#but barely noticeable unless you /really/ pause & look

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 2 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 3.8k

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), some cussing, adult themes (not smut lol) (yet) (jk) (unless...), the mission finally starts, so much plot from here on out y'all so buckle up

a/n. i didn't get to include the most important bits that were supposed to be presented in this chapter because i got carried away with the buildup lol. exciting times ahead y'all. i have so much in store for you with this series. don't be a stranger and let's talk!

links. masterlist, ao3 (coming soon)

You can only stare back at the woman peering at you, her face painted with a thick layer of makeup, her hair styled to staged ‘effortless’ perfection, and her body wrapped in an outfit that’s equal parts provocative and refined.

Her image is so flawlessly curated—so much so that you barely notice the apprehension that’s hidden amidst her features, if it weren’t for the fact that that woman is you.

You can barely recognize yourself—and perhaps that’s the point of all this.

Asahi and Moriyama didn’t have to explicitly state it yesterday—they need you to put in every ounce of effort to make sure that you succeed, and that includes doing everything you can to supplement your quirk all the while keeping your real identity lowkey.

Even if it means looking like this.

You’re about to give in to your second thoughts and change out of the black, low-cut tank and beige cardigan you have on when an array of knocks echo from what you think is your front door, and you freeze.

With a cautious glance at your bedroom’s wall clock, you think you’re supposed to feel a wave of relief wash over you when you see that it’s 9:00 PM on the dot, the exact time Bakugou said he’d pick you up, which means no villain or mal intentioned person is at your front porch, but that doesn’t come.

Instead, the sense of dread that’s been stirring in your gut ever since you got swept by Asahi’s men yesterday only magnifies, leaving you a bit cold and…are you shaking?

You don’t get to dwell on that, though, because another round of rapping resonates from your foyer again, which somehow pulls you out of your nervous stupor. You hurriedly run to the door, not even bothering to check through the peephole, opening it with a turn of the knob to see Bakugou.

Wearing a white face mask and decked in a fitting black hoodie, with his ash-blonde hair peeking through the sides of a dark baseball cap.

His fist is frozen mid-air as he stares at you, eyes slightly widened in shock, as if he didn’t believe you’re capable of this thing called punctuality. He promptly brings it down, though, schooling his expression into a neutral one, but not before giving you a quick once-over.

“Hey,” he offers, voice gruff and way lower than you remembered it back in high school.

“Hello,” you counter, looking back at your messy apartment out of habit. “I’m almost done. I just need to grab my purse.”

And, because you genuinely need to know for the sake of what you’re about to do, you ask: “Do I look okay?”

He must’ve not been anticipating that question, because his eyebrows furrow ever so minutely like you just caught him off guard. “Yeah,” he eventually replies after studying the entire length of your body once again.

And, you may have just imagined it, but you swear to god his eyes linger on your chest for a beat longer than necessary before he meets your gaze.

“You clean up…” he pauses, like he’s grasping for the right adjective, before settling with: “…decent.”

At that, you feel yourself deflate a bit. Maybe you wanted a more affirming answer, definitely not because you want that from him, but because you need to look good. However, if there’s anything the rumor mill told you back when you were still teenage students, it’s that Bakugou Katsuki was a man of few words when he was serious, let alone appreciative, so you take his comment in stride.

Besides, in comparison to how you looked yesterday, anything is an improvement, really.

“Thanks,” you respond, and you debate for a second whether or not to say the next thing but ultimately decide on it. “…And you look mildly disguised.”

That seems to ruffle Bakugou’s feathers. “Mildly?”

You shrug, suddenly feeling unsure about your honesty. “I get the hoodie and the cap and the face mask, but there’s no hiding your hulking frame, man.”

And really, there isn’t. How are you supposed to conceal a torso as large as that?

You gesture to his chest and shoulder area for further emphasis. “I don’t think you can pass up as a regular citizen but like as a non-descript athlete, maybe?”

To your dismay, Bakugou merely grunts before shaking his head. “This’ll work.”

Apparently already over your suggestion, he glances past your shoulder as he shifts his weight on his other foot. “Can you grab your purse now? We’ve to get going.”

Now, you’ve got half a mind to argue and try to convince him that maybe going for a better disguise is better in the long run but you’re silenced by his domineering gaze. So instead, you nod before rushing back to your bedroom and grabbing the bag you already prepared beforehand, as well as your phone that’s charging on top of your bedside table.

Although it won’t be of much use later, or in the coming few weeks, if everything goes according to plan.

“Ready?” he asks when you return to the doorway with your things in tow.

“Yup,” you retort as you lock the door behind you, and just like that, you’re well on your way to a potential death sentence.

You’re in the elevator going down to the ground floor by the time he speaks up again. “We’re commuting,” he starts, not looking at you but instead scrutinizing the barely hanging on floor buttons. “Can’t risk raising suspicion by driving there.”

“Where are we going, exactly?” you ask just as the elevator dings, signifying your arrival.

The doors burst open, and he steps out. “You’ll see.”

The commute to wherever the hell it is you two are going is quiet.

Bakugou didn’t divulge any further details as you stepped out of your building, wordlessly ordering you with a stern look to just follow. Frankly, you don’t like how you’re being kept in the dark, but you don’t contend. You’re acutely aware that you have a limited number of cards to play with Bakugou, and you have to play them right, if you want to even survive this mission without your partnership falling apart and jeopardizing the entire thing. Wasting a card on stupid information would be downright foolish on your end.

Even the walk to the bus stop is silent, and so is the entire ride. Despite it being quite late into the evening, the vehicle is still somewhat crowded, which you chalk up to it being a Friday night. You find yourself relaxing in your seat as the realization dawns on you—perhaps there was no point in getting too riled up about getting noticed.

And besides, you’re taking extra precautions, too. You’re not sitting next to each other, because he’s trying to stave off attention while you’re straining to catch it. Maybe not of these strangers, but of the people you’re going to meet later on.

Roughly 10 minutes and a short subway ride later, you climb up the underground stairs to a stop you vaguely remember hearing from your coworkers about. You recall how she described an old party district right in the middle of Musutafu, and sure enough, the text on the street signs match the name she recounted during one of your lunch breaks.

“Over here,” Bakugou calls out from a few feet ahead of you. You quickly quit your observing and follow suit, mindful of keeping an appropriate, not at all questionable distance between the two of you.

After what felt like walking five blocks from the subway, you see Bakugou halt and make a left into a poorly lit alleyway. You hesitate for a second, having been on autopilot and going straight for the last how many minutes. You’re able to swiftly gather yourself, though, steering in the same direction.

The moment that you do, it instantly registers to you that you’re not just in the party district anymore. If the dingy signages and the palpable seediness of the alley are any indication, you’re most likely in the red-light district now.

Suddenly, everything feels a bit too real, and you barely catch yourself stumbling back on your feet. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Bakugou, who instinctively moves to reach out for you from where he’s standing. He pauses, though, when you’re able to regain your bearings with a slightly embarrassed smile.

“Sorry,” you offer meekly.

He eyes you with the very same inexplicable expression from before. “You good?”

You’re not about to tell him you’re scared shitless, so you give him a half-hearted nod. Turning to study the exterior of the small building, you take in the lightly peeling paint and the booming music emanating from it. “This the place?”

“Yes,” he answers without missing a beat. “Are you sure you’re good?”

You whip to look back at Bakugou, who, if you didn’t know any better, is now looking apprehensive.

You decide then and there that you have to get your shit together.

Bravery is contagious, but so is fear.

For a second, you contemplate using your quirk on yourself to calm your nerves down, but eventually decide against it. There are much bigger fish to fry tonight, and what’s the point of learning all those damned breathing and grounding techniques if you’re not going to use them?

“I’m ready,” you finally tell him after a moment of both of you standing there. “Let’s go in before we start looking unusual out here.”

If Bakugou notices the unease you’re sure you’re radiating, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he gives you a curt nod, before turning to open the door.

And when he does, you’re almost instantaneously flooded by the music that was just escaping through the cracks and crevices of the run-down building. You fight the instinct to cover your ears as you step into the large room behind Bakugou, eyes quickly darting all over the place to drink in the scene before you.

Right in the back of the space is a stage that extends in the center as a runway to the middle of the room. The orange and pink mood lights illuminating the area are relatively dim minus the bulbs lining the set and walkway. And, beneath the elevated platform are what have to be pleather seats littered all over the floor—all of which are occupied by decidedly rambunctious men.

You resist the urge to wrinkle your nose as their boisterous laughter fills your ears, opting to face Bakugou instead.

“Hey,” you call out to him, who stops in his tracks to look at you. You sneak a glance at the people at the bar nearest the two of you, just to make sure they’re not listening in, before you continue. “Are you sure this is the place?”

You don’t have to peek beneath his mask to know he’s now scowling at you.

“What am I, a dumbass? I told you, this is it.” He then shifts away from you, far enough that you barely hear his next words. “…It has to be.”

Well.

That’s not exactly comforting.

Your discomfort only heightens when the already faint lights dim further, and the music switches from a pop song to which you know a bit of the lyrics to a rap that, if you were to base it on the first phrase, is all about having explicit, unprotected sex. The crowd of men cheers in anticipation, and as if on cue, a woman dressed in nothing but a two-piece lingerie emerges from the back of the stage, confirming your speculation of what the place is.

A strip club.

You watch as the woman confidently struts towards the center, and apparently, you’re no better than any of the men here because your gaze slowly roves over her slim and toned body, eyes catching at her cleavage that’s leaving nothing to the imagination. You can’t help it—you look down at your own chest, sinking in disappointment at the contrast before promptly looking up in embarrassment, only to find Bakugou studying you closely.

“It’s a strip club,” you blurt out, flustered at getting caught in the act. His eyes only narrow in a way that tells you what you’re already telling yourself: Thank you, Captain Obvious.

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, much to your relief, only moving to the far corner of the room where there are miraculously two seats unoccupied. You follow him with no further questions asked, plopping in the chair to his right, thankful you’re wearing black trousers so that your skin doesn’t have to go into contact with the sticky furniture.

You take the opportunity to clock the rest of the room, cataloguing the bar at the other end of the area near the entrance where a barista is swiftly taking and making orders all at the same time, while the men seated on the stools struggle to decide whether to look at the man or at the stripper now performing an elaborate dance around the pole. Amidst the decorated wall adjacent to the bar is a door with a restroom sign on it, and you squint just enough to see it’s only one stall for everyone. You make a mental note to hold in your pee, at least until you get out of here.

And, because you’re feeling nice, you shift to regard Bakugou with a good-natured smile on your face. “I hope you peed right before leaving your house.”

“What?” he says loud enough for you to hear him over the noise they’re calling music. “I can’t hear you.”

“Shit, right.” You lean in ever so minutely, and Bakugou mirrors you. You try to ignore the new-found proximity. “I said,” you repeat, with a little more volume this time, “I hope you peed right before fetching me. I bet the toilet’s filthy as shit.”

To your delight, not that you’d admit that to him in this lifetime, Bakugou smirks at your little quip after confirming the lone comfort room with his own eyes.

“Don’t worry about me, princess,” he starts, and you stiffen at the nickname, “I’m not the one who has to sit on one.”

You’re about to retort with something along the lines of what if he has to poop out of the blue, or at least try to, because the pet name has you gagged against your better judgment, when a ridiculously tall man clad in all black appears out of nowhere, startling you.

“The f—”

“Dynamight,” the behemoth of a guy cuts you off, eyes trained on the pro-hero beside you and completely ignoring your presence. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“Took you long enough to approach me,” Bakugou sneers, oozing with the confidence you can’t find within yourself right now. “I hate sleazy places like this.”

To that, the man only bows his head slightly, face solemn but devoid of remorse. You watch him as his eyes finally drift to you, albeit for only a split second, before looking back at Bakugou. “Follow me, sir.”

The ash blonde does so, perhaps a tiny bit begrudgingly, and you speedily get up along with him. The two men turn to move, and you’re about to take a step closer towards their direction when a long arm shoots up in front of you, keeping you in place.

Any protests die in your throat when you look up and see the guy’s menacing glare.

“If you don’t mind,” he grits through his teeth, “Only Dynamight is needed.”

“She’s with me,” comes Bakugou’s commanding tone. You chance a glance at the pro-hero, whose countenance is so serious you’d be afraid if you were the one he’s talking to.

“But, sir—”

“It’s the two of us or we’re leaving,” Bakugou demands.

The two engage in a stare down which you witness for what feels like a few minutes before the man finally looks away, frustration etched across his intimidating features. He glares at you once more, as if you’re the one who’s insisting on being Bakugou’s plus one, and you’re about to be convinced that he’s mentally chanting a spell to make you disappear when he gestures for you to follow him with a flick of a head.

You gradually release the breath you didn’t know you were holding as you shadow them as they enter one of the doors on the wall perpendicular to where you were just stationed. It leads to a staircase that swerves in the middle, and you lock eyes with Bakugou as he makes the turn ahead of you. Neither of you says a word, opting to keep on trailing the man, even as you land on the second floor, which looks more and more like a prostitution den.

Once again, your conjecture is confirmed as you walk down the hallway and past several sets of doors on both sides, from which emanate a cacophony of sensual moans and groans. You wonder what Bakugou’s thinking right now, although you can’t get a read on him as you can only observe his backside.

Finally, after what seems like a tortuous eternity, the man stops right in front of the door at the end of the hallway, and you pause right behind him.

He looks back at Bakugou and you with what you’re pretty sure is caution, before knocking on the door twice, and then another two times but in rapid succession.

“Come in,” is what the muffled voice on the other side says.

And so you do.

You’re not entirely sure what you were expecting, because you’ve never actually been in a service room before, but you at least anticipated a bed on which certain…activities can be done.

But what you’re met with instead seems to be a refurbished lounge room with floor-to-ceiling brick walls, black and red quilted couches, and a bar at the far side all lit up with moody orange lighting.

And smack dab in the middle of it—sprawled so languidly all over the furniture—are three individuals.

Three individuals who immediately look at Bakugou.

It’s them, alright. You don’t need your extensive training in reading people to know that these are the ones you came all the way here for.

You quickly take note of their appearances. The seemingly old man who has to be in his late 50s is seated—quite relaxed—in one of the scarlet solo chairs. He’s slim, bordering on frail, but the glint in his eye as he peers at Bakugou tells you that it’d be unwise to rule him out as one of your main threats.

Juxtaposing his age which is further revealed by his shoulder-length salt and pepper hair is the young woman plastered on the couch adjacent to his.

Or maybe ‘woman’ is a bit too generous…

It’s not obvious at first glance, but you immediately notice how some of her body parts appear to be outright robotic in the literal sense. Perhaps it’s her long, pin-straight, jet-black hair that softens her entire look, but there’s no mistaking what seems to be an artificial left eye, a metallic right arm, and angled, silver lips. She’s wearing long pants so there’s no telling which other parts of her are made up of what you think is steel, but the ones visible to you already tell you enough.

And then there’s the third and last man, who, in comparison to the other two, is remarkably…plain.

There isn’t an air of age-induced wisdom around him, nor is there anything peculiar about his body. He looks like just about any other 40-year-old-ish Japanese man you know, with short black hair, an unassuming face, and semi-formal clothes that are quite loose on his not-buff but not exactly thin body either.

But to your surprise, it’s him that the hilariously huge guy from earlier directly reports to.

“Pro-hero Dynamight, sir, as you requested. And…” the ‘escort’ trails off, and for a split second, you feel kind of sorry you’re here and making things complicated for him. “…he brought company.”

“Finally,” the plain-looking man pipes up from his seat, and even his voice is generic. “And here we thought you were never going to come meet us.”

Placing what suspiciously looks like a glass of whiskey on the table in front of him, the man shifts to fully regard Bakugou. “I see that you’ve deciphered the messages we’ve been sending you?”

“No shit,” comes Bakugou’s blunt response, and for a beat, you seriously consider using your quirk on him to make him calm the fuck down.

You decide against it.

To your chagrin, he drones on. “Y’all gotta do better. That was barely even a code.”

At that, the old male barks out a laugh while the plain-looking man only chuckles. “Of course, we expect nothing less from the #2 pro-hero. But…” the latter trails off, eyes finally landing on you. You quickly put on the most endearing smile you can muster, suddenly regretting not touching up your makeup upon sitting earlier. Thankfully, though, he smiles back, before redirecting his focus back on Bakugou.

“I see you brought precious cargo. Is there any reason why she’s here with us?”

“We want in your organization,” Bakugou replies without hesitation. “The both of us.”

And when none of them say anything in response, Bakugou presses.

“You need me, right? I heard you’re planning an attack. I want to join.”

“Yes,” the old man finally speaks up, not even denying it yet his voice is riddled with misplaced humor. “We do, in fact, need you. But what use do we have of this girl?”

“She’s got a useful quirk,” Bakugou supplies, before turning to look at you and then back at them. “Luck. She boosts the success rate of anyone she works with.”

“Luck?” the old geezer says back so incredulously, you feel your eye twitch in annoyance. If he only knew what you were fully capable of. He can’t, though, if you want to get out of this entire situation alive. “I don’t think we’ll need that as long as we have you, boy.”

“Well, tough luck,” spews Bakugou, a little bit too sarcastically for your comfort. “Because, as I’ve told your little lackey here,” he gestures to the definitely not little guy from earlier, “It’s both of us or I’m out.”

“The both of you, huh?” muses the plain-looking man who’s seeming to be more and more like the leader of the group by the second.

Once again, silence envelopes the room when none of them utter a single word, with you and Bakugou watching in anxious (you) and impatient (him) anticipation. You observe their facial expressions as they have a wordless exchange, and judging by how the ancient and the robotic girl are looking at the ordinary man, you guess your hunch about him is right.

Eventually, they appear to reach an agreement, and the leader adjusts just enough to look at the both of you directly.

You brace yourself with bated breath.

He flashes you a modest smile.

“It’s a deal, then.”

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses | @junehasnotbeenfound @sugalarity @haechansbbg @sikuthealien @reiniella3 @ita606 @xoxoblueyy @mutsu422 @eyesforbkg @kalulakunundrum @venus-xxoo @lemuhr @pinkpantheris @ashers-playpen @bakugouswh0r3 @certaindreampost @3ve88 @tsumuus @4acoffee @anonymity-222 @lousypotatoes | @matchat3a @harryzcherry @h0nestly-though @cc1306 @gold24fish @bakukags @zennypiee @wannabewolf @kameko-ko @lovra974 @arc6021 @kooromin @surprisemodafakas @ilovedenk-i @st4ntwic3 @j1tterbugaboo @call-memissbrightside @arael-asuka @bakugosgothhoe

[dyketectivecomics]

If I had any kind of drawing/editing skills I’d love to take Rose’s early issues+TT03+Knight Terrors & do an edit to Girl With One Eye where the singer switches btwn rose’s younger & current self (chorus obvsly being younger singing to older). Like listen when you turn it into a song abt self-loathing I think it adds a nice little Zing! of angst ykwim?

[the-s1lly-corner]

Calling various slashers pretty boy

Oh yeah we are cooking today

Characters: Jason Voorhees, Brahms Heelshire, Bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, OG Michael Myers

Notes: reader is GN, admin is writing this in bursts so any noticable difference in energy is due to that LMAO, written on mobile

CWs: blood mentions but it's very small

JASON

It takes him a while to believe you think hes pretty since it's so deeply ingrained in his mind that hes got a face only a mother could love

He doesn't reject the nickname, it just takes him some time to truly fully believe you when you call him pretty boy!

The first time he pauses for a moment before turning his gaze towards you... very intense stare

Absolutely melts into your arms when you pepper his bare face with kisses while calling him pretty boy

Hes careful not to smoosh you under him buts hes basically draped over your lap and pressing his face into your stomach

MICHAEL

Little to no reaction when you call him pretty boy, if there IS a reaction hes just the slightest head tilt as he stares you down

He doesnt care all that much, at least as far as you can tell... Michael... isnt the easiest to read

But you're more than sure that he would stamp it out if he didnt like it, so at least you have that going on!

Doesnt take his mask off around you at all so you dont.. actually know what he looks like... you sometimes wonder if he thinks you're just saying the term without actually meaning it

Affection with Michael alwaus feels a little one sided but you know he st least partly cares for you.. maybe..(/lh/hj)

BRAHMS

Oh look what you've done... now hes going to expect you to keep going-

Tell him just how pretty he is, what you like about his looks... he might even insist you call him Pretty Boy in place of his name!

Not that that he isnt going to return at least some of the energy, hes totally obsessed with you and hes not about to let you go feeling unloved

Call him pretty boy while the two of you are cuddling and hes going to grab your face and just.. stare intently..

Then saying you're beautiful in return, likely saying something specific about your face

BUBBA

No ones ever called him pretty boy before... let alone pretty..!

Totally melts when you call him that, pauses his work on whatever hes doing at the moment to process what you've called him before giving a soft giggle

He wants to show you how pretty he thinks you are, too, typically shows that by touching your face and tracing your skin, sometimes playing with your hair

Its... best not to call him pretty boy when hes working on carving up some meat, hes become desensitized to blood..

Unless you're okay with the upcoming mess!

THOMAS

The only person who's really complimented his looks, at least before you came along, was family members

Needs a minute to turn over what you said in his mind, and for a moment you may even wonder if you said something to upset him

Very gently takes your hands and traces them along the sides of his face, against his mask if hes wearing it

Then he holds your face in his hands... it's not a new piece of affection, he occasionally traces his fingers along your skin as the two of you snuggle

Hes going to be thinking about the name for a while, but hes not going to let it get in the way of his work and chores

[nina-ya]

When You Fake It (Law x Reader NSFW)

A/N: Idk what came over me when I wrote this but here yall go! I'm thinking of turning this into a series I already know what I want to do for zoros next Pairing: Law x AFAB!Reader CW: NSFW MINORS DNI Oral, reader receiving WC: ~1.3k

Law’s breath was hot against your skin, leaving trails of kisses along the inside of your thighs as he worked his way to the core of your desire. He settled between your legs, his fingers gently parting your folds as his tongue flicked out to taste you. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity down your spine, and the room soon filled with soft sounds of pleasure and the wet, sinful noise of his mouth at work. Despite the scene unfolding between your legs, your mind was elsewhere, distracted by thousands of little thoughts that refused to be quieted. 

You faked it. An unconvincing performance at best, hoping it would be enough for him to move on without a comment. You moaned loudly, back arching off the bed, thighs tightening around his head, but there was no true conviction behind it. 

As soon as the faux moans escaped your lips, Law’s movements paused. Piercing eyes rose to look up at you, brow furrowed in thought as if he was piecing together a puzzle. 

“Really?” he asked, an eyebrow arching, his voice laden with disbelief.

“What do you mean?” you replied, trying to maintain a facade of breathless satisfaction. You hoped your voice carried the illusion of genuine pleasure, but the edge of your desperation seeped through. 

Law’s contemplative gaze remained on you. “Right there, that little performance of yours sounded like something out of a porno– you’re not fooling me,” he said, his tone almost challenging you to deny him. 

His fingers still lingered between your legs and began to move gently, tracing your body with an almost clinical interest. “Don’t try to sidestep me,” he murmured. “If you’re not feeling it, I want to know. No more pretending.” 

You shifted uncomfortably, embarrassment spreading across your features. “I’m just not really in the mood right now,” you admitted, your voice wavering as you tried to avoid the gaze that bore into you. 

Law’s eyes narrowed, curiosity flashing in his eyes. “Was it something I did?” he asked, genuine concern threading through his voice as he continued, “I need to know so I can fix it.”

You sighed, frustration creeping into your voice as you responded, “Law, I really don’t want to play this game right now. Can we just–”

“No, no,” he interrupted. “We’re getting this right. Trust me.”

He returned to the task at hand with a renewed focus. His tongue lapped at your clit with a hunger that bordered on ravenous, swirling and tracing patterns. It was a delicate assault on your senses, each stroke of his tongue a hot, wet caress that had you twitching and mewling underneath him. Inked fingers dipped between your folds, pressing and probing with an intimate knowledge, the digits on a mission to seek out every sensitive spot inside of you. 

“You’ve always been a terrible liar,” he murmured against you, the low, gravely vibrations rumbling through you. “I know how you react when you’re close. Your breath catches in this specific way, your thighs start to tremble and shoot out as if you’re possessed, and your voice, that’s not something you can recreate unless you’re really feeling it.”

You struggled to steady you being, anticipation and frustration swirling within you. “I didn’t think you’d notice,” you admitted, your voice a soft, breathless murmur that barely escaped your lips. “You’re being too hard on me.”

“I’m not being hard on you,” he said, stopping his movements to look up at you. “I’m just being honest. Now, let me make this right.”

His fingers continued their movements, pressing and curling inside of you while his mouth was a hot, wet worship of your clit that left no room for pretense. He sucked and nipped, eyes locked on you, watching and studying your reactions to know what he needs to do to get you seeing stars. 

“Tell me what you need,” he whispered against your sensitive skin. “Let me make you feel good.”

His fingers curled and pressed within you, brushing against those more sensitive spots that had you quivering on the precipice of ecstasy. His mouth lavished attention on your clit with an insatiable hunger, tongue tracing lines of devotion over your clit, drawing out sweet, desperate sighs from the depths of your being. A gasp, trembling and desperate, slipped from your lips. “Yes, right there,” you breathed, a plea caught between heaven and earth. 

Law's eyes darkened and gleamed with the satisfaction of a conductor in the throes of his performance. His smirk was nothing short of triumphant, as he continued to sculpt and mold your pleasure.

Your hands were driven by an unrestrained need and wove into his hair, fingers threading through the raven locks, gripping with a desperate longing as you sought to ground yourself. Your body writhed and arched, the torture he imbued onto your body nothing short of exquisite. Every movement he made was spellbinding, each pump of his fingers and each caress of his tongue drawing you inexorably closer to your release. 

The heat that burned between your legs was a consuming fire, a desire that intensified with each passing second. Your moans heightened in pitch, dripping with desperation as the unrestrained evidence of your rapture was pulled from the depths of your soul. 

“Come on,” he murmured. “Surrender to it. Let yourself go for me.”

Your body trembled, his efforts building to a peak that left you gasping for breath, like a crescendo of a symphony instead played on your arousal. Your muscles strained and quivered, contracting with an almost painful intensity as your orgasm began to crash over you. Your sweat slicked thighs clamped around his head, pulling him almost impossibly closer. His fingers inside of you were squeezed by the pulsing of your inner walls, each contraction pulling them somehow deeper than before. 

Choked gasps fell from your lips, each breath ragged and desperate. Your back arched off the surface, each muscle in your body taut and straining, the feeling bordering on discomfort. Your arousal gushed over his face, seeming to drive him mad as his mouth worked to lick and slurp every last drop of your ecstasy. 

As the final tremors of your climax began to subside, an overwhelming exhaustion overtook you, and your body collapsed back onto the bed with a soft, content sigh. Law’s face glistened with the essence of your pleasure, his eyes filled with a joy that he was able to bring you to such a blissful end. His fingers stilled within you, allowing you to come down from your high while his tongue gently lapped at the remnants of your release, savoring every last drop.

Each flick of his tongue against your oversensitive clit left your muscles twitching involuntarily in response to the continued stimulation. You whined out, weakly shoving his head away as you muttered something about being too sensitive. 

He pulled away for a moment, and his fingers emerged from your cunt, the digits still connected to you with a string of your essence before it snapped. He brought them to his lips and licked them clean, savoring every bit of pleasure that he coaxed from you. He smirked at you, expression still filled with a predatory hunger. 

Now that's the reaction I was looking for," he murmured, voice thick with desire. "Let me see it one more time to make sure you got it right

Before you could respond, he was back in between your thighs, his tongue and fingers resuming to their previous song and dance, renewing the growing waves of your ecstasy, making you wonder why you ever had to fake it in the first place. 

[katanablue]

Me: yeah I just started this blog yesterday so maybe I’ll put some of my writing out in the future

Also me:

Just a lil something to get the ball rolling 🫡

I used a spinner wheel for turtle+prompt+variation

Intimacy prompts!

07 Turtles + Diff Types of Intimacy:

. . . . . ╰──╮꒰💙꒱ ╭──╯ . . . . .

Leo + 31. holding someone by the waist

“Now make sure you grip it tight by the base, unless you want it to go flying out your hands.” He smirks, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches you adjust the position of your hands.

“How’s this?” You ask after shifting your fingers a bit. Leo nods approvingly, letting his eyes roam over the rest of your form, his eyes squinting the slightest bit when he notices the width between your feet.

“Better. Let’s fix your stance though.” He comes closer, gently nudging your feet apart while his hands hover on either side of your waist. He steps back with a tilt of his head and a raised eye ridge before lightly tutting and coming to stand behind you.

“Okay so straighten up more— yeah like that. Now,” He puts a warm palm on your lower back while his other rests on your hip, once again placing his foot next to yours to shuffle it into the proper position. At first you don’t register just how close he is, truly focused on trying to get into the right stance to hold his katana.

You had asked him to teach you how to wield them and he obliged but not after giving you a whole speech on how “katanas are not a toy, but an extension of a ninja.” And then he started off by teaching you how to hold one before even dreaming about you handling two.

“Okay now bend your arms just a little…” There’s a strong, intimidating presence about him but after knowing him for so long you know that there’s nothing to be afraid of, that he would do anything and everything to make you feel safe and comfortable. You can feel his plastron just barely brush against the back of your T-shirt, his presence like a flame that’s slowly enveloping you.

“Twist your hips now,” He slides his hold to your waist, his grip gentle but firm enough to maneuver you the right away. You can feel the edges of your lips starting to curl into a smile once you feel the warmth of his skin seep through your clothes and onto you. You look back at him over your left, pleasantly surprised to find him closer than you anticipated.

He’s concentrating on your body but once he feels your tender stare at him, his deep brown eyes settle to look right into yours. There’s a half second pause between you two, a flex of his fingers against your waist while his mouth creeps up into a faint smile as well.

“Good?” He speaks softly, the subtle movement of his fingers rubbing up and down not going unnoticed by you.

“Good.”

You don’t miss the quick fleeting look to your lips before he returns it back to your hips.

. . . . . ╰──╮꒰❤️꒱ ╭──╯ . . . . .

Raph + 8. interrupting with a kiss

“And then! They really had the audacity to—“

Raph huffs a laugh as he listens to you talk about yet another disastrous day at your job. He tosses a ball into the air while he sits on your bed, propped against your headboard while you pace back and forth in the center of your room. Every now and then you look over to him to catch his reaction, pleased when he makes a face of agreement or says a few words of input. It prompts you to keep going, thinking you’re almost done until you remember something else your least favorite coworker did.

“Did I tell you what they did last week?” You ask with an exasperated scoff.

“Yeah, babe.”

“And what they did later on the same week?”

He snorts, catching the ball in his hand before looking over at you and throwing it. You catch it with ease, tossing it between your hands while you wait for his answer.

“Yeah,” He tries not to laugh at the slightly defeated look on your face. He sits up even more and beckons you to come closer with a simple expression. With a heavy sigh you oblige, crawling on your knees before plopping right in between his legs.

“They’re just so annoying!” You exclaim, giving him the ball back while you adjust your position to sit more comfortably. He puts it down by his side and places his hands on your thighs, rubbing up and down in a soothing touch and trying to edge you away from the conversation you’ve been having (with mainly yourself) for the past 20 minutes.

“So why don’t you stop talking about ‘em?” He suggests, the faintest hint of sarcasm laced because he just knows how difficult it is for you to actually do so.

You open your mouth to protest, ready to claim yet another thing your lame coworker did that you just remembered.

“But Raph—!”

You’re silenced when you suddenly feel his mouth on yours, his three fingered hand taking a hold of your chin to keep you in place.

“No more talkin’. Got it?” He murmurs against your lips, giving you another peck. You lock gazes with him, those honey gold eyes piercing right into yours. You sigh through your nose, nudging it against his snout delicately.

“You could’ve just told me to shut up.”

His laugh is deep, rich and warm against your mouth, coursing through your chest when he pulls you closer to sit on his lap completely.

“I like this method better.”

. . . . . ╰──╮꒰💜꒱ ╭──╯ . . . . .

Donnie + 38. delightful smiles

“Isn’t this just the coolest thing ever?”

Donnie had managed to find a broken down photo booth at the junkyard on their last scavenging hunt, convincing Leo to let him take it back so he can fix it up.

What he left out was that he wanted to fix it for you.

“You really think you can get this thing to work?” You ask him, seeing his shell peak out just barely from the back of the machine. You place your hand on it, inspecting the once vibrant colors of orange, purple and green now a dull shade. You pull back the purple curtain to glance inside, scrunching up your nose when clouds of dust fly up and hit you right in the face. You wave it away, going to sit on the small bench inside and look at your reflection on the screen.

“Uh, have you met me? Been working on this thing for at least a week now.” You hear his voice a bit muffled from the other side of the booth, scoffing a laugh while he continues to tinker away at machine.

“Oh, my apologies ‘oh smart one’.” You remark, sitting back against the wall and closing your eyes while you listen to him fiddle with something metal. It stops a few seconds later and soon you hear Donnie pulling back the curtain to look at you with a teasing unamused expression.

“Hey, this smart one is fixing this booth up for you.”

His statement makes you smile, making you open your eyes to glance at him. You see him sporting a grin as well, warmth flooding his heart when he sees the way you look at him.

“Better have that same delightful smile when this baby is up and running.” He jokes, stepping back to let the curtain fall and go back to his work. You sit there beaming, cheeks starting to hurt from how hard you were straight cheesing.

It’s nearly an hour later when you hear his triumphant “aha, yes!” followed by the click of him closing the panel back onto the machine. Donnie goes to plug it in and the lights above you flicker for a few moments before staying on, the display screen in front of you whirring to life with some kind of electronic song blasting through the speakers.

“No way you actually did it!” You laugh and turn your head towards the curtain when he pulls it aside and sits down next to you. He rubs his hands together and leans forward to begin selecting a frame for you two.

“You doubted me?” He asks smugly, giving you a playful side eye while he scrolls through the selections. You watch him with a content smile, scooting closer to rest your arm against his.

“Never.” You reply softly, leaning forward to stop him from moving the screen to select a frame that’s purple with hearts all over. He looks down at you fondly, throwing an arm around your shoulders to hug you into his side.

“There’s that delightful smile.”

. . . . . ╰──╮꒰🧡꒱ ╭──╯ . . . . .

Mikey + 10. going on a date

“Dude, you are going to love what I have planned for us!” Mikey happily tugs you across the rooftop, your giggling like music in his ears as he brings you closer and closer to the date spot he set up. He had been planning this for at least 2 weeks, scrambling between his brothers, Splinter and April on what to do for the perfect first date.

Ultimately at the end he figured out he should only rely on April’s advice, given that she’s the only one in an actual relationship.

“You’ve been buzzing nonstop, Mikey! What, did you finally get your hands on the ‘Shell Invaders’ remake?” You ask, putting a bit more pep in your step to walk alongside him rather than behind. He laughs and briefly looks at you before returning his attention back to the front.

“Nah, but now I know what to do for our next date.”

That makes your stomach flip, grinning ear to ear and giving a squeeze to his hand.

“Next date?” You tease in a sing song voice, enjoying the way you can practically see his blush cross his cheeks. He lightly shakes your enclasped hands and looks over at you.

“Next date.” He states confidently, showcasing a big toothy grin when you’re the one who ends up flustered. You walk for another minute or so before he stops abruptly.

“Okay, close your eyes.” He lets go of your hand, bouncing on the balls of his feet while he waits for you to do so. When you do he goes to stand behind you and gently nudge you forward and turn left until the tips of your shoes just barely brush against the edge of a picnic blanket.

You can feel the warmth radiating off of him, even when he lets go of your shoulders and instead reaches down to grab your hand once again.

“Okay… open.”

You can hear how nervous he is, the hope that what he did is enough for you.

And it is.

You gasp quietly when you take in the scene of various foods and drinks scattered across the orange and white checkered blanket, perfectly placed at the end of the building. You lean forward to look over, a small laugh passing your lips when you catch a group of people beginning to set up on stage for some sort of performance. You look back to see Mikey practically vibrating in his spot, anxiously waiting for your words or approval at his date.

“Well…?” He asks with a shy smile. You walk closer and place a small kiss on his cheek, interlacing your fingers as best as possible with his three fingers.

“It’s perfect! This is… outstanding for a first date.” You whisper softly. Mikey can’t help but pull you into a hug, squeezing you tight for a moment before letting you go and gesturing for you to sit.

“Awesome, I knew April wouldn’t let me down!”

You enjoy the food and each others company for the remainder of the night, watching the small band perform their set list down below.

Yeah, this is a perfect first date.

[m4rv3l-girl]

Sergeant Swoon

Bucky x Y/N

Y/N finds something that leaves her lover a little bit flustered….

Requests Open!

Warnings: references to sex

He hadn't planned on stopping by the living room on his way to the kitchen, but something about the sight of Y/N curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and half-asleep, barely watching TV, was impossible to resist.

He detoured silently, the soft padding of his feet almost silent as he slipped onto the couch next to her.

"Hey, Doll," he muttered, smoothing a loose lock of hair behind her ear. She smiled lazily, eyes half-lidded as she turned her head to look at him.

"Hey, Sarge," she mumbled back, the words sleepy, almost automatic. Bucky went rigid at the name but Y/N didn't notice, her attention already drifting back to the show.

He didn't budge. His fingers halted in mid-air, paralyzed, while he blinked at her. Sarge? Of all the nicknames she'd ever used, that was a new one. And a dangerous one, apparently, because all of a sudden his brain snagged on it.

Y/N, oblivious, didn't even catch on that anything was wrong until Bucky went completely silent.

He wasn't a man that ever got this still unless something was wrong. Around her, he was typically easy-going, always teasing or touching her in some small way- her hand, her knee, the brush of his lips on her temple. But now, he was just. tense.

She sat up a bit straight, turning into him fully. "Everything okay, Sergeant Barnes?" she tried again, this time making it playful.

Bucky's jaw clenched. His face colored slightly as his blue eyes darted away, clearly caught off-guard. He was never this fidgety unless something really rattled him.

"Uh. yeah," he muttered, avoiding her gaze as his metal hand scratched the back of his neck with an awkwardness.

Y/N's eyebrow shot up as she was instantly interested. Bucky rarely got ruffled, and when he did, it was always over something good. This had potential. She scooted closer, her curiosity piqued.

"You sure?" she teased lightly, leaning in with a smirk. "You're acting a little weird, Sarge."

There it was again, that same stiff reaction. His whole body tensed, like she'd hit a nerve, but not in the bad way. More like the I-don't-know-what-to-do-with-this-information way.

"Doll…" Bucky's voice came a little rough, so he cleared his throat with strain. His gaze flicking toward her for a moment - he looked back at his hands, which were now resting awkwardly in his lap. He wasn't quite sure what to do with them either. "I—uh—yeah, I'm fine."

She leaned in closer, now fully invested in his weird reaction. "You don't seem fine. In fact," her lips curving into a grin, "I'd say you seem a little…flustered."

Bucky's lips parted, and for a moment, he looked like he might deny it, but the slight flush on his cheeks betrayed him.

She leaned forward, delicately brushing her fingers over his knee. "You know you can tell me anything, right? Even if it's something like…" she paused dramatically, her voice dropping into a low, teasing tone, "you really like when I call you Sergeant."

That did it.

Bucky's head whipped to her, face now bright red. His mouth opened, but no sound came out, which was very unlike him. For a guy who'd survived wars and outsassed Tony Stark on multiple occasions, this was new territory.

Y/N's eyes shot wide, and she gasped softly, realization dawning on her. "Oh my god. You do like it!

Bucky shifted uncomfortably, letting out a frustrated sigh as his face colored impossibly red now. "Doll…"

But she wasn't going to let him off that easily, her own surprise betrayed in her tone. "Oh my God, You do, don't you, Sergeant? It turns you on!"

Bucky swallowed hard and tried to regain some control of the situation, but her teasing was relentless, and frankly, he was too flustered to fight it off effectively.

"Maybe," he grumbled, barely audible.

Y/N beamed, finally having the time of her life now. "Well, isn't this interesting… I didn't know my tough Sergeant Barnes liked it when I—"

"Alright, alright," he cut her off, his voice strained. "Yes, okay? I… kinda like it." He rubbed his hand over his face, clearly embarrassed. "Happy now, Kitten?"

Her smile gentled into something a little warmer, a little more affectionate. "I'm so happy now," she said, leaning in to press a kiss against his cheek still warm from the blush she'd managed to coax out of him. "It's cute."   "Cute?" Bucky repeated, finally looking around at her. "That's what you go with?"   "Adorable," she amended, trying not to laugh.

He groaned, the edges of his lips pulling into a small, pleased smile. "You're annoying,”

She leaned into his side, settling her head on his shoulder. "Maybe. But you love it."

Bucky wrapped an arm around her, tugging her in close. "You're lucky you're my best girl, or I might've found some way to punish you for this."

"Oh?" Y/N smirked, her head falling to the side so she peered up at him. "And how would you do that, Sergeant?"

Bucky's eyes darkened slightly, his body leaning in close as his voice dropped low and rumbled against her ear. "I've got a few ideas, Doll. I’m sure I could get you flustered real quick. Like…I know for a fact you get wet when I-”

"You-, uh…y'know what," she stammered, quick to get up her feet to flee his gaze, "I think I'm gonna go… make some tea or something. You want some?"

Bucky fell back on the couch, eyeing her in a satisfied smirk. "Tea sounds great, Kitten. But don't think you're off the hook. We're definitely gonna finish this conversation later."

Y/N was storming toward the kitchen, her heart racing, face heated, and she could hear him chuckling softly behind her.

Oh yeah. She was in trouble. And she kinda liked it.

[zodiyack]

Little Loner

Pairing(s): Jace Wayland x fem!reader

Warnings: clary being jealous but then cupid??, I wrote this while sleep deprived, fluff at the end, Clary x Simon if you squint.

Words: 1,743

Author's Note: I finally finished the requests. Now have some drafts while I work on sequels and stuff <3

Masterlist | The Mortal Instruments Masterlist

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read it,  @simonsbluee,  @thewarriorprincessxo,  @sebastianstanslefteyebrow,  @livlaughquinn,  @bubsonnobx,  @bunnyweasley23

Jace leads Clary to Hodge, but hesitates when he sees an open door. He finds himself pausing to admire the scene, leaning on the door frame with a crooked smile. Clary moves to get a better view and is confused.

A girl sits in a windowsill, her pencil hitting the paper lightly as she sketches out the scenery outside the window. The light appears to angle just right, giving her an almost angelic presence. Black runes cover her skin, some disappearing to hide under her clothes.

Clary leans over to Alec and whispers. "Who is that?"

Alec simply nods a little. "Y/N. Jace has a thing for her, but he's never acted on it." Clary feels her heart break a little. "Shame, really. She likes him too, but they're both too stubborn to be the one to confess."

"Oh..."

"My advice," Alec looks between her and the room, "stay away from Jace."

He moves on before she can ask much else, walking along the halls and calling to Jace quietly. Jace is brought back to reality as he gives one last look into the room before venturing on.

"So, Y/N..." Clary tries.

She doesn't miss when Jace blushes slightly, "another Shadowhunter. She's been here a long time, however she really only talks to me."

"Why's that?"

He chuckles a little but shakes his head. "That's none of my business to tell. She's a great person when you get to know her though." That's all the information he gives before they reach their destination. He opens the door and gestures inside with a nod.

His expression stays neutral, stoic as he explains, "You may find Hodge a little eccentric, but he's one of the greatest Shadowhunters that's ever lived." He looks down at the cloth in her hand and his brows furrow. "Here, give me that."

She walks inside of the giant room, her body and eyes exploring. The two boys walk in after her. They watch her carefully. Despite her distance, Clary can still hear Jace and Alec by the door.

"Don't lead this one on while you pursue your little loner. You'll get her hopes up, and if she decides to stay...the rune to fix a broken heart is the most painful one." She could practically feel Jace roll his eyes.

"I'm not leading her on."

"Oh? Is that so? Because I don't normally go around flirting and being handsy with random people, Jace." Alec warned. "It's obvious, the way Clary looks at you. I'd tone down your 'lack of leading her on' before she gets the wrong idea."

The doors shut suddenly, causing Clary to flinch, and Alec storms off down the hall, leaving Jace to think over his words. The more he thought about it, the more he tried to deny it.

Jace opens the door, "The Silent Brothers are ready for her."

When Clary and Jace set off for their next location, she noticed a new companion had replaced Alec. It was the girl from before. The girl that Jace liked.

"I didn't expect you to be joining us..." She tries to make conversation, but Y/N barely acknowledges her.

"I admire your attempt, but she won't talk. Not unless she's comfortable with you." Jace smiles at the girl in question, who smiles to herself but stays quiet.

"How long would that take?"

"Patience is a virtue, Clary." Jokes Jace. "I suppose I was the first person who ever really tried, so there's not much to go off of. She's coming with us because I asked her too."

The redheaded girl can't help but glance between the two every now and then. She isn't sure whether she feels jealous or wants them to be together, but she can say one thing for sure; The tension was nauseatingly strong.

"Why didn't Hodge come with us?"

"He hasn't left the institute in years." Jace shrugs as he continues walking. "Some say it's a spell."

"He's agoraphobic." Y/N giggles at Clary's bluntness, leading to the ginger giving her a small smile. One she returned. They stop and turn, Jace crossing his arms while he waits.

"Is that him?" Clary asks.

Jace follows her gaze and shakes his head. "No, that's Harold, the groundskeeper." He tilts his head, leaning in a bit, "that's him."

She looks up a little and feels a small shiver of unease crawl up her spine. A comforting hand is felt on her shoulder, and she's met with Y/N's smile when she turns her head. The action leaves her wondering how obvious her discomfort was, but she still is thankful.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Clary looks to the two as though asking for help, but nods regardless. "We will help you to remember."

The trio follow the tall robed man, Clary a little more hesitant. Y/N turns, kind smile still standing, and lifts a finger to the middle of her lips. Clary nods and follows behind.

Along the way she trips, "Ow!"

Jace turns his head instantly, shushing her. "You'll wake the dead."

Clary rolls her eyes. She catches Y/N giving her an apologetic shrug, the girl nodding with her head to continue.

"I can't believe this place is just outside of the city..."

She follows the duo to the window like ledge they looked through. Jace's voice catches her off guard, "Welcome to the City of Bones." His breath is right next to her ear, sending her hairs to stand on their ends.

"This is where the Silent Brothers draw their power, from the bones and ashes of Shadowhunters."

"All of them are buried here?"

"Yes." Jace looks to the wall, "One day," he taps a skull, making Y/N giggle, the sound eliciting a smile to slide upon his pink lips, "that's gonna be me."

Clary stops to look at the skeleton. Sensing her unease, Y/N urges her forward with a light touch. Clary stops a few steps forward, inspecting the room from entryway.

"This is as far as we go." She looks at Jace, and he assures her, "You'll be fine."

"So you've done this before?"

Y/N and Jace exchange a glance. She dawns an apologetic look as shakes her head and Jace replies, "No."

Clary decides to continue to try and talk to Y/N, "Have you ever met Magnus Bane?"

The girl only shakes her head.

"You know... I'm quite jealous of you." Clary admits with a laugh. Y/N tilts her head in confusion, prompting Clary to continue. "I thought Jace was into me, and if I'm being honest, I'm really into him but... I'd be stupid to stand in your guys' way."

Her brows furrow, even more confused than before. Clary's hopes range from high to doubtful, there's a chance Alec was wrong, that she didn't have feelings for him, but she saw the way the two looked at each other. She might've been naïve and clouded in her conflicting feelings, but she wasn't blind.

"Jace likes you too. And honestly...you should go for it." She looks away, ashamed of her own assistance in helping the guy she liked be with someone else. However, she doesn't have time to mope, when a voice she hasn't heard before causes her to snap her eyes back to Y/N's face.

"Is it that obvious?" A shy expression, laced with a little embarrassment, greets her.

"You-"

"I talk, yes." She chuckles. "Jace wasn't lying. I mostly talk to him, but after I realized my feelings for him, I started to confide in Alec. My only problem was that I didn't realize Alec also had feelings for Jace... But, Alec saw how much I love Jace, and told me that he had found interest in someone else. Whether that's true or not, I don't know, but, my feelings for Jace have always been around since then. I'm just...not too sure what to do about it."

Clary nods understandingly, and places her hand atop Y/N's. "Talk to him."

Y/N thinks about it for moment, and then nods. "Thank you."

"Hey. Can we talk?" Jace turns, nodding when he realizes it's Y/N. The blond looks around the infirmary, making sure Simon and Clary are accounted for one more time before he returns to facing her. He follows her to the study, sitting beside her on the piano seat.

"What's wrong?"

Her fingers press into the keys, a slow recollection of a piece by Bach. "It's nothing... I spoke to Clary-'

"You talked to Clary?" Y/N giggles at his dumbfounded expression. "M'sorry, that just caught me a little off-guard, you don't normally talk to anyone else."

"That's fair. Basically, she gave me some advice to a problem I have, not that I asked her for it- she actually noticed it- anyways, after Simon and the vampires and everything- I guess- my point is, Jace..."

"Yes?" His eyes were laced with concern, no longer amused by her sudden socializing.

"I like you. Like, really really like like you." She bit her lip. "Like...I'm in love with you."

Y/N stared at Jace, waiting for his answer. She grew nervous as time started to feel slower. The seconds felt like they were snail's paced, so close yet so far away. Sweat dripped down her forehead and her heartbeat rang in her ears. It was all so overwhelming until-

"I'm in love with you too."

"You what?"

Jace smiled shyly. "I'm in love with you too. I've been for a long time now." His eyes trace over her lips, the distance between them closing gradually. He hovers above her lips when his eyes meet hers again.

It's all in slow motion and superspeed at the same time. She lets go of control and lets her instincts take the reigns. Her lips crash into his and he lets out a surprised groan. Their eyes both close as they kiss one another, their lips partaking in a dance they somehow know. By the time they pull apart, they're out of breath and their eyes are blown.

"How long?"

She blinks. "Pardon?"

"How long have you been waiting to do that?"

"If I'm being honest, a month or so after we met. What about you?" Y/N giggles.

"Since we first met."

Clary leans against the door, heart half broken and half full, yet content with herself. Maybe she should look into what Simon's benefits are.

[cece693]

Secretary (Hannibal Lecter x GN! Reader)

Summary: Hannibal told Crawford that his secretary was 'pre-dispositioned by romantic whims' and traveled to the United Kingdom. However, it's rarely as simple as that.

tags: reader is Hannibal's ex-secretary, possible Stockholm syndrome, no established relationship, Hannibal being himself, kidnapping

You've been doing everything right—not disturbing Dr. Lecter unless absolutely necessary, keeping his records meticulously filed, and, with much reluctance, keeping Mr. Chilton occupied whenever he threatened to storm into Dr. Lecter’s current session to demand more of his time. Your job wasn’t easy, but you excelled at it, surpassing even Dr. Lecter’s expectations. Perhaps that should have been your cue to quit.

But you didn’t. And now, standing in the center of this impeccably furnished home—with its locked doors and an alarm system ready to blare at the slightest escape attempt—you understood the truth. Dr. Lecter would never truly let you go. He might grant you the illusion of freedom, but he would always keep tabs on you. Because, at the end of the day, he found you interesting. So much so that he didn’t kill you outright when you finally saw him for who he really was.

It had been an accident. You weren’t like the other secretaries who snooped and whispered about his peculiarities. You didn’t eavesdrop. You were just…there at the wrong moment. Gathering your belongings after a late evening at the office, you opened the door to leave, only to be greeted by Dr. Lecter standing outside. He was composed, as always. But then you noticed it—the splatter of blood decorating the bottom of his suit sleeve. Your eyes weren't quick enough to look away, and in that split second, you saw his expression change, just the barest flicker as he crossed his arms behind his back and straightened his posture.

"Ah," he had said, tilting his head slightly as if you were a particularly intriguing puzzle piece that had just fallen into place. "It appears I've caught you at an inopportune moment. I trust you’ll keep what you've seen to yourself?" His eyes were not asking. They were demanding. You swallowed hard, barely managing to nod.

"Yes, Dr. Lecter," you stammered. "Of course." He smiled then, a small curve of his lips that made your stomach drop.

"Good," he replied smoothly, stepping closer until you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "It's always refreshing to know who values their… position."

That had been the end of it. Or so you thought. Days turned into weeks, and you convinced yourself you had been imagining things, that perhaps you had misread the situation. But then came the gradual transition: the dinners you were "invited" to, the unspoken requirement to be available whenever Dr. Lecter saw fit. And finally, the inevitable—this place. His home.

Back to the present, you hear the front door click open, the soft thud of polished shoes on the wooden floor. Your heart jumps to your throat, but you force yourself to remain still as Dr. Lecter enters, his eyes immediately locking onto you with an unsettling intensity.

“There you are,” he greets, as if he were a husband returning to his spouse after a long day. “I trust you’ve been keeping yourself entertained?”

You manage a small nod, not trusting your voice to remain steady. "Yes," you reply, clearing your throat. "I…tidied up."

"Wonderful." He removes his coat with precise movements, placing it on the coat rack before turning to you, his gaze predatory yet casual. "Today was most eventful," he begins conversationally, crossing the room toward you with a grace that should make you feel comforted, but instead sets every nerve on edge. "One of my patients had quite the breakthrough. It’s fascinating, really, how easily one can guide a mind to certain…realizations."

He pauses just in front of you, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear in an unsettlingly intimate gesture. "You’ve always had such a strong mind," he murmurs. "That’s why I like you. And why I believe our arrangement will work out perfectly. Don't you agree?"

You swallow, searching for words that will appease him without sealing your fate even tighter. "Of course." you say carefully, hoping the neutrality of your response will satisfy him. He smiles again, that chillingly serene smile that never quite reaches his eyes.

"Good," he purrs. "Now, why don't you join me in the kitchen? I believe a little conversation over dinner would do us both well. After all," he pauses, his gaze darkening, "what's a home without a bit of warmth and companionship?" With a gesture, he beckons you toward the hallway, and you follow, each step a reminder of the delicate balance you must now maintain in this life you never chose.

[nomazee]

pry your way in

sebastian (sdv) x gn reader

word count: 4.7k (oh my god)

content: mutual pining, ROMANTIC TENSION, aggressive pining on the reader’s part, do they kiss or do they not, social anxiety (can u TELL), embarrassing situations, comedy (maybe) (hopefully) (maybe you’ll get a little giggle out of this and swing your feet around), so much build up, the slowest burn you could possibly get in under 5k words

notes: oh HEY guys so i went crazy again and i don’t think i’ve ever written so much in one sitting. this is insane. look at what this game has done to me. 

part 1 part 2 (you are here) part 3

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All you need to do is drop off these stupid eggs in Gus’s fridge. That’s it. In and out and then you can go home and pretend that you did not stare at Sebastian for almost an entire straight minute in the doorway of the saloon. 

He’s too busy playing pool, you think, and from the brief (many) glances you’ve taken at them, it looks like he’s pretty close to beating Sam. Your heart goes out to the blonde. One day, for sure, he’ll be able to get more than three balls in an entire game against Sebastian. 

The fridge door is open now. No one notices you except for Emily, who gives you a kind nod and a smile. You don’t know if you should be upset by the fact that no one really talks to you whenever you go to the saloon unless you talk first, or if you should be incredibly relieved. It’s leaning to the latter, because you don’t think you could handle being looked at right now especially by Sebastian because good god the jellyfish thing was so embarrassing and you really hope he’s forgotten about it because oh my god you actually almost puked all over his shoes and what is wrong with you and—

“Farmer!” Oh god. It’s a woman’s voice. It’s Abigail, and despite the fuzz in your mind you can tell by the timbre of her voice and the fact that the shout came from over by the pool table. You managed to get two eggs in the container in the fridge before being ousted. Good job. You hope Gus’ extreme ginormous 24-egg omelet is worth all of this. 

If you tried really hard, you could have played it off as if you didn't hear her at all. But then she’s walking over to you and you hear her footsteps and they’re light, friendly. Unfortunately, that does nothing to stop you from freezing up and feeling every individual cell in your body go taut.

Maybe she’s going to kill you, or something, because maybe you did actually puke all over Sebastian’s sneakers nights before this and your mind just blocked it out. Oh god. Well, this town was nice while it lasted. You hope they’ll bury you in a nice spot out of courtesy. 

Turning to face Abigail, you manage to give her a shaky sort of grin and wave. “Oh. Hey. I didn't know you were here.” You are such a liar. And a bad one, probably. 

“Yeah! Me and Sam and Sebastian.” You nod at that. A pause, and then, “Hey, are you busy tonight? We were wondering if you wanted to join us. We’re playing pool, but— um, it’s mainly just those two playing. They’ve got a rivalry going on.” 

She looks back at them and watches, amused, and you do the same for a moment. Sam is in the middle of making some big joke-y scene, throwing his head back and groaning and swatting at Sebastian while the other man just barely ducks away from his attacks. They’re laughing, and elbowing each other and you look away before either of them notice that you’re watching with the intensity of a wild deer. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Thank you. I don’t want to come if not everyone wants me to join.” 

“Everyone does,” Abigail tells you, and she’s really telling you. With purpose. There is something in her eyes. Something imploring and meaningful and her lips are quirking up in some pretty and teasing smile, and you’re wondering what’s so different about the way Pelican Town people are raised to make them carry so much weight in their eyes. So much weight that it makes you dizzy. And nauseous. And now maybe you’ll puke on Abigail’s shoes, instead.

“Okay.” It comes out as a whisper from your shaky mouth. She only smiles brighter at you. You register that you’re still behind Gus’s counter and there are drinks being shaken and poured just steps behind you. “Okay, I’ll be over in a second.” 

Great, she tells you, and then she’s turning around and walking away with a little jump and you might throw up because why did you agree to this? You did not plan on talking to people this evening. Not at all. And you’re wishing so hard that you had just dropped these eggs off in the morning. This is the type of stuff that happens when you don't just drop eggs off in the morning. Just your luck. 

You shake your head, as if maybe it’ll rattle your senses into being ready to spectate a pool game and talk with people for at least half an hour. And Sebastian. You don’t think you could handle the intensity of just sitting next to him. You might throw up again. All over the pool cues and the fuzzy cloth of the pool table. And maybe Sam’s shoes. Everyone’s shoes are getting thrown up on this week. 

Eventually, you make the walk out from the counter and consider just leaving through the door and telling Abigail later on that you just felt sick and needed to go home. It wouldn’t be a lie. You are a person of half-truths, most definitely. 

But you don’t, because you like Abigail and you want her to like you too. By the look of everything she’s done for you, you’re fairly certain that she does like you, or at least more-than-tolerates you, and you would like to keep it that way instead of burning down all of your Stardew Valley relationships in a slow, painful fire. (And okay, yes, maybe it’s a benefit that she’s friends with Sebastian. So what.) 

You blink. You’re in front of the three of them. Abigail and Sam are smiling at you and Sebastian is giving you a look. What is it with the people in this valley and their looks?! You have yet to be able to decode any of them. This is rough. So rough. You’re falling back into the uncomfortable feeling of otherness. Of just-barely-not-fitting. Like squeezing between a desk and a wall. Every other day you are walking through just fine, and the other days you are squeezing between this town and the people and everything you have yet to learn. 

You might puke. You’re not making it out of this saloon alive. 

“Hey, farmer!” Sam greets you, and your chest is struck with endearment over how everyone calls you farmer. Maybe it’s just because they forgot your name, but you can’t seem to mind it at all. “Are you joining us?” 

“Oh, just for a bit,” you tell him. You can’t help the smile that takes over your face, warmed and sheepish. “And then I should go. But I’m a big fan of watching you guys argue over pool. Really, it’s very captivating.” 

Abigail chortles, taking pleasure in the playful sarcasm you’ve adapted to. When Sam and Sebastian both follow suit in their own little laughs, your defensive habits slip away the slightest bit. And you can’t seem to find it in you to hold onto them. 

“Less of an argument and more of a…” Sebastian pauses with a teasing glance at his friend. Your heart stops for no reason other than you being stupid and in love, and it only chokes you up when he directs his stupid stupid pretty eyes right at you. “More of Sam being a sore loser. It’s an easy win on my part, really.” 

A snicker escapes you, undignified in how easily you let it out and how it threatens to reverberate against the walls of the game room. You’re holding onto yourself for dear life, trying to ground yourself in some attempt to maybe keep some of your dignity before it’s worn away through the course of the evening. 

But Sebastian has this prideful simper on his face and it’s like he’s happy to make you laugh. Maybe it’s the loving delusions running through your head. But you let yourself dream, just for a minute. 

Stupid boy. The urge to kiss him is slowly hurtling its way through your entire system, and it’s starting with your respiratory tract judging by the way you can’t seem to catch a breath. Stupid. Boy. 

“You can sit down, you know,” and he nods his head to the pair of chairs behind him. “Stay a while.” His eyes are filled with a stupid teasing glimmer and you might pull him aside just to kiss that expression right off his face. 

You won’t. Obviously. Because look at what happened last time you let your inhibitions run free. (Absolutely. Nothing.) 

Maybe I will, you want to say, stay a while. Maybe I’ll stay forever. 

You take a seat, and Sebastian is still leaning against the table with his pool cue in hand. He is looking at you, hesitant, with his mouth slightly open like he wants to say something. Before he can, Abigail interrupts. 

“Wait, let me take over for you!” She says, rushing forward to steal the cue from him. “I want to play! You guys, like, totally monopolize the table every time we’re here.” Abigail’s eyes flit to Sebastian, then to you, and she continues, “Next time, let’s just play the two of us. You and me, farmer.” 

There’s another big, stupid smile stretching your face taut and you hope none of them notice your cracked, drying lips. They’re peeling open from how much you’re grinning tonight and how much you’re not moisturizing them. “Of course.” 

Sebastian is left with nothing in his hands once Abigail turns to aim her cue and hit the white ball (poorly) in an attempt to keep up Sebastian’s winning streak. With her and Sam occupied, you are left with the black haired man standing aimless in front of you. Again. And his eyes are trailing you, with purpose and a goal to speak. Again. 

You throw his words back at him with, “Well, sit down. Stay a while.” And he does. And your stupid mind is wondering if maybe him following you so easily means something. Stupid stupid. 

“How’s, um. Your stomach,” he asks, stunted pauses littering his voice as he tries his best to look at you. You don’t know what he’s talking about, and it must show on your face because he’s clarifying, “From the ceremony last week. I haven't seen you since then so I figured you must’ve been sick.” 

Sebastian is prying. Not in his words, but in the way he’s looking at you. Really, really looking, and this feels like a repeat of last week and you are reliving a million and one things that you would rather never relive again. 

Your palms are suddenly cold and you’re avoiding his gaze, body stiff with guilt. You’d been avoiding him for a week and you honestly hadn’t even noticed. It was like a subconscious response to humiliating yourself in front of the pretty boy that you’ve liked for weeks now. You hope he doesn’t blame you for that, somehow. 

“Right. Um, I was fine. I’m fine now, I mean. I turned out fine. Sorry for all of that,” your feet are shuffling against the ground and you drag patterns into your pants to comfort yourself. “It was kind of embarrassing. To have you walk me home and then suddenly get sick. I really am sorry for that.” 

“Don’t even worry about it.” There’s a sureness in his voice. When you find the courage in your lungs to turn and look at him, you’re met with a furrowed brow and steady eyes. It’s overwhelming you with ten different feelings, many of which are yelling at you to KISS HIS STUPID FACE. “Seriously. It wasn’t embarrassing, either. Things happen. I’m just glad you’re okay, now.” 

Sebastian ends it with another one of his chest-aching, brain-melting, palm-sweating smiles and he’s doing that stupid thing with the corners of his mouth. He probably doesn’t even know he’s doing it, and that’s what frustrates you the most. Maybe you should tell him, but he would take it the wrong way and stop doing it and you wouldn’t survive without seeing that stupid smile. As much as it makes you want to tear your hair out if you look at it for too long. 

You give him a firm nod. The rest of the night is easy conversation. You have one drink. Really, you make sure of it, because you haven’t gotten intoxicated in months and you really don’t want to see what drunk-you does in Stardew Valley in front of the sweet townspeople and the stupid pretty man in front of you. Said stupid-pretty-man follows suit, only having a pale ale and indulging in shirley temples for the rest of the night. (You punch yourself for finding it endearing that he likes such a sweet drink. Urgh.) 

It feels like a parallel universe of the Moonlight Jellies celebration of last week. One where you are a much less awkward person (but, really, there’s just barely a difference between now and before), and where you offer to walk him home instead of the other way around. Your stupid infatuated heart skips a stupid beat when you ask him if you can walk him back, but it quells when he gives you an easy smile and agrees. You pointedly ignore the voice in your head telling you that he sounds almost enthusiastic.

Sam and Abigail wish you goodnight, and they’re both beaming at you in a silly way that makes you follow suit. Giggles bubble in your chest and you don’t even know why. You think they must just have those kinds of personalities, and you really couldn't be more happy to seep into it. 

You don’t hold Sebastian’s hand on the way back. Not at all. In fact, you don’t even feel the urge to. You totally, totally don’t look at his hand swaying between you and fight the instinct to grab it and trace your fingers across his palm lines and the dips of his knuckles and all the scars he’s collected in his youth. You. Do not. Feel that way at all. 

It’s easy conversation, yet again. It’s almost impressive how, even with how easily you seem to do the most mortifying, awkward things in front of Sebastian, you still slip into moments with him where you can talk like you’ve known each other forever. God. Something about this town. You can’t tell if you want to catch the next operable bus out of here or stay here forever. You feel that way often, actually. 

Before you know it, you’ve cut through the city and ended up in the mountains and in front of his house. The lights are off. It must be super late, then, if everyone’s dead asleep like that. 

Crickets chirp and buzz in the air. You and Sebastian stop walking in the middle of the large dirt patch that takes up his front yard. Now, you’re looking at each other, and he’s giving you his awkward stupid gorgeous downward grin. You hope that you’re giving him something at least half as pretty, with the way you feel your lips stretch and crack again. You really need to get lip balm from Pierre’s. 

“It’s so late,” you mutter, because you don’t know what else to say and your heart is melting and slipping right out of your chest and onto the soil. “I guess I should go home.” 

You hope—cross-your-fingers-say-a-prayer type of hope—that he hears the hesitancy in your voice. That he realizes you don’t want to leave. That he sees the fondness in your eyes and how you’re trying to soften every defense mechanism you’ve ever learned in order to pry into him, now. And you hope. Cross your fingers and say a prayer. That he wants that, too. 

He hums a thoughtful, quiet sort of hum. Sebastian doesn’t move towards the door, or bid you a goodnight, or nod along and tell you he’ll see you another day. He waits. He is looking at you and prying you open and trying to gauge your reaction. To what, you don’t know, but there’s a static feeling in your head that tells you to wait and find out. 

“Right,” he says finally. His voice and his mouth curl carefully around the word, and it’s there again—the pauses, the hesitancy. You see your habits in him and you are aching with the need to find out what he means. What this all means. And you’re feeling stupid, and so you wait, too. 

“I think I feel bad leaving you to walk home,” Sebastian tells you. He’s speaking slowly, but not in a degrading way. It feels more like he wants the words to float to you and sink into the pores of your skin. And they do. They do, and it’s embarrassing, because now you’re sweating and hoping (again) that it doesn’t show on your face or your hands or the twisting of your fingers. “This is really far from the farm, you know.” 

“I think I would know,” you respond, teasing and lighthearted and acting like there isn’t a saturated yearning weighing down your body right now. “I can manage. I’ve been in the mines, you know. Seen all the monsters down there and everything.” 

He lets out a stupid breathy laugh and shakes his head. You hate how he acts so nonchalant, like it’s not obvious that you’re fighting the instinct to pick him up and shake him around like a bobblehead until his skull pops right off his neck. “Right, because there’s totally monsters down there.” 

“There are! You can come with me one day. I’ll prove it to you.” And it’s risky, to entertain that kind of thing, the concept of you two spending time together alone, where no one can see. Sebastian takes that as a challenge, apparently, because the diffident tilt of his lips turns smug and he’s saying,

“Then maybe you’ll sleep over one day.” 

Stttttupid boy. He’s stupid. The stupidest man you’ve ever met because now you’re really, really holding onto every last shred of your self-control. The thought of you in his house, with you both sleeping in the same twenty-foot-radius of space is making you heat up more than the valley’s summer sun. A frog croaks in a nearby bush. Nausea pools in your intestines. 

And you’re a terrible person, really, because even though you’re sweating and lightheaded from the heat you’re entertaining the thought of you both sleeping in the same bed. And it’s ridiculous. Really. You’re both adults who are perfectly capable of sleeping in the same bed without it meaning anything. Any particle of logic that enters your brain is vaporized by the heat of it. Your stomach is twisting and you swallow around the lump in your throat. 

He’s watching you. Still watching. Waiting for something to happen. The look he’s giving you is bordering on defensive, as if he’s anticipating a rejection. Stupid man. By now, he should realize you’re not prone to giving him rejections, of all people. 

“Maybe I will.” By some grace of whatever higher power is listening, you choke out the last puddles of your strength into a hopefully-confident tone of voice and the last words you have left in you for the night. It’s not a rejection. You hope he understands that. And he does. Oh, he has to understand what you mean by now, because he’s biting his lips and still. Looking at you. And waiting. All he does is wait. And you glance down and see his hands twitching at his sides. And you are going to do something. Something.

Oh, god. You’re thinking, Oh, okay, this is what this is, and he’s doing his stupid smile and the corners of his lips tuck in and you’re staring at them again. Really, really staring at them. You hope he notices. Your fingers are twitching now, too, almost aching with the need to hold something—to hold him and his twitching hands and spin them around in yours like a fingertrap. You want to get stuck and woven together, just for a moment. An aching, hurting, burning, devastating moment. 

It’s all you want. It’s all you’ve wanted for weeks now. And there’s a heat in your chest and your fingers and your head. Fingers twitching, eyes unblinking, and hands sweating; you wait. Wait for him to come closer. For him to do. Something. Soon. 

It’s an impossible task for you. You are not one for initiative. Never have been, not since you left your stupid office job and took up your place on this stupid farm and fell in love with this stupid man. Initiative is a daunting, horrifying, overwhelming concept, and all of your ambition has been drained from you ever since you planted your first parsnip in the ground. 

But but but. And this is how it always goes with you and Sebastian. But but but. There’s something about tonight. Something about tonight and the last week and the week before and the seasons before this that have carved this open wound into the middle of your diaphragm. Without even knowing it, Sebastian has clawed his way between your lungs and made an uneasy home in your heart. It’s disgusting, and maybe you’ll cough up all this adoration right on the doormat of his family’s house. 

How long has it been? How long have you both been standing here like idiots and waiting and breathing and staring? How long? You are asking yourself too many stupid questions. Initiative. You think of it again—and now your hands are on Sebastian’s shoulders and you don’t have half the mind to wonder when you stepped closer. 

You are not slow in your movements. Not at all. You are urgent and desperate and aching, but you give just enough time for him to pull away. In the back of your head, you wish that he’ll pull back and leave you empty and cold. But there is a warmth seeping through the cloth of his hoodie and tonight, you are stupid. 

You’re staring for just a moment before you close your eyes and surge forward slow enough for him to stop you, but fast enough that he won’t get the chance to look at your embarrassing, longing, yearning face before you kiss him. 

Because that’s it. You’re kissing him. You’re kissing him, with your hands gripping his shoulders with bruising strength, and with your feet planted into the ground to stop yourself from either floating or flinging yourself into the lake. You’re kissing him. And he’s not pulling away. And his hands reach to touch your elbows gently. For a moment, you think he’ll shove you down and run away, but his fingers are tapping along your arms, leaving a buzz in your bones and your head and your heart. 

You. Are kissing him. You are. You fucking. Did it. Joy floods your buzzing body and you hope he can’t hear how loud your skull is vibrating, how intensely your chest is rattling. Or how heavy your hands have become on his shoulders and how much you’re pushing back against him to get further, to pull him into you and you into him and pour in everything you’ve ever felt straight to his lungs. You’re kissing him. 

And he’s warm. So warm. Unexpectedly so, and you feel your entire body heat up in innocent adoration and you want his fingers to curl around your forearms and ground you. His hands shift, and for a minute you think he might pull away, but now he’s dragging his fingers in small paths up your arm, above your elbow and brushing your shoulders. Ggggggggod. God. You’re gonna scream into his mouth and slap him. Stupid man. 

In reality it lasts for a second, but the rush of feelings and thoughts and screams and cries that overwhelms your body makes it feel like it’s an hour. (At least ten minutes, maybe.) You wonder how he feels. You wonder if he’s trying to pour everything into you through this, too; or if maybe, he’s a normal fucking human being who is just kissing you to kiss you without all the grandeur and flourish and waxing poetic. Unbothered, you realize you won’t mind regardless of which it is. 

Your eyes are closed, and you hope his still are, too, because if he opens them and sees you you might throw up all over him. For the fortieth time this week. 

“Sebas— oh!” 

And. There’s a voice and a distressed exclamation. It’s Robin. Holy shit. It is his mother. 

The man you just spent an hour kissing (read: five seconds max) takes a moment to realize what just happened. You, on the other hand, have a ridiculous supercomputer in your head and you have long since figured out what just happened. You cannot believe this. This is embarrassing. A trip back to Zuzu City is well deserved now. 

“I’m— so sorry. Oh goodness.” Robin is being way too polite. You’d thought for sure she would’ve yelled at you and banned you from coming to the mountains ever again. You already kissed goodbye to both Sebastian (literally) and your mining career. And half your fishing career.

Sebastian’s face is flooded in color. It’s soaked in red and radiating heat that you can feel even with the ten-foot distance you had placed between yourselves. He’s not looking at you or his mother, eyes instead fixed on the patch of torn up dirt behind you. 

Finally, you process that Robin is the one apologizing to you, which is ridiculous and you wish she would’ve just pushed you into the river and screamed at you instead. You wish these people would’ve been a lot meaner to you already, and then maybe you would have never worked up the gall to kiss the man you’re stupidly in love with and cause this whole ordeal. 

“I’m so sorry,” and you’re the one saying it this time. You turn to look at Robin fully and resist the urge to fall to your knees and beg for her forgiveness. Tonight, you committed a mortal sin—giving her son a big fat heart-stopping kiss on the mouth right in front of their house—and you can only be forgiven by death, and death alone. 

There’s a confused look in her eyes, almost worried, and you think you might be actually shaking enough to launch yourself into the stratosphere like a space cannon. Instead, you channel the energy into completely turning yourself around and running away from the both of them. 

Disastrous. This night has been disastrous. You would’ve rather actually puked on everyone’s shoes instead of going through whatever the hell that was. You’re never going to catch a break in this stupid town with these stupid people and stupid Sebastian and his too-sweet-for-her-own-good mom. 

When you get home, you’re panting in exhaustion from sprinting across the valley, and your nerves and head are still buzzing and your lips are still warm from Sebastian’s being completely and willingly planted on them for about ten whole seconds. Your brain is too fried and melted to even consider the implications of everything you both just did, but you can’t seem to care. 

You’re embarrassed. Wholly and utterly humiliated, and for a moment you cross your fingers and pray to whoever will listen that you won’t be a topic of discussion during Robin and Sebastian’s family dinner with everyone else. 

You take a moment to catch your breath (an impossible thing) and finally collapse into your bed. You’re staring at your ceiling for what feels like hours, but you have a very poor sense of time and don’t trust that judgment at all. Everything settles in your head like mud shaken in a jar of water. And you smile. Dear god. Despite it all, you’re smiling and giddy and laughing to yourself, riding a high of schoolgirl-type-infatuation and post-kiss-adrenaline the weird, cruel excitement of the night. 

You kissed him. You kissed Sebastian. You. Fucking. Did it. 

The rest can be worried about tomorrow. Or maybe the day after that. Maybe even never, because you are absolutely going to avoid everyone and move in with the wizard instead, living in isolation for the rest of your life. But for now. You swing your feet and giggle like a twelve-year-old and replay the kiss in your head. Over and over. Like a sleep aid. You fucking did it.

[aritsukemo]

Your heart's too big for your body.. | Muichiro and Yuichiro Tokito

Warnings: Mentions of the reader throwing up in Yuichiro's part! All my emetophobic folks beware!!

A/N: I honestly don't know what this is lmao- I planned a completely different set of characters when I wrote this but as I was listening to Melanie Martinez's Crybaby album, I guess my mind just went to two characters who bring me a bunch of comfort. Like, as I listened, I felt kinda sad so my mind just imagined a bunch of scenarios with these two comforting someone.. ( Also, in case anyone's confused. Muichiro's part is set in a more modern au like the Kimetsu Academy au, Yuichiro's isn't )

"What the fuck," Is the first thing the teal-streaked medic mumbled when you stumbled into the Butterfly Manor half conscious, blood dripping from your head. and your hand poorly covering your stomach which had a horrifyingly-large gash on the center of it.

"T- Tokito.." You called, although you could barely get the words out before you tilted. Luckily, Yuichiro caught you in time before you completely hit the floor.

As your head hit his shoulder, a quick wave of panic shot through him. After all, it wasn't often that a Hashira—especially one of your caliber—to come in this wounded, or wounded at all for that matter.

As he helped you to your feet, Yuichiro threw your arm over his shoulder, ignoring your blood that had quickly begun to stain his clothes, and called for some assistance before guiding you to the nearest patient room and sitting you down on the bed where you immediately flopped over.

"Shit," He cursed out, finally noticing how bad of a state you had gotten yourself in. You showed obvious signs of having a concussion—a severe one at that. But he had little time to focus on that before you began choking.

With quick movements, Yuichiro helped you sit up only for you to immediately fall forward and cough up your stomach, staining the bottom half of his clothes with your blood and what was most likely your breakfast, shit.

It was only then that the Kakushi had rushed in, staring at the sight in surprised horror only to finally rush to your side after Yuichiro shouts at them to unbutton your uniform vest and press down on your stomach wound while he prepared the bandages...

When you finally awoke, you were experiencing one of the worst headaches of your life. The Kakushi had long been sent off, but Yuichiro was still there. Towering over you, scrutinizing you.

"How are you feeling?" Was the first thing he said. It came out in a rushed, whispered tone of voice instead of his usual vexed one.

"My head hurts.." You mumbled in which he hums and mumbles something involving Shinobu and medication under his breath. Although, it was hard to really concentrate on his mumbling when your head felt like it was being split open and the strong taste of metal was lingering on your tongue..

"So what happened while you were out?" Surely you had run into one of the Twelve. Logically speaking, there would be no other way for you to obtain such injuries. Unless you somehow tripped into a bear's mouth or something on your way home. Although he hopes that isn't the case. You were an idiot, but hopefully not that stupidly clumsy.

Your eyes drifted to your hands subconsciously, an expression of which the medic could only think was embarrassment slowly forming on your face.

"It was my fault," You began, and Yuichiro was already furrowing his brows, "I underestimated my opponent and nearly got another slayer killed as a result.."

"There was another demon slayer there?" His voice suddenly grew low as hed muttered his next words with poorly masked dread, "..What happened to them?"

"They..ran away," Wait..what?

"They did..what?" The sudden sharpness of his tone has you wanting to shrink away from him, "Say it again. I want to hear it. Now."

"There.. There were multiple slayers.. One of them attempted to help out, but in the end..when I was pushed back.." You pause, looking for the right words to your next sentence that wouldn't shove the truth of what happened in your face. The disheartening truth that makes your chest tighten and your heart sting. The truth that your comrades had left you to die, "I awoken and my comrades..had all..retreated to safety."

"So, they left you to die," You wince. The way he always worded things always sounded so painful to hear. It squeezed at your heart in a way that made your eyes sting and your throat tighten, but you try to brush it off as best you can.

"No, they just—"

"Decided to save their own worthless asses as soon as the fight didn't go their way and left you to clean up the mess?" As his anger grew, so did his voice, "No way you slice this will make the truth any less apparent that they left you for dead!"

"How many times have I told you about this? You need to understand that most people only care about keeping themselves happy and alive and don't care who dies at the expense of that! Not you, or me, or anyone else!" He's right. Both of you are aware of that and as a result, silence replaces any words that would've been spoken after that—well, that and the tears that are beginning to form in your eyes because of the intense stinging..

You raise you hand, your eye instinctively closing as you wipe at your eye, your tears smear as a result, but you could care less. As long as it got rid of them.

At some point, the silence was broken with the sharp sigh that slipped from Yuichiro's soft lips. He shuffles closer before leaning down where the coldness of his thumbs comes in contact with the warm skin just under your eye. They capture the tears that manage to escape and gently flicks them away.

"You shouldn't waste your tears. Not on them, and certainly not on me.." He tells you, but it only makes you want to cry harder—which you ended up doing.

"I'm.. I'm sorry..*hic*.. I.. I.." You couldn't even get your words out from how much you were choking. This was so embarrassing and you wished you could just crawl in the hole and never come out of it..

But you can't. So you'll just have to make do with Yuichiro caging his arms around you as you sobbed instead.

"Thank you for coming," You told him, intending for it to sound more like an happy and excited little kid than a heartbroken and dissapointed adult. He looks around, streamers and banners decorate the walls, rounded tables and chairs were dressed down in various colored flowers and other assortments—all of which were mixed and matched in your favorite colors—and a beautiful multi-tiered cake sitting in the middle of a long rectangular table in the back of the room—the cake's decor trailing down the layers and onto the table where it then hangs off the wood, like hanging wisteria trees..

Not a soul in sight.

It was confusing to him. He vividly remembers the long nights with you, both of you up at ungodly hours, dressed down in your pajamas. He remembers being on the phone with you, staring intently at the slumped beds that had begun to slowly form under your bottom lashes and the faded look of drowsiness on your drooping face. He remembers your hands, tiny cuts of all shapes and sizes dented in your skin from the many slip ups and paper attacks that happened that night and previous night. He remembers the afternoons slowly turning to evenings and then nights and he remembers you working nonstop on your invitation cards. Each were just a tad bit different, some of the handmade decorations being different sizes and beautified certain ways to mask the small but noticeable mistakes you made on some of them. He remembers how proud you looked everytime you finished a card, showing him while flashing the widest grin he's ever seen from you. He remembers how pretty each card looked..

Why didn't anyone show up?

"I suppose everyone was busy today," You said, but he couldn't tell if you were trying to answer the silent question in the air or trying to tell yourself that to make yourself feel better, "I knew I should've waited til' the weekend.."

"Why.. Where is.." He didn't know what to say. You were pretty well known throughout school, everyone loved you or so it seemed. Why is he the only one here?

"Y'know, when I first started passing out the cards, most people told me that they probably couldn't make it. It made me a little sad, but then I was asked if I could help them out.." You told him. He hated the look in your eyes as you said it, "Heh..I ran all over the place running errands for all those people..they said that because of me they'll have enough time to at least stop by and drop off their gifts.." You began to walk, your shoes dragging against the wooden flooring of your living room, Muichiro cringed at the screaking sound it made.

"I did all of that..and no one showed. I waited all day.." Your voice was so shaky and fragile, like a mirror slowly cracking. It felt like the shards of glass were slowly falling off and shoved down his throat.

Then your voice suddenly raised, "But it's okay!" You said, "It's okay," You repeated, "That just means there's more cake for the two of us to enjoy!" You stop right infront of the large cake, your head rolling to look back at him. His own mirror began to slowly crack as his teal eyes met your teary ones and you flashed him a smile, one thinned out instead of the usual full, bright one you always blessed him with.

It was heartbreaking. It made him want to cry. And he did. He didn't realize it, but the tears had begun to slide down his cheeks one after another..

"I'm..so sorry," He said as if he wasn't the only one standing here before you, "..I'm so sorry, Y/n.."

"Why are you apologizing? It's okay, Mui. Don't feel bad. I'm okay.." You croaked, watching with your bottom lip shaking as he neared you. Biting down on the skin when he enveloped you and his sobs filled your ears.

"It's okay. I'm okay. I'm..I.." With a loud hiccup to signal that the dam has broke, you fell apart completely. Body trembling as you leaned into his shoulder, mumbling words of reassurances over and over like a damaged record.

"I'm..fine.. I'm okay.. No need to cry.." You said, but your words comforted neither him or you—if anything, it only made your tears come out in quicker, thicker clumps, completely ruining the little makeup look you had spent an embarrassing amount of time doing.

At some point, you two hit the floor. Neither of you noticed it, but you were curled up in each others arms on the cold, lonely floor. Tears wetting each others' sleeves. It was a mortifying sight. If anyone walked in, there's a chance you'd both be made fun of for being such crybabies over a simple birthday party gone wrong.

But you never left his embarace and he never left yours. You both sat there, tangled in that messy embrace and sobbing, heavy feelings weighing in both of your hearts.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[justaticklishdeer]

A Rather Eventful Night

This is a tickle fic!! Ler!Vox, Lee!Alastor (Radiostatic theme !!)

TW/CW: intense in places, a little sadomasochism stuff, lots and lots of teasing, bit fluffy

Word Count: 3,300

A certain deer sat down on the couch. He began to read a book– murder and cannibalism was prone in it. He flicks through the pages quietly, humming softly to himself. Alastor was in comfortable night clothing– much different than his professional radio host clothes. As he flicked through the book, he felt a weight on the couch. His ears flicked as he glanced over at the TV Overlord sitting there. 

‘Whatcha reading there, sweetie?’

‘Nothing much. Just my usual style,’ Alastor hums, flipping the page. Vox hums softly, placing a hand on Alastor’s stomach innocently. He then pulls Alastor into his lap without warning, earning a soft squeak of surprise from the deer. 

‘Shh, little buck. I’m just cuddling ya.’

Alastor settles back down, and could hear Vox chuckle in amusement at the book he was reading. ‘What? You know my style.’ Alastor flips the page again, humming some soft jazz melody to himself as he reads the book. Vox quietly reads along with him, occasionally making noises of amusement or curiosity at certain parts. 

‘Hannibal Lecter, hm?’ Vox asks, knowing how Alastor was. The cannibalistic, psychotic, chaotic, beautiful deer demon he was. Insanely ripping victims apart on a live broadcast (Vox had to admit, he’d tuned in a few times). Seeing Alastor eat victims, that feral look behind those eyes of his. How insane he looked. Never truly a ‘tame’ thought in that head of his. Vox snapped himself out of his thoughts as Alastor hummed again.

‘Vox, what in heaven’s sake are you zoned out about? Unless you mean this wonderful scene here,’ Alastor chirps in an almost sassy tone, purposely teasing about the book, ‘You love how insane I am. You’re obsessed. Both of us know it, you just refuse to admit it! Haha, I’m everything to you! Years of you practically stalking me, and well, look where that got us!’ He broke into a fit of maniacal laughter. All on his own. Vox watched with a concerned, yet strangely fond and affectionate look.

‘Alright, alright, hush..calm down,’ Vox whispers, rubbing those adorable deer ears to bring Alastor out of the laughing fit. Alastor lets out a happy sigh. After a moment, he settled back into his book, getting very focused. He was very quiet throughout his reading, apart from a few hums of amusement or surprise. Vox wasn’t at all concerned about the whole thing– he knew how insane Alastor is and could get. He heard Alastor giggle maniacally. Vox noticed how Alastor was positioned– in an oddly vulnerable way. He wasn't sure if this was on purpose, so he didn't bring it up. 

Alastor continued to read, his ears flicking gently in a rather pleased state. His book had completely engrossed him in the cannibal descriptions and the style in which it was written. Vox just gazed fondly as Alastor read his book. ‘Vox, you’re staring.’ ‘I am aware.’ The TV grinned, hands going to Alastor’s sides. It got little to no reaction except for a light flinch. He slowly traces shapes on his sides. Gentle. Teasing. Barely grazing over spots. 

“V-Vox.” Alastor shifts, blinking, eyes wide. He tries to focus on his book, he really tries. But the sensations… Alastor whined softly, squirming in Vox’s lap. He felt the blue-tipped claws grip firmer and scribble on his sides a bit more. 

“Hush, pretty boy.” 

“V-Vox. S-Stahap–oho god..” He leans against Vox, his hands trembling. Alastor still had his book open, but couldn’t focus. 

“Words.”

“Can you tickle me?” he asks, shameless. The deer’s body arched back slightly, and Vox turned him around to face him. “Good boy,” Vox hums softly, hands still on Alastor’s sides. The look returned from the deer was a mix of a lot of different emotions. Anticipation, giddiness, defiance..? 

“So, one thing,” Vox hums, pausing the tickles, getting a desperate whine from the demon, “Eye contact. Tickles keep going as long as you can keep those pretty eyes on me. Got it?” 

A helpless nod was his answer. ‘Good little tickle fawn,’ Vox growls, almost possessive. Alastor flicked his eyes up to Vox’s, almost immediately flustering himself doing so. Vox’s claws slowly trailed up his sides, earning a flustered, choked giggle from the deer beneath him. Alastor’s body jerked away from the sensations. ‘Do I need to tie those hands above your head?’ Vox asks, grinning as he gets close to Alastor’s ribs. 

‘You mihihight!’ Alastor giggles, a challenging look behind those eyes of his. Vox hums and grabs a restraint, tying his hands together by the wrists before tying his hands above his head, effectively keeping him in place. Alastor squirms. Slight. Helpless. He managed to keep eye contact, though. 

Vox’s fingers drag over his sides, featherlight touches that had Alastor jumping with every spot grazed over. ‘Mmm! Mhmhmhm!’ Alastor giggles out, back arching as he holds eye contact. Vox’s claws found a spot right below his ribcage and that’s where Alastor took a sharp breath in. “Tickle tickle tickle,~” Vox purred close to Alastor’s ear, and the Radio Demon’s body shivered. Hard. 

‘Oh, does my tickle baby like that?’ Vox asked teasingly, one hand going to the necklace collar he had put on Alastor before this whole thing started. Alastor gasps with surprise as he nods shyly. His back arches as Vox scratches along his ribs. Slow. Teasing. Gently, and not so gently, digging in between the ribs. Alastor’s back arched as he let out a choked whine. 

‘Good boy. Such a good boy.”

“Vahahox..oho god,” he let out multiple whimpers as Vox’s claws trail down to his stomach. He felt the claw circle around his navel, teasingly scritching right above it. Alastor’s body shuddered hard as he let out a bleat of ticklish pleasure. ‘Mmm! Mhmhmhm! Juhust like tha–ahat!~’ his back arched again, his smile genuine. Happy. Blissed out. Tail wagging, ears flicking. 

He breaks eye contact and Vox’s hands come off of him. Alastor let out a whine. “Pl-plehease..”

“You know the rule..Eye contact.”

“V–Vox. Vox. Th-thihis shouldn’t–” Alastor starts. Vox cuts him off, chuckling, ‘But it does. And you love it. Otherwise I believe you would have safeworded to me by now?’ A whiny giggle and nod was the response. Alastor’s eyes slowly flick back up to his, and Alastor was rewarded with the claws returning to his tummy. He gasps and giggles happily, deer tail wagging. All delighted that he was getting the attention he wanted. 

Vox’s claws scribble up his sides, lingering below his ribcage for a few seconds just to see and hear the reactions. Alastor started to squirm, trying to arch away from the persistent scribbling at that spot. He whines out, ‘Vhahaohox, anywhehere else wohould be great!’ 

‘Hmm, no..I believe I can linger here a little while longer, don't you think?’ 

Alastor whimpers and tugs at the restraints Vox had him held in. ‘Plehease–plehease! Plehehease–Vohox it’s bad–it’s bahad!’ Alastor started to tug harder as Vox’s claws persisted, one side going slow and easy, the other doing quick scribbles. Alastor arches away from the touches, unsuccessfully. He whines out, ‘Plhehease! Pleasepleaseplease–’ 

‘Please what? Please…tickle tickle tickle you? Right here? Up on these ribs?’ Vox coos, scribbling up to his ribs, massaging lightly to feel for his ribs. Alastor arched away, maintaining eye contact by sheer willpower. He was attempting to show he was the one in control here, although Vox was proving otherwise. The Radio Demon tries to thrash away from it, but the restraints and Vox’s hands held him in place. The TV Overlord began to teasingly crawl up to his underarms, making Alastor’s breaths get frantic. ‘Vox–Voxvoxvox I-I knohohow whahahat you’re thihihinking! I knhohow! Dohohn’t–hahaha-! Dohohon’t dohoho it!’

Vox ignores the pleas–he knew if Alastor really didn’t want it, the safeword would’ve been thrown out by now. He slowly crawls his claws up to scribble at Alastor’s underarms at a relentless pace. Alastor screams and arches up as far as he could go. His breathing was all frantic and messy, and his laughs were like no other. Begging, whining, whimpering, silent laughs, desperate pleas. Vox just chuckled and watched his victim break eye contact after a second more of this treatment.

His hands came off and Alastor gave him an almost offended look. ‘Why…why’d ya stop? I was handlin’ it just fine…’ 

‘You broke eye contact,’ Vox hums teasingly. His fingers swirl slowly over Alastor’s underarms as Alastor glares at him. ‘Mmhm, there you go. Good boy, such a good tickle toy for me, aren’t you? You’re such a pretty little tickle fawn..pretty boy…adorable ticklish baby…” He watched Alastor squirm at the teases. The eye contact became more profound. Vox’s claws scribble quicker, making Alastor jolt and giggle happily. His tail wagged gleefully behind him. 

His giggles soon melted into blissed out whines. Pleas to move to a different spot. Vox grins, continuing to gently–and roughly–scratch and swirl on his underarms. He loved the effect he had on the usually composed Radio Demon. The way his body reacted and jolted every time he hit a sensitive spot. All the deer could focus on was the feeling of those damned claws on his underarms. He weakly pulls at the restraints again, but not as much vigor in his movements.

‘Plehease–please! Anywhehere…ohohho…else–heheh!’

Vox’s claws scribble back down his sides, settling on the area between Alastor’s ribs and the side of his stomach. The spot wasn’t as bad, but yet still had a bit of sensitivity to it. Alastor squirmed, giggling as he kept eye contact with the TV. He could practically feel how much enjoyment Vox was getting from this–he knew how the idiot–affectionate–was wired. How his stupid little brain worked. How obsessed he was with the deer. Alastor seemed to zone out to his own thoughts, before a quick scribble to his lower stomach jolted him back into reality. 

He gasps and whines out, ‘Nohohot the tuhummy, nohot yehet!’ 

‘Aww, does the ticklish little fawn want me to go for his hooves instead? Or maybe his ears?’ Vox teased. Alastor’s body shudders at the mere suggestion. ‘Hm. That’s what I thought…such a good tickle toy..all mine to play with and make him laugh and bleat his little heart out…’ Vox went to try to teasingly boop Alastor’s nose, only to get a playfully aggressive snap of the teeth towards him. ‘Oh, so you’re gonna be a biter, then? Well, we can fix that..’ 

With a playful scrunch of his fingers, he begins to relentlessly scribble and spider over Alastor’s tummy, making sure to get under his deer fur which ultimately heightened the sensations by a lot. Alastor’s thrashing became more desperate, and his eye contact broke almost instantly as soon as the claws got to his deer fur. 

Vox’s fingers come off of him yet again, giving him a sensation equivalent to a numbed person. He felt these odd tingles still running through his nerves. Alastor squirmed, trying to understand the sensations. His ears flicked around, as if looking for a radio signal. Vox chuckles, watching his little buck squirm and try to wriggle so his fingers would be back on the precious little belly. 

‘V-Vox–’

‘Ah, ah, ah. You know the rule we both agreed on. Don’t you, sweetheart?’ he croons near Alastor’s ear, making the affected ear flick and flatten, trying to escape the verbal ‘assault.’ Vox chuckles, sitting back on Alastor’s thighs while he waits all too patiently for Alastor’s eyes to meet his once more. He casually checks his claws, making small sparks come from his claws as he chuckles. 

‘You know, sweetie..I have an idea.’

‘Wh-what is it?’ Alastor asks, almost scared, a flicker of fear crossing his features. 

‘Do you have honey?” Vox asks, the question almost..innocent. He had this smug look on his face, with a glint of near malice in his eyes. Alastor’s eyes widen before he blinks, confused. ‘Honey?’ Vox nods, a finger slowly swirling into Alastor’s navel, drawing out a loud fawn-like bleat which he quickly covered up with an embarrassed cough. 

‘I-I–mmmMMm!~ y-yehes–? I do–its-its, heh, in-in…oho..thehe…’ he trails off, radio filter dropping as he blisses out from the navel teases. He bucks his hips a little, high pitched giggle whines flowing out. 

“The kitchen?” Vox finishes his sentence. A shaky, breathy nod from Alastor. ‘Okay, I’ll be right back. You just–’ Vox pauses, remembering he had Alastor tied there, ‘--uh, just..chill there. For a minute, okay?’ Alastor whines and nods, wriggling slightly as the tickles stop. 

Vox stands up, scritching at his deer ear a little before standing up. He makes his way to the kitchen, which is the next room over. He looks through cupboards, not all too phased by the meat cleavers and skinning tools–it was Alastor, for Lucifer’s sake. He rummages through spices and sauces, skimming over labels, jars, containers, and other similar things. He found the jar of honey with a satisfied hum, grabbing it and closing the cupboard door. He grabs a spoon with a soft chuckle. He walks back to where Alastor was restrained on the couch, sitting down with a quiet murmur of greeting.

Alastor glances at the honey with a puzzled look. ‘What in God’s name do you plan to use that for?’ 

Vox snickers, ‘Glad you asked. I was going to use it on that pretty tummy. That is, if you’re okay with it.’ He may have been a little sadistic, but always wanted to make sure the person being tickled was perfectly okay with what he planned to do. ‘Oh, and one more thing. The eye contact thing doesn’t need to be in place since I’ll have my eyes down on your pretty little tummy,’ Vox teases. Alastor rolls his eyes in playful defiance. 

‘How bad can it be? All you’re doing is essentially messing my fur a bit up, which then requires me to bathe myself later. So yes, go ahead.’ 

Vox grins in amusement. He opens the jar of honey, using one hand to push Alastor’s shirt up further from where it had ridden up slightly. Vox takes the spoon and puts it into the honey, gently putting some on Alastor’s stomach. The deer jolts slightly at the sensation–almost cold. He shifts in the restraints, squirming a little. He wasn’t exactly sure where Vox had gotten this idea, but he wasn't going to complain. Yet. 

Vox leans down and starts to fucking lick the honey off of Alastor’s stomach. Alastor jolts and bucks, digging his hooves into the couch cushions as he tries to understand the sensations. “Wahahait! Wait! Vahahaohox-! Thahat’s bad! That’s bad!’ Vox doesn’t let up, at all. In fact, he makes his actions more teasing. Slow. His tongue licks up the sweet honey from Alastor’s fuzzy tummy, and he could feel the Overlord trembling from it all. He could barely hear Alastor’s giggles–he was pretty sure they were silent by now. He looked up and saw Alastor was just laying there taking it. 

‘Good boy, such a good boy,’ Vox says between licks, then moves to Alastor’s navel. Which instantly got a reaction. Alastor bucks and bleats loudly like a fawn as Vox’s tongue slides into his navel. Vox chuckles against Alastor's stomach, continuing to tease his navel. Alastor was trying to thrash, but Vox had his claws resting on the deer’s hips to keep him in place. ‘Fuhuhuhck! FUHUCK!’ Alastor screams with laughter, bleating loud again. 

Vox uses his claws as well, scritching around Alastor’s navel. After a minute, he started to melt into the sensations, blissing out again. ‘It huhurts–ohoho it huhurts–buhuhut good!~’ he giggles in some deranged, blissed out way. Vox continues doing it, and actually could hear Alastor crying through laughter. His masochistic side was coming out, and strong. He kept complaining how bad it hurt, but didn’t safeword. Vox decided to be less sadistic, letting up on the navel teases for now. He goes back to licking and nibbling across the stomach of the trembling radio host, loving how he tried to twist away from him out of reflex.

‘Voxvoxvoxvox–!’ Alastor started to beg through giggles as the nibbles got gentle, and hands tickled up and down the side of his tummy. He snorts and bleats when the claws reach up to scratch gently at the spot right below his ribcage. Why was that area so sensitive? Alastor didn’t really know why. ‘Such adorable noises from an adorable little ticklish fawn,’ Vox said with a fond smile. 

‘Ihi’m not a fahawn!’ he said, little giggles slipping out. He felt the television overlord nibble up his tummy, then stop a few inches below his sternum. He had completely forgotten about his complaint about honey and sticky fur, only able to focus on the tickles. Vox sat up, humming, ‘Should we try our little eye contact game again?’ He could hear a little whiny giggle from Alastor, who had his face buried in the crook of his elbow. He could tell it was a yes, otherwise Alastor would’ve spoken up about it already. ‘Eyes on me, sweetie,’ Vox coos, scritching at the side of Alastor’s neck, making him jerk and look back up at Vox.

‘Good boy.’

He reaches down to fiddle with Alastor’s tail, earning a squeal and Alastor trying to lurch himself away from Vox. Vox held a gentle but firm grip on his tail. He scratches gently to get underneath the fur, making Alastor wheeze and struggle to keep eye contact. He doesn’t let up until Alastor absolutely begs him to move to a different spot. 

He slid down to his hooves, and he could see Alastor’s eyes widen. 

Oh, deer. 

He felt Vox’s claws dig into the fluffy spot and he kicked his hooves, unable to escape from the grip of the other overlord. Vox managed to hold his hooves with one hand and torment them with the other. Alastor giggles and thrashes, trying to wriggle away. The restraints on his wrist were really the only thing keeping him bound to the couch. Vox decided to go for the kill and began to emit small shocks from his claws, horribly ticklish to the poor deer. 

Alastor’s laughs go silent and he arches his back, desperately trying to get control. 

Then, the safeword slipped.

‘Rehehehed! Rehed!’

Vox stopped instantly, his claws coming off of him. He stands up, untying Alastor. ‘Do you need water?’ Vox asked gently, and the radio demon nodded. Vox stands up, petting his ears gently before going to grab a glass of water. 

Alastor was curled up, panting and giggling still. But, he loved the events that had just played out. He sits there, exhausted and waiting for him to come back. Vox comes back a moment later with a glass of water, handing it to the trembling little buck. 

‘You did amazing for me, little buck,’ Vox said, stroking through Alastor’s hair as he drank the water. He admired the way Alastor looked, all exhausted and giggly from their session. Alastor leans onto him, content. 

‘You’re lucky I saved my page,’ he grumbled playfully. 

‘Oh, please. You would’ve found it at some point,’ the other laughs, ruffling Alastor’s hair. He smiles–genuine–and lets the television overlord pet his ears after he finished his water. 

‘Thank you for respecting..safeword,’ Alastor sighs softly, all happy. 

Vox nods, his electrical inner workings humming softly. Alastor half asleep on him, the soft hum of radio static, the moonlight flowing through the windows. It made it feel perfect. And perhaps, Alastor would feel the same way, even if not admitted aloud.

Vox continues to pet his ears, a fond, half asleep gaze on him as he watches the exhausted deer doze off. 

‘My perfect little fawn,’ he hums softly, before starting to fall asleep himself.

Perhaps Hell wasn’t so bad with Alastor around.

[wooataes]

Real Eyes, Fake Lies (Part Nine)

Pairing: soulmate!Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.2K

Warnings: Hanahaki!au, angst, alcohol consumption, swearing, jihoon has a panic attack, tears, nothing else too drastic this chapter 🙏🏼

Summary: What do you do when you find out the one person that was created by the universe to be yours doesn’t want you back?

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS, DEAR READERS! Omg it’s been so long and I apologize for that! Hopefully this can tie yall over into the new year! 🥰 I hope you all got spoilt over the holiday period and enjoy this new chapter! 🫶🏼 ALSO shoutout to my girl Wei for pretty much cowriting this chapter with me 💜

- Tae 💜🌸

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“It’s you, isn’t it?”

Jihoon stares at your brother’s soulmate with wide eyes.

“Is what me?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Lee.” Jeonghan frowns, arms crossed tight across his chest. “Y/N. Are you her soulmate or not?”

Jihoon’s heart skips a beat as he pauses.

“What makes you think that?”

Jeonghan notes his avoidance of the question. “It all adds up a little too well. She found her soulmate the day you were supposed to walk her home. She avoids you like the plague unless she has to be near you. She can barely look in your direction but you stare at her like a lost puppy. I see you smiling about her when you think no one is looking. But… you have Ji-ah.” Your soulmate grimaces. “And knowing my Ladybug, which I do, she would never want to separate a couple if she can help it. She’s too selfless for that. She would give her worst enemy the shirt off her back if she thought it would help.” Jeonghan’s eyes look glazed over, tears filling them. “All of the evidence I’ve seen concludes that you’re her soulmate and she is tearing herself apart to keep you happy.”

“How do you know she is hurting?”

“She is drinking.” Jeonghan mutters. “She only ever drinks if she’s really upset about something. This is the only thing I can chalk it up to. Am I correct?”

“No. You’re wrong.” Jihoon lies through his teeth.

“I hope I am.” Jeonghan retorts quickly. “Because what I’ve heard from Soonyoung about you, you’re a great person.” Your soulmate winces as he feels the guilt seep in again. “I know someone wouldn’t willingly do this to someone as sweet as her.”

“You don’t know me.” Jihoon’s voice is small.

“You’re right. I don’t.” He agrees. “Look, I don’t care if you are or if you’re not. All I care about is that girl back there. If you are her soulmate, you need to stop giving her goo-goo eyes while you’re with another girl and giving her false hope. You need to cut the tether. Let the girl heal in her own way because you two being around each other is giving her hope of a relationship that will never happen.”

“You don’t think I’ve tried that?” He hisses. “I have tried to fucking avoid her and let her heal and let her forget about me!” There are tears in his eyes now.

“If I could change how it turned out, I would. I’m her fucking project partner and her best friend is my best friend. This stupid invisible force keeps drawing me to her and I’m hating it.” His words keep spilling out, the tears beginning to fall.

“I feel her cry every fucking night and I can’t do anything about it and help her without hurting someone else! And the worst part is that still despite everything, she hasn’t told anyone because she doesn’t want anything bad to happen to me! I don’t deserve her! I want to stop her suffering and leave her alone but I can’t! What am I supposed to fucking do?!”

Jeonghan sighs and stares at your soulmate in tears before him. “Is it stupid to say follow your heart?”

“Yes.”

He chuckles. “Then I say make your choice and make it quickly. I can’t stand to see that kid go through any more pain than what she has been through, you better be fast.” Jihoon winces as he watches Jeonghan turn around and begin to walk away. “Jihoon-ssi, Consider yourself lucky that it was me that noticed and not her brother. If it was him, you’d be dead where you stand. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.” Jihoon whispers, running his fingers through his hair slowly.

“Good. I hope I don’t have to tell you to stop hurting her again.”

Jihoon stares up at the starry sky as Jeonghan makes his way back to the campsite, tears still falling down his cheeks. His mind is running a mile a minute, his lungs squeezing as he tries to control his breathing.

What the fuck is he going to do?

It takes Jihoon another 20 minutes before he makes his way back to the group, his brain just as jumbled as it was before. He is no closer to a solution than he was before being confronted by Jeonghan, and he is sure he isn’t going to have it by the end of the night. He looks to the picnic table first, looking to see you still wedged between Jisoo and Seungcheol, sipping from your third bottle of soju. Your eyes are glazed over as you lean quietly into Jisoo’s side, a dopey smile on your face as you laugh at Soonyoung. Jisoo’s arm is kept tightly around you, rubbing your arm soothingly as Seungcheol speaks in hushed whispers with his soulmate.

Jeonghan’s words have planted a seed of worry in Jihoon’s brain as he spots Seokmin watch his soulmate with adoring eyes, who is currently fawning over you. He really should figure out what to do with his fucked up situation, but for now, he makes his way to his housemates and his not-soulmate. He plants himself down in the camping chair next to Ji-ah, who doesn’t seem to notice his arrival. Instead, she is staring at her phone with a little smile forming on her face.

“Did your sister send you some dress ideas, babe?” Jihoon asks, the pet name leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

His presence startles Ji-ah, yelping and almost dropping her phone. “Huh?”

“I just asked if that was your sister.”

“O-oh.” She laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Uhh.. yeah, just talking about cake flavor ideas.” She shoves her phone quickly into her pocket before he can see, cheeks flushed. Jihoon simply hums and nods as he leans forward slightly to listen in on Mingyu and Wonwoo’s conversation.

“No~!” Jihoon hears you whining as Seungkwan takes Seungcheol’s spot beside you. “I want it, Boo.” You jutt your bottom lip out as Seungkwan holds the bottle of soju above your head.

“Ah-ah. No.” His voice is firm. “That is bottle number three when you have had no food in you. It’s time to eat.”

“Why?” You sigh dramatically.

“Because you’re going to get alcohol poisoning.” Jisoo tries to encourage you.

“Maybe I want to get blackout drunk.” You huff.

“Maybe,” Seungcheol agrees with you, leaning against Seungkwan’s back as he held the alcohol high above your reach. “But in this family, we drink responsibly. You will get this back when you eat at least one bowl of rice and some meat.”

“Come on, you,” Soonyoung sits atop the table in front of you, holding the chopsticks full of food towards you. “One bite at a time.”

“No.” You grumble, turning your head away from him.

“If you eat, you get the soju back, Goober.” Jisoo encourages beside you, still rubbing at your arm as you look up at him. Your frown is still visible as he smiles down to you, nodding eagerly. After a long sigh, you open your mouth obediently as Soonyoung puts the awaiting food into your mouth.

“There we go!” Seokmin grins and claps happily at you.

“Good girl.” Jisoo praises, and your cheeks turn red as a small smile forms on your lips, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by your soulmate.

Soonyoung wordlessly offers more food to you, which you take eagerly with Jisoo’s praises, but Jihoon can’t help but stare at your blushing cheeks and dazed smile at your brother's friend with each bite. For the upteenth time that night, Jihoon pushes down the uncomfortable feeling that settles in his stomach as he tries to remember Jeonghan’s words to tell him to move on from you.

Within five minutes, almost the whole plate is finished by you, your rosy cheeks puffed up as you look hopefully to Seungkwan. “I did good?”

“Hmm~” he hums appreciatively. “You sure did.” He grins, patting your head sweetly as he passes the soju to Jisoo.

“Now, you can have this back, but you gotta be good and drink slowly. Okay, Goober?”

“Yes, Shua-‘ppa.” You chirp through your last mouthful of food, and giggle gleefully as he passes the alcohol to you.

Jihoon purposely attempts to keep his back to you to avoid the temptation to keep an eye on you. You’re clearly tipsy at best, and too many nights of handling a drunk, clingy Mingyu have conditioned him to want to try and keep an eye on you to see if you’ll be just as destructive as your friend.

To his surprise though, for the rest of the night you stay by Jisoo’s side, nestled delicately against him. Jisoo doesn’t mind, on the contrary, he has kept up his conversations with the others well as his arm absentmindedly keeps you close, stroking your shoulder as he talks. You stay happily curled up, fiddling with a box of beads and string that Jisoo has brought for the trip, making bracelets as you hum drunkenly to yourself.

“Hyung,” Mingyu is whispering to your brother, standing by the fire near Jihoon’s seat, who can’t help but listen to his housemate speak. “Are you sure you should be letting Y/N-ie drink?”

“She’s not hurting anyone, is she?” Seungcheol deadpans, raising an eyebrow. “Look at her. She’s fine.”

Jihoon follows the line of view with Mingyu, observing you. You’re smiling quietly as you delicately place a purple flower bead onto the small plastic thread, Jisoo leaning down and whispering something in your ear, making you giggle and nudge his side before testing the length of the bracelet around his wrist.

“Aren’t they a little too close?” Wonwoo comments, a frown of concern on his face as your soulmate keeps his eyes on you tying the end of the bracelet around Jisoo’s wrist securely.

“If you’re trying to insinuate my friend would make a move on my sister, you’re wrong.” Seungcheol hums nonchalantly, taking a swig of his beer. “We were all close as kids. This is exactly like how they were.”

“Is Shua single, babe?” Jeonghan asks your brother, loud enough for Jihoon to hear. Jihoon frowns deeply, knowing what he is trying to do.

“I mean, he has a soulmate.” Seungcheol responds, Jeonghan keeping his eyes on Jihoon. “He hasn’t seen them for a long time, but he has one.”

“Interesting.” Is Jeonghan’s only response, sipping his drink as he eyes your soulmate’s obvious grimace.

Your giggles filled the comfortable silence for most of the relaxed evening as you watch Seungkwan nag to Soonyoung, wagging his finger in his face as the older boy starts to imitate him. The night has begun to quiet down now, nearing close to 1am as some of the group have retreated to their tents for the evening, leaving only Seungcheol, Jeonghan, Jisoo, Soonyoung, Seokmin, Seungkwan, Jihoon and yourself left awake. Although, you are clearly losing the battle of consciousness.

You’re currently on your upteenth bracelet of the night, blinking blearily as you place the rainbow beads carefully onto the thread as Jisoo, who now hasn’t left your side almost all evening, joins in as he seems to be making a necklace. Jihoon has been preparing to go back to his tent for a little while now, but he finds himself not able to rest until everyone else has. He stays put in his camping chair as he watches you and your friends wind down for the evening.

“Hey, you.” Seokmin leans over you, making you lean backwards against his front, relishing in his warmth as you hum in content.

“Hi.” You smile sleepily, watching as Seokmin reaches down to tie the bracelet against your wrist.

“Ready for bed, hm?” He smiles down to you as you begin to pout. Before you can speak, though, he laughs. “Come on, Bug, we are going into the city tomorrow to go to the beach. We need to rest so we can have a fun beach day.”

Jihoon can see the gears ticking in your head as you process his words, lip still in a deep frown. It’s cute.

“The bracelets will be here for you tomorrow, y’know.” Jisoo chimes in with a charming smile. “And we are all going to bed now so you won’t miss out.”

“Mm…Kay.” You yawn.

“C’mon.” Soonyoung coos, taking your hand as you rise, reaching up and rubbing at your eye tiredly. He wraps you in a fluffy blanket as he leads you to the large inflatable pool. He glances at Seungcheol and Jeonghan as he passes them, whispering. “Do you have the painkillers for tomorrow?” When they nod, he nods with approval before scooping you up and settling you down on the pillows beside his soulmate who takes you carefully.

“Ready for some stargazing?” Seokmin smiles as you nod silently, already leaning back and looking up at the clear, starry sky as Soonyoung lays down beside you. Your eyes begin to tiredly flutter closed, your head falling and resting against your best friend’s shoulder.

“I thought you said she wasn’t affectionate and cuddly with soulmated people?” Jisoo asked your brother curiously as you snuggle with your friends.

“Normally she isn’t.” Seungcheol hums.

“She’s been drinking, that’s why.” Jeonghan chimes in as he cleans the last of the rubbish on the table.

“Did you end up finding out why?” Your brother asks quietly. “She only ever does when something has really hurt her.”

Jeonghan pauses with a quick glance to Jihoon before shaking his head, a pang of guilt building inside him. “No. She wouldn’t tell me.”

“She will tell you about it when she’s ready, I’m sure.” Jisoo replies sagely with a smile that makes Jihoon almost scoff. He has known you for five minutes.

“Yeah, but…” Seungcheol sighs.

“Hey, no buts.” His soulmate smiles, pecking his lips. “She’s in the safest hands she could be in. And like Joshuji said, she will tell us when she is ready.”

After the others all made their way to their tents for the night, (and after a stupid longing stare at you resting in Soonyoung’s arms) Jihoon heaves a sigh as he steps into his small tent to see Ji-ah sitting straight up on the mattress, looking as if she’d seen a ghost.

“Babe?” The name leaves a bitter taste in his mouth that he chooses to ignore. It causes Ji-ah to jolt, not sensing his presence. “Is everything alright?”

“Jihoon,” she sighs nervously. “Something has happened. I… tomorrow when we go to the city I need to go home.”

“Wait, what?” Jihoon’s eyes widened as he crawled onto the mattress beside his not-soulmate. She tenses. “What’s happened? Do you need me to go with you?”

“No!” She insists quickly, making Jihoon jolt in shock. “I mean… no,” she takes a shaky breath and laughs awkwardly. “No.. it’s fine. I just need to get home as soon as I can.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” He reaches for her hand, which she hesitantly takes.

“Yes, I’m sure, babe.” She smiles, although to him it almost seems like a grimace. He pauses for a moment before nodding.

“Okay. I’ll get Jeonghan-ssi to take a detour on the way to the beach tomorrow.”

“Thank you…” she smiled again, a bit more genuine this time as they both moved to lay down to rest, although Jihoon doesn’t think he will be able to sleep any time soon - the memories of Jeonghan’s words and your heartbroken face playing over in his head on loop.

At the ripe time of 8:14am, Jihoon steps out of the tent with Ji-ah’s suitcase in tow, wincing at the bright sunlight shining through the trees on the campsite. He rubs at his eyes tiredly, glancing around at the state of the others.

At the early hour, only a few are awake and making breakfast for the (most likely) hungover others who are still resting. Jeonghan and Seungcheol man the barbecue, Jisoo putting all the food onto plates for everyone once they wake. Jihoon can’t help but frown a little at Jisoo before he glances over to where he knows he shouldn’t look.

Seokmin and Soonyoung are awake, sitting up and talking quietly to each other with a still resting you sleeping against Soonyoung’s chest. Your face is hidden from everybody, buried against the soft fabric of your best friend’s hoodie, protecting you from the brightness of the sun. Soonyoung is patting the back of your head as he speaks intimately with Seokmin, who is scratching your back absentmindedly. Jihoon watches for a moment, nose scrunching up slightly before he turns to make his way to your brother and his soulmate.

“Umm, Jeonghan-hyung,” Jihoon starts nervously. Hyung is fine, right? It’s respectful enough. “Can I please talk to you for a second?”

Jeonghan looks genuinely surprised at your soulmate standing before him, looking dare he says… scared? He’s amused as he watches Jihoon glance at your brother nervously for a split second. Your brother pays him no mind, still tending to the food so it doesn’t burn.

“Sure, give me a second.” He smiles, stepping out from behind the barbecue to the picnic table a few meters away, Jihoon trailing behind awkwardly.

“I’d like to ask a favor.” He can’t look Jeonghan in the face. If he was honest, his chat with him yesterday scared the crap out of him at the thought of your brother’s wrath. “It isn’t much, really…”

“What is it?”

“Ji-ah has had a family emergency come up.” He gestures to her suitcase by their tent. “I just wanted to ask if it was okay if we could pass by the train station on the way to the beach today? I can cover for fuel and-”

“Oh!” Jeonghan lets out an airy laugh. “Is that all?” Jihoon’s shocked at the change in his tone. “I thought you were going to tell me that you were going to do something stupid like ask me how to woo your soulmate.”

Jihoon gasps audibly as he quickly turns to look around to see if anybody overheard Jeonghan’s words.

“It’s fine, Jihoon-ssi.” He smiles. “Half of the guys are planning to go shopping in the city while we go to the beach anyway. No sweat.”

He releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Oh.. thank you, hyung.” He nods slowly. As he turns away, he jumps slightly at the feeling of Jeonghan’s hand grabbing his wrist.

“It’s no problem.” His voice is suddenly icy. “But, for future reference, don’t think about asking me about how to win Ladybug’s heart unless you’re 100% serious, you hear me?” A small jolt of fear runs through him as he nods worriedly. And just as quick as he came, Jeonghan’s expression changes back to his happy demeanor. “Perfect! We are on the same page then! Good talk.” He claps him on the back before making his way to the food. “Now have some breakfast before it gets cold.”

The others are uncharacteristically quiet as they all climb onto the bus for the quiet ride into the city due to the copious amount of alcohol consumption from the night before. Seungcheol is amused at the sight of a hungover you climbing onto the bus and planting yourself down on a seat.

You pull a pair of sunglasses over your eyes, leaning your head on the headrest as you immediately attempt to curl up and get comfy. Seokmin sits beside you, smiling at you as you grab his hand, placing it directly on top of your head with an intelligible mumble. Seokmin seems to understand, though, as he carefully pulls what hair he can back, starting to braid it delicately and neatly as Seungkwan chuckles with Mingyu at how adorably clingy you can be when you aren’t worrying so much.

Jihoon is unfortunately in the seats directly behind you both with Ji-ah, a small frown on his face as he tries to not stare at you and your hair. He’s so close he can hear you almost purring with content as you start to drift off once more, his stomach twisting in pain as Jeonghan starts the bus to take off.

“Thank you again for keeping her company, last night, Jisoo.” Jihoon can hear Seungcheol murmur to his friend, who is sitting beside Soonyoung.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” He chirps happily, the alcohol’s after effects clearly not bothering him. “I’ve missed my little Goober.” Jihoon scoffs quietly, glancing out the window to try and ignore the conversation but feels his blood run cold for a moment as Jisoo’s voice grows softer.

“Besides, she needed that last night - to be carefree and have someone be there for her the way someone who loves her can, even if it was just for a night.” Everyone understands what Jisoo is implying, including Jihoon as he spots your brother’s soulmate stare at him for a moment through the rear view mirror. He winces, glancing away from the intense gaze, opting to stare at the scenery that is his first home town for the remainder of the short drive.

“Thank you again for dropping me off here, Jeonghan-Oppa.” Ji-ah smiles politely as she stands by the door of the bus. “You could have dropped me with the others at the mall, I would’ve found my way here.”

“Don’t be silly,” Jeonghan smiles at her, having got out of the bus to stretch his legs for a moment. “It’s no trouble at all. I would have rather known you made it here safely and in one piece. I hope your emergency is able to get sorted out quickly.” He gently pats her arm as she smiles sweetly at him.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you in?” Jihoon asks her quietly, and she shakes her head with a smile.

“I’m keeping you guys enough as it is. Go enjoy the beach, kay?” She smiles. Jihoon nods with a little smile.

“Alright then. Message me when you get back home?” He leans in to peck her lips, only to be surprised when instead of her lips, his own meets her cheek.

“Will do, Hoon. Bye!” Ji-ah is quick to grab her suitcase, dashing towards the entrance to the station, leaving Jihoon dumbfounded at the foot of the bus.

Did she just dodge his kiss?

“Jihoon-ah.” Jeonghan’s voice calls to him. If he noticed anything unusual, he doesn’t comment. “You coming?”

Jihoon blinks out of his daze, nodding quickly before climbing back up into the bus and back into his seat.

Jihoon has always loved the beach. Even though he was, as Soonyoung would call it, a certified hermit, as a child he would always find himself spending his weekends at the beach with his parents if the weather called for it. He takes in a deep breath as he tastes the familiar salty air, a small smile of content on his face as he watches the waves lull lazily against the shore.

Only a small number of the group decided to join Seungcheol and Jeonghan at the beach, including himself, Seokmin, Soonyoung, Wonwoo, Mingyu, Seungkwan, Hansol, Jisoo and yourself. He was more than happy with anyone who decided to join them, with the plan being the whole group meet up for dinner at a hotpot restaurant to celebrate Seungcheol’s actual birthday before taking the party back to the campsite for drinks and games.

Seungcheol, Soonyoung and Mingyu are already in the water as Jihoon sits down on his beach chair under a large communal beach umbrella where he and the others have set up for the day. He watches as Seokmin sits with Seungkwan and Hansol, happily making plans for a large, elaborate sandcastle while Wonwoo and Jisoo sit quietly on their towels, having a quiet discussion together. He glances down at his phone to see if Ji-ah has texted him yet, and sighs quietly when he sees no notifications.

“Are you seriously not thinking about getting into the water today, Ladybug?” Jeonghan’s hums in the distance, drawing closer to Jihoon and their things. “I think the cool water would make your hangover better, wouldn’t it?”

“Nope.” Your voice is dull and monotone, mirroring the way you feel. “There are sharks in that water, I refuse.”

“Sharks wouldn’t come up to where the water meets your hips, pabo.”

“I refuse to take that chance.” You wave him off, Jihoon hearing your voices getting closer. “I like swimming in bodies of water that are condensed and clear enough so I know what I’m getting into.”

“Then why are you wearing the bikini if you don’t plan on getting in?” Jeonghan retorts. Jihoon gulps.

“Because I need the tan.” You bark back, Jeonghan simply chuckling as he tickles your sides, causing you (and Jihoon) to jolt and yelp.

Jihoon knows he shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t.

Against his better judgement, he turns his head towards where your voice is coming from, choking on his own spit as he sees you; hair braided and sunglasses covering your eyes. You’re wearing a pastel blue and white striped bikini, the little galaxies of your collarbone on full display as you make your way to a beach chair near where Wonwoo is situated.

Jihoon is so fucked.

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[thebunnednun]

Girl I am sorry but OMGGG MY LAW BRAIN ROTTTTTAHHHH

I NEEEEED law from one peice to fuck me nasty style (I’m sorry)

so could I request a cheeky reader x law nsfw? Pls and Ty?

(Again I’m so sorry 😭)

Make you mine!~ Trafalgar D. Law x Cheeky~ Crewmate! Reader

NSFW!!! MDI!!!! This Post contains adult themes for only those who are 18+

DO NOT- interact with my page unless you are 18 and over. You have been warned.

Trafalgar D. Water Law by yra-to-life on DeviantArt

VAL IMA BE HONEST!

I have never written full blown NSFW EVER 🤧 so we're gonna get as close as we can, mi corazon! (I am SO sorry if it sucks!)

This man does things for me I'm not gonna lie. I have a whole secret series in the chamber for him.

At the time of this being posted, 5/18/2024, there is a poll ongoing for what, you, the lovely readers, would love to see. Be sure to cast your votes!!

On with the show!!~

______________________________________________________________

The Heart Pirates' submarine, the Polar Tang, hummed quietly as it cruised beneath the waves. The crew was busy with their duties, ensuring the smooth operation of the vessel. Among them was you, the most mischievous and cheeky member of the crew, and Captain Trafalgar D. Water Law had certainly noticed you.

You had always had a thing for pushing Law's buttons, loving the way his eyebrows furrowed in frustration or how his lips pressed into a thin line when you made a particularly bold comment. Today, however, you decided to push things further.

After finishing your shift, you found Law in his quarters, poring over maps and documents. You leaned against the doorway, watching him for a moment before speaking.

"Captain," you purred, your voice laced with playful mischief. "Is there anything I can assist you with?"

Law looked up, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. "I'm busy," he replied curtly, but you could see the flicker of interest in his gaze.

Ignoring his attempt to brush you off, you sauntered into the room, closing the door behind you. "You work too hard, Captain," you said, your tone teasing. "You should take a break."

Law sighed, setting his pen down and leaning back in his chair. "And what exactly do you suggest I do during this break?" he asked, his voice edged with annoyance.

You stepped closer, a sly smile playing on your lips. "Well, I could think of a few things," you replied, your eyes locking onto his.

Law raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued despite himself. "Oh? Enlighten me."

With a boldness that surprised even yourself, you moved to straddle his lap, your hands resting on his shoulders. "How about I show you instead?" you whispered, your breath warm against his ear.

For a moment, Law seemed taken aback, his body tensing beneath you. But then, with a growl of frustration and desire, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer.

"You're playing a dangerous game," he muttered, his lips brushing against your neck.

You shivered at the contact, your fingers tangling in his hair. "I like danger," you whispered back, your voice barely audible.

With a sudden movement, Law stood up, lifting you with him and carrying you over to the bed. He laid you down gently, his eyes burning with a mix of frustration and desire. "You really have no idea what you've gotten yourself into," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

You looked up at him, your own desire mirrored in his gaze. "Then show me," you challenged, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart.

Law didn't need any more encouragement. He captured your lips in a searing kiss, his hands roaming over your body with a possessive intensity. You responded eagerly, your own hands exploring the contours of his muscled form.

As his hands found the hem of your shirt, he paused, pulling back to look at you. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice softer now, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes.

You nodded, your breath coming in shallow gasps. "Yes, Law. I'm sure."

With a nod of his own, Law resumed his ministrations, his hands deftly removing your clothing piece by piece. His touch was both gentle and commanding, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck and across your chest.

You moaned softly, your body arching into his touch. "Law," you breathed, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

Law's response was a low growl, his hands moving to undo his own clothing with practiced ease. When he was finally as bare as you were, he pressed his body against yours, the heat of his skin sending shivers down your spine.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he murmured against your ear, his breath hot and ragged.

You smiled, your own breath coming in short gasps. "Good," you whispered back, your hands exploring the hard planes of his back. "I like making you crazy."

With a final growl of frustration and need, Law positioned himself above you, his eyes locking onto yours. "This is your last chance to back out," he warned, his voice strained.

But you were far from backing out. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "I don't want to back out," you whispered, your eyes filled with desire and determination.

Law didn't need any more encouragement. He thrust into you with a force that left you both gasping, your bodies moving together in a frenzied rhythm. The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and gasps, the intensity of your connection driving you both to the brink.

As he moved within you, his pace quickened, each thrust more powerful and desperate than the last. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as waves of pleasure coursed through you. "Law," you cried out, your voice a mixture of need and ecstasy.

"Say my name again," he commanded, his voice rough with desire.

"Law," you gasped, meeting his demand as your body shuddered beneath him.

His eyes darkened with lust at your compliance, and he leaned down to capture your lips in a fierce kiss. His hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding that sensitive bundle of nerves and applying just the right amount of pressure. The combined sensations pushed you over the edge, your climax crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Your cries of pleasure echoed through the room, and Law followed soon after, his own release coming with a guttural moan as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His body tensed, then relaxed against you, both of you riding out the aftershocks of your shared ecstasy.

For a moment, the two of you lay there, your bodies entwined and your breaths mingling in the aftermath of your passion. Then, with a sigh of contentment, Law rolled onto his back, pulling you close against his side.

"You really are something else," he murmured, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin.

You smiled, your head resting on his chest. Fingers traced over the deep ink that marked his pale skin. "And you love it," you replied, your voice filled with playful satisfaction.

Law chuckled softly, his arms tightening around you. "Yeah, I guess I do," he admitted, his voice tinged with affection.

As the two of you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment and belonging. You had pushed Law's buttons, and in doing so, had found a connection that went deeper than either of you had ever expected.

______________________________________________________________

Make sure you check out the a03 account by the same name. I also have a Sabo x Marine! reader posted in the masterlist! Give it a read if you please!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

Seen you soon my loves!!~ <<33

[dreamerwitches]

Rating labyrinths: Gertrud!

Okay! Let's go with the labyrinth ratings wheeee!!!

What I'm going to do is rank separate parts of labyrinths (eg. anthony's labyrinth from ep 1 is separate to gertrud's from ep 2) but I'll also give an average at the end.

I will (most likely) only be doing labyrinths that are in colour (so maybe not manga witches)

Anthony's labyrinth from episode 1

I think this is a really good one, especially as the first shown (not including walpy's). It really shows of the cut-out style of the labyrinths and the deep blue-hued colours are perfectly moody. The use of runes in the background is also really fun for secret messages. I feel the only downside is that it doesn't really scream Gertrud to me. Like, if you didn't know the series well and was shown this, I doubt you'd think it belonged to her. HOWEVER... I think this does work for Gertrud since all her precious roses are in her room with her. It makes sense that she'd keep them close.

You could say that it's weird that this labyrinth doesn't share colours with the main one but I think it works because it's a familiar's labyrinth. The photorealistic buildings also match the main labyrinth. I wonder if the butterfly and anthony traffic signs are meant to be a subtle warning to madoka and sayaka hmmm

I really like this one. A 5/5 for me

Gertrud's labyrinth from episode 2

There's a lot to it so it's kinda hard to summarise in images lol. But it's another great one. Great imagery, lovely colours and has themes brought over from Anthony's labyrinth. I think the orange tones, although relaxing, also give off this sepia feel that makes it a little unnerving too. Like looking through a tinted view makes things seem unreal.

One of my favourite parts are the doorways that lead to black nothingness. Really helps with the labyrinthine feel. Small touches like the portraits with slight things changed in them to make them scary. It's the kind of thing you don't notice unless you pause. I also like how it seems the labyrinth becomes more luscious as you get deeper. The trees start bare, then with black leaves, then Gertrud's room is fully in bloom.

I wasn't sure whether to rank the boss room separately, maybe I will... I think the ceiling that doesn't quite make sense works well to make it feel disorientating and it's a fun contrast to the kinda pretty garden around Gertrud. It's messy but in a good way. I also think having the boss room have a different theme to the rest works. Just as before I mentioned that roses are only in her boss room, I think it would make sense that her special place may be better taken care of or just look overall nicer. It's very good but I'd say, not my favourite segment. Maybe just because it's only one room?? That makes it a little unfair to compare to the rest...

I'll give the labyrinth a 5/5. Boss room is a 4.5/5

Gertrud's labyrinth from Magireco episode 11

Yeah... this one isn't it, chief... like, it has the things of her labyrinth but it's just not... uhhh I dunno it feels more like a set piece than a proper area...

Let's start with what I like: of course, I love the Gertrud motifs. The butterflies, the cut out images and the hidden text (although it's no different than the original anime iirc). I really like the halo above Gertrud's area. And the hanging loops. It's weird but pretty. Suits Gertrud!

Sadly that's where my positives end. The stark white is NOT Gertrud it's so weird... I guess the stone rose works better but not the rest. I kinda hate in the zoom out where... it just looks like a video game level, like I'm looking at mario 64 or something ToT that is not a labyrinth..! Just the overall layout is meh. I dislike the random fluff pile below it too. Just felt like they didnt know what to fill it with...

It's a dud but has some good things... I'm giving it a 1.5/5. I know there's worse which is why it's not a 1.

So overall Gertrud get's a.... 4/5 wow!!!

[illiterateaffairs]

DISTRACTIONS SCENE BETWEEN | LET’S JUST PLAY PRETEND

pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader (ted lasso)

rating: T

word count: 1,403

summary: you and jamie bond over board games. takes place between chapters four and five of distractions.

A/N: missing scene number two is here! and happy ted finale day :( everyone please feel free to message me about the show after you watch. have a feeling we’re going to need to cope together <3 distractions official next chapter will be out friday for us all to disassociate with and keep the show alive! when distractions the series becomes our distraction >>>>>

distractions masterlist

When you asked Jamie to grab a sweatshirt from your closet, there were a million things he could have fixated on. 

He could have teased you for your Grey’s Anatomy Grey Sloan Memorial tee-shirt. 

He also could have questioned why you had hoarded a few of his own pieces of clothing - you were thankful he didn’t notice those. 

If he really snooped around, he could have also found old journals full of short stories, poems, and notes you had jotted down once upon a time. 

But no, what he found the most exciting you would have never expected. 

After hearing some suspicious shifting, followed by a thump and quiet yelp, Jamie called out to you. 

“You have Monopoly?” 

You barely processed what he said as he bounded back into the living room and enthusiastically showed off the board game. 

“Oh, yeah?” you looked up from the couch with eyes pinched in confusion. 

“We have to play,” he declared, already moving things off of your coffee table to make room. 

“I thought we were going to order dinner?” you asked, though an amused smile played at your lips. 

Jamie shrugged, as he knelt down on the floor and started taking out the game components, “We could just have some snacks while we play? Whatever you have here is probably good.” After a second, he paused and looked up at you with big eyes, “Unless you don’t want to play, because we don’t have to.”

“No!” you’re quick to console, and you’re not even sure why, “No, let’s play! I can throw some sort of appetizer in the oven and grab chips. Let's do it.” 

“Cool,” Jamie smiled. You got up as he sorted the Monopoly money before dropping it suddenly, “Shit.”

From the kitchen doorway, you curiously watched him jump over your couch and jog back to your room, only to return moments later with the sweatshirt you originally asked for.

“M’lady,” he mock-bowed and presented it to you.

You snorted but thanked him appreciatively.

Forty-five minutes later, you were knee deep in a game of Monopoly, and even deeper in the bag of Pizza Rolls you’d smuggled over from America. While it wasn’t uncommon for you and Jamie to hang out fully-clothed as of late, this night felt different. It felt casual. Simple. Domestic. And none of it was doing anything to help those pesky little feelings you were starting to develop for him.

Jamie had put on music while the two of you waited for the Pizza Rolls to heat up, and you two sang horribly off-key to Alanis Morrissette. And then when you two sat down to play the game, Jamie made himself right at home on the floor. He immediately called playing as the Car piece, and you happily chose the Thimble. He also explained that in the U.K. they have a London version of the game, so he was excited to play with the American version. 

You played peacefully, intermittently exchanging little pieces of small-talk. Though, it was hard to concentrate since you found how much he enjoyed the game so adorably endearing. 

“I’ve got to say, I would have never seen you as a board game kind of guy,” you eventually mused aloud. 

You noticed a slight redness in Jamie’s cheeks, as he looked thoughtfully at the Monopoly board instead of at you. 

“Dunno,” he shrugged, “I find them comforting I guess. My mum and I used to play stuff like Monopoly and Clue all the time when I was a kid.”

You smiled at this little nugget of information about his childhood. “I feel the same way. My dads are board game fiends. We’d have family game night every Friday.”

Jamie’s brow quirked and he looked back over to you. “Dads?”

You nodded, “Mhmm. Two dads. They adopted me when I was a kid. In fact, as a welcome home gift, they actually bought me Monopoly, but it was the Disney Princess version. They upgraded me to this one when I went off to college.”

Jamie smiled, “That’s nice. What do they think of you being all the way over here? They’re in Chicago, right?”

You bit your cheek a little. Telling him you’re actually from Kansas, just like Ted, might be a little too specific to pull off as a coincidence. Instead of lying, you bypassed the question all together, and focused on his first.

“I think they’re happy I’m trying something new, and that I’m doing something for myself. They don’t know most of the story about why Mason and I broke up because I do not need them to worry, but I think they know it's better that we’re not together. I think they probably wish I lived closer, but if I’m happy they’re happy.”

“And are you?” Jamie asked softly, “Happy, I mean?”

You thought about it for a second, but it wasn’t a hard thing to answer. You had never been surrounded by more loving and kind people, and never had a job this exciting. You’re also reluctant to admit that you’ve never been around a boy who makes your stomach flip like Jamie does, but it was true.

“Yes,” you finally said, “I’m very happy here.”

Jamie nodded, his own small smile forming. 

“I think part of me feels guilty though,” you found yourself admitting, “The whole time I was in Chicago, I hardly saw them. I spent a lot of Christmases and Thanksgivings with Mason and his family, because he insisted. I’d make time for them occasionally on my own, but it was hard with my old job. I didn’t really think about being even further away after taking this job. And leave it to them to be more than understanding, and volunteer to come here next time they have the chance. I feel like I don’t deserve them.”

Jamie shook his head, “Don’t say that. Your dads clearly love you. And you definitely deserve it.” He sighed lightly before continuing, “I think it's nice they’re so supportive. My dad…he’s not…”

As you watched Jamie struggle to articulate his thoughts, you didn’t hesitate to take his hand in yours and give it a squeeze. It wasn’t the first time he’d made reference to his dad, but it was usually a sarcastic comment, nothing of depth.

“Jamie,” you interrupted softly, “You don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want to.”

“I know,” he nodded, staring at your intertwined fingers, “He’s just…not the best person. It’s a long story, but we haven’t really talked in almost a year now. And I feel guilty about that sometimes, myself, but I think it's probably for the best. At least for now. But your dads sound amazing, and they’re probably so proud of you for coming out here and trying something new. So I wouldn’t worry about letting them down. I mean, I can’t see how you’d let anyone down, so…” He trailed off quietly.

You smiled and gave his hand an extra tight squeeze. “Thank you, Jamie. And even though you never have to, you can always talk to me about anything with your dad if you ever need to,” he nods, still staring at your hands, “...and I’m sorry if talking about my dads made you feel uncomfortable, I don’t..”

“No, no.” Jamie quickly reassured, turning to face you again, “I promise you, it didn’t. I liked hearing about your dads. Like I said, they seem great.” He gave you another small smile, before continuing, “Maybe we can start doing something like Friday Game Nights? I feel like the team would love it. Beard and Ted too, and we can drag Roy along. I’d pay money to see that guy play charades.”

You giggled. You also tried not to show how touched you were at the offer. Images of Ted at family game nights growing up flash through your head, and you’re sure he’d love a piece of home here, too. 

“I think that sounds perfect.” You gave his hand one last squeeze before reluctantly pulling away, and picking up the dice, “Alright, my turn right?”

Jamie nodded and shook off any remaining anxious energy. As you took your turn, Jamie cleared his throat, “I also saw Jenga in your closet, can we play that next?”

You laughed, “If you’re okay seeing me lose my shit every time I inevitably knock everything over, then sure.”

Jamie grins, “I can’t wait.”

A/N: let me know what missing scenes you’d like to see next! and don’t hesitate to let me know how y’all are doing after watching ted!!!

Taglist: @atabigail @boundtomyfate @sammysgirl1997 @lil-tracys @shephard17895 @alaspice @itsbarbraann @redpool @drmeghanjones @straightforwardly @alex-sulli @aiyaiy @artemismaximoff @roadtoself-love @theloud-yet-quietone @forcesofgrief @kirisimpster @geek-and-proud @grippleback-galaxy @lalla-04p @gabbycoady13 @royalestrellas @qardasngan @creationcitystreet-em @percysaidnever @emily-b @mrfitzsimmons @k-n-e @agentstarkid @legobatmans9thab @mrsprongs25 @escapismqueen @sokkigarden @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @dollfaceyourfear @dicgohargreeves @heyitz-julia @vampirodelascajas @grxcesmind @lizziel1410 @bcon24 @looooooooomis @queen-of-dumbasses @moseyluvs @alipap3 @amachira @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @daphneblakeswife​ @chelseamount​ @k0z3me​ @lickitandsendit3​ @miakreid​ @shimmeringfrenchie​ @meg-ro​ @selmasemlan​ @hellfire-babez​ @rockchickrebel​ ​@spookysins @a-sweet-little-fangirl @optimisticsandwichgladiator @marveltg365 @ringpopdust @gcidrvsh @beardsplitter @scaramou @ibong-adarnaaa @piper570 @eviemae263782 it wouldn’t let me tag the last few of you, let me know if its something with your settings, otherwise i can keep trying in future updates! <3  ​

[littledollll]

Wishful thinking

Lucifer Morningstar x reader

A/n: this started as a smut and then I realized I kinda didn’t wanna write that. So have some light angst?

This is the last all written fic I have so y’all might have to wait extra long for the next one😭 I hope you enjoy tho!

Warnings: not much, a little angst, nudity (barely).

_______________________________

As one of the many servants of Lucifer Morningstar, you have many jobs. They vary from day to day, unless of course Lucifer were to hand pick you for certain works. Which is precisely what started to happen.

You’d have to be stupid not to notice that Lucifer had chosen to have you around them at any and all times. Taking away the petty jobs another simple maid could handle and taking you as their personal assistant with any and all needs.

Lucifer was not a difficult person to work for, surprisingly enough. They were charming and cunning. Everything you did was somehow amusing to them, because you suppose that in their eyes you’re just an assistant, a little maid. There was a condescending air about them. But not because they think they are superior, simply because they are. And naturally that power radiates from their being.

“I have a request for you, my dear.” At your quick nod in confirmation and willingness, Lucifer continued. “I’m feeling particularly tense tonight, and was hoping you’d be willing to accompany me for the night.”

When Lucifer’s request reached your mind, your thought response was to be overly formal. You had a choice, yes. But this was for your lord, your master. It was rare to reject a request from them. You agreed, not out of duty, maybe out of curiosity. You didn’t quite understand what was so intimate about it that they specifically needed you for it.

Without even needing to voice it, Lucifer answered your question. “I will admit something, a little more vulnerable perhaps. But I’ve been itching for a bit of company. I think you’re well suited to provide just that.” Not a moment of a pause before, “And you’re a pretty little thing. I do enjoy having something nice to look at.”

There was really no arguing with that logic. It did feel flattering that Lucifer found you to be pretty.. you can’t deny the slight fluttering in your stomach at the thought of that. It felt like quite the compliment. “So would you indulge me this once, stay after your duties?”

You nodded at their words when you noticed you had been far too lost in your own thoughts, making Lucifer give you an amused smile. “I will do my absolute best, my lord.”

“…I wouldn’t mind it if you just called me Lucifer, for today.” Their voice was so soft. But not in the familiar way. Lucifer was almost always soft spoken after all. But there was something tender about their voice.

“Alright then.. Lucifer.” It felt odd in every way possible. But the smile that grazed their lips at it almost made it worth it. Surely you were damn good at your job if you managed to crack a genuine smile out of them. “What would you like us to do, then?”

There’s about a million things that come to mind when at the thought of keeping them company, so what did Lucifer mean by it? What did they want from you?

They looked at you, seeming unsure aswell. For the first time ever, you saw the lord of hell shrug their shoulders. Which doesn’t seem like a big deal but is such an oddly laid back, casual action from them, it made you hide a giggle with a smile, and Lucifer chuckled in response.

“Why are you the amused one now? I’m not sure I enjoy being on the receiving end of such a look.” “Ah, I think it’s good you learn how it feels then. Because, in case you were unaware that’s practically how you look at everyone. So very condescending.”

Lucifer looked as if they were analyzing for a second, making them look horribly serious compared to before and you were afraid you crossed a line. That is, until they spoke again. “Is that so? I suppose it’s part of my nature.”

“You did it again!” “You didn’t answer my question.” Oh, right. “It’s nothing- It just feels a little odd to see you being so casual..? I guess that’s the word for it.” Your words came out a bit mumbled as you moved around the room and actually did your job. They specified that it was after you completed your work, after all. So no slacking would be welcome.

“Is it jarring? To actually see me as just another person and not your lord, for once?” The genuine curiosity of their question caught your attention.

“I wouldn’t say I separate you as my lord and you as a being. But there’s something more laid back about you when you’re not actively trying to be the lord of hell… it feels like there’s a difference between Lucifer and the lord Morningstar.”

They merely hummed at your words. Keeping quiet for a moment. You felt theirs eyes on your every step but thought nothing of it.

“I feel as if there’s a difference too. You dropping the titles and professionalism makes you more… care free, maybe?” It made sense. You didn’t feel like you or your work were being reviewed, even if you were watched. “Maybe.”

As you walked towards them, Lucifer immediately stood. And the more personal part of your routine began. Lucifer would be stripped of their clothes with the utmost care as you assisted them with their wings, it was always the most complicated part.

Their signature and stunning red silk robe hung from the door of their luxurious bathroom. As you walked past it, Lucifer got into the already prepared and perfect bath.

They knew it was your job, but something about how you perfected every little detail for them made them think maybe you put in the extra effort for them.. on a more intimate level. But that was wishful thinking. And the lord of hell doesn’t have time for wishes.

The bath was sacred. A ritual of peace for them alone. So you shut the doors as you made your way out and finished the preparations throughout the rest of the bedroom.

The sheets were changed every night right before they slept, ensuring they’d be warm and fresh. Nothing but perfection for them. The pillows were fluffed, and everything was tidied into place and reviewed only by you. Lucifer trusted no other to do this.

You knew everything. You knew their room like you would your childhood home, their skin like the back of your hand, their habits and likes as if they were your own. Maybe that’s where their appreciation for you began. And then turned into something more. Something almost human. Was it weird to say they desired you? Not in the way they have desired any other. Not in any of the many sinful ways they can envision and you’d expect.

They desired a domestic life, with someone who knew them as well as you. Someone who tried as hard as you. Some who cared as much as you. You. Their darkest secrets include you at every corner. Not in this foolish servant and master relationship. Not as a superior and worker. But as equals. They wished for a life where they could offer you everything you do them and more.

But again, that’s just wishful thinking, and the devil doesn’t have time for wishes.