#but because I was having a rough time writing that

[valentine-cafe]

helloo! i hope you're having a good time, whatever timezone you're in. may i please order a strawberry shortcake??

(top!male!reader)

thinking about rishen and reader going home together after a party, both of them absolutely wasted, and them having really messy sex? (with hate fucking possibly?)

— 🫀 anon

˖⁺. “ fuck you harder !? ” : 

﹙ top rival male reader x bttm nerd rival ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . verse 781 rishen x male reader !! 🍓 : ﹙ hero ˖ spider-moth-mantis hybrid ˖ preppy nerd character ﹚

you've always had quite the rivarly with the pretty nerd of your uni. yet he has become quite bold at a party. teasing you, pressing up against you, making out with you at the bar. you just had to take him home. . . but then he just had to piss you off in the cab back home. 

﹙ cws ﹚: explicit content ˖ handjob ˖ rough sex ˖ penetrative sex ˖ thigh-fucking ˖ rough sex ˖ creampie ˖ degradation ˖ messy sex ˖ hate-fucking | wc : 1.8k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: I love you so so much for this ask because rishen is suuuchhh a brat and I finally get to write about it 

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

“Y’gonna make me bend - you over my - fucking sofa, brat?”

Your fingers coil tighter around his curls as you smack him over the arm of the grey sofa. Hands delving to his thigh high stocking and feeling his soft skin before you’re shoving a hand up his skirt and curling your fingers into his red panties. Yanking them down with a force that threatens to tear them.

“Mppff,” he hiccups into the throw cushion. Smart comments that he throws you through hallways and all through tonight nowhere to be seen for the moment. Not when you grab at his cock and give a few jerks that leave his eyes fluttering.

“Yeah?” You slur.

“F-. . . Fucking slow -”

Your hand reacts on cue. Slapping his ass and jerking him further over the arm as you squeeze your palm around his tip and hear him sob. Once again submitting to your rough movements. The harsh kisses that you lather over the side of his neck and the merciless pumps of his weeping dick.

The audacity of this nerd. From riling you up at every. Waking. Moment in uni. To even now - when you have a hand up his skirt and making him leak all over your sofa.

What a bratty mouth for a damn nerd indeed.

The hand in his hair circles round his neck. You give him a harsh squeeze beneath his jaw before stuffing your fingers past his lips. Adding a new taste to his tongue bitter from alcohol. You just can’t help but fuck his mouth decorated in glossy red lipstick with your fingers. Pressing on the back of his tongue as you aggressively hump against his plush ass.

“Al’ways have - smthing to fuckin’ say.”

You huff out. The alcohol staining your own tongue. Oh you wish it was stained with his leaking precum. You feel the way he’s dripping all over your hand and it takes all of your self restraint not to remove your palm and have a taste.

But there is no way in hell that you are giving him head after he’s had a smart mouth with you all night.

Flashes of the party flicker through your haughty eyes. Of the little slut pretending he couldn’t hear you. Ignoring you. Grinding up on you on the dance floor. Tongue kissing you at the bar when you have enough of his coy bullshit.

Don’t even get you started on the ride back home. The things he said to you. “Why’re you holding back? Not packin’ big boy?”

You’ll show him small.

The sound of the belt buckle takes over the sound of his whining, pathetic moans into the cushion. When did you get two fingers in him? You’re not sure. All you know is that you are fucking him knuckles-deep. Fast. Blinding. A rotate of your wrist every few seconds to press your fingers up into that one spot that has him crying and clawing at the fabric of the sofa pathetically.

“P-P-. . . Pleasepeasepl - angh - god pleeaaaseee -”

His hips are rocking back into your hand so needily. How can you not shove your pants down and stumble around in the process. Suck in a breath and blink a few times to rid the haze and colourful spots in your vision. His thighs will sober you right up - is what you tell yourself.

So you release his cock and hiss in his ear when he whines at you. “Be patient. Whore.” Another smack to his thigh for good measure. A tint to his bronze skin. You can’t wait to paint it with cum instead.

Air fills your lungs as you suck in another breath to keep yourself steady. Pump at your own cock and bite your lip at the throb of your tip. For a second you forget that you’re finger-fucking him. You so desperately wish to just push in and fuck him raw. But your pettiness, somehow, outweighs your neediness to feel his tight ass throbbing around your cock.

Instead you pull your fingers out completely. Spread his thighs out and spit on his fluttering rim when he tries to complain. Your nails dig into his soft flesh as a warning before you are slipping your dick between the small gap you created. A hitch of breath from the both of you when your tip drags over the underside of his balls.

There’s a beat of silence. Both of you relishing in the sensation that makes your tips pulse with the threat of precum.

Until your rough hands squish his thighs together. Hurriedly snap your hips against him. There’s a plap of skin. Leaking all over - but the only friction Rishen can taste is the drag of your dick against his occasionally as you fuck is thighs instead of him.

You can almost hear his offense in his whines. The way that he tries to buck his hips back into you. You see the small wet patch of his drool all over the cushion; and let out a bark of laughter. Your hand returns to hook around his hair. Yank his head up and smack your hips against him as though you are fucking him sore.

Oh he’s sore alright. Cock pulsing. Glistening with his need. The slick that catches on your tip and draws a few grunts from your lips and tightened jaw.

“Fucking whore. Not even in yet.”

But it’s torture to you too. You ache to fuck him full. Teach him a lesson. Make him cream himself all over your sheets until he won’t be able to even look at you the next time you cross paths in the uni hallway.

The room swirls. Colours mixing in a confusing haze. All you remember is the softness of the mattress. The plush of his body. The way he thrashed into the bed and sobbed so desperately into the sheets once you bullied your cock into his tight ass. Stretch him out as you hold him down with two firm hands on his thighs. Shoved down onto his tummy and helpless. Unable to do anything but take you.

Everything is spinning. The scent of alcohol and sex burns your nostrils. But nothing compares to the sweet cherry perfume that fills your senses when you reach down to latch your teeth onto his neck. Your dizzy head centers around the combination of the headboard banging into the wall and his helpless, slutty moans.

“P-Pl- nghh fuck - fuckfpleaas- h-hngah-!”

It’s a slew of English, Spanish and gibberish. One that draws grunts from your lips. The tequila from earlier pales in comparison to the intoxicating affect that his moans have you. Your hips respond in tandem. Rapidly smacking into his ass as you hold him against the sheets with a lazy strength.

For a moment you pull away from abusing his neck with your hickeys and bites. In favour of watching the way his poor little hole takes you - again, again - and again.

Suddenly you are drunk on the sight of ripples through his flesh. The obvious plap plap plap of his skin with every rough cram of your hips against his. And most importantly. . . how the big-mouthed nerd struggles to take you after all that smart talk.

“Is it still small?” The hiss seeps through your clenched teeth. Your fingers join the venom and clutch at his hips to hold him still as you slowly draw out. Groan at the sight of slick stringing to your tip from his fluttering hole.

A slew of pitiful moans is the only answer. The irritation and hurt pride from earlier swells through you and you twist his smaller body around. Snatch his jaw and shove his face into sheets as you ram back into his awaiting walls. All the way so that you can fuck hard and fast against that spot that his eyes rolling back.

“Is.”

slam.

“It.”

slam!

“Small?”

Another squirt of his cum that shoots to his abdomen. His needy sobs drown out as your hips jam into his. Slotting so perfectly while your other hand grips at his thigh and makes sure it is wide open for your rabid pounding.

“N-No - no -nonoo angh - i-it’s not - snotitssnooott fuuckk,” he manages to slur and hiccup into the sheets as you let lose on his poor ass. You don’t care how many times he’s splurted his messy cum all over. The drunken, mindless need to prove a point drives your stamina to the max as your hands roam all over.

If they aren’t in his hair. It’s down his sides. Yanking on his thighs so that he’s forced back down into your blinding thrusts. Oh you love the way his eyes cross at that. If not that then you are pinching at his pierced nipples. Or rubbing over the piercing on his dick that glistens with his numerous releases.

“Mhhm.”

The hum is low in your throat. Thumb slowly stroking along the silver bar that makes his poor dick squirt all over again. A perfect contrast to your pace that has refused to halt since you stumbled haphazardly into your dim bedroom.

“Tha’s what I though. Yeah. Take it all f’me.”

You bite down on your lip at the sight of him. Thighs hooked over your hips. Fingers coiled into the sheets above him. His lips parted and eyes rolled back

His hand moves to grab at your arm. Eyes rolling back into his skull, while another orgasm is ripped out of him. Like the feral animal you are, you eat it all up.

“F—Fu—ck-k!” He whines and shivers. tongue out and head rolling around to every thrust. And as you set your pace to an extra few notches up, you feel yourself growing a bit sloppy as his tight hole squeezes around you.

The both of you were made for one another. You didn’t doubt it one second with how he took you.

Slowly, the frantic slapping of skin against skin began losing it’s rhythm. Plapping out into the room and melting into the walls as your own, last, orgasm rushed to your abdomen. Cum staining the poor boy’s ass.

“S— ‘S that- hahh what you like?” You pant in his ear, groaning, while you collapse down upon him. Hips still grinding slowly into his needy hole.

“N-no-morreee— No puedo mááááááás.” The whine reaches your ears quick. He’s had enough. Why not give him a break and let him catch up. Until the both of you are ready to fuck again later?

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[gothcsz]

ugh I want to be sat on javi's desk whilst he tells me to spread my legs so he can see how wet I am for him 😩😩😩

tags: f!reader, lil bit of dirty talk, terms of endearment (amor, baby), established relationship, husband!javi, no use of y/n, smut, unprotected p in v sex (be safe), oral (f), any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx.

~ 3k w/c - gif cred

a/n: two very similar prompts that i have merged together and hope lives up to what you guys were asking for 🖤 thank you @almostempty for finding the gif for me because that's all i was thinking about when i started writing this. also dedicating this to @yxtkiwiyxt because i know you love husband javi 🖤

The soft click of the door shutting behind you barely registers as you slip into his home office. Your eyelids are heavy, the remnants of sleep still tugging at your senses as you blink them away. The clock on the wall reads 3:00 a.m. sharp.

The gentle glow of his desk lamp casts a golden hue over his chiseled profile. It’s a scene you’ve walked into countless times—Javier immersed in his work, utterly focused, documents spread haphazardly across the desk.

“Amor,” his voice scrapes through the quiet, rough and low from hours of silence. He leans back in his chair, the leather groaning softly beneath him, and his arms open, beckoning you close. His dark eyes soften when they meet yours. “What are you doing up?”

You step toward him without hesitation, as though pulled by a force you can’t resist. Sliding onto his lap sideways, you settle yourself against his comforting frame, resting your head in the warm crook of his neck.

The familiar scent of him—a mix of his cologne and the faint, earthy tang of coffee—wraps around you like a blanket. 

“I can’t sleep without you, Javi,” you murmur, pouting slightly as your fingers idly trace patterns on the fabric of his shirt. “You know that.”

His large hand trails up and down your spine in slow, soothing strokes. He presses a tender kiss to the crown of your head, and his sigh feels as heavy as the workload surrounding him. “I know baby,” he murmurs. “I just have a lot to get through before my meeting in the morning.”

You groan in frustration, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. Your lower lip juts out in a way you know he finds irresistible, but it’s not just an act. “Sometimes it feels like you prioritize this,” you say, gesturing toward the chaotic sprawl of documents on his desk, “over me.”

His mustache twitches with a frown, the corners of his mouth tugging downward. “Don’t say that,” the sincerity in his tone clear. “You know that’s not true.”

“Then why are you here instead of in bed with me?” Your tone softens, though the ache of loneliness seeps through.

You know he works hard, tirelessly, to provide for you, to ensure you both have the life you dreamed of. But knowing that doesn’t always make it easier to compete with the demands of his job. Sometimes, it feels like you’re fighting for scraps of his time, his attention.

He doesn’t respond right away, but he doesn’t need to. Over the years, you’ve learned to read every nuance of your husband—the slight crease between his brows, the way his lips press together, the tension in his jaw. Reaching up, you trace a finger along his jawline, your thumb brushing gently over the sharp curve of his cheekbone.

His skin is warm beneath your touch, and you feel the tension in him ebb away, piece by piece.

Javier’s arms tighten around you, one hand resting on your bare thigh, right where your oversized t-shirt rides up, the other pressing into the small of your back. “You want me to come to bed?” 

His warm breath sends a shiver down your spine as his nose skims along your jawline, and you hum in response, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

His lips ghost along your skin, scattering kisses that make your breath hitch. “Seems like I’ve been neglecting my duties. Got my girl sittin’ here, pouting in my lap, begging for attention.” The faint rasp in his voice has lust pooling low in your belly.

A whimper escapes before you can stop it, your hips shifting instinctively against his lap. You’ve missed this—the intensity, the intimacy, the way he always manages to make you feel like the center of his universe, even when life pulls him in every other direction.

His hand inches higher, the rough pad of his thumb brushing against the soft skin of your inner thigh, his knuckles grazing the edge of your cotton panties, sending a spark through your body.

 “Bet she’s warm and wet for me,” he murmurs, his lips grazing the shell of your ear before catching your earlobe between his teeth.

Your thighs part almost involuntarily, “Javi,” you moan, burying your face in his neck, your lips latching onto the spot just below his jaw.

His groan vibrates against you, low and guttural. His free hand comes down hard on your thigh with a satisfying smack, making you yelp and arch in surprise. 

“You can’t be marking me up like that, mi amor. It’s not exactly professional for me to walk into a meeting with a giant hickey.”

You bite back a smirk, your teeth grazing his jaw before whispering, “I don’t care.”

His response is swift and deliberate. The hand that had been teasing between your thighs moves, strong fingers wrapping around your throat in a firm but unyielding grip. He pulls you back from his neck, forcing your gaze to lock with his. The intensity in his dark eyes makes your breath hitch, and the way his thumb brushes the underside of your jaw sends a thrill down your spine.

“Don’t be like this, baby,” he rasps, his tone commanding but laced with affection, his thumb brushing lightly over the delicate skin of your throat.

He leans in, drawing you closer by the grip on your neck, his lips brushing yours so faintly it feels like a tease.

The tickle of his mustache against your skin makes you shiver, your thighs twitching in anticipation. The ache between your legs grows unbearable, and your mind spins with the need to feel him—any part of him. His pretty mouth, his strong hands, his delicious cock… you’d take it all, every piece of him until there was nothing left to take.

“Please,” you whisper, desperation dripping from your voice as you close the sliver of space between you and kiss him. It starts soft, your tongue gliding along his bottom lip before slipping into his mouth, tasting him deeply. He responds with a low groan, his tongue tangling with yours, and the hand at your neck tightens just enough to make your head spin.

You moan into his mouth, your free hand sliding down the front of his shirt, savoring the hard planes of his chest. Your fingers flirt with the cool metal of his belt buckle before venturing lower, cupping his hardening length through his slacks.

The sultry sound that escapes him urges you to palm him, your touch deliberate as you apply more pressure, delighting in the way he twitches beneath your hand.

His hips shift involuntarily, and you squirm on his lap, the dampness between your thighs growing as your neglected pussy aches for attention.

Javier breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down to your jawline, then back to your mouth, where he bites and nips at your bottom lip. His hand moves from your throat to your chest, cupping and kneading your tits through the fabric of your shirt. The feeling has you arching into him, silently begging for more as your nipples pucker.

When his hand slides back between your legs, you let out a shaky breath, your head falling to his shoulder. His thumb traces a teasing line up your soaked slit, the fabric of your panties doing nothing to dull the feeling. He alternates between feather-light touches and firm squeezes of your thighs, keeping you trembling and needy in his lap.

You latch onto his lips again, kissing him feverishly, your desperation bleeding into every movement. The air between you is electric, the sound of wet kisses and shared breaths filling the room. Javier doesn’t pull away, doesn’t rush you—he matches your pace, taking everything you’re giving him and giving it back tenfold.

His thumb circles your clit over your panties, drawing a gasp from your lips that he swallows with a grin. “You’re so wound up, cariño,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “Can’t even think straight, can you?”

You shake your head, a breathy moan spilling from your mouth as he continues to toy with you, always a tease.

Javier’s dark eyes flick up to yours, filled with that commanding intensity that never fails to make your stomach flip. “Sit on the desk.”

Without hesitation, you do as he says, sliding off his lap and onto the edge of the polished wood, your palms bracing against its surface.

You perch there, your knees drawn together, but the look in his eyes tells you he wants more.

Javier rolls his chair forward, the scrape of its legs on the floor adding to the charged atmosphere. He leans in, placing a gentle kiss on your knee. The warmth of his lips against your skin is welcomed, and when he taps your other knee with his fingers, you know exactly what he wants.

“Spread them, baby,” his command is like gravel smoothed by velvet. “Let me see how wet you are.”

Your heart races as you part your legs, the mess between them undeniable. His gaze drops, locking onto the damp spot that has already formed in the center of your panties. A wicked smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and he leans forward, pressing another kiss on your skin—this time on the inside of your knee.

His warm breath fans against your thigh as he drags his tongue along its length, stopping just short of where you ache for him most.

His curved nose nudges against your cunt, and you gasp softly, the intimate gesture making you feel hot all over. He inhales deeply, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as if savoring the scent of you. “Tan rica, amor.”

Javier’s tongue presses against the fabric of your panties, licking a broad, wet stripe that has you quivering under his touch. Your elbows give slightly as you lean back, surrendering to him wholly.

He hums in satisfaction, his hands firm on your thighs to keep you steady and spread as he works you over by tonguing at you over the fabric.

When he hooks a finger under the edge of your panties and pulls them aside, the cool air hits your bare skin, making you whimper. His eyes darken at the sight of your glistening folds, the damp curls surrounding your beautiful pussy, and he lowers his head again, delivering gentle kisses with his plush lips. 

The wet sounds of his mouth meeting your skin are indecently loud, and the lewd intimacy of it has your head tipping back, eyes fluttering shut.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he mutters, his voice muffled against you. “Miss her so much. Miss you.”

The affection in his words melts into the overwhelming pleasure as his tongue dips into your slit, circling your clit with unrelenting precision. A soft moan escapes your lips, and your thighs twitch beneath his touch, unable to resist the way he knows exactly how to undo you.

He grips you tighter, keeping you spread for him as his tongue delves deeper, tasting every heady inch of you. His groans vibrate against your sensitive skin, and the sheer devotion in his actions leaves you trembling, utterly at his mercy.

“Javi,” you moan, his name spilling from your lips as he devours you with an unrelenting hunger. The coarseness of his mustache against your slick folds sends jolts of pleasure through your body, and your hips buck upwards, desperate to feel more of him.

When his teeth graze your swollen clit, you yelp, the sharp edge sensation of it making your back arch as you fall flat against the desk. The crumple of papers beneath you is barely a thought in your mind, overwhelmed as you are by the pleasure of his ministrations.

Your fingers find their way into his hair, tangling in the soft brown curls and tugging hard.

He groans against you, the vibration an added stimulant from the amazing head he’s always giving you. “Oh yes, Javi, just like that,” you gasp, urging him on as your thighs tremble.

His lips close around your clit, sucking harshly, and you feel your breath lodge in your throat. Then he shakes his head, the movement rough and deliberate, and the friction of his facial hair combined with the firm press of his nose against your most sensitive spot has you spiraling.

“Oh fuck!” you cry out, your body trembling as the tension inside you winds tighter and tighter, especially when he stuffs his tongue inside of your fluttering hole, fucking you with it.

Javier pulls back just enough to spit on your cunt, the lewd sound making your body crave him more. His fingers slide through the mix of saliva and your creamy arousal, swirling it around the mouth of your cunt before he plunges two thick fingers deep inside you.

Your back bows off the desk, a yelp tearing from your lips as he sets a rhythm that’s both rough yet fulfilling. His fingers curl and twist just right, pressing against that spot that makes your entire body vibrate and colorful spots dot your vision.

He doesn’t relent, his mouth is back on your clit in an instant, his tongue flicking over it with a precision born from all the hours he’s spent learning your body.

The combined assault of his mouth and fingers is too much and not enough all at once. You’re drowning in the sensations, every nerve alight as he drives you closer to the edge with every pump, every lick. “Javi,” you choke out, your nails scraping against his scalp as the heat in your core threatens to spill over. “I’m gonna—”

He hums against you, doubling down on his efforts as if daring you to let go, and with one final wet, hot suck, you do.

Your orgasm crashes over you, ripping through your body in waves that leave you crying out his name, utterly undone in his hands.

When he pulls away, a glistening string of your essence clings to his swollen lips. His tongue sweeps it up eagerly, savoring you with a deep, satisfied hum, as if he hadn’t just devoured you from the inside out.

You barely register the clink of his belt being undone, the metallic sound followed by the soft rustle of fabric as he pushes his pants down just enough to free himself. His cock stands thick and proud, the head flushed in an angry red and glistening with precum, his heavy balls hanging beneath it, full and ready.

The sight alone makes your mouth water and your cunt clench with fresh need.

Javier leans over you, capturing your lips in a messy, hungry kiss. The tangy taste of your arousal lingers on his tongue as it slides against yours, drawing a whimper from your throat.

His groan reverberates through you as he drags the velvety, swollen head of his cock along the sticky seam of your cunt, spreading your wetness and teasing your sensitive clit.

He swirls himself around your nub, igniting sparks all over your overstimulated body, then slaps the hot tip against your bundle of nerves, making you cry out. “Javi,” you gasp, your hips bucking toward him, desperate for more.

He finds your entrance, the warmth of you wrapping around him as he pushes in slowly, savoring every inch. The guttural sound he makes when he sinks into you is pure sin. “Always so wet and tight for me,” he grunts, his teeth gritting as your slick walls stretch to accommodate him.

You throw your head back, a litany of curses and pleas spilling from your lips. “Oh fuck—Javi—you feel so good. I need you to make me feel this for days.”

He growls low in his throat at your words, his hips pressing flush against yours as he fills you completely, the heat of his cock nestled deep within you. The damp fabric of your shirt clings to your sweat-slicked skin, but all you can focus on is the way he feels—how his cock seems to claim every part of you.

Javi kisses you again, rough and unrelenting, before standing to his full height, his strong hands gripping you as he adjusts your position.

Your hips dangle just over the edge of the desk, his hand squeezing the curve of your ass while the other slides beneath your shirt to cup your breast. His fingers find your nipple, tugging and rolling it as he begins to move, pulling out  almost completely, his cock glistening with your arousal before he slams back into you.

The wet, obscene sound of your bodies meeting fills the room, spurring him on. Your hips rise to meet his, finding a rhythm together that has both of you moaning unabashedly, the desk creaking beneath you. 

Your cries and his grunts blend into a symphony of lust. 

“That’s right, baby,” he says through clenched teeth, his hand leaving your breast to shove your shirt up, exposing your bare skin to his hungry gaze. His pupils dilate as he watches the bounce of your tits with each thrust, his cock sawing in and out of you relentlessly. “Fucking take it. Take all of me.”

You grab his hand, guiding it back to your chest. “Don’t stop,” you plead, holding his palm over your breast as your second orgasm builds, hot and insistent. “More, Javi—give me more.”

He nearly growls, his hands roaming over you feverishly before wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you upright. Your legs wrap around his hips, your arms clutching his shoulders as he fucks up into you. The change in angle is devastating, each thrust hitting deeper, making you go absolutely fucking crazy.

Your cries of his name are music to his ears, your nails raking down his back as your slickness drenches his cock, soaking the front of his thighs. His balls slap against your ass with every thrust, heavy with the promise of his release.

You bite down on his neck, your lips sucking at the spot he’d scolded you for earlier. He doesn’t stop you, though; if anything, the sharp sting of your teeth makes his own head spin. His hips snap harder, his breaths ragged against your ear. “Shit, amor—I’m close. But you first. I need to take care of you.”

Leaning back, you brace your palms on the desk, your hips swiveling against him as the tension inside you snaps. Your walls flutter and tighten around him, milking his cock as you gush, your release coating him in a creamy sheen.

“Javi!” you scream, your entire body trembling as you ride the wave of pleasure.

His dark brown eyes are glued to where your bodies are joined, watching the creamy ring of your slick coating his cock with every stroke. It’s too much for him, and he buries himself deep with a hoarse shout of your name, his thick, hot release spilling inside you in thick, satisfying spurts, filling you to the brim.

Both of you collapse against each other, breaths ragged and mingling as your high slowly fades. His cock softens inside you, but neither of you rushes to pull away.

“It just gets better every time,” he murmurs, his lips peppering affectionate kisses along your neck and jaw before capturing your lips in a tender kiss.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp as he sighs contentedly. “Now,” you murmur, your voice soft and teasing, “will you come to bed?”

He pulls back just enough to brush his nose against yours, his lips curving into a smirk before stealing one last kiss. “Of course, mi amor.”

[neuvilette-tea-party]

₊ ˙ ⊹Steb x F!reader₊ ˙ ⊹

Headcanons Pre-Relationship SFW

I came to realize this format is for shorter stories? But I am an idiot and I cannot stop writing about best boy!

Request open for Best boy Steb <3

As a junior Medic, Steb is your mentor. He silently, but patiently, teaches you. 

Trains with you every day, with a scalpel or boxing gloves. 

Steb is a really good boxer and even better with batons, while you excel in Judo. 

You live life at his pace when you are in the barracks, eating when he eats, training when he trains, sleeping when he sleeps, practicing medicine when he decides it is time to teach you... You become his shadow. 

You practice incisions and stitching wounds on a dummy under his impartial but merciless gaze. He has an unconventional approach to the job himself, but no defective stitches escape his eyes. He asks you to start over each time he finds one, and even if he is instransigent he never refuse to helps, showing you an easier method or a quicker trick.  

You get better and better every day and he appears pleased with you, congratulating you with a nod and a pat on the shoulder. 

When you’re lucky you go on Patrol with him and Maddie, when you are extra lucky only him. But most of the time you are partnered with someone else and you cannot wait to come back to the barracks to train with Steb again! 

He is dead silent but extremely expressive when he wants to be. You learned to decipher every throat muscle contraction, every side eye, every blink, if he uses his third eyelids or not... Every infinitesimal facial twist speaks louder than any word he could say and you’ve gone pro at decoding every single one of them. 

Maddie gets crazy when you have an entire silent conversation with Steb with only raised eyebrows, head tilts, and nods during work. Loris just laughs his ass off at her getting more and more exasperated. 

Steb shows you all the little tricks he learned on the spot and in dire situations, what truly makes the difference between life and death under gunshots, things you do not learn in books or on a dummy. 

He had to stitch some of your wounds after an intense training session, making him softly grin while you sighed deeply, a little bit embarrassed to be so careless. 

You did not know if it was appropriate to eat fish in his presence at first, so you did not. 

He ever so slowly relaxes around you, letting you see his less stoic side from time to time. This is a rarity tho. 

Your unit as a game: the first one to assemble his weapon blindfolded, wins. Steb always beats you with the riffle but you win with the revolver. Loris beats everyone with every weapon. 

Steb keeps you under his wing for months, keeping you company during breaks, playing cards with you, watching movies late at night in the break room, arm wrestling with you when you feel feisty, he cannot beat you to billiards tho but he is good sport. Each days at the barracks you are attached to the hips, so much so that seeing one of you alone raises eyebrows. 

You earned the nickname “Mini-Steb” at the barracks for a time. You find it quite funny but Steb less so. He took the floor, a rarity, and asked your colleagues to respect your individuality and character. This was such a rare occurrence that everyone obeyed without a second word, while you looked at him with round eyes. 

He is a pretty good cook and handles spices at a higher level than any human, that’s why they put a rule in place for him not to spice the dishes himself, this is the only thing he cannot do in the kitchen, cause everyone would have a rough time. You love it when it is your turn to cook with him, Maddie finds it boring because he is even more non-verbal than usual but you love it, you try to match his pace and speed as best you can like a game. 

And because he looks pretty cute in an apron, you have to be honest. 

You discovered Steb had gills on his neck and his ribcage. You noticed the last ones when he took off his shirt during a training session to use the towel on his chest. You went immediately still at that view, completely shocked and hypnotized by that scene. You had to mentally slap yourself to manage to take your eyes off that... beautiful sight and you drank your entire bottle of water in one go, feeling incredibly parched out of a sudden. Maddies asked you why you did not finish your sentence but you could only wipe the sweat off your forehead, trying to make sense of your inner turmoil. 

Him who is usually so modest and rarely if never takes off layers in front of people... You were so unprepared but that sight! 

You both have your habits on patrol, you go to the same cafes, visit the same tea salon and always go to the same bar at the end of a shift. He always asks for a consomme while you change dishes each time. 

You notice that you spoke less and less yourself, mimicking your mentor, finding words more and more superfluous when you could just act on a matter. 

Steb baked you a cake for your birthday, without you having to remind him of the date. 

Excellent chess player, owns several books on different Chess masters that he reads religiously during breaks while also learning to play Go. He goes easy on you with other games but he will hand you your ass without any mercy with those two games. 

You learned he like to spend time in libraries and bookshops during his leaves and crossed paths with him on several occasions with his bag full of new books. 

Never took a puff of tobacco of any sort in his life and heavily avoids any smoking area. His eye twitched once when you revealed to him you tried weed once with friends in high school, but he remained silent, neither approving nor disapproving. 

Drinks alcohol only for big occasions and will limit himself to one glass only. 

Keeps his uniform immaculate, his helmet shiny and his weapons squicky clean. 

Good with cats and animals in general. Owned a bird in his childhood. 

Undisputed champion in the pool. Every once in a while someone thinks that they can outspeed him in water and is immediately proven wrong, but you get the occasion to play the cheerleader to support him each time, so you don’t complain. You handed him his towel when he got out of the pool, water trickling down his well-carved body and your eyes got lost for a second before so much skin, mouth slightly agape before such a spectacle. 

 You are Steb’s perfect assistant in mission, guessing his needs and demands in advance, handing him the correct tools without him having to ask to save your comrades’ or civilians’ lives. You move and think like a single being, creeping out Maddie. She told you you both look like possessed when you save lives together under fire like you were connected like a hivemind. You don't see her problem: you are saving lives! 

After each successful mission on the terrain, Steb pays you a drink, always wrapped in his usual mustism. You take an ale while he usually goes for iced tea or squach, making you giggle as you imagine the thought of the other patrons discovering a 6’1 ft  stern enforcer in full gear sipping sugary juice at the bar with a straw. 

But those drinks are between you and Steb only, between Mentor and Protege 

And maybe a bit more, you bust yourself hoping? 

One day Steb takes you aside in an empty room and hands you a piece of paper. Your official recommendation and aptitude certification to enter the Medic examination of the Enforcers. Signed by his hand. You look up at him with a gasp, full of hope. 

He grabs your shoulder, looking straight into your eyes. and nods with a tight smile. 

[covenofagatha]

taking requests, angel? if so...

I saw some Kathryn gifs and an idea came to me: Agatha, after a long and exhausted working week, asks female reader to have a date, but the date is on their house because Agatha is too tired to go out. Reader is happy, tho, because her love language is quality time and physical contact. Something like a dinner, maybe, idk... so they end up having a very lovely time together, cuddling on the sofa until they fall asleep. Smut or not in the end, it's up to you... but I'd love to read something cute from you:( I don't know if that's okay...

if you're not taking requests, I totally understand that! I don't want to bother you.

- 🌙

Fun fact, this is my first time writing something that's not meant to build up to sexy times! Also the fluffiest thing I've ever written so hopefully it's good!

Home is where the heart is

A change of plans in your date night with Agatha leads to a confession.

Word count: 1200

Warnings: fluff, softness

Still on for dinner and a movie tonight? 

It’s the text you sent your girlfriend, Agatha, an hour ago and she still hasn’t responded. This usually isn’t like her, but you know how busy work can get. And you know how tough the last week had been on her, but you were really looking forward to spending this Friday night with her. 

The two of you had been dating for three months now and it always seemed like the older woman wanted to do something, whether it be going to a nice restaurant or mini-golfing or painting pottery. Like tonight, Agatha is supposed to take you to the newest spot in town that just opened up and then you were going to see Corpse Bride as it was playing again in theaters. 

You would never complain about any of this, but you’re a little worried that Agatha thinks that you need all of this to hang out with her. 

A text from Agatha buzzes finally. Doll, I’m so sorry. You frown and pick your phone up, afraid she’s going to cancel. I’m so exhausted from work, how would you feel just coming over tonight for something chill? I can order pizza. 

You breathe a sigh of relief and type back. I would love that! See you later. You almost finish the text with a ‘Love you’ but neither of you had said it yet and you were sure as hell not going to say it over the phone for the first time. 

You also weren’t sure how Agatha felt. She was older and you weren’t exactly sure what she saw in you. She was beautiful and confident and wealthy and could have anyone she wanted, and yet she chose you. 

A part of you deep down is perturbed that this is just a fling for her. It would crush you if that’s what it was. 

But you bury that insecurity somewhere dark inside you and you get ready for date night. 

Since you’re not doing anything special, you opt for a comfy purple sweater and black leggings. You do put on lacy underwear just in case Agatha’s in the mood, but you are totally content if not. 

You just want to spend time with your girlfriend. 

You get to her house right at six, which was when you were supposed to meet anyway, and you only have to wait a second after ringing the doorbell for Agatha to appear. 

“Hey, baby,” she says, stepping to the side so you can enter. She’s wearing sweatpants and a tank top, hair loose, but she’s never looked more beautiful. You press a cheek to her kiss and she hums happily and follows you into the kitchen. “Sorry to cancel our plans at the last minute, I’m just so tired.” 

“No worries at all,” you reassure her, opening the pizza box that’s already on the counter. It’s your favorite kind and you put two pieces on a plate and grab a beer. She does the same and leads you over to the couch where you sit on opposite sides facing each other. “Everything okay?” You ask once you’re both settled. 

She sighs dramatically and her head flops back against the couch. You laugh and nudge her with your foot. 

Agatha looks back at you, mirth sparkling in her eyes. “It was just a rough week, hon. Lots of people bothering me, asking stupid questions they should know the answers to, following up on emails that they haven’t responded to. And I had to work late those couple nights.”

You frown. “I’m sorry. You work so hard and no one seems to give you the credit you deserve.” You take a bite of your pizza and chew it thoughtfully, wondering what else you can say. You know she’s been really busy and you’ve hardly seen her at all this week. 

But she leans forward and pats your thigh. “But this has certainly helped.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “The pizza and beer?” You ask innocently, fishing for more. She rolls her eyes fondly, knowing how much validation you like. 

“And the company, hon. You’re pretty great, you know?” 

You smile and squirm with contentment. “You are too, Aggie. I’m always happy to just sit on your couch and talk. I just want to spend time with you, no matter what we’re doing.” 

She smiles gratefully. “Me too, baby. Now, how has your week been?” You launch into an animated retelling of something that happened at work and she hangs onto every word. It takes you a bit longer to tell the story in-between bites of your pizza, but her attention never wavers. 

It makes you feel so warm inside how Agatha always pays attention to what you’re saying. She makes you feel so seen and you couldn’t be more lucky to have her. 

Once you’re done talking and with the pizza, she puts on an episode of Modern Family, your comfort show. You lay between her legs, your back to her front, while she gently strokes your hair. You trace lazy circles on her thighs through her sweatpants and it’s absolutely perfect. 

She tilts your head to the side and angles hers so she’s able to kiss you softly. It’s just a press of her lips against yours at first, but it slowly becomes more and your mouth parts for her tongue. 

It’s not a needy kiss though, not a kiss meant to lead to something more, it’s a kiss full of adoration and longing and intimacy. 

“You’re so perfect, baby,” Agatha murmurs against your lips.

“Not as perfect as you,” you say back and you can feel her smile against your skin. 

She lets you go back to the show and wraps her arms around you. You can feel her deep breathing and you feel so safe and warm that you start to doze off. 

Right before sleep takes you though, you feel her nuzzle your temple and whisper into your ear: “I love you, baby.” 

Your heart leaps and you suddenly feel more awake than ever. You whirl around so fast that you almost fall off the couch. Agatha’s eyes are wide and you think you see fear in them. 

“Did you just–” You start. 

At the same time, Agatha says, “I’m so sorry–”

You both cut off at the same time. You smile wider than you ever have before and you move so you’re straddling her lap. You put your arms around her neck and rest your forehead against hers. 

“Agatha Harkness,” you say. Her eyebrows raise. “I love you, too.” 

She closes the distance between you and kisses you again, this time with more passion. You whine and try to pull her as close as you can, needing to feel her body against yours as much as you can. 

“Say it again,” she says and you smirk. 

“I-” You kiss her. “Love.” Another kiss. “You.” She grins and gives you a long kiss and it eventually sizzles out and the two of you are just holding each other, your chin on top of her shoulder. 

“I’m so glad I cancelled our other date,” Agatha muses and you chuckle, squeezing her tighter. “Stay here with me forever, love?” 

You promise that you will. 

And when you both wake up in the morning in that same position, she tells you that she loves you again.

You hope she never stops saying it, because you know that you never will.

[p0orbaby]

Hey! Could you write a blurb about Leah being really stressed (maybe due to not playing in usual form & getting critiqued from fans) and reader surprises her after training with a pamper night? Like having a bath together etc

-

Leah looks like she’s been chewed up and spat out by the day. The second she steps through the door, you can tell training has been brutal—probably more mental than physical. She’s got that look in her eye, the one that says she’s been running drills in her head more than on the pitch. A defender with a bone to pick with herself is a dangerous thing, especially when the critics have been out in force.

“Hey,” you say, trying to keep your tone light. “Rough day?”

Leah drops her bag with a thud, the sound reverberating through the hallway. She sighs, runs a hand through her hair, and mutters, “Something like that”

Her shoulders are so tense you half expect them to snap off and roll down the hall.

You follow her into the living room, watching as she slumps onto the sofa, her head tipped back like she’s trying to merge with the cushions. She doesn’t even have the energy to kick off her trainers. That’s when you know it’s bad.

“Alright,” you announce, clapping your hands together. “Stay there”

“What?” Leah lifts her head, suspicious.

“Stay. There,” you repeat, pointing a finger at her. “I’m sorting you out”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Sorting me out how?”

“Just trust me,” you call over your shoulder as you head for the bathroom.

It takes some time to set up the full operation, but you work quickly. Bath: running. Candles: lit. Bath bombs: selected with the precision of a Michelin-starred chef. You even sprinkle in some rose petals because why not? If you’re going to pamper her, you’re doing it properly.

When you return to the living room, Leah is sitting up, looking marginally less miserable. She eyes you warily. “What’s going on?”

“Come on,” you say, tugging her to her feet. “Bath time”

“Bath time?” She almost laughs, but it’s more out of incredulity than humour.

“Bath. Time,” you insist, dragging her towards the bathroom.

When she steps inside, her mouth falls open slightly. The steam rises around the edges of the tub, carrying the scent of lavender and vanilla. The candles cast a soft, flickering glow, and the water is tinted pink from the bath bomb. It’s borderline romantic, but you don’t care.

“You did all this?” she asks, her voice quiet.

“Obviously.” You nudge her towards the bath. “Get in”

She hesitates, looking at you like you’ve just handed her the cure for every bad day she’s ever had. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly. And I’m getting in with you, so move over”

Leah laughs then, a small, genuine laugh that makes all your effort worth it. She starts stripping out of her training gear, her movements slower than usual. You follow suit, and soon you’re both sinking into the warm water, her back resting against your chest.

For a while, neither of you speak. The water laps gently against the sides of the tub, and the tension in Leah’s shoulders slowly starts to melt away. You run your fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp, and she lets out a contented sigh.

“This is nice,” she murmurs after a while, her voice soft and drowsy.

“Yeah, well,” you tease, “someone’s got to look after you”

She tilts her head back to glance at you. “I don’t deserve you”

“True,” you reply, grinning.

She laughs again, the sound lighter this time. “Alright, don’t push it”

[viperify]

girl omg i need academic rivals with mattheo !!! the rest is up to you, ily 🫶

Smutmas 2024 | 𝗱𝗲𝗰 𝟬𝟭: ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Just shut up.

Short summary: Turns out even the best have to resort to cheating once a while. You wouldn’t let him get away with it though. As you then pay him a visit at his dorm, confronting him, he turns to his usual methods of getting himself out of trouble…

Warnings: oral f!receiving, rough sex (somewhat), unprotected p in v

A/N: This is my first time writing Mattheo. Be nice. 😾

wordcount: 2,2k

You couldn’t believe what you had just witnessed from the back of the classroom.

The self-claimed Potions master, Mattheo Riddle, cheating on an exam while Snape wasn’t looking in his direction. Shaking your head slightly, you averted your attention back to your exam paper. You couldn‘t let him get away with that. Especially as Potions was one of the few subjects he could easily outscore you in.

Christmas should be the festival of love and peace, you knew that. Though him getting a better grade than you solely because he cheated – it wasn’t right.

Festive decorations adorned the castle at this time of the year. It was soothingly calm around you, only distant whispers cutting through the otherwise quiet surroundings. Clearly, you thought. Not many students were around at that point anymore, most of them having left the castle to return home during the break. You sighed, secretly wishing to go home, see your parents, who currently were on a trip to visit a distant family member.

Exhaling softly, you made your way back to the Slytherin dormitories after having eaten dinner in the Great Hall. You descended the stairs and just when you were about to enter your dorm, a familiar figure disappeared behind the corner leading to the boys’ dormitories. The brunette curls undoubtedly revealed it was Mattheo, who had apparently also stayed back at Hogwarts. Perfect, you thought.

You reckoned it was a great idea to pay him a visit, to confront him, threaten him. You assumed you’d get something out of it, make him admit his wrongdoings. Though it didn’t exactly go according to plan.

That’s how you now find yourself trapped between the cold stone wall of his dorm and himself, easily towering over your smaller form.

“You might want to repeat that?” He sneers, acting like he didn‘t hear you the first time. You knew his games, the way he was trying to intimidate you, silence you. You wouldn’t give in that easily though.

“You cheated on the Potions exam, Riddle. I saw it. And if you don’t admit it yourself, I will have to report you.” You state best as you can, arms crossing over your chest, standing your point.

His eyes darken, realization setting in. He scoffs, inching closer to you. “You didn’t see shit.“

You almost laugh. “Well, I did. And you will have to live with the consequences.”

He just looks at you for a few seconds, and you can almost see the thoughts forming behind his brown eyes. A sly smirk forms on his lips. Mattheo then leans in impossibly, uncomfortably close to your face, but you are denied any complaints as he speaks up.

“You know, darling“ he pauses, his breath hot against your cheek as his fingertips ever so softly trail up the exposed skin of your thigh, halting when he reaches the hem of your skirt. “I have also happened to catch a sight of you looking for the answers just about… here.” With that, he firmly squeezes the flesh of your thighs, drawing a breathy gasp from you, his touch electrifying on your hot skin.

“That’s not- not true.“ you stammer and he grins in response. Fuck.

Mattheo’s gaze sinks to where he had just touched you, exhaling shakily as his eyes travel back up your form, and after staring an awful long time at your covered breasts, his brown eyes finally meet yours. “I too could tell on you. How you write the answers under that slutty skirt of yours.”

You huffed, shaking your head slightly, finally turning away to escape his intense stare.

“Hm? Cat got your tongue?” He smirks sheepishly, delivering another squeeze to your thigh.

“Riddle I sw-“ your words were cut off by his lips hungrily crashing onto yours, his hand sneaking up to wrap around your throat, softly squeezing down around it. “Shut up.” Mattheo groans as you two break apart, catching your breath. “Let’s forget about it. Just shut up.”

“That’s how you solve your problems, is that it, hm?” You sneer, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. “I am not one of your toys. It doesn’t work li-“

He cocks an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. Another kiss, this time more wanting, hungrier, and to your dismay, you couldn’t help yourself but moan into the kiss.

Then, when you were able to overcome your demons and finally kiss him back, he pulls away, his signature smirk decorating his face. “It doesn’t work like that, huh?” He taunts, winking at you, taking a step back.

Idiot, you think. Your eyebrows furrow, pushing yourself of the wall. “Just shut up.” You murmur, closing the gap between you two another time.

Then, his hands sneak around your waist as he groans into your mouth, pulling you with him as he sinks down onto his bed. Mattheo has you sat on his lap while you two practically devour each other, your hand tugging on his brunette curls, that you, if you now think about it, learned to love over the years. When you then break apart and slowly open your eyes, you find a changed man in front of you. He doesn’t any longer look at you in spite, if anything – with pure lust. A sight you preferred a thousand times over the usual way he would glance at you during classes.

As he is adjusting his posture, slightly thrusting upwards in the process, you feel it. You feel just how hard he is underneath you. You bite your lip and grin, eagerly grinding your hips on him, causing friction just where you need it most. One of his hands guides you, the other trailing up your thigh. He barely touches your skin, yet you feel the burn of his touch. It’s hot, it’s electrifying. It’s what you have secretly desired for a long time. Mattheo steadily makes his way under your skirt, giving the flesh of your ass a firm squeeze. You moan, and as you tilt your head back, he leans in to trail soft, open mouthed kisses all the way from your jaw down to your shoulder and back up. He sucks, bites, leaves marks. “Fuck- you are mine now. Want it or not, I don’t give a damn.”

The only reply you manage is a quick nod, though clearly unsatisfied with your non-verbal answer, his teeth dig into your tender skin, not enough to draw blood, yet enough to leave a bruise. “M’ yours! All yours!” You hiss, not really thinking about what you are saying, too focused on the building ache in your lower stomach, too focused on how his lips feel on your body. “That’s a good girl.” The brunette praises you, now slightly thrusting against you. At this point, you are a mess. You feel your arousal sticking to your panties, surely already having left a wet patch on his trousers as well.

“Merlin Mattheo, please, I need you.” You whine, close to begging him with all you have left just to feel him inside of you. Pathetic, you think to yourself. Mere minutes ago you were still up against his throat. Atleast you now have an answer. The rumours are true after all, he truly knows how to wrap girls around his finger. You just didn’t think he could do it with you. Yet here you are, yearning to have all of him.

He doesn’t leave you much time to rethink your choice, making quick work of your clothes before he flips you around, almost too easily, too skilled, you think, but you don’t dare complain. Not now, when you are too far gone anyway, mind clouded by pure lust.

Mattheo places himself between your legs, and you close your eyes in anticipation. You feel just how hot his breath is against where you need him most, where every nerve of yours is aching to be touched, to be caressed. And so he does, softly at first. He leans down to place a kiss on your clit, drawing a moan from your parted lips.

With your eyes still closed, every single touch, every breath of his feels a hundred times more intense, and you almost shriek when his tongue first slides through your folds, and he groans, the vibrations spreading through your core. “Who knew you would taste so fucking heavenly, hm? You are soaked, and it’s all for me, darling.”

You open your mouth to argue with him, tell him to just shut up and get to work. Mattheo though is just a tad bit quicker and finally wraps his lips around your puffy clit, expertly licking and sucking on it, adding two fingers which immediately find the spongey spot inside of your cunt that has you see stars.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl.” He demands, and you do as he says, even though it’s hard to keep your eyes from rolling to the back of your head with how good he’s making you feel.

You threaten to get lost in the depth of his brown eyes that draw you right in as he stares back up at you. And then, you clench around him, exhaling through your mouth as your head falls back, your surroundings suddenly becoming a blur when you feel yourself at the brink of release. One last thrust of his fingers, you think, and your body would shatter, shatter around the very man you despised. But then- suddenly, it’s gone and you feel empty, your orgasm fading away. Your eyes blink open to spot a half amused Mattheo in front of you, licking his fingers clean.

“What the fuck?” You exclaim, catching your breath. “I was so close!”

He laughs. “Darling, the only way you are going to come is around my cock.”

You scoff in return. That fucking idiot. “I hate you, Riddle.”

“You hate me, huh?” He asks with a smirk, voice low and seductive as he pushes himself up, inching closer to your face, now a mere centimetre away from your lips. He looks down at them and back up again to meet your wanting eyes. “Yet, I get to fuck you.”

“Go on then. Do it.” You encourage him, because after all, you have had enough. You need this release, whatever it may cost. He smirks, well aware of how much it infuriates you.

Then finally, you feel his tip pressing against your entrance. And he moves slowly, too slow for your liking. First, he looks down to where your bodies are about to connect, and then, with a bit more doubt present in his voice, he asks you one last question. “You ready? I am not going to be gentle.”

“I don’t want you to be.” You reply huskily, and at last, Mattheo pushes into you. You gasp at his size as you stretch around him, almost painfully so, and he slows down for a moment. “Matt-“

He shushes you. “I know. Just breathe.” You nod. One slow and deliberate thrust after the other, letting you adjust to him. When he feels you relax around him, he finally picks up the pace, your legs wrapped around him as he thrusts into you. “Oh Merlin- please-“ you moan, and he glances down as he hovers over you. “What do you want, darling? Tell me.”

You want him, all of him. Deeper, harder, anything. “Please, I need you. Need more of you.”

Mattheo nods in response, breathing heavily above you, his curls sticking to his forehead as gives you what you want. He slams into you from a different angle now, allowing him to go deeper, brushing against your cervix with almost every thrust.

“Fuck Mattheo, please- I am going to-“ you almost scream, the sensations overwhelming as his fingers find your needy clit, rubbing figure eights on it. “Me too, darling. Let go for me. Show me how pretty you look when you come for me.”

His words send you spiraling over the edge, pure pleasure reverberating ting through your body, and for a moment you feel like you are levitating, levitating from the way your climax had struck you, from the way he was making you feel. You clench frantically around him, and he groans loudly. His thrusts have now become ragged and uneven, cock twitching before he spills himself inside of you at last, thick, hot ropes of cum decorating your inner walls. Mattheo then collapses on top of you, entirely spent as your sweaty bodies embrace each other.

You both catch your breaths as you calm down from your highs, and after a minute he rolls off of you. You sit up, expecting him to tell you to leave either way. Though, he grabs your arm and pulls you against his chest. “Where do you think you are going?”

“I thought you’d want me to go. You know this was only for-“ he sighs and closes his palm over your mouth. “Just shut up.” He says.

You decide to stay with him in the end, lying on his chest. Just as your eyes were threatening to close, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep, he speaks up once more.

“Christmas is the festival of love and peace, I assume you are aware of that?”

You nod and he lets the thought linger in the air for a while.

“Truce?”

“Truce.” You smile.

[idolomantises]

hi! I've followed you for a while on and off and I really wanted to ask, are you still working on creature of grey? I was super excited for it back in the day

Same anon, do you have any cog art left? I miss them

Creature of Grey has kind of been... put on hiatus indefinitely. It's a story I love but also a story I made when i was 13-17. If I ever want to return to it, I'd have to give it a massive overhaul and change a lot of things.

Unfortunately I don't have any new art, but while looking for any of my older art to repost I found some pages for any early draft, back when I originally planned to make this a published series (2019/2020 me had a lot of ambition lol) but i ended up scrapping it because I didn't want to go into making a big series without more writing experience (hence why I did a lot of shorter comics, which later developed into Bugtopia and Monsters and Girls). It also lacked a proper script and outline, so I was just kind of making things up as I wrote.

Looking back its kind of hilarious because everyone is having their quaint little sitcom storyline and Vern is going through absolute hell

(If you're wondering why the page/colors look nicer I believe I still had photoshop at the time so I was a lot more comfortable with the brushes and effects. I was also trying to make it look more "professional" since again, I was expecting to sell this as a physical book series)

This was my last COG drawing which was in 2021

I was testing the waters to see how people felt about these characters, unfortunately these drawings barely did well compared to my other works, so it told me everything i need to know.

Some of my old character designs were pretty rough (though im super biased towards Vern bc ive been drawing his ass since I was 11), but its really fun looking back at these old comics.

(crazy to think I was so dedicated to drawing old man yaoi)

[apeachty]

i have to write something like i mean reblogs are for that AND i want to, but my brain is just short-circuiting rn like—

i decided to reread all the crave posts before it's released (oh god can't wait the prologue was SO good) but i guess that's where i stop because my yeonjun biased heart is done

no yes being yeonjun's fated mate— [ in his eyes ]

but being so dumb and not seeing it and he just gets so angry but like "okay okay calm down yeonjun it's fine" not wanting to scare mc but she sees it and asks him if everything's fine so cutely and if he wants her to cook something for him to comfort him like a good mate would— yeonjun is losing his mind right there

i'm obsessed with obsessed yeonjun. that dark kind of love where pain shows love (begging crave yeonjun to scratch or bite you just to feel his love—), and getting obsessed with yeonjun back and he's just losing his mind (i love au of au lol but i'm just yeonjun biased, i'm just like that. cam knows i go there EVERY time)

and i'm so weak for soft and caring yeonjun even if it's rough around the edges, look, he tries his best, okay? just be a nice girl and take it while he learns. he already uses his pack leader's authority to save your ass and other holes from his little brothers. he'll learn (yeonjun secretly trying to learn how to be a good mate in human-like meaning and awkwardly trying to be it until mc is turned into a werewolf)

soft and caring yeonjun who's still a mean dom— i'm ded. i have no idea how you did it but you did it in the crave!beomjun fic

but pack leader's / elder's authority— don't get me started on it i already started on it sorry i love when yeonjun's like that irl and ofc i love it in fics. he loves his boys so much, they get away with so much, he's even more or less used to them constantly questioning his authority, but sometimes he just doesn't take their shit (it barely ever goes further than just warning tho, they just know when it's time to stop)

and he almost NEVER takes their shit when it comes to mc (yeah, well, it might look otherwise for mc—ahem the crave!beomjun fic ahem—but they're werewolves, their criteria of taking shit is slightly different). and if mc never questions his authority even jokingly (especially jokingly, let's be honest), he's like "wow, finally someone who treats me as the pack leader i am" (no, yeonjun, she's just either scared or has no interest in questioning it)

but if she stands up if he's ever unfair to one of the youngest—! he doesn't know what to do, because it's HIS PACK, what can that little human know about anything, gosh. BUT she's protective of his little brothers like he is, and she's not scared of him when it comes to them (fated mate? he's just obsessed with it, every little thing is a sign)

making crave!yeonjun talk to you about his worries, and he's so damn vulnerable, lying in his bed with you face to face in complete darkness, whispering everything that clouds his mind. he hopes his brothers won't hear it because he protects them from all of that, never wanting to burden them, but he feels his chest getting lighter and it's so easy to share all of it with you (maybe it means you're his... what do humans call it?.. soulmate?)

no, i'll stop here, it's already embarrassingly a lot AND embarrassingly weird omg. i always get carried away. and it's already yeonjun x reader au of the crave au i'm so sorry

BUT i just love crave!yeonjun, he's so perfect (except no power in that bottom yeonjun sorry, you'd have to deal with 100% submissive little ass lol)

p.s. slow and passionate sex with crave!yeonjun, and all of his brothers tease him about it (damn werewolf hearing), but he doesn't give a fuck because they wish they could be it

not me just noticing you said he's the least favourite— omg no, i promise, there's enough of my love for him to cover for it. you're gonna want me to stop like really if you don't want it already after that post

🤍🏹hi!

I LOVE your crave au and your writing.

Crave yeonjun is living rent free in my mind… and I beg you...

Feed my delusional brain a bit more plzzz😭

hi darling 💗 nothing brings me as much joy as the amount of love that crave has.. i never thought in a million years that silly one-off drabble would have such an impact on my readers !! anyone who knows me knows i LOVEE werewolves, and by extension this au is absolutely my baby. (and if anyone was wondering, skz is also in this au they’re a pack of their own in the same woods :3 cee actually wrote me a story about them for my bday it was amazing)

here’s jjunie!! tyun is last <3 expect him later tonight !! i wrote a lot for jjunie.. it’s because he’s my favorite and i love him. it makes me sad that he’s like the least favorite of the pack :( show crave jjunie some love guys

CRAVEVERSE ; werewolf!yeonjun headcanons !

cw ⸝⸝ sfw + nsfw hcs .ᐟ werewolf!yj (and werewolf!rest of txt) , fem!reader , no dark content warning for these hcs but general dark content warning for crave as an au. breeding kink, unprotected sex, knotting, possessive and protective behavior

SFW ;

-> crave!yeonjun who knows in his heart from the moment he lays eyes on you that youre his soulmate, the mate destined for him by the moon herself.. he can feel it in his soul!! you belong with him.. you belong to him.

-> crave!yeonjun who originally doesn’t want any of the others to even look in your direction, touch you, but gets worn down by just how quickly and effortlessly you seem to enchant them, mind body and soul. still absolutely loses his shit when he finds about about any “coupling” the first few times

-> crave!yeonjun who wants so desperately for you to feel the same he does… it’s okay, he’ll court you like all wolves do! but you just don’t understand his behavior, you’re just not a wolf like he is! and it drives him up the wall that you just can’t seem to understand and accept him like a true mate should !! let him hunt for you, bring you gifts, show you how good of a mate he can be!!

-> crave!yeonjun who talks the sweetest with you, calls you the most endearing little pet names; love, darling, sugar, pup, angel, dearest, precious.. he lays it on thick lol and tbh it’s a little creepy at first

-> crave!yeonjun who is overprotective to a fault, won’t let you anywhere out of his (or his brothers’) sight. who will do absolutely anything and everything to protect you and keep you safe by his side. who only gets worse and more toxic about it if you ever attempt to escape and run away. his beloved, his bleeding heart… he won’t ever let you leave him.

-> crave!yeonjun who is soft for his baby brothers and let’s them get away with far more than any other pack leader would. sure, it makes him look weak, but yeonjun doesn’t care. he loves his boys and knows that he has their respect and loyalty, even if they don’t act like it

-> crave!yeonjun who won’t tell anyone how he’s feeling because he doesn’t want to “burden” anyone with his struggles. who feels like he has the world on his shoulders trying to keep his rag-tag pack afloat

-> crave!yeonjun who uses his charm and charisma to get him and his pack out of trouble, who makes friends with everyone, even potential enemies.

-> crave!yeonjun who gets pouty like a puppy when you don’t give him attention, who gets so soft and gooey for physical affection and sweet words. even just telling him “thank you” will make him purr <3

-> crave!yeonjun who has never been kissed before, a strictly human behavior… but gets so drunk on your kisses once you teach him the wonders of a peck on the check, a kiss on the forehead, a sensual make out that leaves him wanting more

NSFW ; (under the cut!)

-> crave!yeonjun who controls how the other boys play with you >< who tells you and them what to do, what not to do. and don’t you dare break the rules. instructs you to deepthroat soobin but tells him he isn’t allowed to cum down your throat, directs him to cum all over your tits <3 loves you being their free use slut when he’s the one in control !

-> crave!yeonjun who’s absolutely insatiable, who is always desperate for you. pussy on his mind literally 24/7

-> crave!yeonjun who’s the most submissive behind soobin, who’s willing to do whatever you want as long as it’s what makes you happy :) also who’s secretly a slut for power bottoms

-> crave!yeonjun who gets so possessive of you when he’s in rut that he’s a genuine danger to the other boys. won’t let you up from his bed, where his instincts are telling him that you’re safest.

-> crave!yeonjun who is never cumming anywhere except into your pretty womb, pussy drunk, growling about how you were made to take his fat knot, how he’s hoping his seed takes.

-> crave!yeonjun who loves to eat pussy, loves pulling your legs apart and making a meal out of you as you cry and beg <3 is so nasty and messy with it too, animalistic as he devours you ~

-> crave!yeonjun who loves to make you feel good just as much as you make him feel good, who loves to see your face contort and your eyes roll back in pleasure— he loves to be the reason why you’re feeling so good, isn’t he such a good mate?

-> crave!yeonjun who will fuck and breed until you’re both exhausted, and then demand cuddles and kisses until he falls asleep with you in his arms <3 and if he wakes up in the middle of the night with you gone, he’ll be very unhappy.

[funhouse-mirror-barbie]

How I would re-write Stella Goetia, Backstory + Season 1

Probably my most popular posts on this blog are about Stella from Helluva Boss. I like to talk about her because I think she had the potential to be a really nuanced character, and I really would’ve loved to see her and Stolas have a more complicated relationship.

So I’d like to talk about the direction I would’ve taken her characterization and story in.

I do need to stress that this is NOT a writing “fix-it” post. Canon Stella may be an evil bitch, but she’s MY evil bitch and I LOVE HER. I’ve already talked quite at length about how her character and conflict with Stolas being purely black and white is not a bad story decision, but to me is less interesting than having a grey or nuanced conflict.

I just want to go over a rough outline of what I would’ve done with her as a character. Just because it’s different, doesn’t mean it’s better or is “fixing” the canon story. I also am not trying to make Stella inherently more sympathetic/likable/or “woobify” her—this is just a ROUGH outline of what I’d do to flesh Stella out as a person, and ideas I’ve had for her character that would make her (and her relationships with Stolas and Via) more appealing to me personally.

I just really wish Stella had gotten more depth, and wanted to talk about it.

(LONG) Rewrite Summary below!!!

While I think there’s also an interesting re-write where Stella and Stolas are not in an arranged marriage, and may explore this idea as well, this time around I am going to be sticking with the canon background that their marriage was arranged.

Instead of having Stella be an evil heartless spoiled child who strangles puppies, I would give her a very strict upbringing where from birth she was groomed to be the “perfect noblewoman and wife”—I would base her upbringing and the expectations placed on her on what was expected of Regency noblewomen.

Basically, Stella would be raised to be able to run the house/estate when Stolas was away, be accomplished in the “domestic arts” (hosting events such as parties and balls, being able to do embroidery and other hobbies “befitting” of her class, and being involved in charitable efforts). She would be taught to be quiet, graceful, courteous, and to always anticipate the needs of her husband.

Stella’s “true” personality as a young child would be boisterous, loud, and precocious. Stella loved playing outside, singing loudly, and dancing.

She would have gotten in trouble with her parents often due to this (“Dancing for fun is what the poor do, Darling. You should only dance to find a suitable husband”) and would be punished by her Father by his ordering the rest of the family and their staff to ignore Stella completely and act like she didn’t exist. This would usually result in Stella acting out even more to try and MAKE everyone pay attention to her, until she’d get too tired to continue and start acting “proper” (I.e. quiet, not speaking too loud or speaking out of turn, being obedient, etc.)

Her relationship with Andrealphus would have been strained, as he would have been the “golden child” while Stella would be the scapegoat. I’d also like to give Stella magic fire powers. Because honestly why does Andre get Ice Magic and Stolas get space magic and Stella is the same type of demon as them apparently and gets nothing??? Boring.

Maybe this is basic, but honestly I love characters with fire powers who have to learn to control them. As child, Stella would have difficulty controlling her fire abilities, and would be not be taught how to use or maintain her powers, but would be taught to suppress them.

As an aside—again, I’m not giving Stella a traumatic childhood to make her more likable and more pitiable. I have two reasons I’m giving her this backstory—1) I believe that even people with great parents still end up with some childhood trauma, because being alive and growing up *is* traumatic. And 2) I think that there’s a lot of pretty good evidence that ROYAL upbringings, and the expectations and restrictions that come with them, are especially traumatic in a very particular and very intense way.

Doesn’t mean that they’re not extremely privileged, but that privilege also doesn’t take away that trauma.

I think it’s very realistic for both Stella AND Stolas, as children of royalty and nobility, to have a lot of childhood trauma surrounding their upbringings, and that’s something I really want to explore in my rewrite—how they cope with their traumas and how it impacts their relationship and their ability to raise their daughter and navigate conflict.

By an older teen to young adult, she would have learned how to behave as a “perfect noblewoman”. This is when she would meet Stolas for the first time (with a a Chaperone of course).

There would be a little bit of time shortly before and after their marriage where they would have their “honeymoon” period—both Stella and Stolas were very infatuated with each other and mistook that infatuation for “true love”.

This time where they were extremely infatuated with each other would last about a year, after which they would slowly begin to realize that the idealized images they had of one another was false. They would start to argue more, have a harder time compromising etc. until they finally realized they fell out of love, and maybe were never in love in the first place.

Even though the two of them would have come to this realization, it would be separately, and due to their upbringings (where you don’t really talk about your feelings and push them down) they would NOT talk to each other about it.

This would be the first big crack in their relationship, and they would both have a lot of guilt over it.

I like the idea of the two of them really, really want to stay in love with each other, but after they get to TRULY know each other they just…never fully “click”. They realize they don’t have the same interests, they can’t really find anything to talk about, and they just. They don’t stay in love.

Stella would be very in denial about her true feelings after this turning point, and would still try to convince herself that she really loves Stolas. She would have a lot of deeply buried guilt over not loving him, and see it as a failure of her “duties” as his wife.

After this, they would find a way to keep their relationship would be cordial and respectful, but it would always tinged by an unspoken awkwardness. It would be almost business-like in nature, and they would start spending more and more time apart.

To cope with this lackluster relationship that they were both now stuck in, Stolas would throw himself fully into his duties (which I would want to show a little more of…seriously what does…what does he do??? What does he use the grimoire for????) and Stella would do the same—throwing herself into her duties as the lady of the house and a Goetia Princess.

Stella would host parties and balls, she’d make sure manor was always clean and orderly, she’d become a patron of the arts.

The basis of their relationship would become one of them sticking to the roles that were thrust upon them since birth.

Things WOULD change for the better though after Octavia’s birth.

Because for a while, Stolas and Stella would have something, someone, that brought them together, that they both loved and cared for dearly.

Something that Stella and Stolas would have spoken about before having Octavia is that they did NOT, under any circumstance, want to raise Via like they were raised.

As I already went over, both Stella and Stolas would have dealt with abuse and neglect growing up—Stolas’ abuse stems from his parents being LARGELY absent in his life and him being very neglected as a child, while Stella’s stems from her parents being extremely controlling and giving her very little, if any, freedom.

They would firmly agree on letting Via be her own person, on making time for her, on not putting too many expectations on her.

And, in this rewrite, I would not have them be abusive or neglectful parents. But I would have them be very flawed parents, whose own traumatic upbringings negatively affect their ability to raise Via.

I would want to explore Stella and Stolas fighting to break the cycle of abuse they went through, but still struggling because they don’t have a good frame of reference for what being a good parent looks like.

Stolas doesn’t realize that he’s not always giving Octavia all the time with him she needs, because in his eyes he’s spending tons of time with her—it doesn’t occur to him that he’s actually being neglectful towards her, because to him, spending any long amount of time with her is more than he ever got from his father. He’ll spend time with her, and talk to her, but not really LISTEN to what she’s saying she needs, and doesn’t understand why she doesn’t like the things she used to, or is mad at him for not taking more time for her.

Stella doesn’t realize she’s still being controlling or pushing her expectations onto Octavia by making passive aggressive comments suggesting she wear more “appropriate” or “feminine” clothing, or take up a “nicer” hobby like needlepoint and drop taxidermy. She gives Via the freedom to choose what she wants to do, but doesn’t fully SUPPORT those choices, and doesn’t understand why that’s so important, since in the end Octavia is still enjoying freedoms that Stella only dreamed of as a child.

Still, they manage to be a fairly functional and loving family towards Octavia. And Stolas and Stella maintain their cordial and business like relationship for Octavia’s sake, and to keep up appearances.

During Octavia’s teen years, when she’s 14-17, is when more cracks begin to show—Stella and Stolas have been keeping their relationship together, but it’s stagnating more and more. Stolas throws himself even more into his duties with the stars (or whatever) and Stella begins to become gradually more and more concerned and anxious about making sure her family maintains a “perfect” reputation among the other royals of hell.

Stella begins to throw more balls and parties for Hell’s charities (if this version of hell has banks, and police and prisons, they can have charitable organizations, okay.) As her and Stolas’s anniversary starts to get closer, she begins planning a HUGE ball for Hell’s nobility to celebrate. It’s hugely important to her.

While she’s doing all of this, Stolas is beginning to have an early-to-mid-life crisis. His work and duties that used to be engaging and fun are feeling more and more like a chore, his relationship with Stella has stagnated and is purely for show, he’s getting more and more anxious about Octavia approaching adulthood, and his whole life is beginning to feel more and more claustrophobic.

So. Stolas decides to do something wild, spontaneous, and very selfish, before he loses it. On a night where Stella is attending an Opera, and Via is spending the night with friends from school*, Stolas dresses in clothes he assumes “the common folk” would wear, and goes to shady bar in IMP city, with the goal of meeting someone to hook up with.

This is where Stolas meets Blitzø. (Sorry, I’m. I’m not doing the whole “paid childhood friends for one day” background.)

They have what both assume will be a one night stand at Blitzø’s place. It goes. MUCH better than either of them would have expected sex-wise. The two start meeting up more and more when they’re able to. Stolas begins to open up more to Blitzø, but it stays VERY sexual—eventually Stolas comes clean about who he is and they start to hook up at Stolas’ place whenever Stella is out. Stolas is very much infatuated with Blitzø (and the sex they have). Blitzø thinks they’re having non-complicated fun.

During AAALLL of this is when Blitzø learns about the Grimoire, and asks if he can “borrow” it for I.M.P. Stolas is impressed with Blitzø’s confidence and drive, and agrees to let Blitzø use it anytime, with the one exception being the night of the full moon. There is no full moon “deal” beyond the agreement that Blitzø cannot accept clients on the full moon because Stolas needs the book back that night.

During all of this is ALSO when Stella begins to notice Stolas acting differently, he’s slightly more energetic, he’s spending less and less time in his study and the manor in general, he doesn’t look her in the eyes when they do have time to chat briefly. It’s odd, and she’s suspicious of SOMETHING going on but she’s not sure what.

Stolas DOES feel guilty about cheating on Stella, but justifies it by telling himself that they’re not in a “true” marriage, and it’s “just sex”, so he’s not really cheating on Stella.

The night of Stella and Stolas’s anniversary ball arrives. To Stella, everything goes as expected, and it’s a huge success.

During the ball, though, we get the same scene we get in the Circus—Blitzø gets caught trying to sneak into Stolas’ room. Instead of the guards bringing him into the party, they call Stolas outside privately to deal with it (because why would the disrupt the party by dragging a party-crasher through the middle of a fancy ball?? I didn’t really understand why they did that in the og episode)

Stolas dismisses the guards, and we learn that Blitzø has been sneaking in (with Stolas’ permission+ knowledge) to get the grimoire after the full moon when he and Stolas don’t have time to meet up in person. Like tonight.

Instead of just handing off the grimoire like usual, Stolas and Blitzø end up hooking up (mutually and wholly consensually). Stolas does not return to the party.

Stella is really concerned about how Stolas’ absence looks, especially at a ball she planned with so many high profile demon lords present, but she’s able to wave it off as Stolas feeling a little tired and retiring early, due to it being the day after his full moon duties and all.

Instead of returning to their room, that night, Stella sleeps in one of the many guest rooms. She doesn’t know where Stolas is, but she’s mad at him for leaving early without saying anything on such an important night, and is hoping not coming to their bed will send a message—she’s tired anyway and doesn’t want to get in a big fight before bed that will tire her out more.

The next morning she has tea in the garden with some close friends. And this is where we get the infamous “Sorry, I fucked your husband!” scene.

After this, well. Stella kinda loses her shit. She had been pushing down all of her negative feelings and thoughts and frustrations surrounding her life and relationship for YEARS, because in her mind, as long as she was able to maintain the facade of having a “perfect” life, it would be worth it.

And now in a moment she’s lost the thing that, after her daughter, mattered to her the most.

She essentially explodes in fury in a way Stolas has never seen before—they get in a huge argument—Stella’s fire powers come out and burn down the manor’s garden, things just really get out of hand.

So. What would follow would be most of what we see of Stella in season 1 of HB—now that that floodgate has been opened, she finds she’s struggling to control her feelings, she’s mad and sad ALL THE TIME, and she’s deeply deeply hurt in a way she didn’t know she could be.

She can’t show her face in society, she doesn’t know WHAT to say to Octavia, she can’t believe Stolas could be SO SELFISH after EVERYTHING she had done to make sure their family was in high standing—and she can’t push down her feelings anymore. She’s never been so furious in her entire life.

And so she contacts a hitman, Striker.

I really like the old fan theory that Stella hired Striker in a moment of irrationality and anger because of how hurt she was—obviously her hurt does not justify trying to have her husband MURDERED, but I like the idea that she called the hit because she was deeply hurt and unable to cope with those feelings—not because she just hates him to the core of his being and has for their entire marriage. Her anger would be a coping mechanism, if she’s so busy feeling furious she doesn’t have to actually sit with her feelings of betrayal and sadness and hurt.

From here, the rest of season one would play out like in canon, we don’t see Stella in person again, just the apparition of her in Ozzie’s.

I’m going to stop here because this post is already way too long, it it’ll help me to think more if I split it up.

If you read this far please tell me what you think! I think I’d like overall for Stella and Stolas’ relationship to mirror Blitzø and Verosika’s, or maybe become a foil to it. From here we could honestly go either way—either Stella becomes a true villain, or she becomes an antagonist turned hesitant ally like Fizz, Ozzie, and Verosika.

I can see both being interesting, so maybe I’ll do a rewrite for both. We’ll see I guess.

*it weirds me the FUCK out that we don’t know anything about what Hell’s kids do, like I assume schools exist but ???anyway in this rewrite Stella and Stolas send Octavia to a fancy private school—cause the thought of her having NO friends or social circle makes me so sad)

[iz-star]

About Zayne's nightmares...

The most unrealistic thing about Zayne is that he's a functional working adult that seemingly has put his life together at 27 not because he's young or a prodigy but because he's said to have nightmares since he was 12?? Like... I feel like this theme might be a bit overlooked but just think about it deeply, having constant nightmares fucks your mind like really REALLY bad, I can genuinely say this by experience and also as someone who has had trouble to have a healthy sleeping schedule since I was at highschool (like, for example, right now, I should be sleeping instead of writing this...).

There was a time I would have nightmares almost everytime I went to sleep during a really hard time in my life. Of course, the topic about those nightmares was almost always the same, not like the nightmares repeated themselves but they always revolved about the same things that I was actually working in therapy at the moment. Back then I was jobless and medicated most part of the time, I was pretty dysfunctional.

I suppose that's why when I listened to "Fragmented Dreams" for the first time it was the time I said "Yeah, this is my man". I love how he's always nagging MC about sleeping early because I know by experience that not sleeping properly can mess up with your mind pretty bad, and probably he knows it too. It truly is a showcase of love how he worries about her sleep like that and it also showcases how strong minded he is for enduring too much stress and remind kind constantly.

I love how healthy he is. I like to think that he's overcome all the stressful stuff he's gone thru bc of his discipline and healthy life style, but realistically it would take him some more to deal with all of that.

Yes, all of the guys have been through some very rough stuff and they all need therapy, but my point with Zayne comes with the fact that not having a good sleeping schedule and on top of that having constant nightmares can mess up with your perception of reality and induce you a bad depression or other mental health issues. Everytime I remember Zayne's main story branch when they're trapped in Zayne's dream and MC leaves him alone and he starts listening to Willian, Georgie and his Mom so he has to remind himself "It's not real, it's not real" I deeply feel that and I just want to hug him so bad :(

I think I'd like to see a card where they explore the consecuences of their past in their psyche more deeply. I can't help remembering this post which was one of the first posts you unlock with Zayne:

It was there when I just knew that even if he looked quiet, he had a lot to say but didn't know how to express.

Another thing I'd like to highlight about this is that actually I love the emotional maturity that Zayne displays about dealing with such issues like nightmares, traumatic experiences and literally being exposed to see people dying 24/7 while being someone that feels a lot yet says little. He's dealt with this the best way he can, no wonder why he came to be quite serious and inexpressive or sarcastic. Not allowing himself to express other emotions than seriousness or sarcasm was like keeping himself in check so he wouldn't spill everything he feels and considering how stressing is his job already, it just makes sense, but that didn't mean Zayne didn't feel because he feels too much and too deeply and worries sick about ppl and especially about MC.

Of course, bottling up his emotions wasn't the best way to deal with them but he never used any unhealthy coping mechanism neither, like alcohol, for example (My teetotaler King ❤️) etc. Yeah, his workaholism isn't exactly healthy but not something toxic to his mind and relationships, and I've always had a feeling that he's a big foodie and addicted to sweets to give himself that boost of serotonine he needs so bad.

That's why he compares MC with sweets, being her his favorite dessert, bc she's brought all that serotonine to his life naturally and has helped him let go little by little. When he opened to her about losing Dulcie, I had a feeling that Zayne always wanted someone to listen to him but he didn't know how to ask for it and ppl around him was too afraid to even dare to suggest it. I think even in one of his anecdotes, it is said that sometimes Dr Noah wanted to tell him something but at the end ended up saying nothing.

The fact that Zayne bottled up his emotions didn't mean that he wouldn't willingly share them, he wanted to but wasn't used to it. With MC, he's slowy started to let it go and enjoy life more, allowing himself to be sad in front of her, to express his fears (about losing her) or to express his childish tantrums and indulge in his softest side. That's why also she's not only his favorite dessert but also his best painkiller ❤️

And just to finish, I've always thought this quote by Kafka fits him so well:

"Remember, you should sleep more than other people, for I sleep less than most. And I can’t think of a better place to store my unused share of universal sleep than in your beloved eyes."

[fall-inq]

Blackberry Jam 

I got tired of seeing no platonic Nikto or Krueger so I thought I’d try writing some. Feedback is welcome!

Pairing: Krueger x Nikto x Platonic Reader

Warnings: Nikto and Krueger being Nikto and Krueger, Violence, Car wrecks?, Reader nearly dies, No comfort, Possible innacurate geography

Read my rules

“Remind me to never trust you two with driving.” You grumble, holding back the urge to shove Nikto. With Chimera and KorTac’s recent team-up, you find yourself often paired up with the most unstable men from both sides. Nikto you were more familiar with. 

Krueger…not so much. You could tell that they knew each other well- way better than you would ever know. Which was fair- seeing as you were a “new addition to the team” in one of the most terrifying PMC’s in the world. Unsurprisingly, no one was eager to meet you or be put on a mission with you, Nikto especially. “This one is a runt,” he had said. “We should just kill it now.” Heartwarming, how kindly KorTac welcomed their newest operators. How wise they were to immediately pair you with him on missions. Usually, you were chosen like the last one picked in dodgeball and the one who took most of the hits. Now you were just the one who took the hits.

Both of you hated each other at first. His most common complaints were that you “talked to much.” That turned into “They don’t listen to me” because you’d be silent on missions with him. Then it was “they put us into danger,” and “get themself landed in the infirmary too often.” Over time, the complaints died down and Nikto grew tolerant of you, and you figured out when he wanted you to be quiet and when to talk. Instead of you two avoiding each other when not on active duty, he partly does it now, sometimes sitting down at the table to watch your Black Jack games with Horangi. Both of you ended up teaching him the game despite his uninterest.

It’s silly, growing jealous over someone who has known him longer. Why are you even jealous? Your relationship with Nikto is more so “forced into a get-along T-Shirt” than willing acquaintances. He and Krueger have known each other for years. There’s also the significant difference in mental stability. …Maybe that’s why he avoids you- he doesn’t want to hurt you. Or maybe it’s the usual: you’re annoying to him.

What’s worse is that Krueger noticed, and the smug bastard enjoys it. And yes, he does tease you about it. The taunts are the only thing he says to you.

Bitter feelings aside, the mission was running as smoothly as a mission with the two idiots could go. The task was simple: Investigate some small buildings on the coast of the recently captured Southern area of Verdansk, search them for intel, weapons free on any hostiles. At least, you thought it was simple from the back of the stolen ZIL-4334 the three of you entered. Mistake #1: You failed to notice Nikto entering the driver’s seat. Mistake #2: You failed to see Krueger do a sign of the cross despite not being religious. Krueger’s mistake was not squeezing you between him and Nikto. Or maybe that was purposeful.

Nikto floored it the second he decided he was ready to go. Poor, unwise little you slammed against the back of the truck’s cabin as the vehicle lurched forward. You hadn’t even realized you hit your head. Or that you were screaming as Nikto drove through a fence and sharply turned onto the road. Was that laughter? Was Nikto laughing? It was an odd, muffled sound. Rough, deep, and barking, like you had imagined. Despite your terror, you mentally celebrated. Horangi owes you his rations. Andre Nikto was capable of laughing.

That was also the moment the truck swerved again and tipped over. Due to the severe lack of tarp, you were launched out of the cargo bed easily, landing roughly on the asphalt and tumbling in the opposite direction. That would’ve been fine-ish, had you not kept rolling and had the terrain not started sloping down. The smell of burning rubber, road, salt and dirt filled your nose as your hands frantically tried to find purchase on the ground. A flock of birds startle and fly away at the sound.

“Nikto!”

You're falling backwards. The wind rushes past your head.

“NIKTO!”

You can hear the waves. You try to scream again-

A hand roughly grabs onto your arm and yanks you forward, giving you whiplash as you fall onto the road face-first yet again. You lie there while one of your teammates walks over to your front and squats down, his hand grabbing you by your cheeks and pulling your head up. “Krueger,” the Austrian answers. You know the fucker is smiling behind his dumb hood. “Come on. Up, up.” He drawls, using his other hand to pat your cheek. Smacking his hand away, you rise and dust yourself off, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in your head. Which brings you back to the present- walking down the highway next to the Verdansk coast.

“You’ve never seen me drive,” Krueger points out after your complaint, his monotone voice going light as he calls back. “And I never want to, thank you.” You retort, rubbing your scraped-up cheek. The taller of the group falls back from Nikto’s side to join yours as you walk. “…You are alright?” He huffed a laugh as you side-eyed him. “What? I care.” Krueger mocks, causing Nikto to snort. “He lies.” You know he does. Both of them do. “You’re young,” the Austrian remarks- like he’s secretly saying that you’re inferior and don’t belong. Like you’re a beetle he wants to crush under his boot simply for fun. Your frown deepens. “So?” He shrugs. “Shouldn’t you be making friendship bracelets with the 141? They’d be happier to have canon fodder like you.” You know it’s on purpose. You know Krueger- an asshole who tries to get a rise out of anyone. You should be the bigger person and you fail. “You motherfucker-” You want to punch him. You want to throw him off the side of the cliff. Want to break something of his even though you know he’ll rock your shit and gloat about it. “Stop.” Nikto barks, shooting the two of you a harsh glare that doesn’t affect the taller one of the group. The mood dies like a paper tossed into flame. It shrivels and blackens and falls apart into ash. The Austrian rejoins the Russian, leaving you in your usual spot.

It’s silent again. The birds are long gone. A tiny part of you wants to flee, too. The tiny part that wants to run away to a world where everything is okay and your childhood bedroom was never changed. “I’m hungry,” Krueger whines from up ahead. “Not our issue,” Nikto replies curtly. “I’ll make it your issue.” Krueger shoots back. “You do that I’ll remove your stomach with my hands.”

“I’d like that,” Krueger hums. You wrinkle your nose. “Ew. Gross.” What was more gross was the blood leaving your mouth when you spat on the side of the road. “You shut up, this is an adult conversation.” Krueger replies curtly. “Can the “adult conversations” wait for some cheap motel room-” “Both of you shut up!” Nikto suddenly snaps. You comply, though Krueger simply huffs a laugh. The last thing you want is an over-paranoid Nikto. Krueger seems to want exactly that.

The wind rustles past you again. The waves get harsher for a moment before settling down a little. A gray expanse stretches over the three of you and you suddenly feel like you’re in some sort of apocalypse. Is it going to rain? Krueger pauses, his attention focused on some bushes on the roadside.

“[C/N], come.” Krueger demands, walking over to the bushes. “Why?” He merely gestures with his hand. You can feel Nikto’s irritation rising like a steaming tea kettle’s squeal as you rush over to him. “We don’t have time for this,” the older snaps. “I’m getting a snack!” Krueger shushes, crouching next to the bushes. He grabs one of his small storage bags and opens it. “Look,” he urges, pulling you down. Blackberry bushes. It’s odd how such things can grow in the middle of a war zone. “Help me.” He says, grabbing one of the black-purple berries and plucking it. You follow the action, grabbing one, two, three.

“Sebastian,” Nikto demands hotly. For a moment you forgot he existed. You wonder how many times he’s done the same. Krueger stands, ignoring the dirt on his knees as he walks back over to the Russian and offers him a blackberry. The small berry is smacked out of his hand. You wonder if Krueger pouted as he zipped up the bag and clipped it onto his belt. “Don’t ask me for any when you’re hungry later.” He teases. Nikto forces a deep breath. “We don’t get hungry.”

Before any of you can move on, Hell breaks loose. Someone tackles Krueger- an enemy- and there’s a burst of deep dark liquid when the two hit the ground and a flash of metal. The hostile raises the blade again, aiming for Krueger’s face while Krueger pushes at the man’s chest- and then there’s Nikto, snatching the man’s arm and pulling it back farther than it should go. There’s a gross crunch and pop sound that’s partly drowned out by the hostile’s pained shout.

You fumble with your gun as Nikto tears the man to shreds. Bones continue pop out of place and break at his assault all while Krueger simply lays there as if he were cloud watching. Finally getting a goddamn grip, you raise the weapon at the man’s head while Nikto chokes him in a headlock. His arm presses further and further into the man’s neck, making the enemy sputter and gasp for air that won’t come through.. You imagine a blade, sawing at the man’s skin in an enraged effort to cut it off. You could imagine the red spilling. Imagine the garbled, bubbly cries as the man coughs up his own blood. You hear the crunch of a throat and finally fire a bullet into the fool’s head.  Nikto drops him with a jolt before storming over to you. The body falls like a plushie falls off a child’s bed. Meaningless and anti-climactic.

Nikto cuffing the back of your head knocks you out of your thoughts. “What have we told you about staying on task?!” He shouts, cuffing you again before shoving you to the ground. You don’t bother trying to argue. Stupid Krueger- it’s his fault for dragging you into his dumb distraction. You know that it’s your fault for listening to him and you don’t want to admit it. 

Sebastian stands, feeling his side curiously. The Russian abandons you and sets his sights on the Austrian. “Nikto, it’s fine.” He, too, is shoved to the ground. Krueger tuts. “Andre,” he calls, tone dropping. There’s no answer as Nikto crawls on top of him, pulling out his blade and moving to cut away the fabric hiding Krueger’s wound.

Only there’s no wound. Just dark purple…juice? Krueger pushes the Russian away and detaches the pouch the blackberries were in from his belt. It’s wet- covered in dark stains of what both you and Nikto thought was blood. Krueger opens the bag. “…It’s jam,” He explains with an irritating smirk, scooping some out on his finger and bringing it to his mouth. He tastes it and wrinkles his nose. “Hm, could be better.” Nikto’s fist connects with his face. Unsure whether to help the Austrian or to go looking for the intel, you watch the scuffle for a few moments before deciding it was best to go with the latter.

“Can one of you explain to me why Nikto and Krueger are covered in crushed blackberries and bruises?” Nikolai sighs, trying to keep his composure. Both of the masked men look at you accusingly. “[C/N],” Nikolai sighs. “What the fuck did I do?!

[3hks]

How to Write Vivid Descriptions WITHOUT Overloading

Are you the type of person who describes a setting by using an intimidatingly huge paragraph that just rambles on and on and on because you're told to be specific but don't quite know how to do it correctly? If you've been struggling to detail settings, you've come to the right place! I'll reveal how to effectively describe a setting without having to use one big chunk of text and shoving it at your reader!

~ LINK IDEAS TOGETHER

As writers, we hear "show, don't tell" quite often, and the same applies when writing settings. But for some people this tip does little to help because, well, it's a bit of a vague concept.

With that being said, "linking ideas together" is a great way to describe the setting without having to explain the location! What do I mean?

Let's say there's a green field and I'm trying to depict it. This method is to find another subject that could connect with the setting to further describe it. What else is green? What reminds the character of the field? What's something similar?

Ex: The field in front of him reminded him of a photo he once saw long ago as a boy. His parents were standing in a lush, grassy area void of people, hugging each other tightly and smiling brightly at the camera under the bright blue sky.

In that example, I linked the field to a picture the character found, and by using his memories, I was able to paint a rough image of the location while setting the tone!

Ex: She'd been there before. She was there when the building still stood tall. When the streets were filled with people bustling about and the air smelled like cigarettes. Now, there is no tall building, but instead a pile of debris. She hasn't seen anyone in thirty minutes, and any smell of cigarettes would've surely been washed away by the rain.

This time, I connected the present location with the past one. But instead of showing the similarities, I contrasted them to emphasize the changes and abandoned state of the area!

~ LITERARY DEVICES

The most common literary devices I see regarding setting are similes, metaphors, and personifications!

It's similar my previous tip, where you connect two ideas together, but more general. The similes and metaphors don't have to be based on a specific experience of the character, but instead something more universal so everyone can connect with it!

Personification, on the other hand, can be used to substitute verbs.

Examples:

The stars shone like glittering jewels.

The road carved into the mountain.

The flowers waltzed along the music of the wind.

These devices allow you to describe something quickly and elegantly!

~ USE ACTIONS

Arguably, the most common tip provided when describing a setting is to use the five senses: sight, smell, touch, hearing, and taste. If you're like me, though, and have NO clue on how that's supposed to help, let me break it down!

Instead of thinking about the senses directly, use ACTIONS that correlate with the senses.

Instead of saying "the wood felt tough", say "he touched the wood, marveling at the toughness of the material".

Instead of saying "the air smelled like candies", say "she sniffed the air, inhaling the aroma of candies".

Instead of saying "the city was bright", say "they stare at the city, admiring how the lights illuminate the buildings and roads.

Do you see how your description suddenly blends in with the text now that there's an action and separate subject involved? You're still effectively describing the scene, but you're not pushing it at your reader. This also makes it far easier to build onto the depiction of the moment because you're not limited to adjectives!

By utilizing these three concepts, you can build an evocative description of the setting that won't overwhelm nor bore the readers!

Happy writing~

3hks :D

[peachhcs]

https://www.tumblr.com/peachhcs/768315021606469633/httpswwwtumblrcompeachhcs768260981215330304

oh my god. i love them so much and im so glad they are doing better!

mack is so fucking funny… wait till he sees all the scratch and hickeys all over will…

part 12/slight bonus! writing macklin's dialogue and banter is my favorite thing to do bc he obviously loves will and samy and loves to poke fun at will about every single thing

au masterlist

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11

"sooo, tell us about your weekend," thomas asked as soon as he got the chance once practice was over for the day on monday. the others circled in aroun him and the blonde just as curious to know too.

will flushed from where he sat at his stall cleaning himself up and preparing for a shower, "it was really good. we had a lot of fun."

"you gotta bring her to one of our parties. we're dying to meet her after hearing so much," eklund cut in with a little smirk.

the sharks players had been itching to meet samy since they found out she was their rookie's longtime best friend and girlfriend. they'd only heard stories and seen the photos.

"yeah, maybe next time or when she comes to a game," will hummed, glad his teammates were eager to meet her. it reminded him of boston and his linemates who were also was excited to meet samy when they moved to plymouth.

"how much fun did you guys really have?" thomas poked some more obviously just in good fun, but also to tease the blonde.

"let's just say will's passenger seat was not in the right position when i got into it," macklin cut in before will could answer.

the bonde's face quickly burned in embarrassment as he eyed his friend to shut up.

"woah..did you guys go at it?" thomas continued along with a few snickers from the others around them.

"maybe," will tried playing it off. he didn't mind the teasing, but he did kind of mind telling them about his sex life because obviously, that was a pretty intimate and private topic that he wasn't going to willingly share with everyone.

"aw, come on. don't be shy. you totally did," ecklund roughed up will's arm in a teasing manner. all the hockey player did was shake his head slightly and play it off with a smile.

they seemed to lay off for now which will was grateful for. he escaped back into the showers to clean himself off and get out of the rink before anyone else wanted to poke at him about his weekend.

by the time him and macklin got back into his car, most of the guys were gone already so the blonde evaded anymore questions they had. the two threw their stuff into the back and then got themselves situated in the front seats.

as will messed around with some things before starting the car, he didn't realize his shirt had ridden up and exposed a bit of his back. macklin was adjusting himself and snapping his seatbelt into place when his eyes caught sight of will's exposed skin and then the slight red.

"woah, you take too hot of a shower or something?" the brunette wondered to which will grew confused.

"huh?"

"your back is like red. you good?"

still, will was confused so he reached around to touch his back where the skin was exposed. he felt around, not feeling anything tender, but his fingers did brush over a line of raised skin.

"just let me see for a second," macklin offered, wanting to make sure his friend was okay. he helped will lift his shirt up more and that's when he saw more red marks running up and down will's back like someone attacked him.

"holy fuck, why is your back all scratched up?"

as soon as the question left his lips, macklin immediately knew and will remembered at the same time. the brunette scrunched his nose up, "dude, what the fuck. this too? jesus, how hard did you go this weekend?"

the blonde's face flushed in more embarrassment as he quickly pulled his shirt all the way down. "what? we didn't go that hard," will defended himself.

"how many times did you even fuck? i knoew the car was 1," macklin raised his eyebrow and will seriously couldn't believe he was having this conversation again.

"i guess 3. the other 2 were in my room," he admitted a bit sheepishly.

"oh my god. you're disgusting. remind me to never be in the same house as you two.," macklin shook his head like he was some disappointed dad hearing all of this.

"hey. if you had a girlfriend right now, i know you'd be the exact same, so i don't wanna hear it," will rolled his eyes.

"please tell me that's it. please tell me i'm not gonna discover anything else remaining from this weekend that has to do with that," macklin made a circular motion with his hand towards will, a look of disgust still on his features.

"there's hickeys on my chest, but that's it. swear it," will watched macklin roll his eyes hearing that.

"jesus christ, smitty. you guys are hornyyy, wow. i gotta go home and drink bleach so i never think of this again," the brunette shook his head which earned him the middle finger as will finally pulled out of the parking lot.

"you're so over dramatic. what happens when you get a girlfriend?"

"we won't be as horny as you two," macklin shot right back without mssing a beat.

"and what happens if you guys end up having to do long distance and don't see one another for weeks on end?" will raised his eyebrow.

"that will be none of your business," the younger boy crossed his arms.

"right. can't wait to see the hickeys on you then. i'll tease you all about it," the blonde grinned and macklin shoved him.

it was safe to say neither of them talked about the occurrences in will's car ever again. or at least until samy came back to visit. the younger brunette made sure to stay far, far away while she was in town again.

[beefscrap]

I say “maybe someday” but I get scared someday never will come. So I’ll be brave and speak

“A dream come true” is a phrase I’ve said here before, but that doesn’t even graze the surface. I’ve been writing stories and drawing since I was very young. It’s all I’ve ever done. And for years, one of my biggest wishes was to collect a fanbase for at least one of my stories. Calling my followers a “fanbase” seems really intense, though. I hesitate to call my readers a fanbase because I don’t feel I deserve it. “Fanbase” feels like it’s for someone who made something AMAZING.

I started making TBoFS at the beginning of this year. I’d work on it whenever I got sad, and it turned out to be often. It was just for fun, and something to escape to. Every time I make a story I think to myself ‘I’m sure it’ll pass’, because they usually do. It’s hard for me to finish things in general. So, I thought nothing much would come of it. I never would’ve imagined it’d get as much attention as it does.

No, maybe it’s not a LOT. No way in hell I’d call myself popular, or anything CLOSE. But there are people now who comment, react, interact, theorize, make art, etc for this story. I’ve never felt so special. I never felt like anything I’ve done ended up with any significance. Even if it’s a small amount compared to other online creators, I feel like I have a fanbase. If it’s not considered one, I don’t care. To me it’s one of the biggest, most important things that happened to me. If you couldn’t tell I was dramatic before, you’re finding out now!

I started with low hopes and just made shit for fun. This doesn’t even feel like a very GOOD story half the time because it was so casual at the start. Like, what am I doing to deserve what I have?

I still come to this story and these characters when I’m sad. This year was rough. The people here have helped. And I have a little bit of hope now that someday I can make something totally my own that people will like. That’s always been the dream. But THIS is more than enough.

I’m so lucky to have people who care here. And I thank the people who cared when it was only just beginning, too

I’m not gonna add tags or anything cuz I feel annoying and am a little embarrassed 😭 if you see and read this then hopefully it wasn’t too weird

[nightmareweaverz]

What is Love? (Mr. Gap x GN!Reader) Part 3

Part 1 || Part 2

CW: Minor character death, canon typical violence, a bit of gore, slight angst

Wordcount: 2538

Here is the third part of "What Is Love?" The next part will be the last one! This has honestly been a lot of fun to write.

Room after room after room, you’ve traveled. Each time a resident appears in your path, you ask them if they know where the exit is. It does not yield many results. If there’s a word for elevator in the other language, you don’t know it. And that, perhaps, is not aiding your search. Still, you persist.

Robin’s frightful nature doesn’t improve much over time. At the very least, it’s keeping him safe. He doesn’t enter rooms before you do and he doesn’t touch anything before you’ve confirmed it’s safe. Part of you is grateful for it.

“Could we rest somewhere for a bit? I'm getting a little tired,” Robin says gently after what's probably been hours of walking.

“Yeah, I suppose we should.”

Sparing him any additional injuries has come at a price. After the incident with the toys, you’ve chosen to run from many residents whom you would’ve had no issue subduing on your own. A fight comes with greater risks of injury. As a result, you may have depleted him of energy.

A tiny room, containing a couch and two smashed lamps ends up as your chosen temporary base. Before you allow Robin to sleep there, you check every piece of furniture to make sure nothing hides beneath or inside of them.

He tries to get you to rest with him, but you refuse. Someone has to keep watch. And you’ve come to learn your new body can work on two types of fuel: blood and sleep. You can supply it with one of them later and it will last you plenty of time.

For now, you slide down the wall, just outside the room and settle in a criss cross position. The absence of anything to read makes you wish you’d put in the effort to carry at least one. Perhaps you should search for a bag or backpack after you send Robin off.

Instinctively, you glance around in search of holes in the wall or ceiling. There are none. This is a little disheartening. Despite the way you last parted, Mr. Gap has somehow become someone you’re capable of missing.

Then you suddenly feel something poking your back. Your immediate reaction is to jolt up, crowbar held in preparation. Only to find that you’d set yourself in front of an open drain. Your void dwelling companion is staring back at you, happy with himself for startling you.

“Oh. Hello,” you greet him normally, as if your previous encounter didn't end with you insulting him.

“Human leave?” he asks.

It takes you a moment to realize he isn’t talking about you.

“No. They sleep. Me protect.”

This, for some reason, makes him grimace. Does he dislike Robin that much? They haven’t even interacted yet. What does he have against him?

“You not like they? Why?”

“They not fun.”

You expect him to elaborate, but he does no such thing. Similarly to how he explained why he hangs around you a while back. Because “you are fun.” Whatever that means. You shake your head in defeat.

“Me bored. You give paper?” you decide to try your luck. You’d even be willing to give him a few fingers right now in exchange for something to do.

He seems to be considering it. When he speaks again, you expect him to name his price, hopefully an organ you’ll have an easy time parting with and wouldn’t take long to heal.

“Me want touch.”

This is… new. He hasn’t mentioned any form of touch ever since you gave him that little lesson on romantic love. The fact that he now wants it for a reason other than curiosity makes you feel… odd. Restless, in a way. Like there are flies buzzing in your stomach.

“Me give touch, you give paper,” you conclude.

“Yes!” He sounds a little too happy about this arrangement. But there is no telling what he’s thinking, as usual.

You reach inside the drain and set your hand on top of his head. His hair feels rough and a little damp like the rest of him. You feel a few tangled knots as you caress it gently. Although he must’ve been expecting one of the gestures you’d shown him before, he appears intrigued by this as well.

“Not special touch?”

“You not stay what touch. Me give touch.” It is your turn to be smug.

The corners of his mouth drop and his eyes narrow in annoyance. Was he really hoping for kisses and hand holding? Why do you find that cute?

“Give paper?” you ask, now suddenly feigning innocence.

Still mumbling grumpily, he shoves a magazine your way. It’s impossible not to giggle at his displeasure. He really is bad at reaping what he sows.

You turn your attention to the magazine he gave you. This time, it’s a travel magazine. A surprisingly new one. It’s a little damp and the edges of the pages are curled, but the pictures still have vivid colors and the paper hasn’t yet gained that old, yellowish appearance most other books here have.

But when you look at the cover more closely, you hesitate to open it. It features a tall building. One that looks similar to the one you always used to see on your way home. Home…

You flip through it slowly. And with every page you turn, a suffocating ache grows in your chest. There are pictures of breathtaking landscapes, cliffsides, beaches, jungles, pools and cities. There are pictures of people eating ice cream, pictures of busy streets and local dishes, of bread and potatoes and cake and spicy sauces. You don’t even notice your hands have started trembling.

You eventually stop at a picture of a flower field spread over two pages. Purple flowers reign over half its surface and, above them, a deep blue sky occupies the rest. You can almost smell the perfume, feel the wind in your hair, see the fluffy clouds idling by. The ache in your chest is becoming unbearable.

“What wrong?”

Mr. Gap’s voice suddenly yanks you out of your sorrowful daydream. You’re surprised to find he hasn’t left yet.

“Not like paper?”

You shake your head. “Me like paper. Me want… me want to go where paper show. Me not go. Me different.”

You wonder if someone like him can even understand what you're feeling. He can go wherever he pleases using his little teleportation ability. Meanwhile, you're stuck here. Forever.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Perhaps he’s confused again. But then he declares: “Me good! Me research.” Then he’s gone.

What it is he is hoping to research, you don’t know. But Mr. Gap has surprised you before. Maybe he’ll do it again.

You try to push any depressing thoughts aside and resume reading the magazine without thinking too much about what you will be missing out on for the rest of eternity. You are mostly successful.

A few residents pass by, but none try to pick a fight, which comes as a relief. Eventually, Robin finally emerges from the room. He appears to be in a better mood.

“I needed that. Thank you for keeping watch. It helped me sleep soundly.” He smiles. You're not sure you've seen him smile until now. It suits him better than the constant frightful expression he always wears.

“Don't mention it.”

You set the magazine down by the open vent and take off, motioning for Robin to follow. It would not be wise to dally anymore. Anytime now, he will begin to change. You have to get him out before that happens.

He does as you ask without protest.

“So, um. How much longer until we reach the exit?”

“I don't know. The hallways always change. But we're looking for an elevator. And it's best we find it sooner than later,” you respond.

“I see…”

His expression shifts into nervousness. You want to reassure him that he will make it out, that you’ll make sure of it. But that’s something you aren’t sure you’ve even convinced yourself of yet.

“Do you like reading?” he asks eventually.

“I do, since I started living here. It helps pass the time.”

“My boyfriend also likes reading. He drags me to bookstores sometimes. His favorite are murder mysteries, but sometimes he picks up those useless self help books that don’t actually help much.” Tears glisten in his eyes. “I… can’t even remember what I last said to him before I ended up here. I hope it wasn’t anything bad…”

Boyfriends and bookstores, wanting to say sweet words to loved ones before you disappear. All of these bring back that awful annoying ache. The reminder they are not for you anymore. Part of you pities him and another is so envious that it hurts. Because he still has hope.

“...what's he like? Your boyfriend.”

Robin sniffles and rubs his eyes as he walks. “He's kind and considerate. Sometimes he can be a little exasperating. But that's part of loving someone.”

It is? In books and shows, they always show it as some sort of blissful feeling that melts your insides and makes your life perfect.

“This may sound like a weird question. Sorry. But how do you know you love him?”

“I think about him often. And when he's not there, I wish he was. And if he were to love someone else, I'd lose my mind.” He grins bitterly.

That sounds oddly simple. No flowery language or everly complicated declarations. Just wanting someone at your side. It actually sounds pleasant.

“Are you in love?” Robin asks suddenly, taking you by surprise.

“Why would I be?” you answer with another question.

“Usually, when people ask things like this, they're trying to understand their own feelings.”

“I've just been reading. And the love in books confuses me. I was wondering if it's the same in reality.”

Robin laughs. “Of course not. In reality, it's a lot more mundane, though you can still have romantic moments. Fiction highlights the good parts. But there's both good and bad. Sometimes your lover will eat all the cookies before you get home or they'll refuse to put on headphones while listening to music. But then when the jar is entirely full and the music is gone, you miss even the less pleasant things…”

It sounds like Robin really loves his boyfriend. You wonder what it's like, being that important to another person. Could someone like you have that?

There comes that ache again. You push it down, hide it somewhere deep inside yourself.

“...we'll get you back to him.”

Robin doesn't respond, but he smiles fondly.

Your conversation is cut off when you notice someone approaching down the hallway. Immediately, you prepare your crowbar. But as the figure draws closer, it proves to be someone familiar.

It’s Mr. Stitch. Out of all the people you could’ve been reunited with since you’ve returned here, it had to be this guy. And to make matters worse, he recognizes you as well.

“You!” he calls out and points. “Me know you!”

Robin quickly retreats behind you like a scared duckling running to its mother.

“Who they?” Mr. Stitch points at Robin next.

“They friend. You go. Me not like you,” you state bluntly.

Your declaration only seems to amuse him. That awful smile of his grows. “Friend? Me not take?”

“Me smash your head when you take.”

Mr. Stitch does not look deterred in the slightest. If anything, he seems more interested after seeing your reaction. You should've seen it coming, knowing him and how much he loves messing with people's emotions.

“Where you go?”

“W-what are you guys talking about?” Robin asks, growing more nervous by the second.

“Nothing important. In fact, it's about time we leave.”

You grab Robin by the arm and drag him after you.

But as you attempt to pass by Mr. Stitch, he suddenly swerves behind Robin and holds him in place. In your irritation and panic, you get ready to swing at him. But then you notice the knife pressed to Robin's neck. You freeze in place.

“You angry?” Stitch asks, for you refuse to give him the respect of an honorific any longer. He is loving the worry mixed with furry on your face.

“Let them go.” You try to sound imposing. You hope you do. Whenever you're about to kill someone, you play the innocent and sweet act, so they wouldn't see it coming. Intimidation is not your forte.

“Where you go?”

“We leave here. Go other world,” you begrudgingly answer.

“Me know where! You play! Fun!”

Your jaw clenches in annoyance. It’s getting harder and harder to think straight. This is bad. If you lose control now, you are going to kill both Stitch and Robin.

“Not play. Let human go.”

Focus, focus, focus. You can do it, you can get him out safe. You need to.

Stitch tilts his head, seemingly weighing his options. He must be entirely unaware of the fate awaiting him.

“You not play? You not fun. Me eat huma-”

Before he gets to finish his sentence, you raise your hand in his direction.

Go to hell. Go to hell. Go to hell.

Then you bring it down. All that is left of him is a pile of blood and guts.

Robin screams in terror and immediately backs into a wall. His pants are stained red, but he is unharmed. The horror on his face brings you back to reality.

“Robin, I had to do it. He would’ve killed you!”

“How did you do that?! He suddenly became minced meat. You didn't even touch him!” Now he's trembling.

You take a step towards him and he takes one back. The way he's looking at you has gone back to the way he looks at all the residents. You know why and yet, it still hurts.

“Please don’t do anything stupid. It's too dangerous to go on your own.”

For a moment, you think he's going to take off running. But slowly, he stops trembling and nods. Then he begins to walk the same way you'd been walking before Stitch showed up. You follow at a distance, head hung low and hand wrapped around your crowbar so tight that it stings.

You go the rest of the way in silence. He doesn’t start up anymore conversations and you don’t dare attempt it yourself. It’s not the first time someone’s condemned you for taking a life. But it’s the first time it has an effect on you.

And then you finally find the elevator.

It sits under an eerie green light, just like it did when you found it in the past.

“This is it. You can go home now.”

“Is this really the exit?” He steps towards it cautiously.

Before he's close enough to press one of the buttons, Robin turns around to face you. “I… thank you.”

He doesn't sound certain about his choice of words. Maybe he would've rather called you a monster.

“I hope you and your boyfriend are happy. Don't go wandering into anymore strange buildings.”

He nods, avoiding your eyes. Then he turns and, as the door opens, he says over his shoulder: “Goodbye.”

Just like that, he’s gone.

And you lose your mind.

[simplyraeblue]

King and Captive

(Hunter and Hunted Spin-Off) read here

a chance meeting with Sukuna quickly turns into a nightly routine you can't escape. as the lines between game and something more blur, you start to wonder—how long can you keep playing, or will Sukuna make you his next conquest? !Sukuna x !femreader

chapter warnings/tags: swearing, drinking, use of "princess", not much of anything this part tbh. eventual smut warning tho of course ( • ᴗ - ) A/N: THE SPIN OFF IS FINALLY HERE! of course, because I'm obsessive I've already written 3 full parts... I suck at writing beginnings though, so bear with me as things are a lil slow in my opinion! I hope you all enjoy it as much as you enjoyed Hunter and Hunted; and be prepared for MORE smut cause its SUKUNA OF COURSE.

index part one | part two

part one word count: 2,762

Christmas had come and gone, and you had stepped into the new year with an even angrier outlook on life than you’d had before. sure, last year had been rough; you’d been cheated on and promptly dumped for someone else, and the bittersweet icing on the cake was when you found out your ex had gotten engaged over the holiday season. you’d done what any sane person would do – drank away your feelings.

the past few weeks, your friends could often find you at the bottom of a mug, angry eyes watching as you toyed with the coaster at any bar you’d walked into. you need – no, wanted – vengeance. you imagined the look on your ex’s face if you ran into him with another, maybe hotter, guy on your arm. men these days were only looking to get their dicks wet, how hard could it be to snag one?

you came to realize it was incredibly hard.

any man that gave you the time of day seemed to be scraping the bottom of the barrel, consistently sleezy and looking like they hadn’t showered in days. or worse, still lived in their mother’s basement. the men you worked with were no better. constantly watching your ass as you walked by, attempting to slyly cop a feel in the break room, and so on.

so, here you were, walking down the street to a pub around the corner from your job to grab a drink. you had a one-track mind for this sort of thing, oblivious to your surroundings until two men stepped into your path to stop you.

“excuse me.” you muttered as you took a step to the side, trying to go around them. before you could get back to your mission one of their hands reached out and snagged your wrist. ugh, more disgusting pigs. “I’ll ask you once to kindly let go off me.”

“c’mon pretty, we just wanna talk t’ ya.” the bigger, burlier one gave you a sly grin that made your skin crawl.

“yea, walking around with a skirt that short we couldn’t help but notice ya.” the one holding your wrist tightened his grip slightly. your frown stretched down your face as you took a moment to assess the situation. what was it your friends always said? right – be loud, draw attention, scream fire and whatnot.

“oi, get your fucking hands off me!” you shouted, tugging your wrist against the firm hold.

“what do ya expect when ya dress like a whore?” one of them snapped as they stepped closer. you were only dressed for work; skirt that came down mid-thigh, button up blouse that covered every inch of your skin, so how was this outfit whorish?

“she’s got a mouth on her, huh?” they nudged each other as you struggled to get free. with your free hand, you made a fist and pulled it back. you wouldn’t be able to seriously injure them, that was for sure, but you could at least distract and get away.

“I said leave me the hell alone, twatbags!” you shouted, fist shaking but staying firm in a pulled-back position. if they made one more move, you’d muster up the courage and hit one of them.

suddenly, both men went wide-eyed in front of you and your wrist was released from it’s prison. hah, so my scare tactics worked, you thought. you’d have to pat yourself on the back later for this achievement. “aw, little ole me got you boys scared? looks like you’re about to wet your pants.” you smirked, crossing your arms in triumph.

until their eyes traveled from you, to over your head.

“these guys bothering you?”

your body tensed at the deep, baritone voice from behind you. so that’s what had the men backing off – but that scared? whoever was behind you had to be huge, like a wrestler or something. you imagine big, bulging muscles and a towering figure, and you gulped.

“I believe she asked you to leave her alone.” whoever was behind you continued, and with each word you almost shivered. his voice exuded strength, even something like anger laced in his tone. or was it just annoyance? “oh, forgot to add the twatbags part. that was a good descriptor.”

the two men stepped back and the other man stepped forward, now standing slightly in front of you. you dared to scan his figure – not a body builder, but definitely not small. he wore a black compression tee that showed off his muscles, and you could see the tattoos running all across his skin, intertwined and connected everywhere you looked. your eyes caught on his light pink hair, slicked back but disheveled on the sides as if he’d been running a hand through the strands.

“while I’d love the entertainment of watching her take a swing at you, I don’t think you want to see what happens if you retaliated.” the man merely crossed his arms before looking down at you. he did in fact tower, maybe just over you but he was still above average height. something flickered in his eyes as they met yours, and you could only stare at him speechlessly.

he hadn’t even had to do anything before the men scoffed and walked away, albeit hurriedly like a fire had been lit under their asses. you and the man watched as they scurried down the sidewalk, and you finally let out a sigh when they disappeared from sight.

“thanks for that. although I’m pretty sure I had it covered.” you felt him look at you as you watched the distance – double checking that they were in fact gone before you left the protection of the stranger.

he chuckled lowly as he shook his head. “looks like you did. but, I thought I’d provide backup just in case.”

but before he could continue, you were already walking away in the opposite direction of the two men. all you had wanted was a damn drink, and by god you were going to get one.

you could hear the faint echo of footsteps behind you, but you tried to push it out of your mind, focusing instead on the door to the bar in front of you. with a swift motion, you yanked it open, stepping inside and hoping to lose the stranger following you.

but when you heard those same footsteps following you in, your patience snapped. you turned around, irritation bubbling to the surface. “are you following me?” you demanded, locking eyes with the man who had been trailing behind you. “do I need to be worried about you too?”

he just chuckled, his casual demeanor only adding to your annoyance. “do you think I owe you something now?” you shot back, trying to keep your tone serious, though it was clear he didn’t take you seriously at all.

his laughter echoed in the small space; a mocking sound that only made your frustration grow. “actually,” he said, his voice steady, “I came back to finish the beer I left to save your ass.” he gestured nonchalantly at a knocked-over bar stool and the half-empty drink sitting nearby, the remnants of the drink he’d been enjoying before the whole mess began.

the heat of embarrassment crept up your neck as you processed his words. “oh.” you mumbled, feeling the awkwardness seep into your skin. "sorry. considering the kind of men I’ve just dealt with, I didn’t know if you were some sleazeball too.”

he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “sleazeball? you sound like my little brother,” he said with a smirk, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

you couldn't help but throw a jab back. “then he has good taste in vocabulary.”

the man’s grin only grew wider, clearly amused by the bite in your tone. his eyes glinted with something like genuine entertainment as he took a step closer. “my name’s Ryomen Sukuna, by the way,” he said, his voice dripping with casual confidence.

you narrowed your eyes, studying him with suspicion. there was something about the way he carried himself that set your nerves on edge. “I don’t know if I’m comfortable giving my full name to a complete stranger,” you replied, your tone a mix of caution and defiance.

Sukuna simply shrugged, as though your response didn’t faze him in the least. “but I just introduced myself, after acting as your knight in shining armor, I might add.” he gave a lazy stretch, his posture relaxed as he leaned against the bar, his gaze fixed on you as if daring you to challenge him further.

you didn’t back down. “that doesn’t mean I know you now,” you said, your eyes still narrowed. you turned away from him, flagging down the bartender who had just started to clean the counter. “a drink. whiskey, neat,” you said, your voice firm as you slid a few bills across the bar.

normally, you wouldn’t dare drink hard liquor on a weekday at five o’clock, but goddamn you needed it now. your nerves were on edge, but a stronger feeling had settled within you since the start of this particular conversation.

he was unbelievably attractive. pierced ears, tattooed skin, and a smile reminiscent of the devil across his lips. so so not your usual type. but then again, your type had cheated on you. Sukuna’s presence was almost overwhelming – strength, confidence or cockiness – the air stilled around him like it was intruding his space.

Sukuna watched you with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “then get to know me,” he said, his voice low and almost coaxing, as if the idea of you refusing was an amusing thought to him.

you didn’t hesitate in your response. “buy me a drink and I’ll consider it,” you shot back, your tone playful but laced with a challenge. you’d be damned if you’d make it that easy for him, knowing all to well the type of men that seem to flirt with you always turn out to be disgusting.

he raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your boldness, but said nothing as the bartender set your drink down in front of you. it was clear you weren’t going to make things easy for him, but that only seemed to fuel his curiosity.

you were already fascinating him. from Sukuna’s first look at you, ready to stand your ground against two grown men, to now acting defiant against him even as he could see the tension in your shoulders with every sentence you spoke. were you feigning confidence or was it real? he liked the way you talked back to him; it made the conversation more entertaining, and he eased into it with pleasure.

Sukuna’s eyes never left you as you took your drink from the bartender, the smooth amber liquid catching the dim light of the bar. he didn't immediately respond, just leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, a thoughtful expression playing across his features. for a moment, you wondered if he was going to let the challenge slide.

then, to your surprise, he pushed off the bar with a slow, deliberate movement and took a step toward you. his presence felt heavier now, more intense. heat rolled off of him and over you, his cologne drowned your senses. “a drink, huh?” he mused, his voice taking on a playful edge, like he was toying with you. “that’s all it takes to get you to talk to me?”

you took a sip of your whiskey, cringing at the burn as you met his gaze head-on. “depends on the drink,” you replied, the hint of a smirk curling at your lips. you had no intention of giving in that quickly, not when he still felt like a puzzle you weren’t sure you wanted to solve.

Sukuna chuckled softly, the sound deep and almost predatory, like he was enjoying the chase. “I think I can handle that,” he said, raising a hand to signal the bartender. his attention briefly shifted to the man behind the counter, but when it returned to you, his expression had softened, just a fraction, though the amusement never fully left his eyes. “is whiskey your usual, then?” he asked, his tone suddenly more casual, almost conversational.

you tilted your head, considering him for a moment. “I’m not sure it’s the drink I’m worried about,” you said, leaning in just slightly, your voice quieter now. “it’s the company.”

he gave you a look that said he wasn’t fazed by your words, not in the slightest. "trust me," he replied smoothly, "I’m better company than most people you'd find in this place."

he wasn't wrong. there was something undeniably magnetic about him, an energy that drew you in despite your better judgment. you could sense there was more to him than what he was showing, and a part of you couldn’t help but wonder what he was really after.

the bartender placed a fresh drink in front of Sukuna — a glass of something darker, likely whiskey as well, and more expensive than the one you had just ordered. Sukuna didn’t touch it immediately, instead shifting his stance so he was fully facing you, his eyes now narrowing just slightly, as if sizing you up. like you were a snack he wanted to take a bite out of.

"alright, I’ll bite," he said, his voice a low murmur as he watched you closely. “what’s your story?”

you took another sip of your drink, your gaze never leaving his. “maybe I’ll tell you,” you said slowly, deliberately, “but it’s going to cost you more than just a drink.”

Sukuna’s lips curled into another half-smile, his confidence never wavering. “I’m up for the challenge. what’s the price?” his tone had shifted again, all business now, but there was still an edge of that playful intensity behind it.

for the briefest moment, you almost felt like you were playing a game with him, something neither of you had agreed on but that you both instinctively understood. you hesitated, eyes scanning his face for any hint of vulnerability — but there was none.

“get me another round, and we’ll talk,” you finally said, giving him a sly smile that matched the gleam in your eyes.

Sukuna didn’t need another word. he turned away, reaching for the glass, a quiet satisfaction in his movements. he knew the game was far from over, but there was no doubt in his mind that he’d be the one to win it.

you lifted your eyes to meet his, watching him with a mixture of curiosity and caution. he was still an enigma, his expression unreadable, his posture relaxed but with an edge that hinted at something more dangerous beneath.

“you’re a man of few words,” you observed, your voice playful but with an undercurrent of challenge. “or is it that you’re waiting for me to spill my life story?”

he raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your attempt to provoke him. “I’ve got all the time in the world,” he replied smoothly, voice low and even. you could feel his eyes on you, studying you in a way that made you want to pull back, but also something else—a curiosity, maybe even an unspoken challenge.

you took another sip, avoiding his gaze for a moment. “and what’s in it for me?” you asked, your voice steady but carrying a hint of sarcasm. “why should I bother getting to know you?”

Sukuna’s smile deepened, almost like he was savoring the moment. “because,” he said, his voice now tinged with something a little darker, “I’m not just any stranger. and I think you’ll find out, sooner or later, that I’m worth your time.”

his confidence was almost infuriating, but you couldn’t deny that something about him intrigued you. maybe it was his audacity, or maybe it was the mystery that clung to him like a second skin. or possibly, that he could be the hottest man you’d ever laid eyes on. either way, you weren’t ready to walk away just yet.

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” you replied, a small challenge in your voice, but this time, there was a flicker of curiosity in your gaze too.

Sukuna met your challenge with a steady, unwavering stare, his smirk never fading. “then I guess you’ll just have to stick around and find out, won’t you?”

it wasn’t an offer. it wasn’t even a question. it was a promise. and whether you liked it or not, you were beginning to realize that you might just be caught up in his game—whether you wanted to be or not.

it wasn’t an offer, or even a question. it was a damn promise. whether you realized it, you were beginning to get caught up in his game – it was inevitable.

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. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . taglist: @mangiswig @aldebrana @ravester @marie-is-in-the-dark @makingtimemine @sorahatake @osohchoso @csolya I tagged some people that interacted A TON with Hunter and Hunted who I appreciate so so much ; so if you were tagged and would like to be removed just let me know! ♡ I hope this fic is as loved as Hunter and Hunted! . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .