be kept between the ribs. But that's the only thing worth letting you know right now. A ghoul love, a clown love, but it's love.

And he almost gasps when he sees your eyes light up with life again, as you look at him as if you were seeing him for the first time.

He doesn't expect to find your arms around him, nor to meet your lips.

You kiss him like it's not okay to do, like he hasn't just eaten someone. You don't seem to mind the blood smearing your face, the metallic taste on his tongue. You seem to ask him to swallow you, but there is no room for you.

The lovers: two crazy people kissing among the remains of a corpse.

It's a good stage for you two.

“He wanted to put you in his place…” He whispers as he holds you like he never held you.

“You wished too?”

Don't you already have your answer?

Your eyes travel from him to over his shoulder, but his hand covers them. He stares at the grimy tattoos on his knuckles for a split second, wondering how they got there.

It's to protect you, perhaps, or to protect him who is wrong and rotten even among monsters.

“Forget it.” He tells you.

You shake your head. He's covered you so much in ghoul blood that at first glance you wouldn't be able to tell who the perpetrator is between you two, but all those red marks on you are testament to his touch.

“I don’t want to do it. I don't want to lose anything about you” You tell him, and there's an adoration in your voice that he always pretended not to hear.

“No?”

“No. Will you take me home?”

He gives you a quick nod, and just watches you as you climb onto his back. Your grip around his neck is reassuring.

“You'll make it?” You ask, as if he's never brought you like this. He scoffs at you as he settles your legs on his hips.

He's so grateful to feel your weight on his back and not in his stomach.

“I feel heavy actually, you say it's your fault?”

You huff, and your heel taps playfully on his thigh. He pinches you lightly, affectionately.

You are alive, he wants you to be alive. There is no one in the world who could look at his melancholy and smile as you do, marveling at a monstrous beauty.

What criminals you and he are, walking off into the night, away from the eyes of the world, leaving behind the trail of sinful blood.

[thebestbooksaround]

This is a Buddie fic rec list where "one of them isn't a firefighter" That makes me warm and happy every time I read them <3

Part 1 || Part 2

Exploding Coffee Machines by inkinmyheartandonthepage (@inkinmyheartandonthepage) | 9k | General

Buck couldn’t be blamed for falling in love with his neighbour. He was powerless against the Diaz boys and wanted nothing more than to be swept up in their everything. Buck thought that Eddie felt the same, that their feelings of more than just being platonic best friends was mutual. Buck had been hopeful that Eddie inviting him to his boss’s house to meet his friends and co-workers meant that they were taking a step in the right direction.

A step that now Buck was going to be late for OR Buck gets burned at work and worries that he's blown his shot with Eddie when he runs late to meet his friends.

What is Love For $2000? by fayevian 17k | Mature

On the screen, the camera pans down as they introduce the contestants. Mary, on her 3rd day winning streak, is a dowdy teacher type. Center stage is occupied by a graying man with loopy handwriting named Auggie. And all the way to the right is… Evan. Damn. --- One night when Eddie can't sleep, he discovers the hottest Jeopardy contestant of all time (objectively). With the "help" of his team and his fairly good working knowledge of Twitter, they devise a plan to get Evan (from Jeopardy) to slide into Eddie's DMs. It works surprisingly well.

i like you so much (it's kinda gross) by brewrosemilk, stardustbuddie (@gayhoediaz) (@wh0re-behavi0r) | 10k | Explicit

Buck Buckley (@/firefighterbuck): @/eddiediaz I’ll never be able to tug your hair now, huh?

Eddie Diaz (@/eddiediaz): @/firefighterbuck It’s against the rules, anyway. You don’t look like a fighter, though. What situation would we be in that would make you want to tug my hair?

(Or: Eddie is an MMA fighter and Buck thirsts on twitter.)

you make the world taste better by farfromthstars (@buckactuallys) | 11k | Teen

They follow the room numbers down the hallway until the last door on the right. It’s slightly ajar, and when Eddie knocks politely, it opens further.

“Hey,” a cheerful, male voice says. “You guys are early!”

When Eddie spots the source of the voice, he nearly swallows his tongue.

The man is tall, with broad shoulders and huge arms, a sunny smile on his face that looks so genuine Eddie can’t help but smile back. There’s a splash of pink over his one eye, his hair is just the slightest bit curly, and his eyes are startlingly blue. He’s also about 80% legs, and leaning on a cane to walk.

Belatedly, Eddie remembers that he should say something too, not just stare at this guy approaching them.

“Uh,” he starts eloquently. “Sorry. This one was getting impatient at home ~ Newly arrived to LA, Eddie decides to take his son to parent/child cooking classes. The instructor is so much more than he expected

stupid people. by brewrosemilk (@gayhoediaz) | 160k | Explicit

New in Los Angeles, and having recently admitted to himself that he's gay, Eddie figures that hiring a sex worker might be a good way to keep his private life cut off from his job and his son. A way to keep things from becoming too complicated.

It works. For a while.

your dreary mondays by hammersmiths (@henswilsons) | 33k | Teen

“Wait, you need a sitter?” Chimney says. Eddie nods. “Maddie’s brother got back in town a few nights ago, he’s looking for work.”

Eddie frowns. He doesn’t know much about this mysterious brother of Maddie’s – doesn’t even really know much about Maddie, either, aside from being Chimney’s girlfriend – but he’s pretty sure every time he’s been brought up in conversation it’s not been particularly inspiring. “Is this the brother who flunked out of college because he spent all his tuition on a motorcycle?”

Chimney colours a little. “Um. No?”

or, Buck babysits Christopher and Eddie is—fine about it, actually.

one single thread of gold (tied me to you) by heartbeatdiaz (@heartbeatdiaz) | 4k | Teen

Eddie doesn't know much about Chris' science teacher, except that he's his son favorite and apparently knows everything there's to know. ( Those were Christopher's words. )

So when he enters the classroom, expecting an old man dressed nicely but a little old-fashioned as the science teacher, his whole life crashes to a halt.

"Evan?" The man who's leaning against the desk, looking at some papers, suddenly startles and looks up at Eddie with wide blue eyes.

"Holy shit," It's what the man says after spending at least a minute opening and closing his mouth. or; Eddie met Evan when he was a bartender in Peru and Eddie was on vacation with his cousins. They had a one night stand and Eddie woke up the next morning to an empty bed and a disappointed heart. Just for the same guy to end up being Chris' teacher years after.

always glad you came by foxwatson (@eddiediazes) | 5k | Teen

Buck is the incredibly kind but incredibly straight bartender at Eddie's local gay bar. Eddie is trying very, very hard not to be pathetically in love with him, and is failing miserably.

“Hey, you’re back,” Buck had said, greeting him with that sun-bright grin, and Eddie had yet again been reminded why he’d started questioning his sexuality.

“Well, I get one night off a week. And tonight I could really use the drink.”

Buck’s brow had furrowed, and he got Eddie his favorite beer without even asking again what it was. “You need to talk about it? Assuming I read you right and you’re the kind of guy who talks to a bartender instead of a therapist.”

Eddie had winced theatrically. “Ouch. That obvious, huh?”

“Hey, man, you’re the one that told me you started coming here on your coworker’s advice. Feels like something you’d get from a therapist, if you had one.”

see the stars with my morning eyes by trippedandfell (@trippedandfell) | 3k | Teen

“So,” Buck announces, sitting down between Hen and Chimney at the concessions stand. “I think Eddie’s trying to get me to sleep with him and his fiancée.”

or: Eddie calls Lucy his partner. Buck extrapolates.

walking on sunshine by fallingthorns (@fallingthorns) | 5k | Teen

“Shut up,” Buck grumbles at the dog. “It’s not a crush.”

Buck walks out of the room, out the backdoor, and into the yard, trying to ignore his large and judgmental dog following behind him.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Buck tells him as he gets the hose out to start watering his plants. “Keep it to yourself.”

“Who are you talking to?”

Buck startles and drops the hose, doing a quick 180-degree turn and coming face-to-face with Eddie. He’s clearly standing on something, elbows folded over the top of the fence and chin resting on them as he looks at Buck. His expression looks almost fond and it kind of makes Buck want to both preen and die of embarrassment. -- Or, the one where Buck owns a doggy daycare, has a large dog with an attitude, and is hopelessly in love with his new neighbor.

Under Any Roof by moncuries (@moncuries) | 10k | Teen

Eddie Diaz does not need a noisy neighbor on top of all the shit he's trying to work out.

But he does make really good mac and cheese. -- “You know,” And Buck is meeting his eyes now. They’re uncannily blue. Like Kool-Aid or popsicles. “If you want, I could show you what I get up to up there?”

What? WHAT? Eddie feels heat spread from the tips of his ears to his toes. No way had he just gotten propositioned before sunrise in the decrepit hallway of their apartment building. “Um. No.” He backs up until his calves brush the door to 101. “Thank you, really. But no.”

my house of stone, your ivy grows by stayeven (@demieddie) | 7k | Mature

When Eddie resigns himself to buying sex toys in person—despite the popularity of online ordering now—he expects to be embarrassed and overwhelmed. What he doesn't expect is to leave with a crush on the employee with captivating blue eyes.

and we can stay all day by trippedandfell (@trippedandfell) | 3k | Teen

“So let me get this straight,” Hen says, once she’s stopped laughing at him. “Your nerd crush-

“-Evan Buckley,” Eddie miserably interjects.

“Your nerd crush,” Hen repeats, waggling her eyebrows. At the kitchen table beside her, Chimney is grinning like Christmas just came early. “Read your drunk tweet and then sent you animal facts via DM?”

or: Buck's a zoologist. Eddie's pretty sure he's in love.