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shrimp-anon · 1 year ago

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FUCK YOU I CRIED AGAIN WITH AZUL AFTER I CRIED OVER MY OWN ANGST WRITING OC X BLADE 😭

# when you don't like them back !

TO. riddle, leona, azul, kalim.

c/w: vague mention of alcohol dependency

my thoughts will echo your name

until i see you again.

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS.

riddle rosehearts is a man who does not possess a weak heart. he's someone who's learned the hard way through laborious tasks, a pious student who's vigorous enough to use up all the remaining ink in each and every pen he owns. but use do they all add up to when they're just a faulty, forfeitable protection against your transcendent beauty?

you tore down his walls, stepped into the craven parts of his heart, and became the spring to his winter. and all of that affection that stormed in his head multiplies tenfold when he catches a glimpse at your fleeing figure, illuminated by the flickering hallway lights that shone down on every strand of hair, every footprint left behind, and the sparkle that glimmered in your eyes that makes his heart stop and stare.

he thinks—and thinks, but he doesn't understand how he thinks the world of such trifle actions that sets his heart aflutter. he clutches his chest, achingly, to put a stop to his heartbeat that only resounded through the wounded walls of his body just, and only for you.

the adoration that pines for your touch on his skin, your fingertips padding along the sides of his jawline, all so close yet so far. the painfully horrific confines of his heart that encloses his utopian memories with you, ones where the golden hour that lays onto the horizon of the earth as it disseminates its glory at such right times its uncanny—like you're some other being apart from him.

but god, has he always stooped this low?

what happened to the different monographs regularly bounded beyond the protection of his hands, why are they strewn all over the ground and looked like it's been violently mauled by some beast? why is the lamp on the floor, that god damned clock broken—fragments of glass protruding out from the carpet and all?

he's losing it, and he knows. mother has never taught me any of this, so why—what am i doing now? just then, his eyes meet a stranded shard of glass. his reflection staring back at him, and he starts to sob.

it's useless, everything. no matter how smart he gets, your presence always crawls to haunt him back. he tries to recollect, but it's been long since he was ever vulnerable around anyone. and queen forbid—the sugar cubes he so much treasures doesn't taste as sweet anymore.

in spite of everything, he doesn't let his grades falter. he still consumes the same meals daily, and he continues to act as heartslabyul's destined housewarden, for the betterment of himself and his dorm. but the words 'of himself' sounds vacant, as if they don't mean anything if you aren't there for him, to cloak him in your warmth. and truthfully, he feels bad for his helpless outbursts that are powerful enough to bring even the devil to his knees.

he finally found someone he could have fun with, who he could break the rules for. who he was able to fulfill his lifelong wishes with without the nosy eyes of his mother. did they mean nothing to you, in fact?

nevermind, it's time to stop this useless dawdling and get up to start the day right. another day of being riddle rosehearts, another day of never being good enough.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR.

he's inebriated in the way you trace the scar around his eye at the crack of dawn, eyes of emerald that fall shut as you make the jagged margins of his life glisten with fervour. being in a relationship was certainly not on his 2023 bingo card.

he's expressed his solid condemnation into having a significant other—'having the hots for someone', as they say, and it's as clear-cut as it is. the thought of being in one sends a rush of bile bubbling up his throat, pushing him to double-over and let it all out. he can't imagine committing and spending a future with someone, no matter how high their royal status is. he finds the decisions dependent in the name of hierarchy nothing more than mind screwing.

and you proved him right. proved him so right that his heart swells with drunken affection which numbed at the tip of his tongue that usually rolled out grimy remarks. you heal him—like vinegar to rust. regardless of how big of a crowd he has, how many brilliant trinkets he was gifted, they'll all pale in comparison to the time he spends with you.

smudged lipstick marks and tousled bedheads has him feeling new, like his faith has been restored and crystallised into something precious—as his hands desperately grasp on to the remaining shreds of his life that he bled for.

but he never expected himself out of all people to descend into the pit of delusion, an immersive dimension that he thought he was immune to. but he's a human with—emotions, after all.

he woke up at the call of daylight, noticing the message on his phone that emerged from nothing into something as quick as he could tell. and it wasn't about his studies—or his family—or whether he had a good rest the previous night. and certainly not a 'good morning' either. your message seemed...too long to be just that.

"just asking...will you be able to get me with ruggie somewhere by the end of this week? i want to tell him something."

his reaction isn't timely, in fact—he leaves it on read for a while to brood over his morning happenings before his expression morphs into something morose. and because of you...?

and as quick as dandelion seeds whirling away, the lion-and-hyena tandem he held so dear to his heart loses its face on the earth. and he can't say that losing multiple people at once was a first.

cheka frets, and falena has to cover his eyes just in time for him as he gives leona a once-over before admonishing the younger with heated disapproval. "what has gotten into you?"

"yeah, yeah. run away." he flicks a hand his direction, and uncorks another labelled bottle once again. if he can't have you—or anything at all, then he'll feed and feed on your tears until they become his own.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO.

one exchanged smile with him, and you paint his world in a myriad of colours he had yet to see down the darkened expanse of the sea.

you lay his incremental need for approval to rest behind the crevices of his mind, your flawless touches of sparkles that has him feeling like a person who could take on the entire world with their bare hands. and he's devoted—if money means something, you mean millions. if the sky looked too bright for a midnight sight, he'd gladly pluck you out of the billions that dared to shine brighter than you.

he frankly held no opposition to how cheap you may have lived—he'll favour you a job at the lounge as a lounge singer, listening with passionate awe in his eyes as you coat the grounds in layers and layers of euphoria while holding your microphone with a heartfelt grip that captures the hearts of people nearby.

he sees the way you pace back and forth before your weekly gigs on the stage, wringing your hands like how you do in class as you get called up to unveil your conglomerate of ideas, readying yourself for the work and business life. azul has to contain himself before his chuckles dominated the backstage, silly as you may seem. he slowly saunters over to rub his hands up and down your forearm.

"thank you," you beam at him, and tighten your grip on the microphone, like he'd just stabbed a yearslong of confidence straight into your deepest weaknesses.

you're grateful, and you can't wait to finally sing your heart out to the person that saved you through countless sleepless nights where the moon looked like it was about to drop at any moment. he's your salvation—a source of light when you were at your lowest.

you climb up the stage, and sit on the designated stool azul had acquired just for you. every night, day, weeks—he looks forward to the mellow sound of your voice to come mend his trembling spirit, as if he's a pathetic child once again that carved the initials of his enemies onto the sea sand. though, he doesn't miss the faded glint in your eyes being directed towards the crowd, possibly at someone, like passing letters in secrecy.

he arrives at his table along the twins, and waits for you to start.

you giggle, and adjust the microphone until it's in close contact with your lips. "this is for you, jamil."

azul's lost throughout the entire performance. he can feel his glasses starting to slip off, and why does your voice sound a bit off? he hears it, love, forever, the words jumbled up in a single song that brings an ear-splitting sound of ringing up and about in his ears until it shuts out everything else, missing jade's furrowed eyebrows and worried persuasions to take him to the bathroom.

soon after, you hear the indistinct sound of chair legs scrapping across the ground and hurried footsteps reverberating off the walls. he wonders how long it's been since he's made a fool of himself in front of everyone?

he turns the deadbolt to the nearest restroom, slams the door shut, and lunges his body forward towards a sink. it's not long until he hears the door bursting open, before his vision of the sink bleeds into inky, pitch black darkness.

KALIM AL-ASIM.

"hey, hey, you up?" he'd shake your shoulder until you were wide awake, resplendent eyes of vermilion that shone behind silvery streams of moonlight, rivalling each other as if it were ruby and sapphire.

you weren't sold on the idea of a late night escapade at first—given the fact that there was school the very next morning. if your time anxiety wasn't a mountain of a task to get over, you'd interlock your hands with him in an instant with tender-hearted laughter encompassing the area, like two fated runaways who were bound together by the everlasting strings of love. kalim holds these moments close to his heart, as if it's his own treasure trove that nobody could ever get close to opening.

kalim wasn't even aware of the feelings he caught for you until jamil actually took him through a quick rundown of things—for example, how he notices the slight twitch of kalim's hand that ached for the warmth of yours. how he always views you through rose-tinted lens which filled a certain part of his heart that he didn't know that he wanted to fill. he knew there was something deep down that he was missing, through childhood and his teenage years of living with a silver spoon in his mouth.

and you sprinkled him in stardust. he's grateful for all the days where he gets to feel the sun's rays from heaven that hovered over his body that reminds him of your smile that he's so keen to protect. it just tells him that if he gets to live to see the next day, that means he'd get to see you. you make his entire being soar like no other.

despite the provocative whispers that run like water down the hallways due to his upbringing, you still manage to spend time with that airhead that you wish you could love back.

a few people knew he was a lost cause, so who were you to interfere?

you keep telling—convincing yourself that it was his fault that he got attached too quickly. but you can't help but feel a sense of foreboding at the back of your mind as you scrawl down your confession for another being in hot red.

"don't come crying to me when things don't go the way you planned. i've warned you." jamil is there to watch him as kalim scrambles to take out his bouquet of roses that he hid so "skillfully" without you knowing from his locker just in time for valentines day, along with a hand-written letter that he adorned so carefully in hearts.

he had a feeling that you were about to arrive to your next class somewhere about now. but someone else was your priority while you were his. what were the odds?

"don't worry, they'll like it!" and he jogs up to you once he sees you ambling down the—crowded halls. jamil tries to hold him back, but alas.

there's something weird going on with your face. you whisper to yourself to not cringe at the confession that he prepared and presented so widely out in the open, the loving lilt in his voice that continues to strike your heart with hard, unceasing blows. this can't be happening, you should have never spent so much time with him.

you hurriedly push him out of the way and bolt to the nearest class you could find, and he stood there, appalled out of his mind. everything happened in a mere second that the people surrounding the two of you had to process what just happened.

and the whispers overflow like a forgotten tap once again. some laughing and whispering that 'pure-hearted people such as him should've never gotten his hopes up'. or 'what time does he have to focus on love when he'll continue to bomb the next set of upcoming exams?'

and kalim has nothing to say. weird, aren't rodeo clowns supposed to be on old thing by now?

#— 🖤︰Moots #— 🖤︰Shrimp’s Rambles #PLS NOT ME WRITING MY OC DIED IN BLADE’S ARM AND CRIED REREADING THE STORY #THEN YOU FUCKING APPEAR WHEN I JUST OPEN TUMBLR TODAY #I CRIED AGAIN CUS MY PRECIOUS BB AZUL 😭#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst riddle x reader #twst leona x reader #twst azul x reader #twst kalim x reader #twisted wonderland

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roguishcat · 4 months ago

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Upon reflection, I find you perfect

This is for an ask by @pebble-bb where Astarion gets to see his reflection for the first time. Absolutely lovely idea and I'm sorry it took me ages to actually post it!

@busy-baker has already posted hers because she is amazing! The writing is gorgeous, tender and beautiful! Here is the link so check it out!

This has no beta. So I apologise in advance for mistakes.

Word count: 2.7k

Pairing: Astarion x female Reader

"What have you got there, love?"

"Nothing!" you say a little too quickly and attempt to hide the package behind your back.

Astarion clicks his tongue and slips his long fingers under your chin, tilting your head up so you have no choice but to look straight at him.

"Tsk, cheeky pup. Lies don't become you. Out with it!" he says in a stern voice, but his eyes shine with mirth and his lips twist into a smile.

"What are you hiding that has you flustered such a fetching shade of red, hm?" he lifts his other hand to push your hair back and expose your neck. Soft digits touch skin, making you shiver.

"Nothing?" you try again, wriggling away from him, but you know it is futile. When one becomes the subject of a vampire's attention, one does not get away until the said vampire decides to set the victim free. And Astarion obviously has no intention of doing that.

"I see. Well, this nothing must be worth something, seeing as you are ready to risk baiting a predator to conceal it. Is it really a wise move to entice me when I'm itching for any excuse to devour you?"

As pleasant as that sounds, you have to be out of the inn and on your way. You have an appointment with an artificer that you must keep. It was difficult enough to convince him to take on the project, as he stated that he 'was an inventor and objects of petty vanity were beneath him'. It took coin, promises of securing rare materials, and some thinly veiled threats for the ingenious but somewhat mad artificer to begrudgingly agree to work on your project.

But you know what Astarion is like. You have to tell him something or he will not let you out of his sight at all.

"Fine. It’s a present for you, happy? "

You give a petulant pout which only makes his smile grow wider.

"Aren't I lucky that you want to spoil me? And my goodness, how your heart flutters!" he chuckles and places a kiss over the bitemarks on your neck. "Must be a very, very special present."

"It is, but it's not done yet. So you better not try to take a peek!" you push against his chest.

"Oh my sweet, you wound me! Are you insinuating that I will try to steal it and see what is inside?"

"Not insinuating, telling you outright that you better not go snooping through my things."

"Fine!" he sighs, pretending to be hurt by your words. "I will not go through your things. Cross my heart and hope to- well, you get it," he grins and finally moves, allowing you to get up.

You have the package in your hands and clutch it to close to your chest. You can feel ruby red eyes follow your every movement and try to ignore him as you quickly dress, keeping the present close at all times lest Astarion decides to swipe it when he thinks you are distracted.

Several hours later you find yourself stomping your way back to the inn, absolutely livid, fingers twitching as you try to contain your anger.

That ass! How in the world did Astarion manage to replace your package with a near identical one? You looked like such an idiot, standing in the middle of the forge and gawking at the unexpected contents that spilled out as soon as you unwrapped it.

Astarion gets away with a lot when it comes to you, with you having near no immunity to his charms. But not this time! You are in a terrible mood and he is going to hear all about it!

You storm into your shared room, pushing the door with too much force. It slams against the wall and bounces back with a loud protest, almost hitting you in the face.

“Astarion, you are unbelievable!" You point an accusatory finger in his general direction. "I have half a mind to-”

Then you stop abruptly as you notice shards of glass scattered about the floor, tens of your reflections frowning back at you.

“Oh yes, darling, I do apologise. I- I’m afraid I couldn’t resist,” Astarion's back is to you and he makes no move to turn around.

“What happened?” you ask softly, picking up what is left of the mirror off the floor. This clearly is no accident. It has been smashed violently and, from the looks of it, repeatedly.

“You know how it is sometimes,” Astarion says woodenly. “Butterfingers, I’m afraid.”

You take a tray off the table and put the remains of the mirror on it with shaking fingers. Distracted and barely paying attention to what you are doing, you accidentally pierce one finger with a jagged edge. Blood pebbles on skin, but you care little. The wound does not worry you as much as Astarion's lack of reaction to the smell of your blood.

Choosing to deal with one issue at a time, you set the tray aside and walk towards Astarion. His head is hanging low, silver curls somehow looking lacklustre as they hang limply over his eyes.

“My love,” you tilt his head, and although he does not resist, he keeps looking down rather than at you. “Can you please tell me what actually happened?”

Looking downcast, Astarion takes a breath he doesn’t need and swallows, fingers fidgeting nervously in his lap.

“I didn’t believe it at first. But once I realised… ” he finally lifts his face to look at you, his expression momentarily child-like as he recalls making this wonderful discovery. "My own reflection. At first, I was elated. Drinking myself in, turning my face this way and that. But then,” his lips twist, smile turning sardonic, “I looked into my eyes and saw the eyes of a monster staring back. I guess it isn’t often one looks into a mirror and is met with an abomination.”

“Don’t say that,” you plead. You want to hug him, kiss the hurt away. But you feel that this is not the time for touch, no matter how well-intentioned and comforting.

“For years I couldn’t remember what my eyes looked like. Could hardly map out my face from touches and ministrations, through blows and cuts. But now…”

“Now?” you echo, wanting to press your face into the crook of Astarion’s neck and hold him close.

“I guess actually seeing myself as a vampire for the first time brought about the feelings of disgust and self-loathing that I thought I was getting rather good at dealing with,” he gives a little mirthless chuckle, tossing his hair back. Curls fall back into place and as Astarion's face settles into a neutral expression he might as well be a statue. Eerily still and lifeless.

You say nothing at first, letting the silence stretch and gingerly lay a hand on top of his. He does not attempt to move it away. After a while, he turns his hand palm up to interlock his fingers with yours.

“I’m sorry for assuming,” you begin cautiously. “I thought you would love it.”

You feel like crying. You should have asked. Perhaps if Astarion knew about what you have been planning, this would have gone better.

“I did, if only for a moment,” he nods. “It was perfect until it felt tainted.”

Astarion pulls you towards him and you settle into his lap, putting your head on his chest. His hands snake round you and he hugs you close, his shoulders relaxing gradually.

“But this just makes me more determined than anything to enjoy my reflection again, once these feelings pass,” he murmurs.

You look up at your vampire, brushing an errant curl back into place with loving, gentle fingers. "I want to tell you who I see when I look at you."

"Oh, I'm well aware of what you see," he says quietly. "I've long accepted the cards fate dealt me. But it's sweet of you to try."

"Hush, you," you put your fingers on his lips. "Just let me speak."

He doesn’t try to move away or attempt to contradict you. Instead, Astarion looks at you with genuine vulnerability that he allows few to see. You want to tell him how much he makes your heart race, his nearness making you feel dizzy and overwhelmed. You want to tell him how brave, how amazing he was when facing Cazador. How you felt proud of him, honoured to be at his side as he refused to give in to temptation. But there would be other times for that.

"When I look at you, I see a hero,” you try to condense all you feel into few words. “The one we are all indebted to. Savior of Baldur's Gate."

"It does have a rather nice ring to it," he nods.

"Hm, does it not?"

“So my being celebrated is the only reason you are sticking around then?” he teases.

"Maybe in part,” you shrug, corners of your mouth twitching. “But you are so much more than that. I see my best friend, lover, confidant. Someone I can trust with my life. Someone I put my faith in-”

"Well, the jury is still out on whether trusting me is sensible."

"Don’t interrupt,” you move to nip his earlobe with blunt teeth, his mouth immediately clicking closed as he supresses a moan by burying his face in your hair. “And I see someone who trusts me in return. Even if you are very vocal about my battle plans being borderline suicidal, you still have my back."

Astarion mutters something into your hair but otherwise does not attempt to interrupt you.

"You make me laugh. You say the weirdest shit and no matter how awful I'm feeling at the time, your words take my mind off it."

You sit up and gently cup Astarion’s face. Red eyes lock with yours.

"My love, you have survived so much, you are so brave and strong. These feelings, the shadows that haunt you still... You will overcome all of it.”

Astarion does not say anything at first, then he puts his hands over yours, moving his face forward until your foreheads touch.

“I will overcome this,” he says quietly, but with determination. “We have been through so much already! Besides,” he moves his hand to wipe a tear off your cheek, “I would very much like to see us standing side by side. As equals.”

His lips quirk into a smile. It is ghost of a smile still, but it makes you release a shuddering breath of relief.

“I would love that too. More than anything,” you admit.

He kisses your temple and his eyes are drawn to the slowly bleeding cut on your finger.

“Oh dear, it seems that you injured yourself there, you sweet fool,” he admonishes you teasingly, putting your finger into his mouth and lapping at the digit.

You feel your cheeks warm. How is it that he still manages to make you blush with so little effort? It is ridiculous how much you are infatuated with this man.

"And for the record,” you clear your throat, so your voice doesn’t tremble, “I happen to like your fangs and eyes. As an elf or as a vampire, you cut a dashing figure."

Astarion smirks, ruby eyes on your face. He withdraws your finger from his mouth with a pop, giving it a kiss. “How ever did you manage to create such a mirror?”

“Well, it wasn’t actually done. Not properly,” you grumble, remember that you are meant to be annoyed at him for stealing the mirror. “Which is why I told you to stay out of my stuff!” you punch his biceps playfully. He catches your fist and gives it a nip.

“Well, as I admitted earlier, I couldn’t resist taking a peek. Not when you flushed so deliciously when I tried to get an answer from you.”

“You are incorrigible! Had you actually waited, the mirror wouldn’t be so murky and would be floor-length. I have been planning it for weeks, I have you know!”

“My, my,” he gives an amused, toothy grin, “weeks of sneaking about behind my back and I was none-the-wiser! And just when I think that I’ve learned everything about you, you turn around and surprise me with something like that. What a naughty, clever girl,” he purrs against your neck, humming in approval when he hears you gasp at the sensation.

“I believe that we might just call on that artificer after all.”

“We? Who said anything about you being invited along?”

“Hence my inviting myself along, darling. Honestly. Do keep up!” the words are punctuated with shallow nips on your neck, asking for permission.

“Fine,” you laugh, threading your fingers through silver curls. “But just a quick bite, we have to leave straight after. We might be in luck, that man is so fickle and forgetful, he probably hasn’t noticed that I was gone a while.”

You feel fangs pierce skin and then a pleasant, familiar numbness as your vampire drinks, humming in delight as your blood hits his tongue and the taste briefly overwhelms him.

"Perhaps," he resurfaces, lapping at runaway droplets, "that artificer of yours might wait a while still. Give us enough time to indulge in a quick afternoon delight even?"

"Astarion! No!"

"Yes."

"No!"

He doesn't answer this time, but you feel his palm against your side, fingers making their descent deliciously, torturously slow.

You grip them firmly, ignoring the way your heart beats wildly, which Astarion picks up on and tries to move in for a kiss. You turn your face at the last moment, his cool lips meeting your cheek.

"Tsk, you're no fun," he chuckles, moving back enough for you to scramble away.

"Because you are the designated 'fun one' in this relationship," you tug sharply at your shirt and clear your throat. "You're coming?"

"Apparently not anytime soon," he grins at your unamused look." But I will walk down to the forge with you. Since you asked so nicely."

A few weeks later in spite of some minor mishaps, your project is complete. You can scarcely believe it and hope that Astarion will not find the experience overwhelming.

And this is how you and Astarion find yourself standing hand in hand in front of the improved, bronze-backed mirror, the artificer's magic tweaking its properties and supposedly making it as good as any other mirror out there.

"Ready, my love?" you give his hand a light squeeze.

"With you by my side? Always."

And so Astarion lifts his hand and pulls the fabric off with a flourish.

"Show off," you mutter, making him grin widely as fabric flutters through the air, falls on the floor and finally stills.

You look at Astarion, watching his face closely as his eyes widen and his mouth falls open slightly. Feeling his fingers tremble, you give them a reassuring squeeze and turn away from your vampire to look at the mirror.

And there you are. Side by side. As equals. Not just lovers, but comrades-in-arms, friends. Because come hell or high water, you are there for each other.

"Oh my," you hear Astarion breathe out as he studies his face, "I can see why you can't keep your hands to yourself, my sweet! I'm simply stunning!"

"And humble, too," you tease, enjoying the way Astarion’s eyes light up in delight.

The setting sun frames Astarion's face and threads through his curls, making him shine and glow so beautifully you feel overwhelmed.

With some effort, Astarion tears his eyes away from his reflection and focuses on you.

“Thank you.”

A kiss on your temple.

“Thank you.”

Another on your cheek.

“Thank you.”

His lips find yours. The kiss is languid, unhurried, perfect.

It is a kiss that is full of hope for the future. Your shared future. The future filled with warm, golden days and cool silvery nights. The future where everything seems possible.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900,

@ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale,

@clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

@fleetstreet78,

@starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion #fanfic #astarion fanfiction #baldur's gate fanfiction #fanfiction #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #roguish cat #romance

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macbethsymphony · 7 months ago

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charlou my love! I'm about to invade your askbox with all my horny thoughts. Dont' you dare answer them all at the same time, I know you're busy <3

Ok so! As you know I'm rewatching Wano and you know that gif of Marco's mouth? (sent it to you I don't know how many times). Anyways it sent my mind spiraling into what if Marco was angry with you and it just made him snap? My pretty usually composed bird just losing it? I bet he'd fuck good hehe

love ya! -M✨

Millie bb!!!!! I was gonna keep this one really short but you made it spiral out into something almost complete!!!! How dare you?! (jk love you for it)

It's this gif, right? ngl it sends my mind spiraling into unholy territory too

You're infuriating

Marco x fem!Reader

Summary: You’re angry at Marco and he’s angry at you and you fuck. It’s that simple ;)

tw: MDNI, 18+, nsfw, rough-ish angry sex, fingering, p in v sex

wc: 3.2k

It was a well-known fact that the first commander of the Whitebeard Pirates was nearly impossible to anger, notoriously difficult to rile up. Countless people had tried and failed to provoke him. But you? You didn’t even have to try, didn’t have to lift a single finger to bring him to the edge of madness.

"Do you even realize the risk you took back there, yoi?" Marco's voice thundered through the narrow corridor leading to the infirmary, every word laced with barely contained fury.

The stomps of your footsteps against the wooden floor echoed loudly, matching the volume of your voices and punctuating the escalating tension between you. Each of your step left a small imprint of blood, the pain in your leg raging but ignored as wrath blinded your senses.

"I had everything under control," you shot back, your own tone rising in defiance. "Until you—" Abruptly, you halted, turning around and jabbing your index finger into his chest with force. "Until YOU decided to fucking swoop in."

Marco's eyes blazed, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles twitched visibly. "Under control? You call that under control?" he retorted, his voice dangerously low. "You were inches away from becoming sea king feed, and you think that's control?"

The infirmary doors loomed ahead, your destination within reach but forgotten, the tension between you crackling like electricity. "I sure as hell didn't need your heroics," you spat, words dripping with bitterness. "I had it perfectly laid out, and you ruined it."

“Ruined it?” Marco scoffed, his expression darkening. "Your plan nearly got you killed. Again." His statement hung heavy in the air, the weight of his frustration palpable. “When are you going to learn to fucking listen to me, yoi?”

Listen to him? That made you see red. "Listen to you, Marco?" You stepped closer, and he instinctively stepped back, his eyes widening at the pure rage in yours. "You are not MY commander. Ace is." You looked him up and down, a sneer twisting your lips. "I don’t have to listen to a single word you say, pretty bird." The usually playful nickname was now laced with venom as you spat it out.

He regained his footing, stepping forward as you stepped back, the anger in his gaze blazing harsher than you'd ever seen. He started to speak, but you turned on your heel, determined to make your point, your quick steps leading you toward the sanctuary of the infirmary.

"Oi, get back here," he yelled after you. "I’m not done, yoi."

"Oh, fuck you, Marco." You shouted. "As I said, I don’t have to listen to you."

Marco's frustration boiled over. With a swift motion, he grabbed your wrist, yanking you back to face him. The sudden movement brought you chest to chest, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body.

“You will listen to me, yoi,” he growled, his voice low and threatening, his breath hot against your lips.

You laughed in his face, a rich, bitter sound. Fucking asshole. With your free hand, you unclasped the holster at your side, expertly cocking one of your guns and pointing it right at his face.

“Unhand me right now, pretty bird, or I swear I’ll fucking shoot.”

His grip on your wrist tightened, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. A manic smile broke on his lips. "You wouldn't dare," he whispered, his voice a mix of challenge and something darker, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your finger twitched on the trigger, but you didn’t pull it. He took a step forward, then another, and another, until he had you flush against the wall. His free hand shot over your shoulder, and he leaned close, effectively trapping you in.

“You will listen to me, yoi,” he repeated, his lips brushing yours.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of anger and something you’d never admit to.

Fucking asshole.

The adrenaline still surged through your veins, the proximity, the heat of his body, the intensity in his eyes—it all combined to create a heady, intoxicating tension that made it hard to breathe.

“You think you can intimidate me, first commander?” you whispered, your voice full of insolence. You cocked your head back, looking down at him from your low vantage point. You slid the nozzle of your gun against his neck, across his chest, pointing it at his crotch. “It’s your last warning, pretty bird.”

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved, the air between you charged and electric. Then, with a sudden, desperate urgency, he crashed his lips against yours.

It was a violent collision of emotions, a raw, unfiltered exchange that left you breathless. Marco's lips were demanding, his grip on your wrist unyielding as he poured all his pent-up anger and passion into you. And you responded in kind, matching his intensity with your own, all teeth and tongue, clashing and almost snarling into it.

For a moment, everything else drifted away—the battle, your argument, the constant push and pull between you. Your hand fell to your side, gun forgotten and all that remained was the heat of his body pressed against yours, the taste of his lips, and the desperate need to assert your own power in the midst of his.

But you were nothing if not defiant. With a sharp twist, you broke free of his grip, shoving him back hard enough to make him stumble. Your eyes were blazing as you leveled the gun at him once more, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

"Don't think for a second that you can just kiss me to shut me up," you snapped, your voice trembling with fury.

Marco wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving yours. There was a wild, dangerous light in them, a reflection of your own intensity. "And don't think for a second that I won't do it again, yoi," he shot back, his voice low and rough, a deadly promise that shattered the careful balance between the two of you. Slowly he stepped towards you.

Fucking asshole.

You retreated, each step a painful reminder of the battle that had just ensued, leaving smears of blood on the wooden floor that turned into dark smudges on the sterile tiles of the infirmary. Marco's deliberate footsteps echoed behind you as he closed the door, the latch clicking ominously in the small, quiet space.

Locked in a silent standoff, your eyes defiantly held his, the air thick with a volatile mix of anger and desire that pulsed between you. You leaned heavily against the cool surface of a nearby medical cabinet, swallowing hard against the rising tide of pain. The throbbing ache in your wounded leg grew more insistent, a stark contrast to the adrenaline high still coursing through your veins.

Gun held steady, your aim unwavering over his heart, Marco advanced with a dangerous calmness that belied the tension in the room.

“Put the gun down, yoi,” Marco growled, his voice a low, menacing rumble that ignited a primal response deep within you. “I know you won’t shoot.”

Your narrowed gaze bore into his, finger twitching with a tantalizing urge to prove him wrong.

“Not a fucking chance, pretty bird,” you shot back, words edged with defiance. “Not until you fuck off.”

As the barrel of your gun hit his chest, you could see light blue flames grazing his skin.

You scoffed.

Fucking asshole.

He wasn’t taking any chances, huh?

“You won’t shoot, yoi,” he commanded this time. There was an unusual sharpness in his gaze, condescension thick in his tone as he emphasized each word.

And you hated it.

"You don’t get to order me around." Your finger tensed against the trigger, and as his hand moved to the barrel to push your gun away, you squeezed it.

It all blurred together. Bullets streaked through the air, passing through the haze of blue flames, burying themselves in the wall behind. In a swift motion, he disarmed you, gun falling with a loud clang on the tile. His grip on your wrist was so tight you felt the bruises forming, his other hand tangled in your hair, wrenching you back, your own fingers shooting to his forearm to keep your balance. Your body arched against the cabinet, and he closed in, looming over you, his ragged breaths brushing against your brazen smile.

Fucking asshole.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, drowning out the chaos of your mind as Marco pinned you against the medical cabinet with a ferocity that you didn’t know he possessed. You liked that look in his eyes. Unbridled fury suited him well.

“You fucking shot me, yoi,” he shouted in your face in bewilderment.

“I wish they’d been seastone bullets, you asshole,” you snarled.

He didn’t flinch at the harshness of your tone. Instead his lips curled into a predatory smile. As the shock subsided, amusement and lust swirled and mixed with the anger plaguing his features.

His tongue met your lower lip, then his teeth, taking all the time in the world, relishing the power he held over you in the moment.

His hand in your hair gripped harder, pulling you back further, nails dragging against your scalp. He wasn’t kind and the pain made you gasp, and he didn’t waste the opportunity. Your eyes fluttered close as his lips found yours and his tongue darted in, dominating yours.

The heat of his mouth melded with the anger still simmering beneath your skin, igniting a firestorm of desire that you fought to suppress. But resistance proved futile against the raw intensity of his touch, the taste of him searing into your senses.

Fuck.

Your legs felt weak and not because of the gaping wound on your thigh. The familiar dizziness of lust was starting to overtake the edges of your mind. A muffled groan escaped your throat, half defiance, half surrender as he deepened the kiss, devouring your response with a relentless hunger. His body pressed into yours, every line and angle hard against your own, a testament to the storm of emotions raging between you.

His hand left your wrist, and slid down your side, hairs rising in the trail of his touch. You struggled against the overwhelming pull of him, the magnetic force that drew you closer even as you fought to regain your composure. His fingers found the hem of your shirt, tracing upwards with a deliberate slowness that set your nerves alight.

As his touch grazed the curve of your breast, you let out a low, involuntary moan, the sound mingling with your ragged breaths. Your hands, no longer restrained, buried themselves in his open shirt, nails digging into fabric, pulling him somehow closer still.

He moved your head back, exposing your throat and his lips trailed along your skin. His hand roamed down to your hip, then to the front of your pants, fingers deftly undoing the buttons. He stopped at the lace of your underwear.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, a plea whispered against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. The grip on your hair loosened and you slacked against him slightly. "Tell me to stop, yoi, and I will."

“Oh, fuck you, Marco,” you mewled into him, words muffled as your lips found his again.

With a growl of approval, he pressed himself closer, his hand slipping past the edge of your underwear. You bucked against his touch, a dangerous need driving you forward.

He took his time, tips of his fingers dragging up your slit, gathering your arousal. He teased and relished the desperation slowly etching on your features.

As you opened your mouth to complain, his fingers found their mark, and you let out a broken cry, the sensation sending shockwaves through you. Marco's touch was skilled, knowing exactly how to unravel you with each deliberate movement.

"Fuck, Marco," you gasped against his lips, your hips moving in time with his rhythm. You felt his fingers enter you, his palm delightfully dragging along your clit.

Oh gods. You felt your legs start to shake, the sweet promise of rapture so near.

He drank in your whines and mewls, lips moving lazily against yours, his focus entirely on you, fingers working you closer and closer to the edge. His gaze seared in the image of pleasure twisting your features into his mind. So pretty under him.

The world suddenly ceased to exist, the only reality the heat and intensity of his touch, the way he made you feel alive and on fire all at once. A sharp cry escaped you as you came, leaving you breathless and trembling in his arms.

He quickly turned you around, the edge of the cabinet digging uncomfortably into your abdomen. You dimly heard the rattle of glass bottles and whatever instruments were locked in there, but it didn’t matter. He rolled his hips against yours and you could feel how hard he was against your rear. Suddenly you were ready to go at it again, craving to feel him inside you and you needed it now.

"Fuck me already," you demanded, impatience lacing your voice as you turned to face him. The sight that greeted you made you instantly regret it. His lazy grin of victory made your legs into jelly, and the satisfaction in his eyes ignited a desperate longing within you, making you want to moan his name.

Marco's grin widened, and he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Always so impatient, yoi,” he murmured, his voice dripping with smug amusement.

You glared at him, trying to maintain your defiance despite the tremor in your legs and the pool of arousal he’d just left in your underwear. "Just shut up and do it already," you snapped, words wavering slightly.

He hummed, considering.

His hand trailed up and down your back, dragging your shirt, fingers brushing over your skin with deliberate slowness. Every touch sent a growing need to your core, heightening your anticipation. You let out a frustrated growl, your body aching for more. "I swear, Marco, if you don't—"

“If I don’t what?” His hands played with the waistband of your pants, still stuck against the curve of your hips. He let them pool at your feet and as he dragged down your lacy underwear, his lips traveled along your neck. “There’s nothing you can do to me little feather.”

You weren’t aware of when he’d undone his own trousers, but you could feel his tip against your folds, your slick coating his length. Your hand shot to the edge of the cabinet for balance, a shaky moan escaping your lips as he pressed against your clit, against your entrance. Maybe it was the fact that you couldn’t see him, but he felt so big between your thighs and so frustratingly good.

You tried to back into him but he stopped you with a bruising hold on your hip. “Didn’t say ya could do that, did I?” he said as his hand tangled in your hair once again, pushing you forward, lifting your hips until you stood on tippy toes.

“I can do whatever I fuckin—” he started to enter you tortuously slowly. “Ah,” you gasped, he was stretching you so fucking much. “F-fuck.” Your thighs trembled and your knuckles went white as you gripped the edge of the cabinet with all your might. It was so fucking much.

“Ya can take it,” he grunted in your ear the strain of restraint evident in his voice. “Fuck that’s it. Be good for me, yoi.”

Once he was fully sheathed inside you, he stopped, recentering himself.

You could barely hear the soft unsteady laugh that escaped his lips through your own pants. His hand trailed from your ass to the curve of your spine, firing an electric shock to your core and your cunt twitching around him.

“So fucking wet, and warm and tight.” You could feel the satisfaction in his voice. “Who knew you could be so obedient, yoi?” He punctuated his statement with a slap to your ass that sent you positively keening under him.

You felt some of your slick drip down your thigh and your cheeks heated. You ached to feel him move. “Just fuck me already, Marco,” you pleaded.

He leisurely slid out of you, teasingly unhurried and you felt the absence of him, the growing need to feel him fill you again. He let out a low chuckle as he sensed you spasm against his tip, your body telling all you stubbornly kept to yourself, begging for him in your stead.

“Look at you, yoi.” He palmed your ass roughly, making you wait. “You’re dripping to the floor.”

He slowly pushed back in, the friction against your walls making the world around you go blurry. You were grateful for his hold on you as his pace gradually picked up, entirely unable to trust your own legs. You shook beneath him, completely claimed, your moans sticking at the back of your throat, but he still frustratingly teetered right at the edge, never enough to allow your orgasm to build.

“Please, Marco,” you keened, your voice a high pitch cry you didn’t recognize. “More.”

He snapped his hips at your demand, turning his pace hard and brutal and it was suddenly too much. Every drag of his cock made you see stars, shattered your breath. You sobbed out his name in a desperate plea but instead he brought his fingers to your clit.

The moan you let out was obscene, only enhanced by the squelching noises and Marco’s forceful grunts. You were certain that something had broken in the cabinet, the sound of glass loud but it was evident neither of you cared as he somehow increased his pace.

Your body sought to curl upon itself but you were trapped and it was all too much. You were aware he was almost just as close as you, his erratic thrusts and the way he bit into your shoulder clear indicators.

The world seemed to fade around you and you were suddenly lost in the moment. Every sensation was amplified, the intensity of the waves of pleasure washing over you consuming you. As the tension built to a breaking point, you cried out his name, your body trembling with rapture.

Marco followed soon after, his own climax a fierce, shuddering release that left him breathless and spent. He held you close, his forehead resting against the damp skin of your neck, both of you struggling to catch your breath.

"You're infuriating, you know that?" Marco muttered, his voice a mix of exasperation and amusement.

He placed a kiss on your shoulder before backing off. You whined as you felt him pull out, felt his seed along your thigh. Your legs gave out and he quickly pulled you into his arms before you could hit the floor.

“Real infuriating, yoi,” he repeated, bringing you to one of the infirmary beds.

You smiled as he sat you down and as he made to retreat, you dragged him to you by his shirt. "Right back at you, pretty bird," you replied as you kissed him softly.

It was tender this time around and he cupped your cheek, thumb tracing soothing circles.

“Let me clean that for you,” he murmured, eyes looking at the wound on your thigh. “Wouldn’t want it to get infected, yoi.”

Masterlist

#one piece marco #fushichou marco #marco the phoenix #marco x reader #one piece x reader #marco x you #charlou writes

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therealbatgirlishere · 1 year ago

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Trips in. (Tripin.) p1!

First fic! Kindness or constructive criticism is allowed. No req 🫶🏽

miles morales e-42 aged up! X bb mama reader aged up! miles age: 23 readers age: 22

context: you and Miles had broken up, due to a bad fight (petty argument) with a bad outcome, but anyways It’s been months and you’ve both pretty much moved on…right? Well, after you had finished getting dolled up to have a fun night with you and your girls, you had to drop your son off.. as you were planning to leave you might have been a bit.. interrupted?

You were chilling, just having finished your makeup and hair, you were going out with your girlfriends so you wanted to look nice as usual. Miles was comin in to take you n his kid, sure. It’s a bit awks having to still communicate with the baby daddy after you both broke up but hey, at least your boy got a dad in his life. You were packing your sons things, placing clothes in his little bag, spare shoes a toothbrush and more, including a small treat for the road (a twix or stm Wtv u want.) after you had finished, you called your boy over.

“Zion! ven aquí!” You shouted from upstairs, seconds later you heard the pitter patter of tiny feet coming up the stairs, your child then poking his head out of the door.

“Mama?” Zion asked, in his cute lil voice you could see his little brown fro poking out as well as his eyes. You smiled, “Zion, you ready to see your papa?” You questioned, lips curling upwards. Zion gave a small nod. Cute. Your 4 year old son waddled his way over to you and gave you a hug, small arms wrapping around your knees and face dig into your legs. You patted your sons head.

“Alright, I’ll put your bag on so you’re all ready.” You then picked up your son and settled him down on his comfy race car bed. He looked up at you, when you really looked at him, you could see miles, a resemblance between him and you in there…what were you just thinking? No. Stop thinking about that man. Focus. you were halfway through putting on his bag.

Knock knock knock

The sound echoed through the house, you had a feeling it was him, who am I kidding it was him. But, you had to make sure.

“Zion, stay here okay? I’ll call you down if papas here.” You said, holding his shoulders and being eye to eye with him before pecking his forehead quick and softly, then making your way downstairs and to the door, you were calm. Why wouldn’t you be? Face blank as you headed to the door.

Click.. creeeakkk

You opened the door, and there he was the 6’3 tall dark skinned male, mini Two-Strand twists, the same blank expression as always. Wearing a white coloured wife beaters n a black zip up jacket with loose fit jeans, a silver chain and ring on his finger.

(If ur wondering why he looks different it’s because he’s aged up, so ofc he would get taller and want to switch his hairstyle up etc. dw tho you can still imagine him looking the same ig.)

“…” he stared down at you, hands in his pockets a lacklustre expression on his face as he then looks behind you. Searching for his son.

Where’s Zion at?” He asks, raising an eyebrow as he looks behind you still. Wow. Rude much?

The man can’t even be bothered to say hi to the mother of his child.

“Well, Hi to you too. Miles.” You reply, giving him a sarcastic smile before rolling your eyes and turning your head back towards the house.

“Zion! Your dads here!” You called him over, your son then poked his head out, a grin from ear to ear appeared as he then let out a small giggle. He then ran down the stairs, loud thumping being heard as he made his way down.

“Ay.” You sucked your teeth in slight annoyance when you saw him running to fast down the stairs, almost tripping but saving himself.

“Hijo, don’t run down the stairs you’ll fall.” You scolded him, putting a hand on his shoulder as he went to go hug your knees again, nodding a bit then looked up at his dad.

“He’s jus a kid Chica.” Miles said, looking at you. What an ass. He still had that deadpan expression going on. You shook your head slightly and scowled.

“Just looking out for my son.” You replied, scowling removed as you looked back at him, crossing your arms. Jeez, did he have to be this annoying? You questioned in your head.

“You mean our, son.” He responded, then stared slightly more closely to your face, his eyebrows then knit together. “You wearin makeup? And what’s up with yo fit and hair?” He asked, staring you up and down as he pointed. Does he have to know every single little thing about you?

This is p1 cause I can’t be bothered writing the rest 😜

#across the spiderverse #miles morales earth 42 #miles morales prowler #miles morales x y/n #miles morales earth 42 x reader #possible smut?#angst?#enemies to lovers #astv x reader #Poc couples #jealousy?#yandere?#toxic relationship #toxic love

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ariseur · 9 months ago

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hey so uhhhh i got this idea for a sephiroth post 🥺 i was imagining what wouldve happened if his wing developed pre-nibelheim. i imagine bb would be really scared and disgusted with himself and id wanna make him feel better :( bonus points if his wing is an erogenous zone and he doesnt realize it 👀

please, please, please, let me get what i want 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

sephiroth (ffvii) x reader

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

(the smiths / deftones ref???) omg i forgot how it feels to post on hereee. i miss you guys but i’ve just been super busy because of all my music festivals for school n stuff! thank you for this request it was soo lovely!! 🫶

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

mentions of blood, mentions of sephiroths underlying sorrow and yearning for a familiar comfort in his life, i forgot he only has one wing so lmk if i messed up and mentioned two 😭

┊ ˚➶ word count ｡˚ 🎼

1281 words, 7018 characters

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

a contorted face found staring back at itself in the glass of the clear mirror, only the light from the overhead lamps and his reflection ricocheting off of it. sephiroth’s eyebrows furrowed as he held his breath, lungs allowing what seemed to be limited air inside of them, the smell of his shampoo and hair oils still lingering in his nose.

his fingers danced along his wingspan, flinching at the sharp feeling of sores on his back— his eyes flickering towards the once pristine white counter, now littered with black feathers and bloody marks against the marble. he couldn’t soothe the feeling of bile at the back of his throat this time as he shuddered once more, his shaky breaths slipping between his parted lips.

“sephiroth?” he heard at the door followed by a few gentle knocks against the hard wood. his eyes darted to the door, watching as the doorknob slowly jiggled. his hand rushed to the wood, cold against his palm as he urged the door to stay shut.

he sputtered, “i’m indecent.” despite remaining with his cool tone of voice, you couldn’t help but notice the waver in his tone as he winced at the slight strands of hair that fell against his back when he whipped around. he placed his forearm against the door to further stabilize it as he tipped his head back, exhaling sharply through his nose while he heard you scoff out, “nothing i haven’t seen, before.”

his eyebrows furrowed and he scrunched his eyes closed. his back aching with every sharp pain that traveled throughout his upper torso. a cool wave washed over him as he watched the door slowly open, your own brows knitted in concern as you finally let your eyes gaze upon the bloody counter and his almost shameful expression. he didn’t falter in his eye contact, mako irises only following you as you walked into the bathroom and touched one of the strays of black feathers that had fallen atop the sink.

“sit down.” your voice came out soft and gentle, the only sound that dared to interrupt you was the whirring of the air conditioning. sephiroth tilted his head a bit before finally taking a seat on the closed lid of the toilet. despite having fragments of a single wing sticking out of his back, he somehow managed to always maintain a straightened posture.

you rummaged through the cabinets under the sink, trying to ignore the small thin trickles of blood that dripped on the floor as you felt for the first aid kit in the very back of the space. you caught a glimpse of sephiroth, staring down at his hands as he almost sneered at himself. seeing him without his shirt on wasn’t anything new, but the way his shoulders tensed up and his breaths shook made your stomach twist. you could’ve sworn his breath hitched as he felt another sharp pain travel through his bones.

as he watched you get up and walk over to his seated frame on the toilet, his eyes stayed glued to the floor until your feet came into view— signaling you were there and ready to finally patch him up. he couldn’t look up, ever too embarrassed to peel his eyes off the tile and up at you as he knew he’d probably meet your concerned gaze.

sephiroth was only worried over when there was something that could ruin his image or his ability to fight, although when did that ever happen much?

it was hard getting accustomed to the feeling of being loved. and not the admiration he received from his fangirls and superiors alike, he knew he was talented— but he didn’t know he was loved. and that was the hardest part of you coming into his life, being able to feel loved and appreciated when you embraced him and not stiffen at just the gentlest brush of your fingertips, so gentle and soft compared to his calloused skin. when he recoiled at your benign touch, it wasn’t out of appallment— it was pure fear for what the next step was and if he was truly ready for this or not.

“sit backwards, sephiroth.” even as you sighed, the way his name left your lips never failed to make his heart skip. he hummed in acknowledgment and changed his position on the toilet lid, wincing at the small gasp you let out once you fully saw his back. the skin was broken as his wing had poked through, and sephiroth didn’t help as he picked at it either. his wing, black and thick coated with a sheen layer of blood from birth. you frowned, who knows how long sephiroth had been containing this.

he let out a small sigh of anticipation, lightly drumming his fingers against his toned thigh as he felt your hands meet his back.

sephiroth’s eyes scrunched close as you moved them along his spine, being careful not to touch the wounds themselves but instead the areas around them. he tried to ignore the growing warmth in his stomach and instead took a deep breath as you finally pressed the alcohol soaked cotton ball against the wound, watching as the white material quickly turned a deep red.

it was only silent for a moment— yet the whirring of the fan was starting to piss you off. sephiroth didn’t say anything either, but you couldn’t blame him. by the flush of his cheeks and the shaky sighs he took, you almost felt as if you were doing something wrong but instead your brain just resorted to the thought of, ‘he’s been at this for a while, he’s just tired.’

you worked your way with dressing his wounds and cleaning his wing, watching as it fluttered beneath your palm.

and when he heard the familiar click of the first aid click closing shut, he maneuvered his way back to face front on the toilet— even if he couldn’t bear to look at you. mako infused eyes stayed glued to his lap, unmoving even as he heard your footsteps shuffle over towards him. another touch as your hand snaked up to cradle his jaw and it was like electricity shot through his body. it took him everything not to flinch away at the foreignness. not to flinch away from the comforting feeling he was so scared he’d fall face first in.

you urged his head to look up at you, having his eyes immediately trail to your soft smile.

“don’t hold it in,” you began, your eyes never failed to make sephiroth melt even in the harshest states, “let me feel you, sephiroth.”

your whispers curved their way into his ears and were now etched in his brain, the absolute adoration that laced your voice now sheathed any shameful thoughts. pulling him into you, sephiroth finally moved his hands away from his lap and wrapped them around your waist as he let himself bury his face into the comfortable place of your stomach. he felt you, he realized. he felt all of you— and he understood now that this was real. fingers reaching for the fabric of your clothes or the arch of your spine made him acknowledge you more than he ever has before. and you could’ve sworn you felt a slight dampness on your shirt.

your kindness was almost too much for him— it was too overwhelming considering he grew up most of his life being tested on and seen for any changes in growth. sephiroth was divine to you, and as you cradled his face within your palm, you realized that you didn’t mind worshipping him as not just a divinity, but as a human.

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oya-oya-okay · 9 months ago

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Finny and Snake🐥🐍 Crossover!!!🐙🐉

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darkspellmaster · 8 months ago

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What do you imagine a TWST Sadira to be like?

Haven't figured her out yet, but I'm getting an idea. She's friends with Najima that much I know. I loved her in Aladdin's tv series, still wish Disney could put it up on Disney plus. Guessing licensing for pop culture refs is what's keeping it off.

#kuroshitsuji #black butler #ciel phantomhive #disney #twisted wonderland #asked and answered #twst wonderland #a phantomhive in night raven college #disney twst #kuroshitsuji crossover twisted wonderland #kuroshitsuji au #kuro x twst #twisted wonderland au #twisted wonderland crossover black butler #twisted wonderland x kuroshitsuji #twst x black butler #twist x bb #apinrc #ciel in twisted wonderland

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i-love-ptv · 7 months ago

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“Lana, How I Hate Those Guys” ୨୧

Pairing: Sarah Cameron x Fem!Reader

Fluff, Sarah being the bestest friend ever, slight JJ and Kie slander (srry i love them tho), slight twist at the end ;)

Wc: 1,181 (ish)

An: Woah chat, character unlocked 😈 Why does literally nobody write anything for her?? Platonic or not 😰

Randomly wrote this?? Also way longer than I’d thought it’d be?? Hope you enjoy tho!

Feedback always appreciated bbs! <33

“Oh my god Sarah, like what the fuck does he mean that we were just ‘friends with benefits?’ It sure didn’t feel like it when he’d be practically wrapped around my body during every bonfire.” You exclaim with a huff.

You knew it wouldn’t be just smooth sailing when you met JJ.

You had heard of his reputation of course. A new girl wrapped around his arm every week, touron or not.

But for some reason, you had hoped that you two could somehow be something more. You’d be lying if you said that you hadn’t fallen for the blonde rather quickly. Obviously, every other girl in Kildare couldn’t refrain from falling for JJ’s charm and sweet tone.

You unfortunately, suffered like the rest, that were just tossed aside when he got bored. When you met JJ at the boneyard of the cut, he had called your whole “arrangement” or what not, off.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, did you know that his name isn’t even JJ? it’s short for fucking John Jay.” Sarah says with a snicker.

“No fucking way, are you serious?”

“Dead.”

She continues, “Like oh my god, John has to be the most generic name ever, plus it radiates dickhead energy.”

“…Your boyfriend also has the name John..?”

“Okay yeah, but we’re talking about JJ right now. Anyways, don’t let it get to your head babe, he’s just a stupid douchebag asshole- sorry can you relax your hand f’me?” Sarah says while she paints your nails.

It’s moments like these where you’re grateful for a bestfriend like her, despite all of the running around she’s doing with the pouges to get the gold, you both know that she’d drop everything in a heartbeat for you.

The two of you have been friends since childhood, originally meeting in the 2nd grade.

You both easily bonded due to coming from similar backgrounds; you were a kook as well.

You look up at her eyes and softly gasp, “Oh shit! Sorry. Anyways, I bet he’s got another girl in his bed right now. Y’know what? He’s probably busy trying to get into Kiara’s pants.”

“No pogue on pogue macking,” you scoff in a mocking tone.

“It’s actually such bullshit, I see the way that he looks at her, and of course I see how her eyes somehow always drift to him. I don’t know if she thinks I’m fucking stupid or if she’s dumb herself, but I figured that it’d pass. After all, didn’t she kiss Pope and John B?”

“Mhm, I think she just strives for attention, y’know? She’s always getting all pissy when I come around, maybe it’s ’cause I’m dating Bee and she’s not.” Sarah murmurs.

“You’re all done, by the way.”

You fall back onto the pillows on her bed.

“Boys are just so dumb Sar.” You groan.

“Definitely. Also watch your nails, hon.”

Sarah also lays back onto her pillows, leaning on one arm.

There’s a few beats of silence between you two, just relishing in the moment while SZA’s ‘The Weekend’ plays softly through Sarah’s speaker.

“That’s it. No more moping and being gloomy. It’s a nice night out! We should do something!” Sarah exclaims.

You look at her with a quirked brow, “First of all, I don’t mope, second, what could we possibly do at this hour?”

“That’s the thing! We can just plan it along the way! That makes thing 10 times more fun.” The blonde says with a grin.

You think for a few seconds, and come to your conclusion, “Actually, yeah! That sounds good. Let’s go.”

Sarah squeals and jumps up from the bed, pulling you with her.

You and Sarah quickly pull on your hoodies, since that night chill will surely get to you both, and the two of you slide your flip flops onto your freshly painted toes.

Sarah grabs her speaker and keys, and put them into her tote bag, the one she had painted the day you two had made your ‘bikini crates’.

The two of you giggle while somewhat rushing down the stairs, without a care in the world.

“Sarah? Where are you two going?” You hear Rose call out.

Sarah looks at you with a glint of mischief in her eyes. She grabs your hand and with that, you both left.

You and Sarah had been running around outside for around an hour, your flip flops slapping against the pavement as you skipped around yelling the lyrics to ‘Melt’ by Kehlani.

You two had somehow managed to make it to figure 8 beach. There was something about it that always lured you and Sarah to it.

Sarah doesn’t hesitate to kick off her flip flops and set down her tote bag.

“C’mon babe! Get in with me!” Sarah shouts as she giggles and makes grabby-hands out towards you.

“But we don’t have any bathing suits!” You shout back, equally as loud.

“Who cares?! It’s just us!”

Sarah strips down and then looks at you expectantly.

You sigh, and begin to pull your hoodie over your head.

“Hell yeah sexy! Free those tittiesssss!” She drags out.

She grabs your hand after you finish, and starts running towards the water.

“Christ Sarah! Slow the hell down!” You shout while trailing behind her.

As you start to feel the water work its way up to the middle of your calves. Sarah looks back at you and yells, “Jump!”

You both dive make a splash, you find one another whilst you're underwater.

You come up with her, with your hands around her neck.

You brush her wet hair out of her face and look deeply into her eyes.

Her eyes remind you of the tree bark that you used to hug and climb when you both were younger, well, the bark that you would climb.

Sarah was never able to do these kind of activities, for her parents were stricter than yours. But this wouldn’t stop her from watching, and cheering you on.

That’s one of the things you loved about Sarah.

How despite your interests somewhat clashing, she still remained by your side.

You grew fond of how she opened herself up to the world and allowed herself to do more, very quickly.

You were never upset when she started hanging out with the pogues, in fact, you encouraged it. You wanted her to be happy, and you hoped that she’d allow you to stick around to see it, thankfully, she did.

Sarah’s whisper breaks you out of your thoughts, “Boys totally suck right? They’d never have this much fun with us.”

“Right.” You say, just as soft.

You continue to stare at her.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Shut up, loser.” You say with a slight grin, nothing but affection coming from your semi-chapped lips.

You’re glad that she drops everything for you in a heartbeat.

But you also wish that maybe, just maybe, she’d look at you differently..The way that you look at her.

But until then, you’ll still remain grateful for a bestfriend like her.

Fuck JJ. God, John B’s one lucky bastard.

#lee’s writing! ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎#sarah cameron x reader #sarah cameron #sarah cameron obx #madelyn cline #madelyn cline x reader #obx x you #obx x reader #obx #outer banks #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x kook!reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #john b routledge #john b x reader #jj maybank #Spotify

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