#but hey its the thought that counts right

[dailylcy]

A DIFFERENT EQUATION - an anton lee oneshot

이찬영 “ ”the right side of my neck, still smells like you”

⊹₊⟡⋆ pairing. nerd!anton x popular girl!reader MINORS DNI

genre. smut 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀 word count. 1.4k — a/n. first post of best month of the year!! ( bini seokie n toni bday month ) :3 ( also this is my first time writing smut pls forgive if its not that good i tried my best ) playlist i listened to while writing. playlist

synopsis. Anton Lee is a quiet genius, he’s probably more comfortable with equations than people — until the popular girl from his math class asks him for tutoring. What starts as a study session quickly turns into something else, proving that even the shyest nerds know how to take control.

warnings. unprotected sex‎ ( dont!! ), anton got a size kink, fingering in semi public ? tell me if i missed anything

the library was quiet, all you could hear was the faint rustle of pages and the occasional cough echoing through the room. Anton Lee —also known as Lee Chanyoung to those who cared enough — sat next to a table at the back, his nose buried in a thick calculus textbook. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, the part you couldn’t see was beneath the hood of his oversized gray sweatshirt. glasses on his nose, slipping slightly as he scribbled equations in his notebook, his long, slender fingers moving with precision. He wore loose black jeans, the ends brushing against his sneakers, and a faint flush colored his cheeks from the hot air. At 6’2, he towered over most people when standing, but seated like this, he seemed almost normal — a nerd in his natural state .

The faint scent of old books and polished wood filled the space, the late afternoon sun streaming through tall windows and casting golden streaks across the floor. Anton barely even noticed the world around him, lost in numbers and formulas, until a shadow fell over his page. He glanced up, and nearly dropped his pencil. it was you, the popular girl everyone whispered about since you joined — confident, smiley, and completely out of his league. Your hair was styled in loose waves, framing your face, and you wore a fitted crop top that hugged your curves, paired with a short pleated skirt that moved a little everytime you shifted your weight. The faint shimmer of lipgloss caught the light, and your presence always carried a subtle floral scent that cut through the musty library air.

“Hey, Anton” you said, your voice smooth and casual, like you hadn’t just flipped his entire world upside down by knowing his name. You leaned against the table, your hip brushing the edge of it, and he swallowed hard, his eyes darting to where your skirt rode up slightly, revealing some of your thigh. “I heard you’re like, a genius at math. and I’m totallyyyy failing calculus, so I thought I could use some help. You free?”

Anton’s mouth went dry. He pushed his glasses up, stuttering, he said “Uh, y-yeah, I mean, sure. I can help, I will help you.” His gaze lingered on you, your size difference even more apparent now that you were so close — he could see the way your body curved close up, how small you looked compared to him, and it sparked something deep in his chest. It was his kink that he’d never admit out loud, but it was there.

You slid into the chair beside him, scooting close enough that your knee brushed his under the table. “Great” you said, pulling out your textbook and flipping it open. “Let’s start with this chapter. I don’t get any of it!” Your tone was light, but there was something in your eyes that made his stomach twist.

He nodded, trying to focus as he Explained derivatives to you, his voice soft as always. But then your hand rested on his thigh — just a light touch at first, fingers brushing over the fabric of his jeans. He froze mid-sentence, his breath hitching. “Keep going” you whispered, your lips curving into a smirk as your hand slid higher, teasing him slowly. Anton’s heart pounding, his composure cracking as heat flooded his system. He glanced around — nobody was near you two, the stacks of books shielding you both from view — and then back at you, your gaze locked on his, daring him.

His hand trembled as it found your knee, sliding up your bare thigh until his fingers brushed the hem of your skirt. You didn’t flinch, not even once, instead, you parted your legs slightly, like an invitation he couldn’t ignore. “You’re gonna get us caught” he whispered, voice rougher than he intended, but he didn’t stop. His fingers slipped under your skirt, tracing the edge of your panties before pushing them aside. You were already wet, and he bit his lip hard to stifle a groan as he slid one finger inside you, then two, amazed at how tight you felt around him.

Your breath hitched, but you masked it with a cough, leaning forward as if studying the book. Anton’s free hand gripped the table’s edge, his knuckles white, while his other hand worked you slowly, his thumb circling around your clit with a precision that mirrored his math skills. The contrast drove him wild — your small frame squirming against his big one, the way you fit so perfectly around his fingers. “Anton” you whispered, voice shaky, “faster.” He listened immediately, his movements growing more intense, the slick sound barely audible over the library’s hum. Your hand clamped over your mouth as you came, thighs trembling, and he watched your face, mesmerized, as you unraveled for him.

“C’mon” he muttered, pulling his hand back and wiping it discreetly on his jeans. “My dorm. Now.” His tone left no room for argument, the shy nerd was now replaced by something hungrier. You nodded, grabbing your bag, and followed him out, panties full with your own release. the air between you filling with unspoken need.

Anton’s dorm was a small, cluttered space on the third floor of the campus residence hall. Posters of rock bands and a periodic table all over the walls, books stacked neatly on the desk. The bed was unmade, sheets tangled, and the faint scent of his cologne — something woody and clean — He locked the door behind you, turning to face you with a look that made your knees weak. That nerdy boy from your math class was long gone ; this Anton was all sharp with quiet intensity, where was he hiding all this?

He stepped closer, towering over you, and cupped your face with his hands -that you thought were bigger than your head- “You’re so fucking small” he muttered, almost to himself, his thumb brushing your lower lip. Then he kissed you — hard, messy, all teeth and tongue, like he’d been starving for it. You stumbled back toward the bed, and he followed your steps, taking off his sweatshirt to reveal a broad frame, his t-shirt clinging to his biceps.

He pushed you onto the mattress, climbing over you, his weight pressing you down as he yanked your skirt up and panties off in one swift move. “Been thinking about this, for so damn long” he admitted, voice low, undoing his jeans buttons with shaky hands. His cock sprang free—thick, veiny, and intimidatingly long — and you gasped softly, feeding that size kink he couldn’t hide. He didn’t bother with a condom, neither of you cared right then.

Anton lined himself up, the tip brushing your soaked entrance, and started thrusting into you, groaning loud as your pussy clenched around him. “Fuck, you’re so tight for me” he said, hands gripping your waist hard enough to bruise. He set a brutal pace, fastening it each time he thrusted into you, the bed creaking under his force. Your legs wrapped around his waist, but he still loomed over you, his broad shoulders and height making you feel tiny, helpless beneath him.

Sweat showed on his forehead as he fucked you stupid — your moans turning into broken gasps, eyes rolling back as he hit every spot inside you. His glasses fogged up, slipping down his nose, and he took them off, tossing them aside without breaking sounds. “So good for me huh?” he panted, one hand sliding up to squeeze your breast through your top, the other pinning your wrist above your head. The room filled with the sounds of his heavy breathing and your whimpers.

He pulled out suddenly, flipping you onto your tummy, and yanked you up before slamming back in. “Look at you” he growled, “taking me like this.” His hand fisted your hair, tugging just enough to make you arch, and the new angle had you seeing stars. Cum dripped down your thighs — his and yours mixing in a sticky mess as he chased his release, fucking you through the overstimulation until he came spilling inside you with a choked moan. Thick ropes of cum coated your walls, some leaking out as he slowed, his chest heaving.

Anton collapsed beside you, both of you breathless, the thick air filled with sweat and sex. He glanced over, a shy smile tugging at his lips despite everything, and he muttered a “Uh… you okay?” The nerd was back, but the glint in his eye said he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

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[thefairiesinthegarden]

I’m tired of trying -pt3

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Hey guysssss this is parttttt 3

Lemme know if a part 4 is needed

I just wanted to say that this part gets really dark and has themes of suicide and depression and really dark thought so please read with caution

Word count: 2500

Azriel x reader

Warnings: suicide and attempts, depression, dark thoughts

Please read this is caution

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The Summer Court’s gentle breezes and soft warmth felt more like a prison than a paradise. Every day in this perfect realm was a reminder of the life you once had, a life that seemed impossibly far away now. The palace’s beauty—its glittering walls and lush gardens—did nothing to ease the weight in your chest. Instead, the brightness only seemed to mock the darkness inside you.

You had been here for what felt like months, though you knew it was only a few weeks. Time no longer had meaning when every day was spent in a haze of numbness and pain. Your body had grown weak from the lack of food and movement, your mind lost in an endless cycle of sorrow and hopelessness. Nothing mattered anymore.

The healers who visited you daily became more insistent, their soft voices urging you to eat, to drink, to take the potions they offered to ease your pain. But their words washed over you like the wind—present, but meaningless. You had nothing left to give. Every ounce of energy you had was spent on merely existing.

And then there was Azriel.

He had come to you again and again, his presence a constant shadow in the room. Sometimes, he spoke in that low, rough voice of his, trying to apologize, to make you see how sorry he was. Other times, he simply sat in silence, his golden eyes filled with regret and sorrow. But no matter how hard he tried, no matter how sincere his words, it was never enough.

You couldn’t feel anything for him anymore. You were too tired to feel.

He had broken you in ways you didn’t even know were possible. The things he had said to you that day—those cruel, cutting words—had shattered something inside you. You had fought for him, for the love you thought you shared, and it had never been enough. It would never be enough.

And now, here you were, in a beautiful palace, surrounded by caring people, but utterly alone in your pain.

Tarquin had been patient with you, more patient than you deserved. He checked on you often, his voice soft with concern, but never pushing you beyond what you could handle. Yet even his presence—his kindness—felt like a burden. You didn’t want kindness anymore. You didn’t want anything.

Your hand absently traced the delicate veins of your wrist, where the skin was thin and pale. The thought had been circling in your mind for days now, a whisper in the back of your mind that grew louder with each passing hour.

There’s a way out.

You don’t have to feel this way anymore.

The thought was seductive, offering you a kind of peace that you hadn’t felt in so long. The pain could end. The weight of your heart could finally be lifted. All it would take was one moment—one decision—and it would all be over.

But something held you back. Some small part of you, buried deep beneath the layers of pain and hopelessness, still remembered who you used to be. That part of you still wanted to live, still clung to the idea that maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back.

But it was growing weaker every day.

Azriel hadn’t left the Summer Court in days. Not since he had seen the state you were in, the way you had looked at him with so much pain and loss in your eyes. The guilt had consumed him from the moment you left the Night Court, but seeing you like that—so broken, so fragile—had nearly destroyed him.

He had tried everything he could think of to make it right. He had spoken to you, apologized over and over, poured his heart out in ways he had never done before. But no matter what he said, no matter how much he begged for your forgiveness, it never seemed to reach you.

Every day, you grew weaker. Every day, you slipped further away from him.

Azriel sat in one of the Summer Court’s grand balconies, his hands resting on his knees as he stared out over the glittering ocean. The sunlight reflected off the water in golden waves, but he felt no warmth, no peace. His mind was consumed with thoughts of you, of the life you used to share, and the devastating realization that he might never get you back.

Rhysand had told him to give you time, that you needed space to heal. But how could he give you space when you were unraveling before his eyes?

“Azriel.” The familiar voice of Tarquin pulled him from his thoughts. The Summer Court’s High Lord stood a few feet away, his expression troubled.

Azriel turned to face him, his jaw clenched. “Is she…?”

“She’s the same,” Tarquin said, his voice soft. “Physically, she’s holding on. But emotionally…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen anyone this broken.”

Azriel’s heart tightened. “Is there anything I can do?”

Tarquin sighed, his brow furrowing in sympathy. “I don’t know. She’s shutting everyone out—even you. And I fear if she continues like this…”

Azriel didn’t need him to finish the sentence. He knew what Tarquin was trying to say. If you kept going down this path, there was only one possible outcome.

And it would be his fault.

That night, you stood in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection but not really seeing it. Your once-bright eyes were dull, dark circles etched beneath them. Your skin was pale, almost translucent, and your hair hung in limp waves around your face.

You didn’t recognize the person in the mirror anymore.

Your hand shook as you reached for the dagger that Tarquin had given you for protection when you had first arrived in his court. It was a beautiful blade, crafted from pure silver, with intricate designs carved into the hilt. You had barely touched it since you arrived, but now, it felt like the only thing in the room that made sense.

The blade gleamed in the dim light as you held it in your trembling hand, your fingers wrapping around the hilt. The weight of it was oddly comforting, as if it could finally bring you the release you had been craving.

You took a shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest. This was it. This was the moment. The pain would end. You would finally be free.

But as the blade hovered over your wrist, something stopped you. A voice, soft but insistent, echoed in the back of your mind.

This isn’t the way.

You can still come back from this.

The voice sounded like Azriel’s. And for a moment, you hesitated.

But then you remembered the way he had looked at you that day—the cold, dismissive words that had cut deeper than any blade ever could. He had broken you, and there was no coming back from that.

With a sob, you pressed the blade to your skin.

Azriel had been unable to sleep that night, his mind too restless, too filled with images of you—your broken form, the pain in your eyes. Something felt wrong. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach, the cold, sinking feeling that had been building all day.

He couldn’t shake the thought that you needed him. That something terrible was about to happen.

Without thinking, he rose from his seat and moved swiftly through the palace, his shadows curling around him as he made his way to your room. The guards didn’t stop him this time—they knew better by now.

As he approached the door, that cold feeling intensified, a sickening dread settling in his chest. His heart pounded in his ears as he reached for the handle, pushing the door open without knocking.

What he saw stopped him in his tracks.

You were sitting on the floor, the silver dagger in your hand, pressed against your wrist. Blood was already welling up, dark and red against your pale skin.

“No!” Azriel’s voice was hoarse, desperate, as he rushed toward you, his shadows flaring in panic.

You didn’t seem to hear him. You were lost in your own world, your body trembling as you pressed the blade harder against your skin. Tears streamed down your face, but your eyes were distant, unfocused.

Azriel reached you just in time, grabbing your wrist and pulling the blade away. You struggled weakly against him, your body too weak to put up much of a fight.

“Let me go,” you whispered, your voice broken, tears streaming down your face. “Please, just let me go.”

Azriel’s heart shattered at the sound of your voice, at the sight of you so lost, so hurt. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as you sobbed against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”

But you shook your head, your sobs turning into gasps for breath. “It’s too late, Azriel. I’m already broken. You can’t fix me.”

His arms tightened around you, his wings curling protectively around your fragile form. “No,” he said, his voice firm. “You’re not broken. You’re not. I won’t let you go.”

But you didn’t respond. You just cried, your body shaking with the force of your sobs, as if you were trying to cry out all the pain that had been festering inside you for so long.

Azriel didn’t let go. He held you through it all, whispering apologies and promises, vowing to do whatever it took to make things right.

The following days were a blur of healers and potions, of Tarquin’s quiet concern and Azriel’s constant presence. He never left your side, not even for a moment. He watched over you as you slept, as you fought through the waves of despair that crashed over you. He refused to leave, even when Tarquin suggested that space might be best. Azriel didn’t care. He wasn’t going anywhere.

The wound on your wrist was healing, but the deeper wounds, the ones that had been carved into your heart and soul, were far from mended. You rarely spoke, rarely ate, barely moved. And though your body was growing weaker, it was your spirit that worried Azriel the most.

He had tried everything to bring you back—to get you to talk to him, to react, to do anything other than lay in that bed, staring blankly at the ceiling or curled in on yourself. But nothing worked.

Each passing day was another weight on his shoulders, the crushing realization that he had done this to you—that his words had driven you to this breaking point.

He had never felt so helpless. The shadows that had always been his allies now seemed like enemies, swirling around him in confusion, mirroring the chaos in his own heart. He couldn’t fix this with a sword or a plan. He couldn’t strategize his way out of this. This was something he had no control over.

And that terrified him.

One night, after hours of silence, you finally spoke. Your voice was so quiet, so broken, that Azriel almost didn’t hear it.

“I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Azriel’s heart lurched in his chest, and he leaned forward, his hands shaking as he reached for yours. “Y/N… don’t say that.”

But you didn’t look at him. Your eyes were distant, your face pale and gaunt from days of neglect. “I can’t keep doing this. It’s too much.”

His grip tightened around your hand. “I know it feels like that now, but you’re stronger than this. You’ve always been stronger than this.”

You shook your head weakly. “Not anymore. I’m tired, Azriel. I’m so tired.”

The tears that Azriel had been holding back finally spilled over, hot and painful as they streaked down his face. He had been trying to be strong for you, trying to hold himself together, but hearing you say that—hearing you give up—was more than he could bear.

“You can’t leave me,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Please. I can’t lose you. I love you.”

You flinched at the word. It was as though the very sound of it hurt you, and Azriel’s heart shattered all over again.

“I loved you too,” you whispered, and the past tense of your words cut deeper than any blade ever could. “But you didn’t want me. You said it yourself.”

“That’s not true,” Azriel said quickly, his voice thick with desperation. “I never meant what I said. I was scared, and I said terrible things, but I didn’t mean them. You’re everything to me, Y/N. You’re my everything.”

You didn’t respond. You just turned your face away, closing your eyes as if you were too exhausted to even speak anymore.

Azriel stayed by your side, holding your hand, his chest tight with fear and guilt. He didn’t know how to bring you back from this. He didn’t know if he even could.

Two more days passed in the same unbearable silence. You refused food, only drank the water Tarquin’s healers forced upon you. Your once-vibrant eyes were dull, your skin growing more fragile, your strength slipping away. The healers tried everything they could to coax you back into health, but nothing worked.

And Azriel—Azriel was drowning in his own guilt.

He couldn’t stop replaying that last argument, couldn’t stop hearing the cruel words he had thrown at you in his anger, couldn’t stop imagining how different things might have been if he had just told you how much he loved you, how much he needed you. If he had just been honest instead of pushing you away out of fear.

Azriel watched you closely, his golden eyes filled with fear as each second passed. It was unbearable—seeing you like this, wasting away because of his mistakes. His hands trembled as he reached for your face, gently brushing the stray strands of hair from your forehead. He leaned in, his voice low and rough, thick with emotion.

“Please, Y/N. Just tell me what to do. I can’t lose you like this.”

You didn’t respond right away, your gaze still fixed on the ceiling as if you were far, far away. The quiet hum of the Summer Court’s night breeze filled the room, mingling with the soft crashing of distant waves. But your heart… it felt as though it was miles beneath the surface, buried so deep you weren’t sure it could ever be reached again.

Azriel’s hands, usually so steady, so sure, shook as they held yours. His shadows curled around him in confusion, sensing the depth of his despair. You could feel his presence, his warmth, but it only reminded you of how cold and numb you had become.

He had broken you. And yet here he was, still trying to put the pieces back together.

“I don’t know if I can come back from this,” you finally whispered, your voice fragile, almost inaudible. “I feel like there’s nothing left of me.”

Azriel swallowed hard, his throat constricting with emotion. “That’s not true. You’re still here, Y/N. I know you are. You just need time, and I’ll give you all the time in the world. But don’t… don’t leave me like this. Please.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, a tear slipping down your cheek. His words sounded sincere. They sounded desperate. But how many times had you believed him before? How many times had you thought that things could change, only to have it all fall apart again?

“Why now?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “Why are you fighting for me now, after everything?”

Azriel didn’t hesitate. “Because I was a coward. I didn’t realize what I had until I lost it. I didn’t realize how much I loved you—how much I needed you—until I pushed you away. And I hate myself for that. But I’m here now, Y/N, and I’ll fight for you every day, for the rest of my life if I have to.”

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest, torn between wanting to believe him and the overwhelming doubt that had built up inside you. You had heard words like this before—had thought that love could fix everything. But love hadn’t been enough. It hadn’t been enough to stop him from saying those terrible things, from pushing you away when all you had wanted was to be close to him.

“I’m so tired,” you murmured, your voice breaking. “So tired of hurting, of trying.”

Azriel’s grip on your hand tightened, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles. “Then let me try for you. Let me be the one to hold you up this time. You don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, for the first time in days. His face was drawn with worry, his eyes rimmed with exhaustion. He looked as broken as you felt, as if your pain was his own. The guilt etched into his expression was raw, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw the man you had fallen in love with—the man who had once made you feel safe and cherished.

“I don’t know if I can do this again,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “But… I hope you can try for me, Azriel.”

His breath hitched at your words, the smallest spark of hope lighting in his eyes. “I will,” he promised, his voice shaking with emotion. “I’ll do whatever it takes, Y/N. I swear it.”

You gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, and though it was barely a gesture, it was enough for him. It was enough to make him believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to save what had been broken.

But as you lay there, staring up at him, the weight of the past still heavy on your chest, you couldn’t help but wonder if love alone would ever be enough. Would it be enough to heal the wounds he had caused? Could you truly let him back into your heart after everything?

As Azriel leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, a tear slipped from your eye.

And somewhere, deep in the recesses of your heart, you felt the beginning of a new ache—an ache that whispered, What if it’s too late?

The thought lingered in the air between you, unspoken, but undeniable.

What if love would never be enough?

Azriel pulled away, his hand still gripping yours tightly as if he feared that if he let go, you would slip away forever.

And maybe… just maybe… he was right.

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Attached below are places you can reach out to if you need support.

[ranunculussy]

enigma | part 06.

saturday

ꕥ part 01. | part 02. | part 03. | part 04. | part 05. ꕥ pair: Spencer Reid × BAU!fem!reader ꕥ warnings/tags: mentions of IKEA, awkwardness, somewhat oblivious Reid and reader, age gap, slow-burn, mutual pining, rivals to lovers, english isn't my first language so bear with me pls, idk about other warnings ꕥ word count: ~2.5k ꕥ summary: Spencer can't quite figure you, his rival out and this annoys him more than it should ꕥ a/n: hi guys! thank you so much for reading my work. i just wanted to apologise for the shorter chapter and that it took longer to update than usual. i was planning to post this originally around valentine's day but university started and things got a tiny bit busy. [this fanfic is also available on AO3 with the same title and username]

Pouring salt and lemon juice on an open wound would’ve felt like a walk in the park compared to asking for any kind of help or favour. You always handled everything independently and on your own way. You were ready to drop everything on the spot and lend a hand to those who asked but always made sure to deal with your problems by yourself. Among other things, this aspect of yours was a mixture of stubbornness and pride.

So, imagine how embarrassed you felt on that sunny Saturday morning, with your phone pressed to your ears as you anxiously waited for your call to be answered. It’s so dumb, they just got back from the case yesterday. I should hang…

“Hey pretty girl, what’s up?” Derek’s usual playful tone cut through your thoughts, stopping you from pressing the little red icon. You were relieved that you weren’t the one to wake him or at least judging by the lack of raspiness in his tone, he was already up.

“Are you perhaps… free today?” you asked as you quickly paced back and forth in your unusually empty bedroom. One of your cats, who was still very much a kitten, energetically chased after your feet, causing you to come across even less collected, since you had to look out for the little furball too if you didn’t want to accidentally step on him.

“For a woman like you, I’m always free.” Hummed the man at the other end of the line, immediately easing your nerves a bit. You rolled your eyes and let a playful smile spread across your face, which was wiped off just as quickly.

“Ah, for fuck’s sake Nick...!” before you could’ve said anything else, like probably an explanation for why you were calling your colleague, a low scream escaped your lips. “Sorry, my cat is just devil’s incarnate, and he decided it’d be fun to claw his way up on my bare legs.”

“For a moment I got scared that it wasn’t really me you were looking for.”

“Impossible, you know you’re always on my mind, handsome.”

You learned quite early on that Derek’s flirty demeanour was part of his personality and it was never serious when it came to the team. Even in amongst you, he knew that not everyone was open to suggestive comments or playful dirty talk. He made sure to never make anyone feel uncomfortable. Luckily, you were completely okay with this and even became a ‘partner in crime’.

“Okay, out with it. Why did you call?”

“Ah, I need a favour. I know you guys just came home yesterday and it’s totally okay if you say no…”

“Babygirl, I don’t even know what to say no to.”

“Yeah right, sorry. I need to buy a new bed because my last one was older than me and a few weeks ago it decided to end its life, which I can understand. So, I’ve been sleeping on the sofa. I mean, I wouldn’t exactly call it sleeping. And I know that I am even funnier when I’m sleep deprived but now that I’ll soon be back in action, it’d be nice to be well rested, you know. And yes, I could just walk into an IKEA, choose a bed and ask for a delivery, but…” You were definitely rambling and overexplaining yourself, as you did whenever you got flustered or felt awkward. Just like when you gave Reid a gift, you still haven’t recovered from that. The others quickly got used to this, given that they already had a yapper in their company. However, it didn’t mean you weren’t self-conscious if you noticed what you were doing.

“Let me stop you right there. You need help with taking home and putting together a bed, right?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll be there in an hour, but I’m bringing help. These muscles can do a hella lot of things but getting a whole bed to the 7th floor is different.”

“Of course. Thank you, Derek.”

After the call ended, you stood in one place in the middle of your room, trying to calm yourself down, contemplating your life. Asking for a favour shouldn’t make you feel like you’re being hunted for sport. But it did, especially since it included one of your co-workers.

Originally, you planned on getting this done with your brothers, but both were out of the country for two more weeks. You’ve read so many past case files where it later turned out that the UnSubs were previously in one of the BAU member’s homes as maintenance workers or something similar that it made you a tiny bit paranoid. This is one of the reasons why you preferred to fix everything you could by yourself. It was to avoid letting unknown people into your flat. You weren’t that worried about Morgan’s unfamiliar friend though, given that you completely trusted the profiler.

Well, colour you surprised when an hour later as you hopped into the backseat of the black Range Rover Autobiography, you were met with passenger princess Spencer Reid.

“Oh… Hi.” your voice got awkwardly high-pitched. You avoided looking at him both directly and through the rear-view mirror. You weren’t quite prepared for this scenario. It was bad enough that the anxiety caused by being afraid of becoming a nuisance for Derek filled your entire body, now Dr Asshole was there too. And you appreciated the help, you really did. But now this also meant that the man with whom you had an indefinable relationship will enter your home. The home, which was so obviously, undeniably you. It was almost like a piece of your bare soul on display both in a good and bad way.

“Hi.”

“So, IKEA?” clarified Derek before things could’ve gotten even more uncomfortable.

“Yes. I already chose which one I’d like so I won’t be taking up much of your time, promise,” you said and as proof, you held up your phone, with the website open and the specific furniture on the screen.

“Oh, Tonstad was mentioned in a travel brochure I’ve read a few years ago when I was looking for places to visit.” After Spencer took a glance at your phone, his eyes almost literally lit up. He enthusiastically explained what the name of the chosen bedframe and mattress meant. His hands were just as expressive as his mouth. It was sweet, how he probably wasn’t aware the constant movement of his fingers. “It’s a little Norwegian village and was the administrative centre of the old municipality of Tonstad from 1905 until its dissolution in 1960. In 1960, it became the part of Sirdal, and it continued to be the administrative centre there.”

Weirdly, his slightly rambling, lengthy explanation somewhat put you at ease. It was one of those rare moments when his facts weren’t undermining your professional ideas and theories. These facts were simply just facts, it was interesting listening to them, and he was able to keep your attention so much so, that you didn’t even notice how curiously you stared at him.

However, he did. Since you had no reason to use contact lenses on an early Saturday when you weren’t working, those damned glasses were on you again. The sight basically magnetized his gaze to your face through the rear-view mirror, automatically triggering the memory of his weird dream about you from a few weeks before.

For a quick, passing moment he became annoyed. The genius didn’t quite understand why a simple object, invented around the 13th century—with its precursors dated back to the Eastern Han Dynasty in China—had such an effect on him. Spectacles have been around for a few hundred years now, it was quite literally a basic, everyday necessity for almost half the population. At times even he himself had to wear it. So then, why in the hells did you have this weird, unexplainable effect on him? It wasn’t fair, how you were able to cause a ruckus in his extraordinary brain without even trying.

Much to his dismay, he was very well aware how you looked at him from behind. The way the Sun shined on your irises captivated him. All your attention was his. And he had to come to the unfortunate conclusion that he very much liked this.

×××

“Is it okay if I let out my cats now?” you asked the men in your bedroom that got cluttered and chaotic rather quickly. They were in the midst of putting your bed together, however, it didn’t go as smoothly as they planned. Derek wanted to use a simple thing, called common sense, and build the bedframe how it seemed right while Reid insisted on strictly following the manual which he already read and memorised word for word. On top of that, they didn’t let you help them, not even a tiny bit. The one thing that both agreed on was that you’re not going to do anything physically exhausting while you still have a healing wound on your side.

“You have cats?” asked the doctor and he even turned his precious attention from the wooden parts to you.

“No Reid, I just prefer to eat and drink from a bowl on the ground.” the sarcastic reaction came out before you could even register it and, in a way, you almost immediately felt guilty about it. He was there to help you. There was no need for hostility. But you were very much on edge, more than usually, since this was the first time they were in your home. You were aware of the fact that just by looking at the environment you created as a home, he was able to profile the shit out of you, and you didn’t like this at all.

You had various kinds of potted plants everywhere—all safe for your pets—, even on top of stacked books that were scattered around the living room. Your dish rack was filled with colourful mugs, plates and bowls, most of them had different patterns and shapes. You bought the majority of those from artisans who set up stands at different fairs. All of them were unique but the colour scheme matched nicely, making your kitchenware organised and fun at the same time. Some were made to look like a blooming flower, some had animal or geek features on them. Penelope was over the moon when she first saw it, so much so that it wouldn’t have surprised you if she sneaked a few out of your place at the end of the occasional get-togethers.

The bookshelf at the wall between your kitchen and living room immediately caught Reid’s attention, but assembling your furniture was the main priority, so he forced himself not to pay much attention to it. Secretly though, he hoped he could take a closer look at what you read and by what system you organised your books, just so he could possibly get to know you more without having to engage in your usual bickering.

Before the doctor could’ve answered your last sentence, you took a swift turn and left your bedroom. A few minutes later the sound of long, drawn-out meows filled the small flat.

“Yeaaah, I know, I know. I’m sorry.” you answered to your pets in a high-pitched tone. The first one to run out of the bathroom was an adult, slightly chubby black cat with deep, amber eyes. You found her and her brother—the sweetest little calico, who was still chilling in the cold sink, even though you opened the door for him to leave—on a hot summer’s night, during a storm that was one of the worsts you’ve ever seen or experienced a little more than two years ago. The kitten named Nick, is an entirely different story. You found him in a dumpster, near your apartment, squaring it up with a raccoon. He hasn’t calmed down ever since. “But I locked you up for your own sakes. And it was only for half an hour.” To this, another long meow was your answer, to which you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. They were dramatic, for sure.

“Should I consider my win on the last case as a result of you, not having a bed?” Reid’s voice almost made you jump; it was so sudden. He was leaning to the doorframe, curious eyes diligently taking in every single tiny detail of you and your surroundings. You were in the process of taking the sweetest little prince out of the sink. The long-haired calico was rather scaredy and hated unfamiliar people but was a total lovebug for those whom he knew. Unfortunately, the tall profiler wasn’t amongst these persons, so the cat’s instincts took over and, in a blink, he clawed his way out of your warm embrace to hide behind the washing machine.

“Shit! Daisy…” you yelped as you became more and more aware of the tingling, hot pain that spread across your upper and lower arms.

“Ah, I… Khm. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I knew he is afraid of strangers, I should’ve left him alone, but I felt guilty about locking them up for the time you got the bed to my room.” you explained the situation while you started to clean the shallow injuries with some warm water. There were only a few scratches, luckily, but they burned like hell. “The other two will be okay, though. Jordan usually sits on top of the cat tree and judges everyone while Nick brings doom and destruction to all things in existence.”

It didn’t require much brain power to put two and two together, Spencer almost immediately recognised the connection between the names of your cats, however, he didn’t mention a thing. He wasn’t sure how you’d react, and he didn’t want to start a fight. Up until now you’ve only met each other outside of work when the team went out for drinks and even then, you tended to avoid interacting with him. So, instead he silently reached for the soft, salmon-coloured towel and handed it to you, his watchful gaze never leaving your figure.

thank you again for reading my work, hope you're having an awesome day! i hope it isn't a problem that this fic is getting longer, i'm just taking slow burn seriously (only thing i can do lmao) taglist: @halfbloodwriter @starrystormwritings @kspencer34 @maisyyyyyy @theseerbetweenus @throwaway-things divider from @cafekitsune gif from @reidgif

[goreandbunnies]

⛧☾༒︎ 𝔇𝔢𝔳𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 ༒︎☽⛧

Sukuna x Reader, Toji x Reader

Summary ๋࣭ ⭑⚝"Almost six months after meeting him, I had finally managed to escape. At least that's what I thought, hidden in that alley, holding my breath and waiting for the search party to get further away from my spot. But this city was his, he had eyes everywhere. I needed to leave as far away as I could."

Warnings ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Explicit language, sexual explicit scenes, sexual assault, drugs and alcohol, explicit violent scenes, gun violence, emotional and physical manipulation, dub-con, mentions of cults, blood and blood play, knife play.

Word count ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 38k (in progress)

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more & @cafekitsune

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 4

Life slowly went back to normal after that night. Amy and I - after a well deserved break to recover from her hangover - kept on planning hers and Ben’s wedding. Last minute details since she had hired the best wedding planner in town and it was pretty much imminent. We were simply going over everything over and over again to make sure it was perfect. The injury on my head had been completely forgotten after a couple of days, however the memory of the two men who had saved me was still very much instact, no matter how much I tried to bury it under a mountain of denial.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married next week,” I grinned at my best friend as I flipped through her wedding binders and folders. “Remember when you said you’d wait until you’re fifty to even consider dating a man?” She looked up from her iPad and rolled her eyes.

“And then Ben almost ran me over, sounds like a cheap rom-com, doesn’t it?” We both snickered, reminiscing about high school and Amy’s numerous boyfriends.

The weather outside was absolutely terrible. For a mid June afternoon, the rain sure was a pest. Amy and I were sitting inside our favorite coffee shop, only a couple of other tables were occupied, most people were staying home in this weather. 

I couldn’t blame them, I would’ve done the same if not for Amy. She was sick of being cooped up, the nerves hitting her harder now that the wedding was approaching and staying home or coming over to mine was simply not an option to her. 

“Hey, I’m gonna get us a refill and then we can double check the floral arrangements,” she stood up, collecting our mugs and nodding at the mess on our table. “I’m pretty sure I saw some lilies when I specifically asked for white peonies, I’ll be right back,” she hurried over to the counter, leaving me alone to flip through pictures. 

Looking for my favorite pen, I searched the table before patting my jacket’s pockets and leaned in to grab my purse.

“Where is it?” I whispered as I rummaged through my stuff. 

In my haste, some of my belongings slid from my purse onto my lap, spilling out like dirty secrets. I fished out my pen from my bag and replaced everything in there before I realized what I was holding. Something that I had never seen or owned before. 

A small flat token, innocent looking if not for the Apple logo on it and the words engraved on its shiny surface. AirTag. My eyes widened in horror as the small disk laid in my palm. This wasn’t mine and it couldn’t have ended up at the bottom of my purse randomly. 

My hand started shaking a little. My brain was spinning, trying to wonder how the Hell it ended up in there. Aside from going to work - where I was alone for the most time - the last time I went out was… that night. Amy and Ben’s party. 

My lips parted in utter shock as I replayed the night’s events, down to the moment where a certain pink haired man handed me my purse and jacket before I left. How he insisted on taking them from the clerk to hand them to me instead. 

“No way,” I dropped the AirTag back on my lap and reached for my denim jacket’s pockets. 

I erratically slid my hand into the outside pockets, looking for another of those tracking devices, realizing that I had taken both my purse and jacket to work. Back home. To my favorite bookstore, to Amy’s. Everywhere. 

When I thought I had been paranoid for nothing, my fingers brushed a cold, flat surface in the inner hidden pocket. Slowly, as if it was about to explode, I took out the second AirTag and laid both in my sweaty palm.

Two small disks. One for each of the psychopaths who had saved me from Brad four nights ago. I stared at them, frozen when one started beeping. 

“Okay, one soy milk matcha for you and two shots of espresso for me,” Amy chimed in as I closed my hand over the two tracking devices that felt like they were burning through my palm. “Oh and you would never guess who I saw in the line! I told him to join us, he asked us about you a lot since the party.”

“Amy… tell me you didn’t,” I closed my eyes as one of the AirTags buzzed in my closed hand.

“Of course I did,” she leaned in over the table and whisper-yelled at me. “He’s hot and he’s obviously into you. I’m not asking you to marry the guy, but at least take him as your date to the wedding,” she scolded me.

“He’s a psycho-” I whisper-yelled back at her before a large, warm hand landed on my shoulder. 

“Ladies,” he purred. “I hope I’m not interrupting, Amy,” he politely added, his hand still cupping my shoulder, sending shivers down my spine. I stared angrily at my best friend as I swatted his hand away.

“Definitely not. Have a seat,” she invited him with a bright smile, collecting some of the papers on the free side of our table. 

“If you insist then,” he smirked as he walked from behind me, his long legs swaying past before he pulled a chair and gracefully sat down. 

To my dismay, he looked even better than how I remembered him. The messy pink hair, the perfectly fitted navy blue suit and the white shirt open at the collar, showing off some of the lines on his chest. The. Damn. Smirk. I squeezed the AirTags in my hand as he rested his elbows on the table and his head on his closed fist. 

“How have you been doing, Elle?” He asked ever so politely, closing his trap around my best friend to get her in his good graces.

“Wonderful,” I replied dryly, reaching for my cup and taking a sip of the pale green drink. 

“You left so abruptly the other night,” he shrugged, sitting back in his chair, his knee touching mine. I crossed my leg away from his. “I didn’t mean to scare you away,” I huffed.

“Sure thing,” I nodded, avoiding his piercing reddish brown eyes. 

“Forgive her, Sukuna,” Amy joined in, sitting back as well. “She’s just grumpy cause the wedding is in a week and she still doesn’t have a date,” she playfully smirked at me. 

“Don’t you dare, Ames,” I said, gritting my teeth.

“What? I’m just helping you out here,” she raised her hands as Sukuna observed us like we were the most amusing thing he’d seen in ages. Amy nodded at the pink haired man. “According to Ben, you’re coming alone as well?” she asked him and he nodded, the trap closing again. “I think Elle would love to be your date as a way to thank you for taking care of her the other night,” she crossed her hands on the table and I instantly knew I had lost.

Because if that’s what she wanted, then I’d do it. For her. My shoulders sagged in defeat as I looked over at Sukuna, not even concealing his triumphant joy. Amy’s phone buzzed on the table and she excused herself, needing to take that call from her wedding planner. The next second, I was alone with my date. 

“Should I take you dress shopping then?” He raised his eyebrows playfully. 

“I already have a dress, thank you very much,” I replied, replacing the mug on the table. “I’m doing this for Amy, don’t get your hopes up here,” before he could add anything, I dropped the AirTags on the table in front of him. “What the fuck is that?” I asked angrily.

However, he didn’t say a thing - but his growing smirk only confirmed what I already knew. These were his and Toji’s. No doubt about that. I slid them closer to him.

“At least own your shit, you psycho,” I spat just as angrily. But he only kept staring at me.

“What color is it?” He simply asked, his smile fading slightly.

“What?” I frowned, confused by the random question.

“Your dress, for Amy and Ben’s wedding,” he sighed, annoyed and almost… bored? “What color is it? I need to know how to match our outfits,” he casually added, readjusting his cufflinks. I stared at him for a second.

“Sea green,” I simply said, watching him nod it off before he fished out his phone and dialed a number. The next second, my phone rang.

“There, you have my number too now,” he hung up and put his phone back in his jacket then stood up, buttoning it. His large hand collected the AirTags on the table. “I got everything I need, no need for those anymore,” he smirked and I almost slapped the shit out of him.

In less than a week, this psycho had saved me from a lifelong creep only to replace him. Manipulated my best friend to get closer to me, stalked me and slithered like a snake in my life. At this point, I considered changing the locks and changing my number. But somehow I knew that he wouldn’t let go, not until he got what he truly wanted, which was still the big question.

“Why are you doing this?” I looked up at him as he put his chair away, the picture of a gentleman. “I’m sure there are lots of women who’d be more than happy to entertain you,” I watched as he leaned over and whispered in my ear.

“Because challenges are way more entertaining,” his hand brushed my hair to the side of my neck. “Your love and devotion will only taste sweeter once you willingly offer both to me,” his lips were so close to my ear. I swallowed the knot in my throat and turned my head to face him. 

“It’s never happening, once the wedding is over, I’m done with you,” his face was mere inches from mine, his hand still at the back of my neck, his thumb brushing my skin. 

“I’m patient, extremely stubborn…” he suddenly twirled a strand of my hair from the back of my hand around his fingers and gently tugged on it, tilting my head back. “And you will eventually give in, those are facts.”

“Fuck you,” I breathed before his mouth descended on my cheek, awfully close to the corner of my lips and he planted a soft kiss there, keeping me in place thanks to that strand of hair. 

“Soon, I promise,” he winked at me before eventually letting go of my hair and leaving the coffee shop.

My heart was about to break free from my chest from beating so hard. I was convinced that the entire shop had seen something so obscene when it was barely a kiss. I was the only one who had felt it as a deeply overwhelming gesture, something that meant more than an innocent peck on the cheek.

Amy eventually came back and had to cut our afternoon short to pick up something from Ben. She offered to drop me home but I needed to clear my head by walking until my feet hurt. 

It wasn’t until much later, when I got back home after locking the door and checking it twice, that I allowed myself to freak out as I took the two AirTags from my jacket’s pocket and placed them side to side on top of my bed. 

Taglist ♥ @sweetlandspos @tojislittleprincesss @paradisestarfishh @unheavenlypacked

Copyright © goreandbunnies 2024-2025, all rights reserved, do not repost, use or plagiarize

[lurkerdemon]

We Have a Blob-lem - Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

Danny & Jason are around. Then a Blob crashes the party.

Content Warnings(?): Mild swearing, and Guns

Word Count: 1547

“Wow, you suck at this.” 

Another beam of green energy flashes through the air at the can Danny launched across the training area of the cave. The laser clips a top corner and sends the object spiraling into a wall as Jason flips him off with his free hand.

“You. Shut. And I’m still hitting them!”

Danny simply floats over to throw again. The next can gets hit right on the bottom as it makes its spiralling arc through the air. The resulting concussive force from the Fenton brand weapon launches it upward as it collides with the stone ceiling far above with a resounding aluminum clang. Danny gives a low whistle.

“Overcompensated the aim. Cool party trick though.”

“Ass.”

“And that’s why we’re friends!”

The slug Jason aims at Danny’s arm has no real force to it, but that still doesn’t prevent him from going intangible just to watch the larger man take a moment to regain his balance at the lack of resistance. Jason glares and Danny chuckles.

“I told you it’s different when you use lasers!”

“Danny, I know how to use more weapons than you ever will, dead or half-alive.”

“And I was told how to hold a Fenton blaster when I was seven. Plus I can to do this-”

Danny waved one hand as green energy enveloped four cans and then chucked them across the room. All he needed was one jump-suited finger as an ecto-beam shot out and blasted each can to a partially melted mush. They hit the floor with a dull, metallic thud while Danny took a bow.

“And now you’re the showoff.”

“Coming from the guy who just bragged about knowing how to ‘use more weapons’ than a ghost. Maybe you could do with the reminder to stay humble.”

Jason turned around to spare himself from seeing more of Danny’s smirk as he made his way back to the nearby table.

“Oh yeah? Let’s see how your aim is with something that has more kick to it then.”

He stopped halfway, body stock-still and tense. Danny frowned and floated down to take a look for himself.

“What? Cat got yourrrrrrrrrr - Oh. Oh no.”

Sat at the table where Jason had left his holsters for his favorite pistols was a familiar green blob, the soccer ball sized creature giving low growls as cartoonish pointed teeth gnawed on the grip. It jerked backward occasionally, slowly making progress before one final pull got the weapon free and onto the table. It continued chewing.

Jason broke free of the shock and pointed.

“What is that?”

“Umm. Damian’s new pet? Let me just-” Danny floated sloooowly closer, “Vee. Hey Vee! Good blob. Stay right there.”

“V?”

Danny stopped as the blob’s attention turned. 

“Short for ‘Eviscerate.’” He said in a low voice.

“The hell kind of name is that?”

“Look, you try telling Dami what to name his pet. It took me an hour just to talk him into a name that we could come up with a nickname for. Not many options for ‘Destroyer of Worlds.’”

“... Dee?”

“There are three potential D’s at this place already, I am not adding a fourth and getting confused with a blob ghost!”

Danny winced at the louder than intended exclamation, turning to the now growling Vee who was starting to drag the gun backward along the table. He glared at Jason.

“Oh please. I’ll do it.”

“No wait!”

Jason strode forward, closing the gap in a few steps, to which Vee responded by enveloping the gun whole in it’s body. He scowled and approached even faster.

“Give!”

Too late. The blob darted away from them just as Danny moved to cut off its exit further into the cave.

“Vee! Vee drop it!” 

Vee darts left. Danny dips left. 

Vee darts right. Danny dips right. 

Jason began to creep up from behind while the blob’s little eyes showed more smugness than Danny thought possible. The standoff lasts several seconds while Vee shimmies in place. All three of them tense at the same time.

What neither expect is for Vee to glow, Danny sensing ectoplasm concentrating on the gun as the blob deflates by a third of its size. He has enough wherewithal to put up an ectoshield in front of Jason just in case, only for Vee to take on the tell-tale transparency of intangibility and run through him instead. Gun and all.

Both look on in horror as it heads straight up the staircase leading back to the manor.

“Okay so, didn't know they could do that.” Danny says with a dumbfounded look.

“Never would have guessed. You owe me a new gun if it messed up my favorite.”

“Hey! I'm already letting you use the Fenton one!”

“Excellent point. You're letting me keep the new gun if it messed up my favorite.”

Danny narrows his eyes while Jason just raises an eyebrow in an unspoken ‘what’ya gonna do about it.’

“Fine. Just help me catch it before someone gets home.”

- - - - -

Danny was learning a few things right now.

1) It is really annoying to try and find a small pet in a manor with a lot of places to hide.

2) It's even more difficult when said pet doesn't have to adhere to the laws of physics.

3) Blob ghosts, while one of the most harmless ecto-entities, can apparently extend these ghostly rule bending properties to things with enough ectoplasm. (If the now ecto-coated gun in Vee was anything to go off.)

Danny never did enjoy the “learning on the fly” part of ghost stuff, and these weren't an exception.

He called out just as he turned into the main foyer and spotted Jason returning from the left wing.

“I think I got close before seeing Vee go your way. Any signs of them or Alfred Cat-worth?”

“Nothing. Cat’s in Damien's room though. Shut the door for now.”

“Alright, one less thing to worry about.”

“I told you already, the safety for the gun is on – oh yee of little faith.”

“Look with my luck I'm just trying to prepare for the worst. Now I can still pick up Vee on my ghost sense but it's going to be difficult to get the exact position. So I think-”

BANG.

“...”

“... Don't. Say. Anything. I know for a fact the safety was on.”

“.... Anything.”

Jason bit back a groan. 

- - - -

“Eassssy Vee. Everything’s fine.”

Danny really should have made Jason be the distraction. Trying to not look at him creeping up behind Vee again was killing him.

Vee just gave another growl, sounding a lot like a dog saying ‘No’ as it sunk slightly lower onto the guest bed. The blob was a bit smaller again, maybe the size of a handbag, so definitely used up more ecto doing whatever caused the gunshot. Which was fine. Danny was sure the guest bedroom could have used some art hangings anyway. He definitely didn't feel a cold sweat run down his back every time he looked at the wall next to him by the dresser.

This is fine.

“Okay. Okay. I'll stay right here. See. Nice and-”

Jason lunged and grabbed the blob. Vee gave a betrayed howl in return as he forcibly got a hand on the pistol. He refused to let go even as his hand filled with a chill and a pins-and-needles static raced across his nerves.

“Hey! Be careful with them!”

“I. Almost. Got it.”

With one final tug the gun came loose. He immediately checked for the safety (still on! Hah!) and shoved it to the side while his other arm held the angry chaos ball. 

Danny gave a sigh of relief. “Safe.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m still checking the gun over later and then you get to explain the hole in the wall.”

“Hey!”

Jason just grinned. Vee meanwhile continued to wriggle in the hold pinching it to his chest, small dot eyes looking up at him.

Then it bit his arm.

He looked down at it, blinking as confusion turned into a weird wave of cool indifference. Then he frowned even as the blob expanded in size.

“The fuck?”

The irritation quickly slid along that same wave, right before it crashed against the beginnings of something green in his vision. He wasn't Pit Mad, but it was definitely stirring up enough to make him consider punting the thing for whatever it was doing.

Danny stepped in just before that became a serious consideration, pulling the now beach ball sized blob away. Jason felt the wave of whatever that was die back down.

“Bad blob! Bad! You don't know where he's been!”

“Hey!”

Vee was gagging in Danny's arms like it just ate a lemon. It growled and grumbled, ectoplasm glowing again.

POP.

Then Danny is suddenly holding four blobs. Vee in normal ectoplasm green, two a light ghostly blue that reminds him of Box Ghost, and a fourth a dark verdant green that is currently gnawing on one of his fingers.

This time it was Danny’s turn to groan. “Sure. What's one more surprise today.”

“Congratulations, it's a blob.” Jason sneered.

“Hey these are technically yours! Now either you take them, or you’re helping me get them out of here before Damien-”

The door creaked.

“Before I what?”

= = = = = =

1) I debated what name Damien would give the blobs for a long while, and then simply decided to go based on Wayne Family Adventures and say he chose violence (literally) because I thought it was funny.

So now introducing:

Vee (aka Eviscerate aka the one and only Bat-Blob)

May (Maim)

Mu (Murder)

and Kay (Kill)

Imagine with me:

Criminal: *be doing a crime*

Robin: *descends from the shadows and points*

Robin: Kill

Criminal: *Screaming as they get a face full of angry (but harmless) green*

2) I debated specifying whether or not Jason & Danny got armor or something for approaching a potentially live gun and decided to just stop debating and get this posted.

That being said I feel I should say the obvious and take care with firearms. Giving the blob a gun was for the funny.

3) I do have plans for more parts, I am just slow and easily distracted.

[whats-her-quirk]

Secret Oath Chapter 7

last || m.list

➷➷➷➷➷

marco bott x fem!reader

18+ mdni

word count: 3.1k

chapter warnings: explicit smut, dry humping, oral, praise, a touch of corruption, first times, they're in love your honor

a/n: it's chapter 7 but its been just over 2 years since I started this fic so I think that qualifies as slow burn

♪ good old fashioned lover boy by queen ♪ you and I by lady gaga

➷➷➷➷➷

When you drag yourself out of bed for wake-up duty the next morning, Marco is waiting on the deck with coffee in his red thermos. He holds it out to you.

“Two sugars. I only have one travel mug, but I figured we could share. If you want.”

You’re in no position to turn down caffeine, but it’s more than that. You hadn’t asked him to do rounds with you, but here he is: eyes bright like he’s been awake for a while, holding a mug of coffee sweetened the way you like when he usually takes his black. This man might be in love with you.

Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Considering he might be inside you later, you decide you might as well get used to kissing spontaneously. He rests a hand on your waist, tongue brushing yours in a way that crosses from sweet to steamy.

After a long, heady look into his sable eyes, you gratefully reach for the thermos and take a long sip. “Thank you. I owe you my life.”

“How about just one more kiss instead?”

You couldn’t possibly resist.

-

Almost as soon as you arrive at arts and crafts with your group and Ymir’s, Moblit puts you to work. He can’t know that you told Marco your secret; it must be cosmic punishment. While Mobs shows the campers how to make leaf rubbings, you get down to business peeling the paper off of at least a hundred crayons. Ymir grumbles beside you, her fingernails too short to get under the labels. Now’s your chance, and you need to take it.

“Hey, wingwoman.”

Ymir scoffs. “Are you addressing me?”

“Yes.”

“Well, well, well…”

“You should be glad that I’m asking you for a favor.”

“Historia owes me so much money.”

“What?”

“I knew you’d come crawling to me. She didn’t believe me. But I have a sixth sense.” Ymir taps her head.

“Ok, seriously. I need the cabin to myself during free time today. Can you make sure everybody has somewhere else to be?”

Ymir considers this, her bottom lip jutting out in thought. “Well, Hisu goes where I go. If Hitch and Mikasa aren’t already occupied with a Jaeger each, I can probably convince them to go for a hike. Or better, a drive. With the AC on full blast.”

You throw your arms around Ymir and squeeze. “You rock.”

She pushes you off. “You’re just now realizing that? Some friend you are.” She picks at another crayon. “Do you need me to come up with an alibi or should I just tell everyone you’re having clumsy sex with the resident virgin?”

“He could be a sex god. You don’t know.”

“Fat chance.”

“I guess I’ll have to let you know. In excruciating detail.”

“Fuck no you won’t.”

–

Marco meets you on the steps outside your cabin, hands deep in the pocket of his red hoodie. True to her word, Ymir made Historia invite Mikasa and Eren to drive to town with them to buy soda at the convenience store. Hitch said she already had plans and not to wait up.

“What about the rest of the guys?” you ask.

Marco rubs the back of his neck. “All at the pool. Apparently they put up a net and I’m missing a grand volleyball tournament with the Galliards. I told them I had something else to do.”

You give him a sly smile. “Shame.”

Grateful for the privacy, you nudge Marco on the shoulder and lead him inside. After flipping the latch on the door and turning on a small lamp in the corner, you sit down on your bunk and pat the space next to you. “Take off your shoes and stay a while.”

Marco chuckles, cheeks reddening, but does as you say. He lays his hand on top of yours. “I’ll be honest. I’m kind of freaking out right now.”

“If you’re not ready, you’re allowed to change your mind.”

“I’m less worried about stopping than I am about getting started.” He leans in, his forehead touching yours. Quieter, he asks, “Can you take the lead?”

“Mmhmm.” You slide both hands up his neck, thumbs coming to rest at the corners of his jaw. “Kiss me a little first and see if you feel better.”

You don’t need to ask twice. Marco rolls on top of you like he’s been waiting for the chance, hands on your waist as he presses you into the bed. His mouth finds yours hungrily, his breath toothpaste-fresh. He prepped for this.

His tongue dips into your mouth, kissing you deeper. You rake your fingers through his hair, behind his ears, down his back. He’s folded over the edge of the bed, toes on the floor. Slowly, you drag one foot up the length of his leg, arching into the next kiss.

Marco gathers you in his arms as your body rolls.

Your hips seek his own. Now that you’ve had a little taste, all you can think about is getting closer to him. You can’t help yourself: you want to feel his skin, his breath, his body heat. You want it to smother you.

But as badly as you want him, you know you need to take this one step at a time. Today is about enjoying it: his first time, and your first time with him.

As gently as you can, you tug the hem of his hoodie up toward his chest with your fingertips. His t-shirt rides with it, a swath of his tanned-bronze skin meeting your stomach. You nudge inside his shirt, hands meeting his warm back, teasing him for more access bit by bit.

Marco finds your hip and slides a hand up under your top. He’s timid at first, but when you sigh and bend to his touch, he ventures on, hesitating only when he brushes the edge of your bra. With a slight tremble, he cups your breast in his palm.

He inhales sharply, then with a little, almost imperceptible hum, he melts. You feel him start to let go of it all: the fear, the hesitation, the self-consciousness. With another deep breath, he gives an experimental squeeze.

You break the kiss long enough to pull your shirt off over your head. You feel a flash of shyness and cover your bare stomach with your arms as Marco looks down at you with reverence. His pupils dilate, making his irises look almost black as he unfolds, standing to remove his hoodie and shirt in one motion. You expect him to drop them on the floor but giggle when he drapes them carefully over the rail on Historia’s nearby bunk.

“Sorry.” He blushes.

“Don’t be.” You pull your legs up on the bed and stretch out. “Come here.”

Marco drops into your open arms, lips finding yours before he crawls onto his hands and knees on top of you.

“You’re beautiful,” he mumbles through a messy kiss.

You cup his jaw, bringing him closer. “So are you,” you try to say, but he swallows your words.

Your eyes flutter closed and your hands wander, stroking down the planes of his strong neck, his broad shoulders, his sun-speckled chest. There’s so much of him to explore, so much of his body yet untouched. You can’t get enough.

The ambient creaking of the cabin and the rustling of wind outside are punctuated by the slick sounds of kisses as you pore over each other. Marco’s mouth drops to the bend of your neck, drawing heat to the spot. He tangles his legs with yours and rolls you both onto your sides. Arching, you slide your hands around the small of his back and push your hips forward. Dizzy stars burst behind your eyelids as his erection twitches against your lower stomach through his running shorts.

With a little moan, you wrap a thigh around his waist for leverage and grind. Marco jerks his hips forward, head thrown back against your pillow with a hushed, “Fuck.” You drink it in, savoring the sound like the last sip of wine at the bottom of the bottle.

Your leg holds Marco against you, right where he should be, as you set a rhythm, rolling your hips up and down his body. Every few strokes, your clit catches against his clothed cock with delicious friction. When you moan, he moans.

Marco’s breath lands heavily against your face as he tilts his chin down, forehead against your own, to focus on the motion. He watches as you dry-hump against his bulge. Even without being skin to skin, it’s filthy. His hands grip your ass and everything begins to speed up.

Yes. Yes. This is finally happening.

Marco grips your hips and rolls over, balancing his weight above you on his elbows. His breaths come heavy, his body crashing over yours again and again like waves. Plunging your hand between you, you reach for his cock. He moans and humps into your hand like he can’t stop. God, it’s so big, straining against his shorts, and sensitive, throbbing in your grip.

You pant, quick and shallow, thinking about having him inside you, how full you’re going to be. It’s hard to stay calm when the anticipation burns so brightly.

When you let go of his shaft, Marco whines at the loss. You lock eyes as you brush his waistband with just your fingertips. “Ok?” you ask.

He nods desperately. “Please.”

Together, you push the elastic down until he kicks his shorts off behind him along with his underwear. Needy but defenseless, he babbles, “I’m sorry if it’s too much, if you don’t want to—”

You wrap your hand around him, lightheaded at the girth. “Marco, you’re perfect.”

He groans in his throat and rocks into your hand, a man possessed.

With a hand to his side, you guide Marco onto his back. Puffing, he rests while you take off the rest of your clothes. His arm falls across his eyes. “Oh my god.”

He pulls it away to watch as you kneel between his legs and press a kiss to the head of his cock. His muscles tense at your first few kitten licks before you wrap your lips around him. With your fist around his base, you run your tongue back and forth over his frenulum. When you come up for air, you give a few more wet strokes over his tip before Marco reaches for you.

“Please, it feels so good, but I’m gonna cum instantly if you keep doing that.” His laugh comes out more like a breath, but his smile is in his eyes.

Smirking, you crawl up to his middle. Your legs have to spread so wide just to straddle him, but fuck if your hips hurt later. The pain will be sweet. He’s worth it. He’s worth anything.

Marco paws at your arms, pulling you closer. “You don’t have to kiss me after I blow you,” you offer. “I know it bothers some people.”

Marco shakes his head and drags you to him with his hands to the back of your neck. “I don’t care, I want to,” he pants. “I need to kiss you right now.”

Messy kisses string between you, deep, hungry caresses against your tongue. “How do I—” he mumbles into your mouth, “How do I get you ready?”

“You can touch me,” you sigh.

“God,” he moans, reaching between your thighs. “Show me?”

Head hanging over your bent neck, you guide him by the wrist until two of his fingers press over your clit. You show him where to rub the little circles you like, wetting his fingers with your dew. Bracing two hands on either side of his head, you leave him to it, closing your eyes to focus on the repeated motion while you breathe into each other’s mouths.

You hold yourself together until your legs start to tremble. A rush of heat spreads from your face down your neck, flowing between your legs with an irresistible tingle. The words come out clipped and sharp. “You can put a finger in. Please.”

Marco fumbles a little at first but spreads you like a pro once he gets his bearings. One finger dips inside, and it’s both a relief and a lightning strike to your core. “Yes,” you can’t help but hiss.

It’s not like he knows nothing—Marco presses and curls his knuckle, and it makes you whine with pleasure. “Two, please.”

He adds another finger, and the heel of his hand brushes your clit with every flex. Heat builds until it skyrockets, your legs and hips jerking above him as you find a little peak. As the pulses dull around his fingers, your muscles release and your head swims with pleasure. You had no idea how badly you needed that.

You open your eyes to Marco staring in awe. “Did I really make you cum?”

You tap his arm so he knows to pull his fingers out. “Yeah. It was really good.” On wobbly thighs, you climb out of his lap and rest on your knees beside him. “Please tell me you remembered the condoms.”

Marco twists to his side. “Yeah, in my hoodie pocket.”

“I got it.” Slippery between your legs, you retrieve the condom and reach for the bottle of lube you know Historia keeps under her bunk while you’re there.

“Is that—”

“Yeah. It’s been a little while, and I might need it. Trust me, you’ll like it. Want me to put the condom on?” Your hands shake, eagerness making your movements sharp and clumsy. If he’s ready, you don’t want to wait another second.

“Sure.” Marco pushes up onto his elbows while you tear open the gold foil. He did the right thing buying the bigger size. “How do you want to… what’s going to be most comfortable for you?” He sighs as you roll the condom down his length, holding it in place at the tip. Your mouth practically waters as you squeeze out a few drops of lube and spread it on.

“If it’s ok with you, I think it’ll be easiest if I’m on top. At least for the first time, it’ll be better if I can control the angle and the speed.”

Marco lies back, exhaling heavily. You straddle him again, and his hands slide up your thighs. You can tell he’s steadying himself. Swallowing thickly, he asks, “You sure you’ll be ok? Is it going to fit?”

Your chest clenches. At a time like this, he’s thinking about you. Above all the emotions swirling inside you—excitement, lust, nervousness, all of it—you feel safe and important. You couldn’t be more grateful to be with someone like Marco. You hope this thing between the two of you can turn into something that lasts.

You kiss him deep and slow, rekindling the fire between you and topping it off with a sweet peck to his forehead. “Yes. I want you.”

His hands slide to your waist. “I want you too.”

With one more kiss, you reach below you, positioning him at your entrance, and sink down. As the first few inches slip in, your eyes widen and Marco’s hands clamp down tight. “Fuck,” you both curse at almost the same time.

He’s so thick. It’s all you can think about as you work him inside you, pulling out before pushing further down with each rock of your body. He’s filling you up. He’s splitting you open. It’s incredible.

You moan as your cunt sucks him in, and before you really know it, you’re as fully seated as you can be. There might be an inch or so that you just can’t fit, not today. It doesn’t matter—he feels fucking perfect for you.

Clenching involuntarily, you hold yourself in place as you acclimate to the stretch. Your hips prickle with heat, and you can only hope you’ll feel this tomorrow and be reminded of how it felt to be this full—to remember the absolute pleasure of being the first one to ever be filled by him.

Marco’s jaw drops as he rubs your hips, the tops of your thighs, anywhere he can reach. “You doing ok?” you pant.

Marco groans and nods. Words come huskily. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, feels good.”

His lashes flutter. “Can you move?”

“Mmhmm.” Pacing yourself, you grind up and down, tucking your hips to guide him to your sweet spot with each thrust. Overcome with the need to be as close as possible, you fold, pressing yourself closer to his chest.

With his hot hands guiding you, Marco huffs in your ear, and you ride. Finding your rhythm and steadily increasing it, he arches to meet you as he rolls your hips down. Intensity crescendos, passion breaking over you in waves and weeks of longing pouring over your bodies until it reaches its climax. You move as one until you hit critical mass and Marco takes the lead.

Moaning low and shallow, Marco slams into you over and over, driving you to the edge with a sharp cry, and you snap. It hits you in surges, your prolonged pulses dragging pathetic moans from your throat until you finally clamp down and force Marco to the other side with you. He whines until he chokes on it, his cock throbbing until he’s spent.

As much as you just want to collapse on top of him, your hips are screaming, so you carefully pull him out before curling into his side. You lie together, Marco’s arms around you, pulling you close in the crinkly twin bed. Between breaths, he kisses your lips, your cheeks, your neck before tucking your head under his chin, holding you in the still and quiet after the storm.

You trace constellations in the freckles on his chest. “So. How was it?”

“Worth it,” he whispers into your hair, pressing a kiss to your crown.

–

That night, around the campfire late in the evening, no one mentions it when you show up wearing Marco’s big red hoodie. Nobody asks where you were during free time or questions why you couldn’t keep your eyes off each other during the free-throw competition after dinner. The most you get is a wink and finger gun from Ymir, but she keeps her big mouth shut, and you love her for it. Everyone probably knows, or at least suspects, and maybe they’ll tease you for it later, but for tonight, they grant you peace.

After making you each a s’more, Marco wraps the both of you in his blanket. Despite your sticky smiles, you lean your head on his shoulder, one hand to his chest to feel his heartbeat under it.

➷➷➷➷➷

last || m.list

[realrosielol]

Maomao returning home after her and Jinshi's street date in EP17

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

honestly i think the duskborn rune is really burying the lead narratively. like, "death restored" just seems so... patently false as a descriptor? fia & co are kind of trying to do the Opposite of that.

like, ok, those who live in death came about because of ranni's two-time fracturing of the rune of death—once to unleash a tiny piece of it, and a second time to split the death between her and godwyn. explicitly, because of that second fracture, godwyn exists trapped in an in-between state, simultaneously dead and unable to die. he is dead but his corpse is also a living thing, growing blindly without consciousness. TWLID are similarly afflicted. their bodies are reborn over and over without release, and do not seem to... uh, retain a consciousness.

presumably, putting the rune of death back into the elden ring would stop the cycle of rebirth for everyone, not just them. if death were permanently unleashed onto the lands between, i think even godwyn would probably find release. b/c it's not just that ranni split their deaths—she also did it using a tiny stolen fragment of the rune, with maliketh still holding onto most of it. and you need The Whole Thing to end the game. so these... tiny traces are not really doing it.

crucially, fia could, but does not, ask you to restore that rune. instead, she gives you a new one. the one that she created by merging ranni's half-wheel with godwyn's. that will embed "life within death" into the order. if fia isn't trying to spread undeath to everyone in the lands between, wtf is she trying to do?? why does the rune seem to want to imply that she's restoring the natural order, when she herself seems to be so strongly against that possibility??

[devotedlystrangewizard]

totk really is one of those games that make me go "ok thanks for the characters, setting, and general plot, but ill take it from here <3" because the entire historical timeline had so much potential for interesting and nuanced story telling but they just went with the old zelda story formula and YES thats how theyve always done it but botw was such a reset in terms of gameplay that they couldve overhauled how they handle story in totk. but they didnt

[dear-ao3]

so. as you may know it’s christmas eve. as you probably don’t know i am eastern european. and probably the only real tradition anyone holds onto is christmas eve. normally my great aunt does all the food and very begrudgingly sometimes lets everyone help make like. one thing.

well.

this year. the year of our lord two thousand and twenty four. she decided she was done cooking and it was up to everyone else.

so i got a phone call from my mom a few weeks ago being like hey so. you’re making the cake. got it? good.

the cake in question is a walnut cake. i was entrusted with my great aunts recipe about seven years ago. i’ve made it twice. the first time i fucked up the frosting quantity. the second time i fucked up the eggs. both times were passable at best and notably! my great aunt did not taste either of them.

and i have to make this cake. on christmas eve. it is dessert. for everyone. my extended family will all be eating the cake. the walnut cake. on christmas eve. even my great aunt.

so yesterday, december 23 if you are counting, i went on the annual Last Minute Christmas Food Shopping Trip with my father, watched him climb into the case to get his half and half like he does every year, and stressed about my cake as i made sure i had all of the ingredients.

then. we went to my great aunts house. where i was met with Trial Number 1: The Cognac

this cake has cognac in the frosting. not a big deal really. except for the fact that my mom hates that there is cognac in the frosting. (my mom is hell bent on making christmas eve dinner vaguely healthier. no one else agrees.) and i was to be making the cake in my moms house.

also important to note: we (as in my parents) do not own cognac. mostly because none of us drink.

so my great aunt is like oh i have to give you the cognac. cause she knows. i am baking the cake. the walnut cake. (my dad told her. he is a traitor). and i say okay. sure. this won’t be a problem at all.

so she gives me. a shot of cognac. and when i say a shot. i mean an Entirely Full Shot Glass of Three Hundred Dollar Cognac. in a jar. for the cake. the walnut cake. that i have to make.

upon bringing the cognac home my mom says no we’re not putting that in. the cognac sits on the counter in its jar. no one touches it.

then i was met with Trial Number 2: The Frosting.

this recipe requires a pound of chopped walnuts. first. i couldn’t even find the walnuts. my sister and i searched high and low and in every cabinet we could find but no nuts. i called my mom. and said mom where are the walnuts? and she said. “they’re in the nut bag behind the basement door.”

oh of course. how could i have missed the nut bag? a holiday bag full of bags of nuts that was half hidden by wrapping paper and also behind a door?

in any case. could i have used a food processor? absolutely. did i? no. half because i forgot and half because i didn’t want to accidentally grind the walnuts into a paste. so i enlisted the help of my younger sister to chop the walnuts By Hand while i embarked on the real devil: the frosting.

which remember. is supposed to have cognac.

so i cream my butter. i add my sugar. i’m careful not to over sugar. i taste it a million times. i add my coffee and my vanilla extract (instead of cognac. which is still sitting on the counter) and it was all going so well until. the butter rebelled.

now remember. one time when i made this. seven years ago. i made too little frosting. so i made more this time. and i thought i had all my conversions right but evidently i did not because suddenly there was too much liquid in my frosting and it split.

the frosting for the walnut cake that everyone was going to eat. on christmas eve. the very next day.

i felt like a contestant on great british bake-off getting smited by the tent.

so i did the logical thing and shoved the whole mess into the fridge hoping that it would sort itself out overnight.

then it was time to face Trial Number Three: The Cake Itself.

as i have said this cake is a walnut cake. the christmas eve walnut cake that has been at christmas eve longer than i have been alive. and it requires no less than ten egg whites. which i whipped and i added to my walnuts and shoved the whole thing into the oven in my two baking dishes.

only to discover no less than 40 minutes later that the batter in the pans was Not Even (despite my best efforts). so i cooked one longer than the other and hoped that i hadn’t monumentally fucked up the walnut cake. like i had the frosting. which was in the fridge. and i was ignoring.

which leads to Trial Number Four: The Egg Yolk Cake

see i had ten egg yolks. i didn’t know what to do with them. my mom said flush them. my dad said make a custard. i proposed making egg nog. my mom said she didn’t want it in the house cause it was too fattening (a blatantly incorrect statement. please, if you are reading this, go drink a glass of eggnog. or some other fun festive drink. food is for the soul.) so i produced a recipe for an egg yolk pound cake. i made it. i still don’t know if it came out good cause i haven’t tasted it. i hope it did. but that was not the point. the point is the walnut cake. the christmas eve walnut cake.

and the following morning i was met with Trial Number Five: The Frosting Part 2

first i threw my failed frosting back in the mixer and it immediately secreted a brackish combination of vanilla extract and coffee so i did the only thing i could. facetimed my dad and said “father there are problems abound.” and he gave me the fatherly advice of “make it again.”

and so i did.

with more correct measurements. still scared it would split at any second.

though it didn’t.

and i didn’t add the cognac.

maybe no one will be able to tell???

my mom said that if anyone asks the first batch of frosting failed and i had to toss it. this is technically true.

but i had frosting. i had two uneven cakes. and it was time for Trial Number Six: Decorating

decorating cakes is easily in my top ten least favorite activities. decorating the christmas eve walnut cake is easily in my top three least favorite activities. because i am terrible at decorating cakes. and also because it has a filling.

the filling is jam. and i once again made the wrong choice because i put the jam on first before the frosting. which to be fair is what the directions say. but as everyone knows, the directions in recipes you get from your eastern european great aunt are not the real directions. so now i had to smear butter cream. on top of jam. for the filling of the walnut cake. for christmas eve. that we would be eating in a few hours.

and we didn’t have a cake plate. we had a large dish.

i had to use my fingers. i had to use three spatulas. i got jam everywhere. but i did it. and as soon as i set the top cake on top of the filling i realized my monumental mistake: i was supposed to trim down the cakes.

so now they were uneven. and lopsided. and there was nothing i, a mere mortal tasked with the impossible task of making christmas eve walnut cake, could do about it.

so i continued to spread my frosting. which i had enough of. and tried and failed to not get jam everywhere.

in the end it was almost presentable. not great. slightly lopsided. and definitely not as nice as any of my great aunts cakes.

which left me with Trial Number 7: Chilling It

our fridge was being taken up by other important christmas eve things (though not as important as my cake. the walnut cake) so i had to put it in the car. which was fine because there is snow on the ground.

i covered my cake. the walnut cake. in tin foil and hoped i wouldn’t accidentally squish it. and then i went outside. i tried to steal my moms shoes to walk outside. she was not impressed.

“you know, saph,” she said. “some of the time you’re pretty great. the other half of the time you’re really weird.”

i could not agree more.

i put my cake on the trunk. prayed to the cake gods and went inside.

on the one hand if the cake is good, i will be stuck making walnut cake for christmas eve for the rest of my life. on the other hand, if it sucks i will never have to make another one.

Trial Number Eight: The Tasting still waits.

[butrememberthesong]

actually on a similar note

[lov3notts]

"you what?"

ᥫ᭡Theodore Nott x F!Readerᥫ᭡

summary: accidentally drinking a lust potion, you asked your best friend Theo for help.

warning: smut, cursing, unprotected sex, size kink maybe? cream pie.

word count: 2.4k

18+only; minors don’t interact

Navigation; masterlist; request rules

“You what?” Theo’s eyes widened, you wanted him to do what? He wasn’t sure if this was a dream or not but if it was he didn’t want to wake up

Earlier that day , you had accidentally drank a lust potion. 

How, you might ask?

Well the boys (Enzo/ Mattheo) thought it would be funny to prank Draco by giving him a lust potion as payback for pranking them earlier that week

At lunch the 2 boys were there first, taking their usual spots they slip the potion to a bottle of Draco's favorite drink and placing it on the spot were Draco usually sits

One by one the group gets to the table ,leaving you and Draco left. 

Soon both of you walk in, but you seem to be in a rush

“Sorry guys I can’t stay and chat, I have to get back to studying, i’m just here to get some food to eat while studying” grabbing random things and the only drink you see left, you quickly stuff it in your purse

“Wait y/n!” Enzo saying frantically, giving Matt a worried look

You look up at Enzo as you start to zip up your bag. “Yeah?” 

“We were actually saving that for Draco, um- were having practice later and that’s his favorite”

“Omg I’m so sorry! Here-“ as your opening you bag Draco comes behind you , going to sit down 

“I actually got my own drink, y/n can have it” Dracos says while pulling out his drink from his bag,

Enzo’s and Mattheos’s eye widen.

“I- um, but we got it for you” Matt says with a bit of a shaky voice 

“Its fine, I don’t need it” as he waves his drink showing the 2 boys

“But-“ 

“Omg thank you Draco, I really have to go now guys see you later” you say as you're walking away before the boys have a chance to take away the drink.

Both Enzo and Matt try to call you back but you’re already gone, both freaking out inside. praying you don't find out what they did.

While studying in your dorm you couldn’t focus for more than 10 seconds. Thinking you might just be tired from all the studying you took a break. Getting up from your desk you head towards your bed. Laying in your bed you start to space out

At first it was all innocent thoughts, school, weekend plans but then they started to shift The only thing you could think of was pleasure. Thinking of a certain boy made your cunt throb, making your body hot

Your hand slowly creeps down to your shorts. Slowly playing with yourself imagining it was Theo’s fingers rubbing circles on your clit.

“Oh god Theo” you moaned 

but no matter how good it felt you couldn’t reach your climax. You were so needy and nothing was working. The rising heat from your body only made things more uncomfortable.

“God what is wrong with me, and why is it so hot” getting up from your bed you walk towards your desk, trying to find your drink, in hopes of it cooling you down . You picked up the bottle and before you can finish the drink you saw something written on the bottom of the bottle

“Payback- Enzo and Mattheo”

Your eyes widened with confusion. 

What?

Then you remembered how the drink was meant for Draco. 

everything started to make sense

This is why you were like this

You couldn’t even be mad at them, Your mind was clouded with the urge to get any satisfaction you could. all you wanted was any sort of pleasure but nothing was good enough. it started to get painful and a sudden thought popped in your head. Theo

he’d help right? He was really the only one you can go to. 

Your heart was racing at just the thought of Theo agreeing to help you out, being best friends all these years you had developed a crush on him, of course you never acted on it because you didn’t want to ruin your friendship 

Pacing back and forth your room, you finally decide to ask him for help. Nervously picking up your phone, you open Theo’s contact.

“Theo?”

“Hey Bella, what’s up?”

The nickname itself making you get butterflies.

 “Um- I need a favor, can you come over?”

“Of course, i'll be over in a few”

“Okay see you” hanging up the phone, your thoughts begin to consume you

What if he says no?

What if he laughs at your face and runs off

What if…

What if he says yes… 

Before you can continue, there was a knock on your door. That must be him. Slowly walking to your door, palms sweaty, you turn your door knob

“Hey, what did you need help with?” Theo goes in to give you a hug

Hugging him back, your nose is infused with his cologne  

God why does he always smell so good

He lets go and looks at you closely, he moves a strain of hair behind your ear to have a better look at you. His eyebrows frown, noticing your face is flustered and incredibly warm.

“Are you okay? Your face is warm” resting his hand on your cheek

“Yeah, um actually funny story-“ Quickly leading him to sit on the edge of your bed, holding his hands as you begin to explain

“Please just hear me out. I know it's odd ,but I have no one to go to,- just please-“ falling to your knees, begging.

“Hey hey, breathe. You know I'm here if you need anything. Now tell me, what’s up?” Theo's eyes looking at you with worry.

“Please I- I need you to fuck me” you blur out

That was the last thing Theo thought would come out of your mouth. 

You wanted him to what???

He was speechless, absolutely at a loss of words. jaw wide open

“Please, I'm sorry for asking you for this, I know it’s a lot and we’re best friends. But please I can’t take it anymore. I accidentally drank something that wasn’t meant to me and it had this effect on me. I’ve tried everything but nothing is working. I need your help please” your face heating up from embarrassment . I mean you only ever had the biggest crush on your best friend for years, but what you didn’t know was that so did Theo.

Theo had dreamt of the day he got to be with you.

How’d he spend hours pleasuring himself of the thought of you under him, on top of him and how good you’d take him in your mouth. God, was he hard the second you asked him to help you out.

How could he say no? 

Without another thought he picked you up from the floor. Sitting down back on your bed while you straddled his lap.

Looking into your eyes, moving a piece of your hair behind your ear, resting his hand on your cheek, he leaded in.  

Your soft lips on his, both whimpering into the intense kiss. Licking your bottom lip asking for access. You gladly gave it to him. 

Slowly rocking your hips on his clothed boner, trying to find any friction to satisfy you.

Slowly laying you down your bed, taking off your clothes until you were left in nothing but your matching black lace set. 

“Don’t worry Bella, i’ll take good care of you” Theo whispers as he starts to leave a trail of kisses down your body

“Theo please~” you pleaded, needing to feel something, anything.

“poor thing, you’ve must of been so uncomfortable for such a long time, don’t worry i’m here now”

He stopped to look at your lying body, face all flustered, messy hair. 

“God you’re so beautiful” he wasn’t lying, he’d always thought you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Always jealous of your ex boyfriends because they got to be with you. But now it was his turn and he was going to give you the best you’d ever gotten, he was going to ruin every other guy you’ve been with. 

Slowly pulling your panties off, dick throbbing at the sight of your wet glistening pussy. Trying to ignore his throbbing cock and focus on you, he gives you a sweet smile. 

“You're soaking wet, so ready for me” leaving little kisses around your pussy, teasing. finally burying his face between your legs, painfully slow licks as he takes it in, savoring every moment. 

As soon as you felt his tongue, you became a whimpering mess.  

“Theo~ oh my god yes” moving your hand to his hair, giving it a little tug. 

Theo couldn’t hold it in anymore, he started to devour you. eating you out as if he’d never get this opportunity ever again

“You taste so fucken good” he groaned against your dripping core. The vibrations sending you waves of pleasure 

“More please, Theo! oh my god~” it felt so good, his tongue making you feel things you’ve never felt before with anyone else

“So polite, even when your so needy” Theo smirked as he sees how much of a mess you were for him

He starts so pump one of his fingering into you while eating you out. Soon enough you felt the feeling you were craving for

“M-so close, fuck Theo i’m so close”

He stops what he’s doing, getting up grasping on his zipper and undoing the button. Tugging his jeans and boxers off. 

“Theo? Why’d you stop? I was so close” you looked at him with teary eyes. you were so close, god why did he stop

“Sorry princess, I wanna be in you, want you cum on my cock” godddd was he hot

His cock strung out his pants hitting his stomach , you were lost for words. In no world was Theodore Nott small, he was big- huge even. you’ve never taken anything close to his size.

Theo noticed your starring

“Like what you see?” A smile tugged the corner of his lips

“Don’t worry you can take it, I know you can”

You nodded at his works 

He lined himself up to your pussy, tracing himself up and down, teasing you.

“You have no idea how long i've been wanting to do this for” 

“Fuck ,Theo please, please fuck me” you whined 

“Anything for you, love”

he slowly pushed himself into you. You both let out a loud moan. 

“fuck, your so tight” Theo was out of breath.

You felt so good around him that he never wanted this moment to end.

“fuck Theo your big” you said panting 

“You think you can take more?”

More???

“There’s more??” Looking at Theo with a disbelief face

He chuckled “i’m only have way”

“Don’t worry you can handle it, can’t you baby?”

“Mhm- yes yes, I can take it”

Pushing the reset of himself into you. bottoming you out. heavily breathing, getting comfortable with the feeling of him stretching you out. 

“good girl ,You’re doing so well for me, are you ready?”

“Yes! fuck-please move, please” you begged

Brining your legs above his shoulders and laying them there. Gripping your ankles to keep you steady as he started to thrust into you. Both a moaning mess

“Fuck fuck fuckkk, Theo-” your eyes roll back, arching your back.

“You feel so good Bella, oh god-“ panting 

“Your squeezing me tight- fuck”

One of his hands moving to your waist. fucking you harder now, unable to stop. His cock was so fucking good, hitting your g-spot every time.

“Fuck Theo just like that, don’t stop, don’t stop please!” Your hands holding onto your bed sheets as he rocks his hips.

“You like that huh? You like it when your best friend is pounding into you, god you look so beautiful, taking all of me like a good girl” he groans while leaving kisses on your ankle.

Your walls clenching at his words

He groaned again as he felt your cunt throb at his praise. 

“Oh you like being called a good girl don’t you?” letting go of your ankle to grip your jaw to make you look at him.

“Who's a good girl are you?” Theo says as he speeds up his thrusts

Looking at him with half lidded eyes “Yours, all yours!!~“ you moan

“That’s right all mine, no one can ever make you feel this good, isn’t that right love?”

 “Mhm only you, ah~ i'm so close”

“Cum for me baby, come all over my cock”

You were absolute bliss, god you’ve never seen fucked this good, yeah you’ve had other hookups but nothing can compared to this, to Theo

You moaned loudly, shutting your eyes as you reached your orgasm “im- im cumming!!” Your body shaking from the overwhelming feeling

The way your walls clenched from cumming made Theo on the verge of spilling. He continues to thrust into you through your first orgasm. He didn’t expect you make such a mess all over his dick, your cum spilling out of you as he thrusts into you

You felt Theo twitch inside of you, knowing he’s close you moved his hand from your waist to your breasts.

“Mmm so soft…” Theo whispered. leaning down, putting his tongue on your nipple, swirling it around. “Mmm Theo that feels good” throwing your head back from a little act. Theo was soon approaching his climax.  

“Fuckk- can I cum inside of you? please oh god I can’t hold it anymore, please? Fuck-” Theo begged as he tried to hold it in, waiting for you response 

“Yes!! fuck Theo cum inside me” you practically screamed as you felt you stomach tighten.

He let out a loud moan as he spilled his cum inside of you. You screamed as you felt his warm cum spilling in you, triggering your second orgasm.

Theo’s thrusts became sloppy, riding out both your highs. He pulled out and laid beside you. Dizzy and breathless, taking a moment to catch your breath.  Finally when you both got steady, you look up at Theo

“Thank you Theo, really”

“No need to thank me Bella, you can come to me for anything anytime” smiling at you.

crawling onto his lap you whispered into his ear “stay the night? I don’t think the drink has worn off just yet~”

This was going to be a long night for Theo.

ᥫ᭡reblog's & comment's are appreciatedᥫ᭡

a/n: Thank you for reading my first ever fic!! a special mention to @leona-hawthorne for being an angel and giving me feedback on my first rough draft. It helped a lot:)!! another honorable mention to @nottsangel!! Im that anon who mentioned writing their first story, hope you like it^-^ thank you both, your blogs have inspired me to start writing. xoxo

©lov3notts ,do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own.

[cursingtoji]

cw: band au, rockstar!geto x groupie!gf, slight manipulation?, car sex, oral. a/n: geto deserves a loser gf too. gojo version nanami version toji version

geto who has a rock band and though they’re quite small they already have a #1 fan: you.

the band is all you talk about, going to the point of making your own shirts and posters, you doodle the bands logo everywhere and, most importantly you don't miss a single concert.

by the end of it you're waiting next to the back door of the pub when the band comes out, as soon as you see suguru you call his name extending your little gift bag.

"woah for me? thanks, doll." he takes your chin and gives your glossy lips a peck that makes your heartbeat spike up and your face warm up. geto fucking suguru just kissed you!

during all that week you were on cloud nine, so distracted and giggly.

of course geto notices you, always in the front row and ready to give the band some gifts, he sees how you try to dress up as one of them before they even realize they have a visual identity.

geto likes having fangirls, if anything that’s the best sign that the band is doing well. till that point he never considered engaging to one in a more intimate level. after all, women were never a problem for him, fans or not.

the problem is when they think more of the relationship than it really is. geto has always made sure they knew that sleeping together and treating them well was not synonymous to committed relationship.

because he already is committed. to his music. so after spending the whole day trying to come up with a new song so the band may finally have a complete album to present to a record, he takes a frustrated break picking up his phone and to his dismay only finding a long message about how he hurt someone’s feelings.

“oh for fucks sake” he lets his phone fall on the couch and take his keys, this is not a good week to quit smoking.

“geto?” he hears a small voice calling him after he leaves the convenience store with a very much needed cigarette on his lips and nicotine in his system.

“oh hey” he recognizes you by name and face.

“you’re using the lighter” you point out enthusiastically, that was a limited edition you bought and gifted him.

“that’s right, you bought me this, did i say thank you?” he’s genuinely wondering, your face heats remembering the kiss.

“i-its no big deal” you brush it off, since he doesn’t seem to be in a rush you start to babble about one specific song and everything you loved about it, knowing he was the composer.

“do wanna go to my place?” he says after quietly listening to your passionate thoughts. you think steam is about to come out of your ears at how hot your face got.

geto throws away what’s left of his cigarette and takes your hand, not really waiting for a response since the heart in your eyes is pretty obvious.

“you’re so cute” he says with his face mushed into your breasts as he guides your movements on his lap. you never guessed when you came out this morning you would be riding your favorite guitarist’s dick a few hours later, if you knew you probably would’ve put a sexier lingerie. not that he would care, by the way he pushed your bottoms down all at once he probably didn’t even know what color your underwear was.

geto pulled your hair tilting your head to meet his mouth, he devoured you so intensely, so overwhelming… you came not even needing your clit to be touched, just by having him inside you and breathing into your mouth like that was enough.

for suguru it was all a power trip, when he saw you after a concert he knew it wouldn’t take you much sweet talking to get you in his car.

he quickly mumbled an excuse to meet the band at the bar later and in just a few minutes he had you bobbing your head down his cock, “just like that, gorgeous, so good” his head is thrown back as he moans softly.

and as the band grew more popular and they had to travel to other cities to perform he would always count on you to meet him at his hotel room.

“geto~” you mewl his name as he eats your pussy from behind so lewdly.

from the very first time you knew it was over for every other guy the moment he touched you. no matter what anyone said about geto, that he was using you, he would never marry you, you didn’t care. you would be his devotee as long as he wanted.

and geto got all he wanted, a pretty little thing that didn’t complain or asked too many questions and best of all: that loved his music and understood his work.

“i know, you have to practice” you kiss him one last time before gathering your clothing from the floor, the hints of him not wanting to stay over were all memorized at this point, so you turn your back at him and make your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth.

but the usual sound of the door opening and closing never came, instead you saw him coming from behind to lace strong arms around your waist, “well maybe just tonight” he smells your hair and through the mirror he sees the tattoo bellow your belly button, just above the hem of your underwear. your prof of love: the logo of the band.

geto touches it and you giggle at the feathery feeling, like a tickle, he likes that sound. he likes you.

“i was thinking you should get another, right here” a finger caress your right ass cheek.

“the same one?” you ask confused.

“no, silly, something else” he gets down hands caressing your hips and kissing the extension of your butt, “my name.”

[snowballseal]

Pretty Bird

Sylus X Reader

Summary: Sylus is jealous of you giving Mephisto attention. That's it. You tease him when you find out.

Word Count: 2123

Note: Nothing really, hope I did him justice! His dialogue is a little harder for me to nail down.

---

The first time it happens is when you cross to the N109 Zone to accompany Sylus on an “errand”.

The first thing you do when you reach the ornate, empty house - of course - is say hello to your favorite bird.

“Hey there pretty bird.”

Mephisto squawks, bobbing excitedly on his perch as you bound up to him. You grin and give the crow a gentle scratch on his head. He preens under your touch, mechanical feathers fluffing with another quiet, scruffy caw. Adorable.

Despite his unnerving gaze, which you find to be eerily similar to a certain Onychinus leader, you can’t help but love the little bird. For some reason, it always comforts you a little bit to see him perched outside your apartment, or following you around Linkon. He always tries to act like he’s not spying on you, but you know he is, and you know he’s going to report right back to Sylus. Maybe that’s why it’s comforting.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to sway his loyalties.”

Speak of the devil.

“As if,” you snicker, giving the bird one final scratch before spinning on your heels to face Sylus. He sits across the room in one of his big armchairs, eyes glued to the gun he’s loading, face carefully blank. As always. You saunter over and pop yourself onto the arm of the chair, bumping his shoulder. “You know Mephisto doesn’t listen to anyone but you. I’m just like the fun mom who gives him things.”

His lips twitch ever so slightly, “Mmm, does that make me your husband in this situation?”

Heat creeps up your cheeks.

You are no stranger to Sylus’ flirty nature. That’s how things have always been between you, though it only really gets to you now. Before, when you kind of hated his guts, it was just annoying. Well, maybe even then-

“You wish,” you retort, but there’s no hiding the blush painting your cheeks.

“Hm, I thought you knew me better than that, sweetie.” In an instant, his hand curls around your wrist, giving it a sharp tug that knocks you off balance. You let out an undignified squeak, tumbling right into his lap. And before you can squirm away, Sylus locks an arm over your legs, keeping you trapped against him. Those red eyes freeze you in place, dark and warm with mischief. “Why would I wish for something I could so easily take?”

You stare at him, eyes blown wide, face completely red now. You can’t even form any words in response, which seems to amuse him even more. A smirk curls his lips, and he gives your hip a playful pinch.

“What? Crow got your tongue, sweetie?”

You sputter, finally finding your voice, “Sylus!”

“Good. Now that you’re focused, we can go handle business.” Sylus sets you on the ground, making sure you’re steady before he stands nonchalantly and tucks his gun in its holster. Like nothing just happened! “We don’t want to be late now, do we?”

Before you can even say anything more, he’s heading for the door. It takes a few seconds to shake yourself from your  state of shock, and then you’re quickly following after him.

“Sylus-!”

He cuts you off, that stupid, attractive smirk still on his lips, “And by the way, try not to spoil Mephisto too much, sweetie. He’s grown rather petulant when you’re not around.”

You’re pretty sure your blush sticks around for the entire car ride after.

---

The second time is when you visit on one of your off days. 

When you get there, Sylus is still asleep. You take a moment to crouch by his bed, a fond smile adorning your lips as you take in his peaceful face. You remember when he used to sleep sitting up, so he was ready for anything, but now he looks relaxed. Though you still spot the gun tucked under his bed.

Deciding not to bother him, you quietly make your way back out to the living room and grab a book. It’s about the only way to pass time in the N109 Zone, at least, without getting yourself into anything dangerous. As soon as you sit down, Mephisto flaps across the room and lands on your arm, plopping himself down into your lap like a cat.

A giggle escapes you when the crow throws his head back, looking up at the most awkward angle you can imagine. You give his beak a little rub, and he makes a soft clicking sound, beady red eyes falling shut.

“I swear, it’s almost like you’re a crow with cat programming,” you hum, mostly to yourself. Mephisto ruffles his feathers, though, at the word ‘cat’, eyes flashing back open. You snort, easing a hand over his wings, “No worries, pretty bird, no cats. I’m just kidding.”

He settles back down, seemingly embarrassed by his reaction, which only makes you want to coddle him more. So cute. If only Sylus would be this cute with you. Heat tinges your cheeks at the thought of the tall man resting against your lap, looking up at you with softly narrowed eyes, humming in content as you pet his ha-

Snapping your book open, you throw yourself into the story in hopes of banishing such rogue thoughts. If Sylus knew what you were imagining, he would tease you for years. You really don’t want to feed his ego even more. Mephisto wedges himself between your arm and your side, happy to just fall asleep as you read, oblivious to your inner turmoil.

It doesn’t take you long to actually get immersed in the storyline, though. So much so that you don’t hear the steps coming up behind you.

“It seems you come here more often to spend time with Mephisto than with me.”

You practically jump out of your skin when a strong arm circles your shoulders. Sylus’ voice is a low rumble in your ear, thick with sleep. He leans over the back of your chair, and you narrowly miss the way he eyes the bird in your lap with distaste. He looks far too content curled up on your lap.

“I didn’t want to bother you while you were sleeping,” you hum, closing the book.

He grumbles, sleepy eyes shifting to bore into you. The smallest pout pulls at his lips, and you have to stifle a giggle as you reach up to smooth down his messy hair. Sylus leans into your touch, much like Mephisto did, his eyes flickering shut. Okay, maybe he is just as cute.

“Are you mad I didn’t come cuddle with you?” You tease. Sleepy Sylus is definitely your favorite Sylus. “I didn’t know the big, bad Onychinus leader likes to snuggle.”

“It’s simply to ensure you don’t cause trouble in the N109 Zone,” he murmurs, still just as quick-witted though he’s half-asleep, “I can’t have my kitten wandering around all by herself, now can I?”

“I was just reading, Sylus. No trouble here.”

“Hmm, then you might as well come read in bed.”

You hesitate, fingers tracing along his jaw lightly, “You sure I won’t disturb your sleep?”

Those dark eyes blink back open lazily, a rare, genuine smile dancing in their depths, “Trust me, kitten, my sleep will be much better with you at my side.”

God, you’re weak for this man. Mephisto squawks his complaints as you lift him from your lap, but takes off to his perch without much fight. Sylus feels a flash of victory as you intertwine your fingers. The sensation of your small hand in his eases the strange tightness in his chest whenever you’re apart. He curls his other arm around you possessively, sending the bird a smug smirk.

You catch it this time, lifting a brow as you glance between him and Mephisto. Your brain stalls. Was he…jealous? No way. There’s no way Sylus would be jealous of you spending time with his bird. He’s more mature than that…or maybe not, you realize as he drags you back to his bed, only to lay himself over you like a large cat, using your lap as his pillow. Exactly as you imagined.

Your heart flutters a little, which you’re sure he hears somehow, because he squeezes your waist teasingly. You pinch his cheek lightly before running your fingers through his snowy hair. It’s always softer than you expect.

“Go to sleep, Sylus,” you murmur, voice far too fond, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He hums, and you can feel the sound vibrate through his body. Almost like a purr.

God, you don’t even have a chance, do you?

---

The final time is when you visit the N109 Zone to attend another auction with Sylus. And this time, you catch him in it.

“Where’s Mephisto?”

Sylus’ face sours at your question. You bite back a smile.

Ever since the day you spent napping in his room, you haven’t been able to escape that thought swirling in the back of your mind. So you decided to test your theory. Sylus is always messing with you, afterall. It’s only fair you get a bit of revenge.

“I sent him out to gather intel,” Sylus huffs eventually. Why do you always look for that d***  bird first? “That is his purpose, afterall.”

“Oh.” You feign sadness, letting out a long sigh. “That’s too bad! I brought him some treats.”

“Well, you can leave them here. I’m sure he’ll eat them later,” he says, voice dismissive as he fixes the cuffs of his coat.

“Hmm-” You slowly make your way over to him. Those perceptive eyes narrow on you, watching you carefully while you straighten his collar. “Will he be here later? Maybe I can give them to him after the auction. I miss my pretty bird.” 

Amusement curls in your chest when you see the man’s brows twitch ever so slightly. He’s really annoyed. Now you understand why he loves pushing your buttons so much.

“No, I’m afraid he’ll be busy all night.” You can practically hear him gritting his teeth. Almost there. You keep your eyes focused on his coat, avoiding the intensity of his gaze. He’s trying to figure you out and you’re scared that if you look up, the laughter you're holding back will break loose. Instead, you put on an exaggerated pout.

“That’s unfortunate. I was really hoping to see him tonight.”

Sylus growls. Actually growls in annoyance.

“Would you prefer to have Mephisto on your arm tonight instead of me?” His words come out biting and harsh, tinged with unmistakable jealousy.

The air goes silent.

Before you burst into a fit of giggles. Sylus’ eyes widen when you collapse against his chest, your entire body shaking with laughter. He freezes, though his confusion quickly gives way to realization. 

You were playing with him.

“I suppose this is some form of revenge,” he hums, shaking his head. It’s surprising it took him so long to catch on. With anyone else, he’d be beyond angry, but your laughter is so bright, so infectious, that he can’t stop the small smile that pulls at his lips. When you finally look up at him, tears glint in the corners of your eyes. Who thought this would amuse you so much?

“You’re jealous! The Sylus is jealous of a little bird. His bird.” You bite down on your lip in an attempt to muffle the giggles that keep coming, but it doesn’t do much to help. It’s just too much for you. You never ever thought you’d see Sylus actually jealous of someone, let alone an animal.

Sylus narrows his eyes, though they glow with a certain fondness. “Such a sadist, sweetie, messing with a man’s heart so lightly.”

“Oh, but your reaction was so adorable,” you sing, reaching up to poke his cheek. He playfully bites at your finger, making you draw it back quickly with another laugh. “Just the fact that you could even think I like Mephisto more than you is so silly. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Hmm, then I’m afraid you’ll just have to prove my silly conclusion wrong, won’t you?” His hands settle on your waist, drawing you closer to the warmth of his body. You oblige him, stretching your arms up and around his neck to draw him down.

“Of course. I can’t have my pretty bird walking around thinking he’s second best,” you tease, fingers curling through his hair. “Even if he has a jealousy prob-”

“Quiet.”

Anything else you say is muffled as Sylus finally kisses you.

Safe to say, after that, you make sure to give Sylus extra attention, especially when Mephisto is around. (Though you do still sneak him treats when Sylus isn’t looking.)

[brattyspence]

sober thoughts | s.reid

summary: pining!reader makes a drunk call to spencer after going out with friends, and is aggressively trying to flirt with him. 

tags: reader is DRUNK! alcohol!! dont read if thats not okay!!, fluffy as fuck, spencer is the most gentle of gentlemen, pining!reader, reader wears makeup/dress/heels, spencer is lowkey bad at flirting but he shows affection in weird ways, one use of Y/N (sorry i know)

a/n: this has been bouncing around in my head for a while. sigh.

word count: 1.9k

masterlist

He was used to seeing you tipsy, if that was even the right word for it. 

You were friends, after all. Best friends, even. And the fact that he lived only a few doors down from the pub the team frequented made it stupid not to offer his couch to you after going out with the team. 

You weren’t a heavy drinker by any stretch of the imagination. Every now and then on a Friday night, you’d head out with the team and have one, maybe two drinks if you were feeling particularly adventurous–but you still didn’t want to drive home, especially when he was offering his home to you. Truthfully, you just liked getting to hang out with him. You liked getting to exist in his orbit and discuss a random topic late into the night. It had become normal for you, an excuse to do something together that didn’t revolve around work. 

What was not normal was the fact that it was a Saturday at 11 PM and you were really drunk, calling him. 

Your contact photo filled his screen, illuminating the dark room. You weren’t one to call, preferring the convenience of a text. Especially this late, which worried him a bit. He picked up quickly, tucking the phone to his ear.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Hey, Spencer?” It wasn’t your voice. “This is Molly, Y/N’s friend. I’m sorry to call so late. We’re out with some friends from college celebrating someone’s birthday, and she got… like, drunk drunk, kinda sloppy… and she’s been blabbing about you for a while. She wanted me to call you.”

“Oh,” he sighs. He runs a hand through his hair, preparing himself. “Can you put her on?”

“Yeah. Not sure you’ll get anything out of her, though. Here…”

He can hear the general chatter and chaos of the bar over the call. There’s some rustling sounds before you finally take the phone.

“Hi,” you say, your voice dripping with a certain kind of fondness. He can hear the smile through the screen. 

“Hey,” he replies. ”You having fun?”

“Oh, Spencer, I was… I haven’t heard your voice in so long. What’re you…” you trail off, lifting the phone from your ear to answer someone else. “Sorry. ‘S so loud in here.

He chuckles to himself. “I saw you yesterday.”

“Yeah, ‘nd that was… Oh, I can’t do math right now. A long time ago.”

“Are you okay?”

On the other side of town, you were sitting in a barstool, swiping your finger along the beads of condensation rolling down the glass of water in front of you. 

“Mhm. ‘M good. Fine. Drunk.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” he smiles. “Are you gonna be able to get home?”

“Uhh…” you pause. “I was gonna Uber… but then I thought that maybe… if you weren't busy… we could hang out…” 

He could vaguely make out dialog on the other end of the phone. Some kind of “Girl, this sounds really pathetic,” followed by a “Shhhh!” in two other drunken voices.

“But I could also make Molly order me an Uber,” you added. “‘S okay. Nevermind.”

“No, you're not getting in an Uber inebriated. That’s ridiculous.”

“‘M not inebriated.”

A background voice comes back. “Yeah, you are.”

Spencer sighs into the phone. “Just… send me your location, please? I’ll come get you.”

“O-kay. ‘M sending it right now, jus’ tell me when you-”

The call went dead before you could finish your thought, which he chalked up to some kind of drunken user error. A few seconds later a text came through 

You: dropped a pin

You: its molly again. let me know if you got this

He responded, relieved that you had someone looking after you, before getting ready and grabbing his keys. 

-

You were sitting on a bench outside the bar. The air was cool and crisp, but you were warm, your skin clammy from the alcohol. You had been mumbling something incoherent about Spencer, he’s just so good to me, Molly, and oh, god, I don’t know what to do with myself, and…

Molly, who had been trying to sober you up (unsuccessfully), was standing in front of you, arms crossed, listening to your incessant rambling.

“...’nd sometimes he talks to me, ‘nd I have no idea what he’s talking about but he’s so hot when he’s smart. You should hear, it, Mol’.”

Cars pass on the street behind you, filling the silence momentarily. Molly looks over her shoulder, scanning the street before turning back to you. “Alright. Be quiet. He’s here” 

“Don’t care.”

She puts her hand out to help you up, which you accept rising to your feet. You’re surprised by how unsteady you feel, but you focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

“I’ll make fun of you for this tomorrow,” she says. 

You only have a few seconds to grumble in protest before Spencer reaches you. He scans you quickly, chuckling to himself.

“You are a mess,” he says, amused. 

You feel slightly infantilized watching Molly hand over all your personal effects to him. You weren’t even sure when you’d put down your wallet and keys, much less where, but you’re thankful she picked them up and not someone else.

“Good luck,” She tells him. She pats your arm before turning back to the bar, leaving you alone on the street with him. 

“You okay?” He asks. You watch him shuck off his jacket, which he helps you slide over your arms.

“‘M fine,” you reply. “Warm.”

“Because you’re drunk.” He keeps his eyes trained on the zipper of the jacket, or really anywhere that isn't you in that dress. “Alcohol is a vasodilator. So you feel warm. But it's forty degrees outside, and hypothermia doesn't care.”

You pout at him, watching as he pulls the zipper tab up enough to shield you from the cold. Only then does he really look at you. 

“I wanted you to see my pretty dress,” you pout. Your words come out slurred still. 

You meet his eyes for a split second. He opens his mouth, seemingly about to reply, but quickly decides against it. He shakes his head as if to clear the thought.

“Come on. We gotta get you home.” 

“You don't like it?” 

“I didn't say that.” He tucks a hand under your arm as you begin back down the street, keeping you steady. 

“So you do like it?” You look over at him, your face more excited than he was expecting. 

“It’s very pretty,” he replies.

Your shoulder bumps his as you walk, seemingly unable to maintain a straight path along the sidewalk. The click of your heels against the pavement is uneven, despite your efforts to maintain some kind of composure, and unfortunately for you, he’s right, and it's freezing outside. You make steady progress down the block, placing all your focus on not falling flat on your face. Thankfully, he doesn't live all that far.

“D’you think I look pretty, too?” You ask, approaching the steps to his apartment.

“What are you trying to do?” he asks, looking down at you. He takes in the slight flush of your cheeks as the effects of the alcohol battle the chill in the air.

“I’m trying to flirt with you. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh, you're going to be difficult all night, aren't you?” He sighs, ignoring the question. He pauses outside the door, keys in hand, and unlocks the door before guiding you inside. 

“You don't ever want to flirt with me.”

The door falls shut behind you with a clunk. The room is dark, with only the distant light from a lamp somewhere across the room illuminating it. You squint when he turns on the big light.

“That’s not true,” he says, quietly. If you weren’t hanging on to his every word, you might have missed it. He carefully unzips the jacket, tugging it off your shoulders and setting it on the table.

“So why won’t you flirt with me right now?” 

“Because you’re drunk,” He guides you towards the couch, his touch still careful as ever. 

You flop down onto the cushions. The leather sticks to your legs as you sit. Being the gentleman he is, he has already left pajamas out, his pajamas, you’d since claimed as your own, with the blanket you steal every time you stay over. 

“So what?” You begin working at the clasp on your heels, fumbling with the leather straps to no avail. 

“So, you’re drunk.” He repeats, reappearing in front of you. He sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of you, and hands you a pack of makeup wipes. “Do you need help with your shoes?” 

You nod. A soft breath of laughter escapes him as he leans in to help you take them off, setting them on the carpeted floor. 

“Spence,” you look at the pack of wipes. “Why do you have these?”

“Because every time you’re here you forget them,” he replies. 

“Oh.” You rip them open. “You don’t have a secret girlfriend?”

“No,” he replies, lowering your foot back to the ground. 

“You don't let other drunk girls sleep over?” You paw at your eyeliner, effectively smearing it around more than removing it. 

“I don't let anyone sleep over,” he says, taking the wipe from you. “Just you. Close your eyes.”

“Because you love me?” 

His fingers find the underside of your chin, gently tilting your face towards his so he can finish swiping away the last of your eyeliner. Maybe you’re blushing as a result of the alcohol warming your bloodstream, but the more likely answer is him, at this proximity. 

As soon as he’s done wiping your eyes, you open them again to look up at him. 

“You’re bold when you’re drunk,” he says, smiling. He sets the used wipe down on the table.

“Mhm. You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m not going to,” He says. “Sorry. Go get changed.”

“That wasn’t a ‘no’,” you say. You collect the clothes off the couch and slink across the apartment into the bathroom to change. You don’t bother shutting the bathroom door before slinking off the dress you were wearing and sliding on the pajamas he’d left for you. Once you finish, you collect your dress off the floor and make your way back towards the couch, settling right into the cushions as you frequently did on nights like this. 

You were formulating another complaint about his lack of reciprocation, but your thoughts were interrupted as he pulled the blanket on his couch over you. Your blanket, or at least one you’d claimed as your own during one of your nights spent here. He had already turned off the ceiling fan, which you’d always insisted off when you slept over. You followed him with your gaze as he turned the lights off, swapping them instead for a smaller, softer light somewhere in the kitchen, remembering the way you’d always insisted he leave a light on somewhere, just for you. Your phone was already charging on a side table, your heels sitting nicely by the door, your keys on his key holder, evidence of you, everywhere, details that were distinctly for your comfort. Maybe you had missed his signals. 

“I think you do love me…” 

He reappeared a moment later, crouching in front of you with that look. He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Go to sleep.”

“And I love you. And I called you because I wanted to tell you that.” 

“You really need to sleep it off. You’re saying things you don’t mean.”

“But I do mean it,” you whined. “I swear. Ask me again tomorrow.”

“You won’t remember this tomorrow,” he laughed. 

“But I will. I promise,” you replied. “No bedtime kiss?”

Of course, this time you did pick up the way he looked at you. 

“No, honey. Maybe tomorrow.”

[salemrph]

Sleepy morning with Sylus

A/N: While I was reading some other posts yesterday, I came across a user asking what it would be like to wake up next to Sylus. My imagination jumped on it right away! I would say this is more of a headcanon than a fanfic. I focused more how he would experience it. Short write, just because I'm working on other stuff.

Character: Sylus & Reader/MC/you

Genre: romantic, fluffy

Word count: 1,430 | Reading Time: 5 min | AO3

Background music

Your laughter echoes through his bedroom as you try to break free from his grip, his breath tickling your skin. His arms are wrapped tightly around you, pressing himself against your naked body. You smell incredible, so intoxicatingly good that waking up next to you must be heaven on earth.

You squirm and kick, already in tears from laughing so hard. He can't get enough of that sound, of the way you smile, the way you close your eyes and lean your head back. Your presence is like a flowerbed in full bloom, vibrant and breathtaking. Blooming in its full splendor.

Whenever he can, he admires you. When you sleep, he counts the moles on your body, tracing them with his fingertips. He caresses the scars you've earned as a fierce Hunter, kissing every natural fold of your skin. His touch follows the curve of your back, the delicate shape of your ass, down to your legs. The same legs that always wrap around him in the intensity of passion.

He loves you, more than he could ever show to you. It wouldn't be enough, ever.

"Sylus—"  you gasp between laughs, struggling against him as your muscles start to cramp.

"You have so much energy, kitten" you keep laughing, you are so ticklish this morning. His nose brushes against your neck before he nips at your skin, placing lazy kisses along your shoulder.

You squirm even more, still breathless from laughter. "I will pee myself... Stop!"

He hums against your skin, only tightening his hold. He isn't really awake, he wants to keep sleeping, enjoying the peaceful morning with you. Sylus has worked hard to clear his schedule, to be with you like this. To adapt to your routine, make breakfast, and simply enjoy a normal day at your side.

"Then pee..."  he teases. 

"Gross! Let go." You protest, thoroughly disgusted by his suggestion.

"Not even in dreams, sweetie" he chuckles while still kissing your shoulder.

"Sy..." you whine. That tone, the way you try to get your way putting that face, that tone in your voice. The one that makes his heart melt no matter how much he tries to resist. He growls, reluctant to release you completely. His grip tightening for a moment before he finally exhales and relaxes.

"Go. You have 2 minutes to come back". 

You waste no time jumping out of bed, only to earn a slap on your ass.

"Hey!" You spin around, shooting him a glare. Sylus only smirks.

"I like how it wiggles"

You disappear in the bathroom. Sylus shifts onto his back, crossing both arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling with a rare sense of peace. Yeah… he could get used to this. No, he wants to get used to this. The wealth he possesses and everything he has done has been nothing more than a way to ensure your safety. The years he spent searching for you taught him that he had to be prepared for anything. Losing you again was not in his plans. And if the day ever comes when you no longer love him, it won’t change a thing. He would still protect you, even from the shadows.

He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t notice you sneaking back into bed. Carefully, you inch closer, suppressing a grin as you reach out to poke his cheek. But before you can even make contact, his hand shoots out, catching your wrist in a firm grip.

"Feeling playful this morning, my love?"

"Just a bit" you smirk. Sylus laughed.

"What do you want to play?" You tilt your head, pausing deliberately as your eyes drift over his bare chest, trailing down to his toned abs. The sheets rest low on his hips, and the way you’re looking at him doesn’t go unnoticed. He knows that look.

With effortless ease, he shifts, pulling you toward him until you land on top of his body.

His fingers brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering. The color of your lips is already beautiful, but he loves it even more when they darken after passionate kisses. His lips part slightly, his gaze locked onto yours, mesmerized by the infinite depth of your shining eyes.

You lean in, pressing tender kisses across his face before finally finding his lips. Your entire body relaxes, melting into him. Savoring the slow movement of your mouth. Heat growing in your body. Between you two. The kiss deepens bit by bit, his tongue tracing your lips, later moving beyond, slipping inside, tasting you. You sigh into him, already lost in the spreading feelings of longing.

His hand has already trapped you. One sitting on your back, the other on your ass, keeping you close. He is getting harder by the second. His need for you is growing. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips grounding you in the moment. There is no rush, no urgency. You have the complete morning and day to melt in each other.

When he finally pulls away, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath is warm against your lips. His eyes flutter shut for a moment as he exhales deeply. This is a dream, he thinks. A damn good dream. And he has no intention of waking up.

One hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing tenderly over your skin. He doesn’t need to speak; everything he feels is in the way he looks at you, in the way he holds you like you’re something precious. You cover his hand with yours, pressing your cheek into his palm. A faint smile tugs at his lips before he kisses you again.

Sylus takes his time, enjoying how your body reacts to him, the quiet gasps, the way your fingers tangle in his hair. His name escapes your lips in a breathless whisper. He watches you with a quiet intensity, taking in the way you melt under his touch. The space between you disappears, lost in the unhurried way he moves. Once more, your worlds merge, your bodies speaking a language only the two of you understand.

That's how you start the morning: with him, with you, with nothing beyond these four walls mattering. Just the warmth of his skin, the rhythm of your hearts, and the love that neither of you needs to put into words.