#but please do keep in mind if you're speaking from a place of privilege

[baguettereyonnais]

well okay HI my family comes from Réunion island!

it's french territory, but "in" africa! the island wasn't inhabited until it got colonized circa 17th century, so from the get go the local population has always been a mix of immigrants from different ethnicities, hence the name 🙂

lindigo's song LafrkindMada (=Africa India and Madagascar) is about some of the main ethnicities that make up the réunionnais people, please check it out! it's in creole réunionnais, and it's Maloya, aka the traditional music genre of our enslaved ancestors

and then please watch My time by Michael pouvin ft pix'l (or anything on the kdm family tv chanel tbh, maybe a Morgan song? he's basically as big as you can get here) because nowadays our local music videos don't look like they could've been made by a 6th grader on photoshop anymore lmao, and it's wild getting to see what looks like "Real Media" set in places that are so familiar to me, but that most people on the planet won't ever even know exist

also we have the Piton de la Fournaise, one of the planet's most active volcanoes, and beautiful hikes, and tropical beaches obviously, and as for our delicious food, I suggest you look up pain bouchon, rougail saucisse, and massalé cabri!

🇷🇪💚

You! Non-white tumblr user!

I want to learn about your culture! Tell me as much as you'd like!

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Ok this is very random but how do you think Ghost would deal w an s/o who is still a virgin at a very big girl age 🥴 maybe they��d be seeing each other for a while, and when things heat up and she confesses, how would he deal? Would he be honored and accept being her first or would he reject her altogether bc she is inexperienced?

(Because I’m in my 20s and safe to say on top of everything else in my life except this, I haven’t come across anyone with whom I’d like to be intimate with yet and though I try not to let it get to me, some part of me sometimes feels like a freak or like something is wrong with me)

I hope I did not cross any boundaries or make you uncomfortable by sharing this, if I did I apologize and please feel free to delete this ❤️🕊️

Ghost x FVirgin!Reader Word count: 2,9 k Tags/warnigs: Mild smut, light angst, fluff, comfort, praise & size kink Summary: Reader tells Ghost they’re a virgin while things are about to go down. 

A/N: Oh anon!! No boundaries crossed here at all! Your request (or at least I took it as such and got inspired to write a brief oneshot about it) was very sweet. This of course is my HC but Simon would only and only take pride in being your first. He would get a huge ego boost from this and feel absolutely privileged to hear he's worthy of such trust.  I think he would want to imprint himself in your head as the best man and the best sex partner you will ever have – he would do his all to eradicate even the very thought of wanting to try others after him. Again, an ego thing, but also a desperate wish to please his partner and make them feel safe. This man screams service top to me. I think Simon has a wild side – not mean, just wild, as in he might be into rough sex and certain types of kinky stuff every now and then but only if his partner is willing. He would be very gentle and considerate (passionate as hell though), knowing you're inexperienced, he would make you feel as safe as possible and wait until you were ready and willing to explore things further.  Also, I can't help but be moved by what you told me in this message. I understand where you're coming from with these "is there something wrong with me" thoughts, because gosh, I feel you! And speaking from experience… it's 110 % worth it to wait for the right person to come along! Sex can be awesome, mind-blowing, one of the best things – with the right partner. Not worth it with just whomever, imho. Stay safe and trust yourself! And I hope you like this short drabble I made for Ghost x Virgin!Reader ❤️❤️❤️ much love 😘

Simon Riley was a one of a kind man. 

He put every guy on every dating app to shame, and not just with his size. He was manly, in a word, even if you never knew you wanted such an overly masculine man. At least, not until you met him. 

Simon was not only sturdy and mature – he was armed with calm rage and dark humor. Just one look in his eyes told you he was not the life of the party. Actually, he was Death himself: one of those four horsemen that heralded the Apocalypse.

Perhaps unintelligibly, the same man was also extremely considerate. A true gentleman if there ever was one. He always placed you and your needs first. But underneath the calm, cynical surface you sensed fierce intensity: fire and smoke, something that screamed Danger, high voltage.

And you could not keep away. Quite the opposite, really. The combination of a wildfire and a tornado roaring upon this solid bedrock of a man was simply alluring.

Things had gone a little too far without you meaning them to. You were not a woman of one night stands, actually, you had never had a stand. But Simon changed that, too. Because now you were thinking about sleeping with him. 

After years and years of waiting for someone sensible to come along, you had begun to lose hope, especially when people seemed to fuck left and right while you wanted something real.

A bedrock. 

With that wildfire. Perhaps a tornado thrown in as well.

After weeks and weeks of flirting, the man asked you out, and after weeks and weeks of going out, you came to the conclusion that if someone deserved to be your first, it was Simon Riley. If there was any guy you wished would take you against a wall until you begged for mercy, it was him. At least in your fantasies, which were starting to get out of hand.

In real life, things were not that breezy.

Because what would he say if – no, when – you told him you were a virgin at this age? What if he would be bothered, what if things would get awkward between you two? 

What if he decided you were simply too much trouble than you were worth? 

It seemed like a miracle that the guy was still around, having been left blue-balled date after date. Either he was hellbent on conquering you, or then… Well, you didn't even dare to think about or's and then's and what if's. Especially when your own feelings were getting equally out of hand as those fantasies.

He probably had plenty of experience, and the thought certainly didn't make you feel any better. How would you compare, being not only inexperienced but a whole goddamn virgin? And it would probably hurt on top of everything. This man must be pretty damn big downstairs if 6 '4 feet and large hands were any indication.

Still, all fears flew out the window in record time every time he pulled you into a kiss. Your body molded into his already: the broad shoulders closed in around you, and it only felt thrilling. His warmth, his arms and scent enveloped you like the sweetest prison, and you held onto him as tightly as you could. Not because he wasn't clutching you with the same–if not greater–fervor, but because you wanted to make sure he was real.

And you realized what the allure of Simon Riley was. 

He felt safe.

In fact, he was safe. He represented safety in all its aspects. 

Who would've thought that death and wildfire could feel so good, so reliable?

You wondered if he thought this was some game; that you kept him waiting. The unwritten rule seemed to be that it was ok not to jump into bed on the first date. If anything, it was only a decent move. But what did the rules say about the second, third or fourth date? Not to talk about tenth? 

Things were starting to resemble some prudent high school romance. Well, perhaps not prudent, the way you two practically ground against each other while making out after every date. Without being vocal about it or pressuring you in any way, you could tell he wished for things to go further. Hell, every fiber in this man begged for more. He would soon burn your clothes off simply with that searing gaze alone. 

Watching the door close on that heated stare after at least 15 minutes of wanton, wicked kissing followed by clumsy Good night's and shy, apologetic smiles just wouldn't do anymore. The poor man was left breathless and puzzled in the cold night with nothing but a hard-on and the crumbs you gave him to keep him warm. 

Things were getting ridiculous, criminally so, and you felt pity for those pants trying to keep him in confinement. You felt pity for your own soaked underwear as you climbed to a lonely bed all hot, bothered, and wet.

Which was why this evening would end with you asking him to come inside. 

.  .  .

Lately, his hands have started to roam; they even cup your ass as he moans in your mouth – and hearing that raspy, low sound leave him forces the final decision. It's the final prophecy that tells you he is the one. You should’ve known it was only a matter of time with him.

The man hides his surprise well as you invite him in.

"Thought you'd never ask," he gives you a soft chuckle before stepping over the threshold to not only your apartment but also your life and privacy. 

You barely get out of your shoes before his shadow engulfs you and strong hands lift you in his lap like you weigh nothing at all. You instinctively reach for support by clasping your hands behind his neck. 

"You really know how to torture a man, don't you?" The brown in his eyes is nearly swallowed by warm darkness as he carries you to the bedroom. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper, and he gives a short laugh of gravel.

"Don't be. This has been fun." 

He sets you down next to the bed, and your heart is thumping so bad you fear he can hear it banging against your chest. 

"But it's about time I torture you, right?"

Oh God…

Things happen so fast that it’s hard to tell who undresses who, but somehow, you find yourself standing in your bedroom with nothing but knickers and a bra on while he's taking off his pants. The man has definitely waited for this to happen for god knows how long, and it only makes your stomach lurch.

He thinks you know what you're doing, your brain offers when it should know when it’s time to shut the hell up. You can see the generous bulge this man is packing, and while perhaps compelling to other women, to you, it mainly looks intimidating. Threatening, almost.

He doesn't take his boxers off, seeing you're just standing there like some statue, still in your underwear and almost shaking from thoughts running rampant. 

His form swallows you as he steps closer; wide hands slide up your arms, then draw you against him – against that demanding pulse that gets trapped between you two. Even through the black cloth, you can tell he's thick and big, just like you feared.

The man is blazing, and seems to have grown another foot in height as he towers over you with all that muscle. His shoulders are almost the size of your head, and you already know the hand that runs down your spine is experienced in crushing windpipes. It makes you breathe in shivers, and of course he notices something is wrong.

"Everything good?" He's eager and breathless, the erection pressing against you like a threat. He’s a man who has fashioned a weapon out of himself, so it shouldn't be a surprise that everything in him speaks violence.

"Yes," you try to assure him – a lousy lie only punctuated by the audible gulp that leaves your throat as you try to swallow your nerves back down.

"You afraid…?" 

"Just a little nervous," you tell him, a half confession.

"Mm. That makes two of us." 

He draws down into a kiss, the hands of a soldier and a killer nearly drawing you up from the ground as he pulls you close. You don't really buy his claim of being nervous too: you can feel how he throbs between you, heavy and impatient. 

Hesitantly, you reach to hug him as well, and you feel so small, so insignificant when wrapped around this… giant. The knowledge that you're about to be trapped under all this crushing weight leaves you both faint and needy. 

He’s a good kisser, but as he moves to devour your neck, you start to freeze from the middle.

"Alright… Come here."

He half carries, half lays you down on the bed, then crawls between your legs and changes his tactic a little. Gentle kisses are ghosted down your throat, and soon, he's at your breasts, soft as a whisper. But as he draws the fabric of your bra aside, your nipple is caught inside a hot, wet mouth, and the wildfire surges forth. There’s no way out from under him anytime soon, and you realize the colossal body is already spreading your thighs wide. 

The way he already looks so damn good there between your legs: big, the epitome of raw, masculine power… It's almost sinful that a man like him is here with a virgin. It's a whole new hell how he's kissing you gently as fuck while blazing like a bonfire about to engulf and devour you. You want to wrap your legs around his middle, attach yourself to him in any way you can, but your thighs are weak pudding. 

You feel both lost and found with him. In him.

He sucks and kisses your breasts like they're the only thing he's here for – and it feels good, heavenly, to be honest. But then he starts to travel down.

Shit… You need to tell him – and soon, or else there will be no time to say anything before the last of the shielding fabric is gone.

"Simon…?"

"Mm-hm?" 

He doesn't even stop with the kissing, merely hums on your skin as his mouth reaches your stomach.

"You're my first," you finally force the truth into the night; a soft and desperate fact. It's only the faintest breath, but he halts abruptly like he has been stabbed between the ribs.

Great… 

Here comes the awkward.

He rises. Softly, slowly, like a shadow, just a second away from getting to what's between your legs.

"Is that so?"

His voice is hoarse and dark from arousal. The whole man is intoxicating, and your heart is hammering in your chest, both from hunger and dread.

"Yes…?" 

A broad hand comes to rest on the dip of your waist; gently, like you're some frightened animal about to dart off from under his touch. 

"Love… Are you sure you want to do this?"

Are you? You almost ask, then bite your lip.

He just called you love, something he has never done before. You can see your breasts rising with the breaths you try to calm down with sheer willpower. 

He lets out a small sigh, then crawls beside you and takes you in his arms. The bed sags and wails under his weight before your body is pulled into a delicious bear hug.

"Sweetheart."

His voice is so smooth, so different from the intense, rough smoke that has followed you up until this point that you feel vehement tears burn your eyes. First love, and now, sweetheart…

"There's no need to rush things," he says while keeping you close. Ever the gentleman, but you fear that you've ruined everything.

"We haven't exactly been rushing," you mutter somewhere in the plates of his chest. You both feel and hear how another sigh travels up his throat and is breathed into the crown of your head.

"Now… listen to me, ok? I've wanted you ever since we met. Can't deny it. But the last thing I want is to force you to do something you don’t wanna do."

You squeeze your eyes shut from what he says. Ever since you met… You can remember the lingering gazes, the way his eyes lit up with something hopeful and pure, how it drove away the exhaustion that seemed to have made a home in this big, brooding man. You remember how he stole a few stares up and down your body, too; remember the hunger he never even tried to conceal – not until now.

He is the most enthralling being you have ever seen, a mystery and a force of nature, an indomitable man, and to say that you haven't thought about him that way ever since too would be a lie.

"But I want it," you look up at him slowly, feeling much safer now that he's holding you like this.

I want you.

You realize you're pouting when the warm look in his eyes gains a playful glint as he laughs softly.

"You want it?"

"Yes."

That little twinkle turns into a downright gleam as he looks at you like you're the most adorable thing he has ever seen.

“You want it with me?”

“Yes.”

"How much do you want it?" The charred voice is so soft now: it washes over you in generous waves. His hands keep you in safe custody – and you're the most willing prisoner there ever has been.

"Pretty badly?" You breathe into the air between you and see the corner of his mouth tug.

"Well, in that case…" His hand sweeps down your back and comes to reside on the swell of your hip. "I'm glad I'm here to help."

Pale eyelashes drop to your lips just before he kisses you again. You arch in his arms, like a flower leaning towards sunlight; your mouth, your whole being unfurls under his leadership. He rolls partly on top of you, then moves to kiss you all over as you lie on your back: he kisses your chin and neck, your collarbones and the hollow little crevice between them. The hand on your hip brushes down your thigh, then back up, up, until his fingers meet the folds already soaked through the fabric of your underwear. 

His touch is soft, but gains more weight as he sweeps slowly up, then brushes a thumb over the exact location of your clit.

"Oh–" 

He knows what he's found, even without the evidence of your voiceless shake of a breath. He brushes another stroke over it, and it doesn't matter that you still have your undies on – you can feel his weight, the gentle pressure he applies as he draws a circle to usher another soft moan out of you.

"You like that?"

"Mhm," is the only thing you are able to answer.

"That's it…" he cheers you on with calm assurance. "Gonna make you feel good. And that's a promise."

You catch a hint of ego in that promise, but there's something else, too. A fervent devotion, a bottomless need to please you no matter what. The right man, definitely: not someone who is only after their own satisfaction. You don't exactly need the answer anymore, but you ask the final, burning question nonetheless.

"Simon?"

"Speak your mind, love."

"Are you disappointed…?"

He stops again, a breath away from you. 

"Disappointed?" He sounds quite shocked, almost appalled. "...Disa–"

He huffs, then reaches to cup your face. You raise your eyes to his and see that he's…ardent, and very, very serious.

"Love, I'm honored."

You can only blink at the solemn vow, and he slowly shakes his head.

"Silly little thing…" 

It's something he muses almost to himself before he drags his fingers over your sternum and down your stomach, reverently, like you're a piece of precious porcelain. But the heat in his eyes is back, and your fingers curl to grasp a fistful of sheet as his hand disappears underneath the cloth, when he finally touches you with nothing in between.

You suppose it's his middle finger that sweeps over your clit this time, then slips between your folds without effort. It coaxes your thighs open to give him better access, and access he has: he curls the finger until it almost dips inside. Your lips part with a quiet sigh as your chin climbs toward the ceiling.

"Look at that… All wet and sweet for me already."

The way you expose your neck is like an invitation: he buries his face in your neck, tries to drown in the scent and feel of you while gliding across the wetness down below. He spreads moisture on the tight bud, and you jerk a little from how sensitive it is – he huffs a smile in your ear. It makes you release the sheet and reach out to grasp him by the neck, to make him stay precisely where he is, close like this, so close…

"Do ya even know how bloody sweet you are?"

The last of your wits make a vanishing act as he breathes more praise on your skin. You're languid in his arms, feeling both weightless and heavy, like you're sinking into the mattress, and then his hand moves lower; one thick finger is plunged slowly inside. 

Oh God oh God–

You feel him, all of him, filling and spreading you. And it's not enough… not nearly enough.

"We'll take it nice and slow, alright?" He whispers in your ear, and you tighten around him like on command. "Got all night to make a mess of you. That sound good?"

You can't help it: your lips draw into a smile when thinking about all the things he will do to you, all the sweet things you've always waited to happen. 

"Yes."

[vasito-de-leche]

;R1999 HORROPEDIA - "night terrors"

Horropedia x Reader. 2.3 words. fluff, comfort Everyone knows better than to intrude on Horropedia's all-nighters and horror film marathons - even so, he doesn't mind interruptions, not if it's you. Maybe these movies can wait.

writing for Horropedia is the real nightmare bc all I wanna do is expand on little headcanons I have about him, so I end up losing the entire plot and reason I started the oneshot in the first place

EITHER WAY its done <3 another one for the sleepytime saga

The clock reads 3:00 AM - the witching hour begins now.

The weather outside seems to agree with him. Darkness falls over the wilderness that surrounds the house, with thick, grey clouds above and just the right amount of rain and wind. Enough to set a proper atmosphere for a horror movie marathon, but not as to distract him with the constant banging of windows and doors being closed shut.

Horropedia feels around the table for his snacks, eyes glued to the screen in front of him, the only source of light in his room. He's chosen one of his favorite films to begin with and ease himself into a long list of terrible B-movie slashers.

It's hard to eat popcorn when all he can focus on is reciting the dialogue from memory, in perfect harmony with the characters. Some kernels fall to the ground, entirely forgotten. The title drops with a bright, bloody font and the music swells up. He feels right at home.

But then, he hears it.

Faint steps. A gentle knock on his door.

Is this it? Is this the moment he waited for all these years? To live through some unusual and inexplicable event? Oh, but it's not even his birthday!

Horropedia pauses the movie and clears his throat. "Yes? Who is it?"

The door slowly creaks open. He swears it was locked.

There's no one outside in the empty hallway.

Silence settles in and his mind begins to race. It's too late for any of his usual guests - neither Tooth Fairy nor Blonney would go out of their way to find him at this hour. By now, everyone should be asleep. Even the more rebellious and nocturnal guests preferred to mind their business as soon as the night came.

The smile on Horropedia's face widens at this. He doesn't know who could be out there at this ungodly hour, trying to lure him outside, but he wanted to find out badly.

All he needs to do is follow the script. Oh, but what sort of protagonist could he play? There was a big difference between an innocent question like "Who's out there?" and a demand like "Show yourself!"

Full of giddy energy, Horropedia opens his mouth, ready to deliver his best performance, when a small voice interrupts him.

"Oh, thank fuck, you're actually awake."

A familiar head peeks out from the door frame - it's you, his partner in crime! The disappointment on his face must be visible even in this light, because he hears you huff in immediate protest. Horropedia sighs, long and hard, feeling his soul leave his body.

"Hey, come on. Can I come in or not?"

"You already know the answer to that," Horropedia crawls back onto the sofa, dropping face down onto the pillows and blankets with loud thud. First you make his heart leap in vain, and now you want to ask unnecessary questions?

Perhaps he wasn't clear enough in previous interactions with you - but as his partner in crime and closest confidant, you should know better. This is an exclusive privilege he bestowed upon you and only you: to come and go as you please and treat his room like your own.

When he speaks again, it comes out muffled and defeated. "Mwake fure to cwose the dwoor..."

"...What?"

Horropedia raises his head from the pillow, glasses crooked and hairpins all over his head, doing a poor job at keeping the hair out of his eyes.

"Door!" And then he plops back down.

He knows its silly and irrational to get so worked up over something like this, a small interruption, just a little setback in his carefully scheduled night. All he needs to do is count and breathe.

One, two, three. It's not that bad, he can simply rewind the movie and start from the beginning. Besides, now he has you here! The perfect companion for a marathon. Four, five, six. It's hard to breathe properly when all he's getting is a lungful of couch, but soon, that frustration in his chest dissipates. Seven, eight, nine...Ten.

Horropedia turns his head to look at you, standing in front of him after locking the door.

"So, to what do I owe this visi- OW?!" He yelps in surprise once you pinch his leg, and he recoils and sits up on instinct, rubbing that sore spot. "Hey! That was uncalled for! What happened to our peace treaty?"

"Yeah, but now I get to sit down, so it's a win."

There's something off in the way you speak - it's your tone, lower and raspier than usual. Horropedia leans closer to you, squinting. Something else catches his eye, other than the way you avoid looking at him.

"Why are your eyes red and puffy?"

Even though all he has is the faint light of the TV screen, he sees it. The red marks in your eyes, the dried tears across your cheeks - you should've known by now, it's impossible to hide anything from his watchful and attentive eyes.

Horropedia's initial thoughts are allergies, but it seems unlikely in a closed space like this house. He remains still as a statue as your expression turns into one of shock, the question catching you entirely off-guard. When you fully turn away from him to rub your eyes, he knows something is wrong.

"On second thought, that was a very dumb question. Allow me to rectify - why were you crying?" He receives no response, and so he settles for finding an answer himself.

There's the uneven rise and fall of your chest, as if you were trying very hard to hold in a second wave of tears. Your hands have turned into trembling fists on your lap, and your shoulders are tense. Did you argue with someone? No, there's no one awake at this hour. In the stillness of the night, everyone would've heard it, anyway. For you to be in such a state, seeking him out this late at night...

"Ah," Horropedia's eyes soften as it all clicks into place. "Another dumb question. But third time's the charm, my friend! May I try again?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. His hand slides into your own, gently forcing you to stop clenching your fists and interlocking your fingers and his together with ease. Like this, he can hold you steady and ground you back to reality.

"Was it a very scary nightmare?"

The way Horropedia speaks is often louder than what is commonly expected, rarely changing from that perpetual matter-of-factly, cheeky tone he's known for. But now? He's gentle, endeared by the way you stubbornly continue to hide from him.

There's a nod, and you finally turn to face him. It's a heartbreaking sight, with your face tilted down, looking up at him like you've done something wrong. You allow your hair to fall over your eyes in one last effort to conceal this vulnerable moment, but Horropedia won't allow it.

Now that he's older, Horropedia finds it difficult and, at times, stupid to cry over things he knows aren't real - those nonsensical dreams caused by watching too many horror movies, reading scary stories before bedtime or any lingering events from his daily routine. But when he was just a child waking up in the middle of the night, tears streaming down his eyes, his first instinct was the same: to run as fast as he could into his grandfather's arms, the one person who could chase away all those night terrors.

Tonight is the night he steps up to reverse those roles. Horropedia wants nothing more than to offer you that same feeling of safety.

"There's three things we can do right now. One, we can pretend nothing happened and you can join me to watch movies until the sun rises or until we pass out from exhaustion, whichever comes first. Two, we can go raid the kitchen right now for some comfort food - lucky for you, I know where everyone hides their favorite snacks."

He pauses just enough to pique your interest, giving you one of his mysterious, cheeky smiles. "Three, you lay down with me and tell me all about this nightmare you had, so I can judge and nitpick all the scary elements in it."

That earns a little chuckle from you, a massive improvement from your pitiful expression back then - that's enough to seal your fate.

Horropedia slowly takes off his glasses and sets them on the table, before pulling you into a hug and falling onto the plush cushions. He makes sure to lay by the edge of the couch with you nestled safely inside, his body fully shielding you from the light of the TV screen. There's just enough space to lay down together like this, as long as you remain pressed up against his chest.

This is a first for him, for someone who struggles with this type of contact and rarely initiates it, and yet it feels as natural as breathing when it comes to you. It feels right, and he guesses he must be doing something right when you nuzzle and curl up into him, content and comfortable.

There's no trace of that fear from before. That tense atmosphere is fully gone, replaced with something that feels just like home - it's like he's 13 again, staying up late at night, having fun and doing things that the Foundation would never approve of, those illicit sleepovers under the safety of his blanket. But this time, he has you by his side.

Horropedia is painfully aware of his lack of skill when it comes to romance - he still pets your head the same way one would pet a dog rather than a person - but he can't bring himself to care in the slightest about all these rules and guidelines when he hears you laugh and complain about his cold hands on the small of your back. Then, he feels you poke at his monster slippers with your foot.

"You're still wearing these?" Before he can reply, you kick them off and they fall unceremoniously onto the floor. "They're so lame."

Horropedia deadpans. "You literally have a matching pair."

"Yeah, some nerdy nerd gave them to me."

He realizes you're joking when you avoid his eyes in an attempt to hide that smug grin, choosing to trace the colorful patterns and slasher killers depicted on his shirt instead. Somehow, he feels his heart skip a beat at this.

"Hey! I don't recall giving you the fourth option of making fun of me all night! Now, will you share that nightmare you had, or should we wait until I die from the suspense?"

This time, you're the one who catches him off-guard by cupping his face and planting a gentle kiss on his forehead. Feeling the warmth rise from his neck to the tip of his ears, Horropedia is left momentarily speechless. Perhaps he still needs a little more time to ease into this whole physical touch thing. Nonetheless, he remains docile under your touch, especially when you begin to play with his hair.

"It's funny," you begin speaking, carefully untangling the hairclips out of that mess of brown hair, undoing his ponytail. "I can't even remember what it was about, at least not all of it. It just feels... Like it was something very dumb, even if it made me cry. I guess it's that whole thing you keep saying, about how psychological horror is scarier because there's no actual tangible monster or creature or whatever to blame for everything."

"Thank you! Finally, someone who thinks alike! The whole fear factor is greatly reduced when you can see the origin of all these supernatural or scary, inexplicable events. Humanity's biggest enemy is their own mind, and to us arcanists is our emotions. That's why, to some people, ghosts are scarier than robbers - which makes sense, despite being entirely illogical at the same time..."

It's hard to stop once he gets going, and so Horropedia continues talking, so immersed in his own thoughts and theories that he doesn't even register the way you've wrapped both arms around his torso, nuzzling into his chest and breathing him in.

Every so often, you give him a weak, drowsy reply and he only realizes you've fallen asleep when all he hears is your gentle snoring. The movie continues to play in the background, but all of his senses are focused on you.

Had it been anyone else, Horropedia would've been offended. But it's you we're talking about. One of the very few people who pay attention to what he says, who cares enough to sit through hours of ramblings and to debate him on things he might've missed or overlooked. Who would never think of changing the way he is.

There's stars in his eyes when he looks down at your sleeping form, absolutely mesmerized. Usually, you're the one helping him through the tedious social interactions, to understand when he might be overstepping or acting rudely. In a sea of blank, emotionless and confusing faces, yours is the one he looks for guidance and solace. When nothing makes sense and he's lost in an abundance of unspoken rules of conduct, discipline and etiquette, your voice is the one that rises above all.

He may not know how to show it, he may not even realize it himself, but his appreciation for you runs deeper than his love for horror. Horropedia is honored to know that, just this once, he was able to help you. That he's the first one you sought out at your most vulnerable.

Horropedia presses his lips to the top of your head - a gentle, feathery kiss as to not disturb your sleep. And he remains there, your anchor to reality, as his eyelids feel heavier and heavier. The last thing he remembers before sleep takes over is your voice, not quite awake and not quite asleep, thanking him.

What are you even thanking him for, silly? Have you forgotten already? It's fine, because Horropedia will always be there to remind you: you can always count on him, no matter what.

[read42]

I sigh, my legs falling freely softly swaying, as I sit on the desk contemplating my life or the lack thereof. Vader looks at me silently and speaks up, "what is bothering you, my precious star?" I look at him wondering if he could be serious.

"My life has been stolen" I reply.

Vader looks at me coldly "No I have brought you here to this palace and provided you with wealth and luxury" he pauses glancing around, "look at all the beautiful things we have here".

I scoff, "beautiful things? What about my freedom? What about that or love? REAL love."

"My dear wife, my love for you is true. You are a rare beauty, and I will take care of you. Your freedom must be sacrificed for you to understand my desire to keep you safe."

He approaches me and puts his arm around my shoulders.

"Do you not love me?" He questions.

I laugh loudly causing him to look at me in anger.

"No. Not at all. You are psychotic" I smile sarcastically.

He smiles coldly. "There is no need for harsh words" he pauses.

"I have given you a privileged life, and you will learn to love me in time. Now, enough sadness, no more tears."

I scoff for a second time. "I will not shed tears over the likes of you."

"My little star, your defiance does not entertain me. Do you not understand the consequences of your actions?"

He walks in front of you now, his stature towering over me.

"I will not be talked to like I am some common pest. I will be loved and appreciated."

"Careful you sound desperate." I say snidely.

"My star, you must understand it is your place to make me happy, to please me." He leans down close to me, his face is just inches from my own, his breath fanning on my neck.

"I am a Sith Lord. I am not to be disappointed."

"A shame because you certainly disappoint me my lord" I hiss out.

He grips my chin tightly and looks into my eyes and for a split second, I can feel his anger. He takes his other hand and smacks me across the face, his voice cold and calm.

"My darling little star, I do not take these insults from you lightly."

I grunt in pain at the impact.

"I am not to be defied." He says

his expression softening a touch as he looks at me, his breath and face close to mine.

"Star please do not make me punish you again." I shiver in slight fear.

"I hate you" I say venom in my words.

he smiles and caresses my hand, his expression now seemingly showing real care or something similar to it.

"How could you ever say that to me? After all that I have given you?"

"Your crazy do you understand this? You are crazy." I spat out at him.

"My precious little star, you must learn to respect to me. I have been far too generous with you, and you have taken advantage. No more." He grabs me and lifts me up to his eye-level, his breath inches away from my face.

"What are you going to do?" I question him

He looks me dead in the eyes and I swear I can see in his mind, he's trying to decide what to do and is contemplating different cruel punishments, I'm sure of it.

"I... I will punish you, my love. But I will do it only because I love you dearly, otherwise I would never."

I laugh dryly, "You do not love me. This is obsession".

Vader smiles again, his expression changing from one of care to one of sadistic amusement, his eyes looking through me with pleasure and amusement

"My star, you are right. In fact I do not love you, I desire you. After all, the feeling of possession drives me more than the feeling of loving another."

his eyes assess me up and down whilst staring at me with clear lust in his eyes

"You're sick" I whimper slowly inching back

He leans down to me and whispers....his lips right next to my ear, "I am, aren't I? Oh how I love it."

His tone is dark, his smile evil, "and now, my love, it is punishment time." he smirks

"No wait!" I all but scream.

I'm pinned down to the wall behind me and he moves in much closer then before as if he was about to give me a kiss. His breathing is shallow and he is looking at me with some type of hunger

"No use trying to beg my little star." he whispers "your protests arouse me. Now, I am going to show you what a punishment is like."

"You can pretend all you want Vader... but I will never be her..."

The expression on his face turns from amusement and lust, to anger and frustration.

"Yes, I know, my dear. I will never have the real Padmè and the love she felt for me. You are nothing to me but a sad replacement that I will now have the pleasure to abuse."

"She'd be disgusted and so disappointed" I say trying to play on his emotions. He doesn't bat an eyelash at you, "I can't replace her and you know it!" I begin to panic.

"Oh, don't worry, my dear. I do not intend to make you into her. But, because you do remind me of her so much, I will remind myself of her through you." his grip on me tightens, he brings his lips a centimeter away from my own.

My heart thunders in my chest.. "what if I can learn to love you?!" I start trying to weasel my way out of this one.

"My dear, you do not need to learn to love me. I am your husband, and you may not have any choice in this matter. You will love me, or I will teach you to." his eyes scan up and down the length of my body, his breath heavy and shallow. His grip is very tight.

"Or rather...make you love me."

I knew I was screwed.

[projectbluearcadia]

[P1] His (Their) Queen

NSFW Sub!Barbatos x F!MC x Dom!Lucifer Spice Rating - 3/4 DON'T BURN YOURSELF

[ Part 1 ] [ Part 2 ]

[ Story Premise: You are the wife of Diavolo, and you're a bit annoyed with the slight disrespect Barbatos shows you one morning. You decide to show him who's boss... except Lucifer, your former lover, catches you and doesn't like your abuse of power. ]

@lost-in-time-wanderer

"And Diavolo watched, full-well knowing this would happen, with his delicious fingers clutched tight around his throbbing, monstrous-" *SLAP* Ow... Not so hard, Luci...

Wordcount - 1351

smutty notes (consult if you haven't read my smut before)

“Your highness, your breakfast waits for you in the dining hall,” Barbatos murmurs against your ear, gently shaking you by the shoulder as you nuzzle your pillow. 

“Don’t want to…” Barbatos chuckles in response.

“Did his majesty tire you that much last night?” You blink your eyes open and give the butler a warning look. Honestly, the only reason you’re perturbed is because of his tone. It doesn’t seem like he’s respecting you as Prince Diavolo’s spouse. Why is he suddenly deciding to show you insolence now?

“Watch your tongue. Do not speak of my personal affairs with such carelessness.” 

“Hm? Why is that? Are you afraid I’ll tell your former lover everything you’ve screamed in the middle of the night?” Barbatos’ lips curve upwards. “Rest assured, I would never do anything so crass. I am your faithful servant, after all.” 

Is… Is he mocking you? 

“Of course. Now hurry up and dress me,” you huff, an idea slowly pooling in your head as you stand up, watching Barbatos’ eyes briefly and dangerously linger on your half-destroyed lingerie. He, however, was faithful to his job and undressed you with expert care, pretending your naked body was nothing of importance. 

“Would you like me to repair it?” Barbatos asks, spreading the extravagant underwear over his gloved hands for you, and you nod. 

“Both my husband and I liked it; please do.” 

“I will do my best, given the extent of the damage… though these stains may be a bit difficult to remove without ruining this fabric.” 

“Barbatos,” you softly growl, irritated, and he looks at you innocently enough as your idea takes shape. “Since you seem to be implying that those stains are somehow shameful,” You sit down, folding your arms over your breasts, “I want you to get down on your knees. Right now.” 

The butler, to his credit, doesn’t flinch at the order. “As you wish, my lady,” he replies and kneels before you, a faint blush scattering over his cheekbones as he lowers his head in submission. You admit it sends a lovely little thrill through you. Diavolo won’t mind; he already made it clear that he would willingly share you with Lucifer if you wanted that. 

“Lick it,” you order him coolly, and he looks up at you in surprise, his face turning more pink by the second.

“I-I’m sorry?” His composure slipped, though he recovered quickly. It was a pity, considering how adorable he was… “Your highness, what exactly are you telling me to lick?” 

“The thing you just so carelessly implied was dirty. I’m telling you to lick my cunt.” 

Barbatos stares at you for several moments in shocked silence, his blush starting to reach his ears. 

“My…” He licks his lips, though his eyes flick away from your face. “My lady, that isn’t my privilege.” I knew he loved me like everyone else, but I never thought he’d say something like that. 

“Do you think calling it a privilege will get you out of it? Please me, before I lose my patience.” Barbatos noticeably swallows before he leans closer to you. 

“Then… pardon me,” he murmurs as he places one hand on the inside of your thigh, parting your legs a little more before he slowly traces his tongue against your thigh, up to your lower lips. He looks up at you, and his desire is quickly becoming apparent. He softly groans as he fully buries his face between your legs, his wet, soft tongue lathering you in saliva. 

You try to keep your cool, although that plan quickly fails as Barbatos starts eating you out in sincerity, his tongue flicking and swirling against your bud like he knew exactly how you loved it. God, I’m already close, you think with a soft moan, trying to make him work for it as much as possible. Either way, this is not going to be a once-and-done th—

You cry out in surprise as you feel Barbatos pinch your nub in his lips before he presses hard into you like he wants you to suffocate him. He moans, absorbed and possibly even obsessed. He’s getting into this a lot more than you expected, not that you’re really complaining.

“MC, are you oka—” are the words that stop your impending orgasm as you glance over, wide-eyed to find your old flame, Lucifer, staring at you from the doorway to your bedroom. 

“...Hi, Lucifer,” you say awkwardly, and it vaguely occurs to you that Barbatos hasn’t stopped licking you, happily still trying to please you. Lucifer’s brows furrow, and he begins walking closer. 

“I can guess what happened, knowing you, but you are married, MC,” Lucifer rumbles, grabbing your chin and tilting your head up. Barbatos groans into you, and you moan out a response, sending a blush into Lucifer’s face. 

“Diavolo doesn’t mind,” you breathe, and Lucifer growls at you. 

“It doesn’t sit well with me. It seems like someone’s decided to be a spoiled little brat since she became royalty.” 

“Y-You should learn some respect,” you gasp, trying to be firm but miserably failing. You find yourself remembering the battles for dominance you used to have with Lucifer… The way he’d make you scream when he won. 

“No,” Lucifer murmurs, tracing his thumb over your lips, muffling a moan. “I think… that you need to learn some respect…and I will thoroughly teach you.” 

“Luci—hmnn.” Lucifer kisses you, teasing your mouth like he always used to. “Nnn! Oh! Barbatos!” You find yourself finally losing yourself as Barbatos pushes you over the edge, making you lose all sense as you cum, and he licks and swallows every drop like he’s starved for it. You pant and ask: “B-Barbatos, did you learn some sense?” 

“I admit I misspoke…” Barbatos replies, his cheeks still bright and rosy and his lips shining with your juices. “Is there any other way I can serve you, your highness?” 

“Don’t serve her,” Lucifer growls, an excited look crossing over his face as you pant, your chin held up by Lucifer’s fingers. “A slutty girl like her doesn’t deserve pleasure yet, does she, MC?” 

Without even realizing it, you nod, and Lucifer’s grin grows even wider. Fuck, old habits die hard… you think, biting your lip. But… it’s been a while… 

“You’re being cruel, Lucifer,” Barbatos murmurs, kissing your calf. “She is essentially our ruler… an authority which I so rudely impinged upon.” He strokes your leg up and down, massaging it gently, softly chuckling in that cute way of his.

“Ruler,” he scoffs. “A ruler like her needs to be kept in check. Preferably with a firm hand.” Lucifer squeezes your hip, and you whimper. “Stand up.” 

And without giving you the opportunity to respond, Lucifer returns to kissing you, moving you past Barbatos as your legs dangerously wobble. It must have been Diavolo last night; he was probably the reason you were already starting to shake. I mean, you couldn’t be sore and exhausted with just one or two rounds with sex fiends like Lucifer and Diavolo. Curse your husband for making you lose to Lucifer…! 

“Barbatos, you’re dying to touch more of her, aren’t you?” Lucifer murmurs against your ear, making you bump and twitch against something solid—the front of his lean body. You can feel the cold tickle of metal buttons on your neck and pressed down either side of your spine. His RAD medal jamms uncomfortably against your shoulder blade, though you’re paying more attention to the hard bulge he’s pressing you against. Even through two layers of clothing, you can still feel its general shape. “Give her breasts plenty of attention.” 

“I will only do so if her highness wishes it,” is Barbatos’ loyal reply, although his eyes are begging for the permission to do it. He wants to absolutely spoil—no, worship—you. 

“Do it, Barbatos,” you order, semi-commandingly, and Barbatos covers his mouth to stifle a soft moan. Faintly, you realize he’s also nursing a stiff length, and you’re not quite sure when it started, but you’re starting to really like the idea of letting him edge the absolute shit out of himself.  

At least you’ll suffer together.

[nikoisme]

Regarding the "it's fine that you're queer, just don't show it." line I agree with you and share your feelings, It makes me so incredibly frustrated, because this is a very prevalent attitude where I live (along with the more extreme negative attitudes).

Like. People go "I don't care that someone's queer, I'm neutral about that", but 90% of the time that "neutral" means just "I'm not going to directly harm them or wish death upon them, but I don't want to see, hear, think or talk about them"

Hearing that "it's fine you're gay, just keep it in the privacy of your bedroom" is just... you're not even allowed to hold hands with your partner on the street because that can put you both in danger (yes, unfortunately here it is a very real fear. I know that there are countries, where things are better, and where the worst you'll get is a rare insult or a mean stare, which, don't get me wrong, it's still not pleasant, but it's not as bad as a constant threat of physical assault or worse). And I'm not even talking about being trans. This isn't "neutral" this is just negative and it makes me so angry, when people act like this.

The worst part, they don't even realise what the problem is and how incredibly suffocating being forced to live like this is. You either treat queer people as people and don't try to erase (or worse, completely stop) their existence and let us be or you don't. Simply not wishing death upon queer people and not harming them for existing isn't as great of an achievement as those people think it is...

Sorry, if this was too negative. You don't have to respond and also, if you don't like getting rants like this, please feel free to say so. I wish you all the best, your blog is a very nice place and your art is wonderful, thank you for existing)))

Long rant ahead whoops!! cw for queerphobia and mentions of violence

Oh you put it all so perfectly! The experience here is exactly the same. "Just keep it within four walls, why do you have to rub it in our faces" is one I hear constantly. They will see a same-sex couple just holding hands and immediately see it as if they're having sex in public or something. Like,, just holding hands is something so explicitly sexual, to them apparently. Like you stated, they will say "i am neutral about it", but they are neutral only if you don't show you're queer. They are "neutral" only if you aren't actually yourself. I was honestly shocked how many times the conversation would go from that "neutrality" to mockery to downright violence. So whenever i hear someone say "as long as they don't push it on me", i always put up my guard. Because i don't know if it's "i don't mind that you're queer, you're still the same person i know and you deserve to be loved, respected and have basic human rights" or just masked hatred.

They will literally claim that queer people aren't discriminated, but actually privileged because they have "their damn parade" and representation in media. They say that they will get all the accommodations of life, society and economy purely based on the fact that they are queer. Apparently this all "comes from the west", like i am actually from the west and not,, y'know,, literally from here?? Born here?? Raised here?? Had the same chaotic-ass childhood like my peers?? But apparently it all goes away just because i am queer? Idk man it all really disconnected me from my culture and identity, and i am still uncomfortable with that (but i'm slowly trying to heal that! Drawing slavic mythology helps :DD)

"They aren't discriminated, they don't actually face any harassment", there were cases of queer people literally being murdered here. If it was a cishet person, it would be breaking news. But since it's a queer person, no one speaks about it. Harassment is bad, but when a queer person is being harassed it's their fault? Because they couldn't keep it to themselves? There is no protection here towards queer people when they face discrimination and harassment. The government does nothing.

"They have the same rights as us, what more do they want?" i don't know man just not living in constant paranoia hmmm??? Pride parades, rare as they are, are always under threats of violence from anti-gay protestors. I think a lot of people here don't even think queer people are actually people. Usually queer characters here are the laughingstock in media. They are portrayed with such horrible stereotypes (the worst ones are gay men=pedos), to the point of sometimes dehumanizing them. There is just so many terrible misinformation. I am queer as fuck, my gender is transed, and i know nothing about some of the downright bullshit they claim. A few weeks ago i had to listen through "the gays and their agenda" thing. And i'm not kidding, someone said "you will be asked to change your sexuality to get hired. Soon you will have to out yourself as straight. Straight people are the actual minority". It was so dumb it was almost hilarious.

But while sometimes i can get a laugh out of their willful ignorance (they lowkey won't acknowledge intersex people), it can get really draining, really fast. At this point i am just exhausted and sick of it. Sometimes I'm just exhausted of being around my family, friends and classmates and knowing, deep down, that they wish people like me wouldn't exist. Listening to them talk about "all the things they would do if they saw a [insert f slur]" and fearing if they would do it to you. Not speaking in lgbtq+ themed conversations because you don't agree with them - and all the shitty things they say are, in a way, faced at you. I'm not out to anyone irl exactly because of this, so while i don't face harassment aimed specifically at me, it does get hard sometimes. The silent ostracization from your own culture, history, religion etc. just feels really bad. Not to get too into it, but all of it really really fucked me up, and it took me years to come to terms with myself. It's sad feeling like i simply don't belong here. Sometimes it makes me wanna scream in anger, sometimes it makes me wanna laugh, sometimes it makes me wanna just throw up, cry, sleep and sometimes i just spiral. I usually have a "lmao fuck them. I like myself and i don't care what they think of me" attitude (queer spite that i mentioned once HAHAHA), but I actually do care because sometimes the odds of me having a normal life in which i am happy with who i am and i don't live under the constant fear of being, y'know, KILLED,, they just seem nonexistent.

I don't think they understand queer people have hobbies, friends, families, interests, dreams. We do the same things as them, we eat sleep laugh cry. They will claim we make our queer identity the only part of ourselves, like it's our entire personality - but when you tell them you're queer, they stop treating you the same, as the same person you were before you told them AND STILL ARE!! They will treat you as "not cishet", something that is "sick" and wrong and just doesn't belong.

This got really personal real fast, but good god it feels good to get it all out. There is so much more i didn't cover, mostly because even typing this down made me really tired. And it's not a bad thing!! In a way i am really exhausted from staying silent about this, so this was nice. I guess like a big "FUCK YOU" to everyone around me who is like this LMAOO. but tHANK YOU this ask put all of the frustration into words much better than i could hahaha!!

[writing-bakugo]

Rags and Riches ~ Levi Ackerman

1. Lace Shoes

 "Can you believe this?" howled Theodora Aetos, with a letter in hand.

"It's okay, my dear," Tobias wrapped his arms around Theodora's tightly wrapped waist. "We can still have a party without food from the Heisman's."

"A party without the Heisman's food?" scoffed Theodora. "We're ruined! Everyone knows that the King does not show up to coming of age parties unless it's to his specifications!"

Fourteen-year-old Enyo sat with her lips glued shut in a pressed frown. She stared at her parents bickering back and forth for the party tomorrow, and wondered what she could do to escape the room. Her blond hair was tied back in a proper, tight braid.

"Dora, we can substitute with the Klingston's."

"No! I told you I would never be doing service there again. They refused to give me a dozen scones! The Heisman's have really disgraced us."

Enyo pressed her lips even tighter. She wanted to point out that the Heisman's were the best people in the Royal Capital, but now was not the time.

"There's no question of the affections everyone has for Enyo," said Tobias. "If not the King, then another high-ranking official will barter for her."

 "No! Enyo is destined to be the King's third mistress!" Theodora walked around the polished grand table and lifted Enyo's long, tidy hair. "That's the only place fitting for my daughter."

"May...maybe I can speak with Trisha and Klause?" Enyo gently pulled her hair from her mother's hands. "They might help me because of the work I did for them last summer."

Theodora tapped the diamond earring on Enyo's ear and hummed. "Fine."

Enyo stood with her golden eyes on the ground and quietly excused herself. Her green silk dress blew lightly in the evening breeze when she walked down the street. Enyo turned down the corner to the main street and headed toward the polished metal sign that read, Heisman's Pastry Shop.

The Military Police Center's door clattered open and Captain Nile Dawk stumbled out. His gaze landed triumphantly on Enyo and she bowed slightly and took a large gulp. In the golden shadows of the evening, Enyo seemed aflame with nerves.

 "Enyo!" barked Nile.

Like a squirrel, Enyo froze. Nile's boney hand gripped onto Enyo's weak arm and spun her to face him, layers of her navy silk dress in his grip. He had a dark, wolf like gaze.

"Ca...captain Dawk," Enyo meekly said with her eyes pointed at her white lace shoes in the dirt.

"One more day," Nile lifted her rounded chin. When Enyo's wide and worried and...pleasurable eyes met his, a smirk grew on his mouth.

Enyo tried to pull away. Nile's grip tightened and pulled Enyo in closer. "Tomorrow night's going to be amazing."

"You're hurting me, Captain," whispered Enyo. "Please let go."

He gripped her tighter and Enyo turned her head to the Heisman's bakery. Her breaths were uneven and her cheeks flushed and she wondered if anyone was going to leave the Heisman's. She wanted someone to walk out and force Captain Dawk off of her.

Enyo's elegant shoes tripped over each other as she pulled away from Nile. "Cicely is expecting me."

Nile sighed and dropped Enyo. She rubbed her wrist, curtsied politely, and darted down the street. Every heavy gulp was like trying to breathe through smoke and her mind soared with the heavy weight: Would Captain Dawk be the one who bought her tomorrow? Was that even possible?

Tomorrow was her coming of age party. Which meant at the end of the day, her parents could sell her for a huge chunk of change. Tomorrow. Enyo sprinted down an alleyway. Tomorrow. She turned down a street and ran up to the creek. Tomorrow.

Enyo's breaths were loud and ugly when her feet slammed against mud and her steps slowed. There was one mystery Enyo had the privilege to keep to herself. In her world of jewelry, dresses, diplomacy, and rules, the empty field of Wall Sheena was the only mystery of defiance. This field, about the size of one street block with two, tall righteous trees in the center, was the only place that Enyo could forget her status and breathe. 

 "Take that!" Enyo rallied and reeled her leg backward. She kicked her expensive dainty shoe off her foot and watched it soar across the field. She grinned and kicked her other shoe off. Enyo collapsed back onto the grass and welcomed the sun's final rays before it sank beyond the walls. Her breaths evened and her back slowly itched and Enyo decided the night would be hers. The moon loomed as gently as a shadow above and she let her worries seep into the roots of the ground.

Tonight, Enyo lapped up her last moments of freedom as free as they were. Every itch reminded her that she was indeed, a fourteen-year-old girl who didn't need taming. Her arms rested against the ground and soon, the mud soothed the ache in her wrist and was gladly welcomed as she forgot about Captain Nile Dawk and his menacing words.

Enyo laid for what felt like hours. The stars blazed bright way too soon and Enyo grumbled her way to her feet. Her eyes strained against the grass as she began a shoe hunt. Enyo couldn't help but smile to herself, because if she were to ever fall in love, it would be as grand as this shoe hunt. It would be difficult and as bare as her naked feet against the mud of the only field in the Royal Capital and it would be just as satisfactory as finding her tiny, lace shoes.

"Now where's the other one?" Enyo murmured and scanned the dark ground.

"Whoa!" Enyo's intake was loud as she backpedaled from the edge of the hole. How did she manage to get this far in the field? No way her shoe had soared this far!

Everyone knew about the hole. The one-way ticket to the Underground, a place that no one wanted to be. The rumor was, if you fell in, you'd never be granted access back out, even if you could pay the fees. Enyo had never heard of anyone actually falling in, of course, but still, it was enough to make anyone's skin crawl. The people from the Underground were barbarians and criminals who didn't even know about hygiene or health—at least, that's what Enyo was taught at the academy.

Enyo crawled on her hands and knees to the edge of the hole and peered in. Her mother would kill her if she lost yet another pair of shoes! And if her mother ever found out her shoe was lost in the hole? Enyo would be killed twice over!

Calm, steel eyes bore into Enyo's golden ones. She gasped and jumped and squeezed her eyes shut. Shivers ran down Enyo's spine when she took a big gulp and slowly looked back over the edge. Starlight framed his paper white and sickly skin. His hair was dark and messy. In fact, most of him was messy. A raggedy shirt was wrinkled and tucked into pants that were praying they could stay on his boney frame. His boots were dark and had clear holey patches and still, his gaze was unwavering. Silent. Like he had a thoughtless mind.

But his hands?

Cradled a pristine white lace shoe.

Enyo jumped to her feet and ran. What her mother never found out wouldn't hurt her! She'd just say that her shoe was lost like countless others and yeah, Enyo would get hit, but it was better than anyone finding out that Enyo had been near the hole. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Find Chapter 2 here!

[nnight-dances]

ANNOTATIONS OF LOVE

summary: although you're always looking out for any mistakes he makes, you think you've found the perfect rival in kazuha. but when you begin to spend more time with him, you begin to realize he's also the perfect love interest... after all, why else would someone lend you an personally annotated book?

pairings: kaedehara kazuha x gn!reader

tags: enemiestolovers!au, modern!au

genre: fluff, humor, slight angst

a/n: i've been having something of an obsession with sylvia plath even tho we finished reading her work last november. i love it and i will not stop talking about her potrayal of women and will include it in a fic about kazuha. god, i just want to have an academic rival who will convince me to read an annotated book so that i can fall in love with them. okay, enjoy this brainrot <3 also ps: i enjoyed writing this kazuha a lot so if you have any requests i will be more than happy to cater to them :)

“So, class how did we like reading Sylvia Plath?” Miss Aranaki, your Literature teacher, crosses her arms across her chest as she regards the twenty or so of you sitting in front of you, “Any thoughts?”

“I didn’t like it much, actually,” a voice pipes up and without seeing, you know who it is, a groan escaping your lips. Aranaki gives an amused laugh, “Kazuha. Please do elaborate on why you dislike Plath so much.”

Unwillingly, your eyes travel until they come to rest on the mostly-platinum-blonde-headed boy who has his copy of The Bell Jar dismissed on its back by his elbow. “Well, to start with, her poetry is too easily interpretable once you know everything about her enough and the themes are usually just the same old feminist, complaining about privilege and children. Although I must say the touch with the cheating husband in The Rival was interesting, but that was as good as it got.”

Before Kaedehara Kazuha can continue, you, who’s had Plath’s novel clutched tightly in your hands, interrupt him. “Excuse me, to me it sounds like you’re complaining about having to read about a complex female experience. It’s a shame to see men like you roaming around in the campus’ feminist activism clubs when in class you cannot tolerate the slightest shred of powerful women in action.”

Kazuha meets your eyes in a flash, a familiar smile in place - one that is almost friendly, but at the last moment, turns smug. “I’m sorry if I came across as discarding Plath’s unique persona - but I just refuse to credit her writing simply because she’s a woman. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise, don’t you think, Y/N?”

“Please,” you scoff, ears a little red from exasperation, “Her poems are not easily interpreted, Kazuha, you’re just overly entrenching them in context. You can’t make Plath’s poems all about her factual life if you want to take anything from them. The Rival is not definitely about her bastard husband’s mistress - it could just as easily be about her mother if you try to keep your mind open.”

Kazuha opens his mouth to speak but Aranaki cuts him off, “Alright, alright, the two of you. Always a pleasure to hear you go back and forth. Some very valid points have been made. But remember, this class consists of 18 other students. Let’s allow everyone to speak.”

“I don’t know about that, Y/N. You both seemed like you were having a lot of fun-”

“Fun? Hu Tao, that man is borderline misogynistic and you think-”

“I think I deserve a little more credit than a borderline misogynist, my dear Y/N.”

You stop in your tracks with a sigh when you spot Kazuha behind you, bag slung lazily over his back. He’s holding his copy of The Bell Jar by the very edge, you notice much to your dismay. “You’re going to have to work harder if you want to seem like you actually care about reading feminist work from writers who are actual women. Not just old horny men—”

“Please don’t tell me you’re still holding that time I praised Murakami against me?” Kazuha’s brows furrow, looking almost genuinely concerned about what you think of him. You roll your eyes, catching the ill-covered laugh that leaves Hu Tao, who has been observing the two of you silently.

“No, but you really don’t think Murakami’s flat female characters, who by the way only function to serve the lonely loser men, are anywhere near the same kind of writing as Plath’s honest depiction—” You cut yourself off when you catch Hu Tao throwing you a suggestive look and scoff, “Never mind, I don’t have time to have this conversation. Let’s just go, Hu Tao.”

“But—” You promptly block Kazuha’s attempt to probably retort by taking Hu Tao’s arm and marching off, carrying a growing a feeling of doubt in your chest.

“That will be $15, please.” You nod at the cashier, internally crying at how expensive a single coffee was. You feel yourself cry even louder when you rummage through your wallet to only find a total of $10.

“Um, sorry, just a moment,” you feel yourself beginning to panic, ready to just about be hit by lightning, “I couldv’e sworn I saw another—”

“Here, I’m paying for them.” You jump up at the voice beside you and you swear to God if this morning could get any worse, it’d have to be because Kazuha stepped in to save you from some kind of financial crisis that would’ve inevitably lead into a public mental breakdown.

“W-What? No, I can pay for myself— ”Thank you for buying from us. We hope to see you again.”

You’d rather not the hold up the rest of the line any longer so you step away, pulling Kazuha with you, with a scowl on your face. You shove the $10 you’d been holding into his palm which he looks at in confusion, “I’ll pay you back the rest of it later, I—”

“No, you really don’t need to do that, Y/N,” the boy smiles, a soft comforting look in his eyes that you’ve never encountered before. It annoys you.

“Honestly, would you stop cutting me off all the time?” Kazuha shuts up with a serious raise of the brown, “I was very much capable of paying for myself back there but thanks. Bye.”

You intend to distance yourself from him as much just because you’re equally embarrassed and confused by his presence, especially at having been caught in a moment of somewhat vulnerability by him of all people. You take a seat in the cafe by the window, hoping to ease your worries with a productive rush.

Of course, the universe, and specifically, one crimson-streaked head, has other plans. “What the fuck are you doing?” you question as Kazuha settles into the seat across from you, resting his bag beside him, hands coming to drum against the table - the table that you’d taken to get away from specifically him.

“I’m doing what you’re doing. Studying,” he says, pulling out his laptop, nonchalant as if the two of you aren’t after each other’s throats in class all the time. You’re actually speechless as he actually starts typing away, eyes on the screen. You let out a frustrated sigh at his behavior, unable to just ignore his presence, a weakness of yours you absolutely despise.

“Kazuha, I think you’ve asserted your compassion enough for a day. You don’t have to continue acting like you don’t actually hate me,” your voice threatens to falter when Kazuha looks up with wide eyes.

“What do you— But I don’t hate you,” Kazuha replies, not losing a second of time after you’ve spoken. You shake your head at him, a headache imminent, as you stand up. “Wait- where are you going?”

“Somewhere else. See you in class, Kazuha. Leave me alone or I’ll report you.”

You suppose you feel kind of bad about the recent encounters you’ve had with Kazuha. You only met him in class, first in a course called The Graphic Novel where you had your first argument with him (you wanted to focus on the postmodern themes of V for Vendetta, while Kazuha was overly obsessed with the art and a specific sequence of events). From there, it just seemed like the two of you couldn’t get away from each other - next it was a creative course about nonfiction where you found yourself competing with him to see who could impress the famously cold teacher.

Before you’d known, you’d settled into a sort of rhythm with Kazuha where you’d each challenge and infuriate each other, always ready to pounce. It was surprisingly an interesting part of your education - maybe even the most interesting, since you hardly were able to spend a lot of time doing anything other than work on essays and study for the next thing. But recently, you were feeling more... bitter? around him. It was unsettling, especially when suddenly it seemed like Kazuha was capable of more emotions outside of disdain for you. You weren’t stupid enough to not realize you were having fun but when Hu Tao had so explicitly pointed it out... it almost felt wrong. Like you’d been lying to yourself somehow.

You groan as you zone back into reality, coming to terms with the fact that you had made no progress with the last assignment of the Plath course. It has been a few weeks since the course ended but Aranaki had sent out a final feedback-slash-evaluative essay question asking you to talk about a favorite text from Plath. It is optional, you recall, but you physically cannot forgo the opportunity to do extra work. You hit your head in thought, wondering what you are to do with yourself.

“Having trouble picking a favorite?”

You are not proud of the squeak that leaves you in surprise as you jump around in your seat. “Kazuha! You fucking— Stop sneaking up on people in the library! I swear that’s so insensitive.”

Kazuha, clad in a red sweatshirt that matches the red streak in his hair, sits down besides you with an amused laugh. You’re met with a sweet almond scent as he shifts closer to peek at your screen. “Sorry,” he whispers, “You’re writing about Ariel? I’m surprised.”

“Why? Don’t want me writing about the same thing as you?” You gesture toward his bag, which reveals the corner of a sheet with the essay question, “I’m sure you wrote a whole pretentious thing about how shallow and trite Plath’s poetry is.” The boy pins you with an unreadable look as he looks down at his hands before looking back up at you.

What is he so serious about?

“You don’t actually think I’m a woman-hater, do you?” You are tempted to retaliate with a compilation of all the times he was even remotely dismissive of a female author, but you cannot bring yourself to the longer you look at Kazuha. His eyes are downcast and don’t meet yours when you give a preliminary laugh of ridicule, which greatly worries you. Though you find it hard to believe, Kazuha seems genuinely hurt at the idea of you perceiving him as someone against women.

“Oh, well, not really. But you did seem slightly on the wrong side when you dismissed Plath’s experiences like that. And then, making her seem like she was entirely about her hatred for her husband wasn’t a very good look, either.” You try to stay in character without actually hurting Kazuha’s feelings but he seems crestfallen either way. You begin to feel bad for some reason when he pulls out a few sheets of paper from his bag, before handing you one.

“And what is this?” You raise your brow questioningly and all Kazuha replies with is, “Read this.” You look down at the sheet and find that it is a print-out of Plath’s poem, The Munich Mannequins. Your course on Plath didn’t include this particular poem because there wasn’t much time but regardless, you’ve read the poem enough times to not have to go through it again. What catches your attention is the little scribbles in green around the printed text.

It’s Kazuha’s annotations of the poem, you realize, and already find yourself somewhat moved. You know for a fact that Kazuha does not annotate something he doesn’t find truly meaningful. “Hmm,” you look back at Kazuha with a smile that is completely unlike you. But you can hardly help it, “Your analysis of the metaphor of the mannequins is... insightful, although I don’t agree with it.”

Kazuha’s dullness suddenly melts away when you speak, a bright grin in its place. “I’m glad you think so. I realized I was spending so much effort in trying to find out what Plath actually wanted to convey that in the end, I didn’t even have my own interpretations. And looking back at it, her work is actually pretty cool.”

This time you laugh, teasingly nudging Kazuha’s shoulder, “Way to go with the academic language, Kazuha.” Your laughter only grows louder when the boy’s cheeks color slightly pink. “But I’m really happy that you were able to appreciate Plath. I think maybe we found something we agree on.”

He nods, his usual easy smile returning, “I have to admit that I only gave Plath another chance because I couldn’t stand the thought of you thinking I was a borderline misogynist.” You feel yourself flush and you cough to cover it up, “Still can’t believe you were so bothered by that comment.”

“Of course, I was,” Kazuha says matter-of-factly, “You said it so seriously. And then that day in the cafe, you seemed to truly hate me. You even accused me of hating you. I felt like I’d done something unforgivable.”

You grimace in guilt. “Sorry about that,” you pat his back hesitantly, “I was just a bit in my head back then. I don’t actually hate you. Or think that you hate me.”

“That’s good. I wouldn’t want to have you stop talking to me, I think some life-giving part of me would die.”

Here's the thing: you know how you’ve hardly been able to do anything outside of worry about your grades and keep track of your deadlines? Yes, that meant you hadn’t even enough time to have crushes, or even think about who you’re attracted. Which is why you’re caught in some real fucking trouble when you realize you like Kazuha.

Since your conversation with him in the library, something had changed between the two of you. You still made sure to battle each other fiercely in class, no doubt, but when you weren’t in class, you were actually able to hold a civil conversation. In fact, sometimes your conversations outside of class were more enjoyable than your arguments and disagreements, given that those same dissents would often turn into inside jokes outside of class.

It started with Kazuha asking you to peer-review an essay for another class (he wouldn’t dare to ask your help with a common assignment, that meant war) and you getting impressed again by his ability to analyze and argue. Slowly, it became a ritual for you to meet Kazuha after classes to work on something together, which took more time than required because you’d be bothering each other the whole time, chattering away loud enough that the librarian had banned your entrance in the library. So now you met him on the college lawn where your time together almost felt romantic.

“God, I hate myself,” you mumble into your hands as you cringe at your internal monologue. Hu Tao who’s keeping you company while you wait for Kazuha, laughs knowingly, “Stop hating on yourself for having feelings, Y/N. Believe it or not, it’s normal.”

“I know, but not for me! I’ve had like one romantic experience before and it involved hand-holding.”

“Hey, hand-holding can be pretty intimate, too,” she retorts, frowning, “I’m sure if you tried it with Kazuha, you’d actually combust on the spot.”

“Keep it down, Hu Tao, this is not exactly something I’m proud of—”

“What are you not proud of?” You freeze as Kazuha comes into sight from behind you but relax when you examine his expression and see nothing out of the ordinary.

“Nothing, just her usual spiel about hating life,” Hu Tao covers for you as she rises from next to you, smirking as she pushes Kazuha in her spot. He falls all too close to you, head hitting your shoulder.

“Careful!” You scowl at Hu Tao as you steady Kazuha with a hand on his back. She winks at you as she turns to leave, “See ya for dinner tomorrow, stupid.”

Kazuha chuckles beside you and you can feel the sound vibrate through your hand, still warm against his back, “You must be really close to her if she can walk away alive after calling you stupid.”

You cough a little as you are suddenly reminded of the proximity, thanks to how Kazuha has made no move to remove his head from against your shoulder, even though you’d retracted your hand from his back long ago. “I’m not that easily offended, you know.”

Kazuha looks amused as he shifts to look at you, much to your chagrin because fuck! you’re still way too close to him so now you’re basically sharing the same air. “So if I called you stupid—?”

“Don’t even dream of it,” you push his head off and he pulls away, laughing lowly. You sigh in relief now that you’re at a distance that won’t kill you as Kazuha pulls out a red book from inside his jacket pocket.

“What book is that?”

Kazuha holds it for you with a hesitant smile, “It’s for you, actually.” You hum questioningly as you take it and scoff when you see the title. Sputnik Sweetheart. By Haruki Murakami.

“Before you chase me away for bringing Murakami in your sights, listen to me, okay?” he says, with a hand on your elbow and you fall silent, a little nervous. “I think you should read it because this book actually has complex female characters, unlike all his other work. There’s a lesbian relationship in there and a very unexpected plot twist, too. You might like it... I think.”

The amount of effort it takes to not scream on the top of your lungs because Kazuha’s cheeks are dusted adorably red as he rants to you about the book, his eyes not meeting you and you can’t take it because he’s so shy about it all. You silently open to a random page and you swear you die right there when you see notes in pencil along the margin.

“You’ve annotated this?” you ask through a small smile. Kazuha rubs the back of his neck, “Well, yes. I usually annotate my novels. I hope you don’t mind. Think of it as having a really long conversation with me?”

You chuckle as hit Kazuha’s forehead with the book lightly, “Why the fuck would I want to have a conversation with you about a book? I’m bound to give myself a migraine.” You bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning as you continue, “But oh, well. Since you went back to Plath for me, I think I’ll give Murakami a chance.”

Kazuha pumps a fist in the air, beyond delighted, “Yes! I promise you’re going to love me after this.”

“Kazuha, I have to something to tell you,” you say, hands clutched behind your back. Kazuha turns away from the conversation he’d just been having with Aether to give you a warm look.

“What is it?” He waves goodbye to Aether, grinning when you reveal the red book he’d lent you a few weeks ago. Kazuha jumps up and down as his hands cup to hold yours and you can’t help but jump excitedly with him. “Did you finish? What did you think of it? How was his description of Miu and Sumiere? Oh, what was your reaction to Miu’s backstory?”

You laugh as you pause to form your response. “Well, I actually did not hate it. I actually enjoyed his descriptions of the women—” Kazuha squeals in excitement as you continue, “But! There was man still, you know. And his presence as the narrator of everything was a bit suffocating. So, not perfect. But dammit, the parts about Miu watching herself that night in the park and everything Sumiere writes in her letters - Ahhh, that was just amazingly disorienting.”

“So?” Kazuha grins at you, shaking you by the shoulders, “You don’t hate Murakami anymore? I succeed in convincing you that he wrote one decent novel? You love me?”

You successfully ignore the last question he asks as you reply, “I guess I don’t hate him but I can’t say he’s a good writer still. He’s definitely got some dimension but he needs to stop putting men at the center of his universes.”

Kazuha nods as he takes back the book from you, “That’s fair enough, I suppose. I didn’t expect to—” he pauses, a new kind of smile blossoming on his face as he fans through the pages, “Oh, what’s this? Did you make notes on the book?”

Shit, you’d nearly forgotten about that. “Oh, right. I thought it would be funny to respond to some of your annotations. You like some really strange paragraphs, you know.” You quickly take away the book from him before he can grin at anymore of your notes, “I made them on sticky notes so that I can remove them. I just forgot.” You begin removing the loosely glued pieces of paper when Kazuha snatches away the novel back, holding it away from your grasp.

“No! Don’t do that. I want to read them. I can’t lose this opportunity to actually get to read your annotations,” he says, a full-fledged blush on his cheeks for some reason.

You laugh awkwardly, “F-fine, weirdo. Just remove them after you read them.”

“Why would I do that?” Kazuha hugs the book protectively with an annoyingly smug smile on his face, “I’m cherishing this for the rest of eternity.”

You turn around at that, clutching at your chest as if in pain, heart racing, “W-Whatever. I’m going to study. Come if you want.”

An hour later, you fall back into the grass with a whine because you really cannot get your mind off of Kazuha, which was not exactly aided by the fact that the boy was right next to you, opting to bump knees with you as he managed to concentrate with no issues.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” You open your eyes to find Kazuha leaning over you, arm placed next to your head. You watch as his forehead is curtained by his hair and you pout as you silently flick at a chunk of his hair. “I don’t know why you even bother to tie your hair if it’s all over the place anyway.”

Kazuha shrugs with a playful smile and is about to reply before he cuts himself off, “Oh, there’s something in hair, I think.” You reach for your hair but Kazuha beats you to it, leaning closer to your face as he gently plucks off the said something off your hair, holding it up so you can see. “It was a leaf. Heh.”

You reach for your hair self-consciously and are surprised when you find Kazuha’s fingers through the strands. You pull away just as quick you touched him but his hand chases after you, coming to capture it in his, his fingers resting through yours.

“Mhmm,” Kazuha hums delicately, face hovering dangerously close to yours, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

You make an embarrassing choking sound before you place a hand against his chest, pushing with little effort. You avert your gaze as you speak, “S-Stop doing that.”

You can’t see it but Kazuha’s smile weakens as he asks, “Stop doing what?”

“Stuff like this. Like what you did back there with my annotations and- and- right now, this hand-holding stuff. It’s not funny, you know.”

“I don’t think it’s funny either, Y/N,” he says, “I’m always serious about you. So would you please look at me?” Your hand twitches in Kazuha’s as you glance at him and instantly turn away when you see him gazing at you. He does look serious, intense in fact as he looks at you.

His fingers tighten around yours when you suddenly feel a cold pressure against your ear. Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest when you realize it’s Kazuha’s nose pressed up against your neck. “K-Kazuha, cut it out—”

“I like you, Y/N,” he whispers softly, “Actually, that’s an understatement. I really, really like you. I’ve never been so excited to have arguments with someone and I’ve never cared so much about what someone else thought about a book. You’re the smartest person I’ve met.”

You can’t believe your ears, though they turn red anyway as Kazuha pulls away to look at you. “I think you’re so beautiful. I can hardly think right when I’m around you.”

You feel breathless when Kazuha looks at you like that, with an intimacy of a lover and fumble to reply, “I- I like you, too, Kazuha. You’re cool, I guess. And ridiculously handsome.” You mumble the last part but he seems to hear it, probably because you’re so close.

“Would you go out with me?” His eyes are swimming with adoration when you finally meet them. When you nod, a gasp falls from your lips at the feeling of Kazuha’s lips against your cheek. “Kiss me already, would you?” This time, you feel his laughter through your own bones, strong and loving.

Bonus:

“I really wish you would go easy on me in class, dove,” Kazuha complains against your lips and you pull away to laugh at the slight pout in his features. You run a hand through his open hair, arranging the red strands together, “No way, babe. Sorry but sometimes, you’re just wrong.”

He deflates against your neck and you pull him inside the blankets with you with a chortle, “But if you want, we can read Mrs Dalloway together for class?” He instantly perks up, arms coming to hugging you tight, “I would love that. I want to hear your reading voice. We can even play the parts to make it more realistic.”

You groan, “No, we’re not doing that, Kazu. Please don’t make me regret this.” Regret it you do later that week, when Kazuha proudly declares to the whole class, including Miss Aranaki, that the two of you had read the assigned reading together.

[ddarker-dreams]

Hi, loved your piece on Yandere Baal. So, I got a suggestion to go off it. Yandere Baal AND Sara. Pair of yanderes. Any ideas with that?

ohooooooooo...... ohoo...hohoho................ you know what's better than one hot woman?

two hot women.

(i'm going to go ahead and make this a fem reader, so forewarning for that!)

you're the prized gem of inazuma's archon — a forbidden jewel of astonishing beauty that no one aside from baal may touch. others in her court are granted the honor to gaze upon you, yet that is the extent of their interaction; anything more than that is met with divine punishment. baal takes great pride in your upkeep. every morning, you follow a strict routine: your hair is styled to her preference, your lips smeared in crimson pigment, and your body soaked in high-end incense.

your job is to sit by baal’s throne in silence. since she’s so fond of you, you’ll be given simple activities to entertain yourself with, such as embroidering or calligraphy. keep in mind that she holds high expectations and expects everything you do to be carried out to perfection. should she find a single thread astray in your work, or a brushstroke messier than the other, she’ll instruct you to start again. in the company of others, you have to cease your activities to avoid being rude. she explains that you cannot maintain eye contact with her guests, as your eyes are reserved solely for her; so you’re forced to stare at the ground until they leave. 

when it’s just the two of you, she finds herself lost in conversation. you are the closet thing she has to a confidant, whether it’s by your choice or not. as such, she’ll vent her frustrations to you, yet stops shy of complaining. such behavior would be unbecoming of the almighty shogun. she’ll then ask for you to speak, so that she may relish in your lovely voice, stating that you have permission to say whatever is on your mind. that doesn’t mean you can say anything, naturally. you must still mind your tongue as not to upset her. baal finds herself most relaxed if you talk about yourself. your interests these days, what festivals you’re looking forward to, how grateful you are for the latest sash she gifted. comments like this please her immensely. 

then there’s sara, baal’s most trusted subordinate. 

sara reports to baal personally, and as a result, comes into contact with you more than most. she knows better than to allow her eyes to linger on your beautiful, if not wistful form. however, baal notices how sara is drawn to you, despite the latter’s attempts to hide her budding interest. sara longs to know what it is that has the almighty shogun so ensnared. you may not know it, but you have the archon wrapped around your little finger. baal is absolutely smitten with you, her sweet wife. 

baal makes a most rare exception for sara. she gives her express permission for you to speak with her, ordering you to treat sara with the same kindness you show her. you do as you’re bid — you’ve come to learn it’s easier to just give baal what she wants rather than face the consequences. so you pamper sara in the same way you pamper her highness. coquettish brushes against her arm, leaning in to whisper comments into her ear, bending over ever so slightly to reveal your cleavage. everything that baal expects of you. 

(not sfw under the cut!)

of course, you ultimately belong to baal, yet the archon decides she doesn’t mind sharing with her most trusted subordinate. she finds it amusing to instruct sara from afar, ordering her to please you with her tongue. no one aside from herself has been granted the privilege of seeing you fully bare. sara doesn’t know your body as intimately as baal does, though she is a fast learner. she finds herself growing just as addicted to you as baal is. sara is rewarded by her archon with your body. 

at first, baal was the one calling the shots. sara was placed under strict limitations as to what she could or could not do. as time went on, and baal found herself content with sara’s treatment of you, sara was given more autonomy. now she was able to order you to her liking. baal had broken you in well, you acquiesced to her every wish without complaining. your tongue felt divine against her, and you treated her like an amorous lover, worshipping her body in borderline sacrilege. it was frightening for you at first. baal was the only person you were able to touch like this. once you realized you’d be rewarded for your obedience, rather than punished for being intimate with sara, you found yourself lost in her. 

sara never taste anything more divine than you; she wouldn’t edge you for hours like baal would. she’d eat you out with the utmost urgency, suckling on your clit, and licking long strokes against your entrance. the sinful noises you’d make as you threw your head against the pillows in baal’s private chambers quickly become sara’s new favorite sound. she makes sure to fill out her duties to baal so that she may be rewarded another tryst with you. it occupies her mind to a maddening degree. she just had to have you, even if you were a borrowed good that belonged to another. 

baal always watches the two of you from afar, slipping fingers inside of herself to the lascivious sight. it might just be one of her new favorite activities to partake in. 

[technowoah]

Taunt

It only takes one time to realize you fucked up.

- ANON REQUESTED!

- WILBUR X FEM! READER BLURB

PROMPTS!

50) "Fuck off... I mean it"

24) "Get in the car" "..." "please get in the car"

⚠︎ angst to fluff, swearing, based on the song Taunt by Lovejoy ❤🐈 its short btw yall

[Updated 3 hours after upload I messed up the prompts sorry yall now it fixed]

She was always asking if he was alright. He always lied to her just to get her off his back for the night, but it was his fault that he wanted her to move in. He has to deal with that all of the time, it was her fault anyways. She made him upset, she made him not alright. She didn't know that. She constantly complained about things that didn't even concern her, she dodged their relationship making it more about her than them.

It was tiring to him. Constantly providing, trying to tie a broken knot, but he didnt let that get in the way of his career, or his friends. There's another issue, he never talked to his friends about her. She accused him of not being proud of their relationship and that became a problem that never got resolved.

Did anyone ever say "no" to her? Well if no one did, he would be the first one to do so. Fuck that.

He listened, and listened, but nothing kept this relationship together.

Wilbur talked to the three people chatting on his discord through his headphones as a soft LED lights flowed through the room. These nights were simple because she didnt have to see him when he decides to stream, he basically has his time set out for himself without trouble. He wasn't ecstatic, he felt horrible, but the facadè was there.

Her on the other hand wasnt happy either. She never got attention from him, and of course she could get moody from time to time like every other human being, but she always took it out on him. Who else was gonna be there for her? He acted like her cared, she knew he was lying. His "caring" consisted of humming and him responding like a default character in a video game. He didn't care, he acted like he never did. She needed that attention and he knew damn well she did.

She wasnt asking for much, at least to her it did feel like it. She knew when she was wrong, but she didn't want to admit it when they were both in the wrong too. They dont get each other, she didnt know why he asked her to move in when he didn't want anything to do with her. Ever since he moved her in he kept her in check like a child, she hated and loved that at the same time. Its true that she wanted her own way, she did what she wanted and gave her attention to whoever she wanted her attention to be. She thought that was fine, but apparently she dosent give any effort to the relationship.

Rolling her eyes at the thought she decided to leave the dishes in the sink dirty. She thought about leaving and finding someone who will get her, yes Wilbur listened to her, but there was no effort. When he's drunk and tries to "figure out what makes her brain tick" ends up in more distaster.

Lying in the couch her mind began to wonder, he always said that she could get away with anything. She always took it as a taunt. Everytime it was brought up. He called it "pretty privilege" and he always taunts her saying she abuses that power.

Her jaw clenched as she recalled those memories. Summoning the courage she brought herself up onto her feet and rushed to their shared bedroom. Taking a deep breath she opened their closet and started pulling her things off of hangers, not caring if she made a mess. She tossed her clothes onto the messy bed that they didn't bother to make this morning.

Bringing a small backpack out from underneath the bed she tried shoving most of her clothes into a bag for a night. In total frustration she emptied the bag and only backed necessities that she would need for the night.

She was tired of him and he was tired of her so she was doing both of them a favor. She made her way out of the door grabbing a coat and sliding on some simple shoes. Shooting a quick text to a close friend letting them know she's coming over. Her friend wasn't that close, but she decided to walk. As she locked the door to their shared apartment she debated texting Wilbur. She didnt want to, but she didnt want him to freak the fuck out because she wasnt home.

( Wilbur )

Me: Ill be back for the rest of my stuff tmrw.

[Read]

She closed her phone and started on her night time journey down the street trying to let everything from the past few weeks go with the cool wind.

Him on the other hand stayed silent. He had just finished his stream and had gotten a text saying that she'll be back for the rest of her things. This was inevitable, one of them had to leave, but to him it didnt seem right. He didn't want her to leave. Something in his heart was making him chase her back, the same thing in his heart that moved her into his apartment in the first place. Maybe it was love, maybe he wanted to persevere and have someone in his life. Something in his mind was telling him that he let go of something special.

Wilbue thought about it as he shut everything off and went to go grab his belongings, before rushing out the door to try and find her. Sadly to his discovery, she turned off her location. He finally made it to his car and started driving towards his house to see if she was around there.

He couldn't call a friend because she never introduced her friends to him. She did that on purpose because of him not doing the same. As he drove down the not so busy streets of Brighton he thought if he could get to know her, pull emotions and feelings out of her and see the real her. And if he cant do that? Who knows what will happen.

He remembers this face she always pulled when he always said "Im alright." She scrunched up her nose in annoyance and he always took it as a taunt because he couldn't figure out the real meaning. They were both going at this the wrong way, he dosent know anything about her and maybe thats the problem, but she needs to calm down as well. She needs to start paying attention to both of them instead of herself.

He was seated at a stoplight until he saw a figure on the sidewalk walking past him. The person looked shocked then kept walking, but even faster this time. He rolled down the window to see it was Y/n walking. Wilbur ran the red light and found a place to turn the car around to follow her. He drove a couple of feet in front of her before putting his hazard lights on and stepping out of the car to confront her.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Wilbur said while getting our of his car.

"Im getting away from you. And what are you doing here?" She said.

"Well I could ask you the same thing. Its not safe out here alone." He calmed down a little. Wilbur's main goal was to get her back home so they can have a civilized talk. He didn't want to be out here.

"Oh? Ive been fine for the past fifteen minutes." She sasser back.

"That dosent mean its not safe!" He exclaimed.

She stayed quiet so that gave Wilbur an opportunity to speak.

"See, I want us to go home so we can have a civilized talk without feeling defensive. I want to get to know you, I know you're my girlfriend and yes, it was my mistake rushing things. Im not putting the blame all on myself either." He finished and she stayed quiet with her arms crossed infront of her chest.

"Are you cold-?"

"Fuck off...I mean it." She said while trying to pass hin on the street.

He stood in her way and he kept doing that every time she tried to get around him. Wilbur saw that she was getting annoyed at his actions. Wilbur held her by both of her biceps trying to hold her still so he could talk.

"You're being childish!"

"Fucking listen to me! You cant just keep walking away from us! From me! This is not healthy!" Wilbur yelled. He let go if her and surprisingly she stayed there.

"Get in the car." He ordered but she stayed silent. "Please get in the car."

She turns around gets in the passenger seat if Wilbur's car. He sighed a sigh if relief and followed her lead. They both got settled into the car and he didn't move. He wasn't going to drive unless she talked to him. After a minute if silence she spoke up.

"I know its- its both of our faults. And i have some things I need to work on. I cant just run away. Also your thoughts of me need to be rearranged, but I need to give you all of me. At leat 50 percent so we can start somewhere. But Im sorry." She said while she looked down at her lap maybe in embarrassment.

In the end they both wanted to fix themselves. In the end they wanted eachother. And they can both see that.

He leaned over the armrest and gave her a kiss on her cheek. She turned to him with a surprise look on her face, like this was the most affection he gave her, because it was true. She grabbed his hand that rested on the armrest too as he started to drive towards their home together.

As the nightly drive continues on and now shes drifting off in the passenger seat as In Love With An E-girl plays softly. She's left too tired to talk with Wilbur and be in touch with her emotions right now, but she'll do it for the both of them this time.

[kakiwrites]

a look into your relationship

Genre: fluff

A kai satou and keiji shinogi x reader

Synopsis: general relationship headcannons for the yttd boys!

a/n: told you guys that I was playing your turn to die and now that I finished it, this is the only way I can cope with all the heartbreak I felt going through the logic route (Iykyk-) anyway- let's get started!

Kai Satou

I see him as one of the silent but deadly guys.

He would keep an eye on you from afar and pretend you aren't associated with him. You can do your own thing.

He will not hesitate to approach you when he senses something is about to go wrong in his eyes.

Your friends were so concerned about you the first few days of dating because kai never took his eyes off of your figure from the other side of the room.

They thought he was some stalker or something.

You had to explain to them that kai already asked you out and he wasn't just some stalker.

Apart from his unwavering face, he also has an observant mind.

Even though he looks like an airhead-

He can tell if something was wrong with you. He can just sense it.

He would pull you into an empty room, make sure that no one was there with you before pulling you into his arms.

He's never one for PDA because he doesn't really know what to do.

Like should he hold your hand? Should he place his arm around your shoulder? Like what is he supposed to do exactly?

He's more comfortable observing from afar. Don't worry, he asked you in advance and made sure you were okay with him following you like that.

He doesn't really have any pet names for you. He was keen on calling you by your last name but you insisted on him calling you by your first name. he reluctantly agreed.

"(l/n)-san-" kai's even tone was cut off by the little frustrated whine he loves. A small smile slowly crept on his face, his hands hesitantly going to rest on your waist as you stomped over to him.

"(y/n) will do, kai… I keep telling you," you whined, wrapping your arms around his neck before you flashed him a cheeky smile.

He is always calm and is always prepared.

Are you hungry? He packed you an extra bento.

Do you want some tea? He has some ready for you.

Did you get a paper cut? He has some cute band-aids. Do you want the dog or cat designs?

He tends to make some really corny jokes. The least you could do is fake a laugh-

Keiji shinogi

He is a flirt, you cannot tell me otherwise.

He's dubbed the lady-killer by his friends. (for more than one reason)

but despite being a ladies magnet, he wouldn't even bat an eye at them and just flirt with you, even If you're already official.

"you look amazing today, baby~" he pulled flush against his chest, bending down to let his lips brush against yours.

(y/n).exe has stopped working.

He does not hesitate to be near you at all times.

Like you cannot even go to the other room without him following you around like a dog.

Speaking of dogs, he's the scary dog for your scary dog privileges. You have the privilege to walk around without worrying about creeps and catcallers.

And if they aren't deterred from Keiji's face, I'm sure he can deter them with his muscly arms.

I'm convinced that he would throw hands for you if needed. (If he can't talk it out, of course, he doesn't want to trigger anything in his mind.)

He LOVES PDA! He cannot keep his hands to himself. He would always have his hands somewhere around you.

Literally attached at the hip.

Pet names are the usual ones but he tends to mix it up a little. Baby, babe, darling, love. Keiji's tested them all.

Despite looking like a playboy, he is the complete opposite. He is a simp, head over heels in love with you.

He trusts you so much that You're the only one who knows about the thoughts that plague his mind and the nightmares of the gun incident.

Gaining that trust wasn't so easy so please don't do anything that might just crack it.

Anyway, he makes sure that you can trust in him like that too. You can tell him anything and he will take it to his grave.

And that is all! I was thinking of opening requests for yttd so now officially is the time to give me some scenarios and maybe I'll make them come true! Love you guys 💖💕❤️

General taglist (don’t be shy to comment your tumblr @ below): @tokyoghoose @macaronnv @reogou @midnightangelfox @wumboho @seiijixcia

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

Kickstart My Heart Pt.II (Kang Yeosang) Rated

<<Previous // Next>>

Pairing: Racer! Kang Yeosang × Waitress!/Fuckgirl! Reader (Female)

Genre: Smut, Light Angst, Crack, 80s Au.

Summary: Getting the chance to spend time alone with Y/N, Yeosang jumps at the opportunity, getting a little more than he bargained for.

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Dumb attempts at humor, second hand embarrassment, Lynn is still creepy, slight voyeurism/ exhibitionism, making out in car, heavy petting, allusions to oral (male receiving).

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The two best friends giggled amongst themselves as they entered inside the establishment, hands full of bags that contained to go boxes with several assorted sandwiches, burgers and fries inside of them. Hearing the bell signal customers, the peppy blonde at the front counter looked up from the thick stack of papers in front of her, mouth automatically showcasing her perfect and commercial worthy smile she always used when greeting newcomers or even regulars.

"Good afternoon what can-" Her expression immediately soured, smile fading and in its place puckered lips took shape.

"Oh... it's just you two." She drawled out the last words, eyes rolling as she peered back at the papers she was busy with.

Looking over at each other, Lynn simply shrugged her shoulders as one of her eyebrows raised up in puzzlement. Meanwhile, Y/N couldn't contain the soft snort that passed through her tight sealed lips, the sound coming out more like a goofy raspberry that further irritated the girl at the counter.

"Hey Sora. How's your day going so far?" Y/N tried to make conversation, but it was obvious the girl wasn't having it, blatantly ignoring both of them as her hand scribbled even faster, pages being turnt at a fast speed. Shifting awkwardly in her stance, Y/N turned her head to look at her friend, who merely shook her head, face clearly indicating to her to not try to act nicer and to simply get to the point of why they had come all the way to the workshop.

"Are the boys still here?"

With a few muttered grumbles, Sora lifted her pen and pointed it behind her towards the door that led to the garage, silently answering where the mentioned individuals currently were.

"Thanks."

Sora let out a scoff as the two girls made their past the counter, annoyed ever so vastly by the fact she had no authority nor power to forbid them from going to the back. Being friends with Wooyoung and the rest of the gang, obviously they got special privileges that allowed them to come and go as they pleased not only in the shop but also down at the tracks. And frankly Sora hated it, hence why she didn't refrain from demonstrating her hostility towards Y/N and Lynn, but especially towards the latter for more personal and complicated reasons that everyone was aware of but Lynn herself.

"I don't know why you go out of your way to be friendly towards her. She's been needing to take a chill pill ever since high school." Lynn retorted. Putting down the bags she was carrying for a moment, she pulled the sides of her oversized denim jacket back over her shoulders, the top having slipped off rather uncomfortably on her torso.

"Honestly?...... merely to piss her off." Y/N snickered maliciously, her true intentions finally coming to light.

"Well I'd say you do a fantastic job then. She just takes one look at you and her blood is boiling." Lynn pointed out as she picked up the bags once more.

"Trust me Lynn, you anger her more than I do." Thay statement made the petite girl do a double take at the office behind them.

"Me? Whatever did I do to Barbie?" She questioned, never once recalling a moment where she even spoke two words to the preppy girl that wasn't a casual greeting or goodbye.

Y/N looked with a deadpanned expression to her friend.

"You seriously don't- you know what? Never mind."

Not wanting to waste time trying to explain to her frequently unobservant buddy why Sora had a price on her head, Y/N just quickly rushed over towards the group of men huddled around the red Ferrari F40, one of them hidden underneath it, no doubt in the process of checking or fixing minor issues. Seeing the girls approaching them, all of the boys quickly sprang to life, Wooyoung leading the entourage as they came up towards them.

"So our lovely diner girls actually decided to join us for a movie night. I knew you guys couldn't resist my deadly charm."

Not only were the girls unamused by his little joke, but even his friends behind him shook their heads, disapproving greatly of his overly confident and light narcissistic attitude that he exuded at times.

"I only came cause I am not going to spend a perfectly good Friday night cooped up in my house watching Dynasty." Y/N firmly stated, shutting down any further attempts of flirting directed towards her.

"I like to see people get stabbed or gutted to death."

Cringing at the macabre girl's overly calm response, Wooyoung tilted his head back and looked at the tallest member of the gang, nose crinkling significantly as he silently mouthed a few words over to him, deeply questioning his friend's taste. Said friend simply shrugged and stepped up closer towards the girls, not surprising anyone that he'd pick a stance that had him facing Lynn from the front as he always liked to do.

"Well I'm just really happy you guys decided to join us. I thought you would be happy at knowing it was a horror film."

Not too far behind him, San and Mingi were already giggling amongst themselves, sending each other signals and jokingly theorizing how the night was going to go like.

"I am exceedingly happy Yunho. My body is so filled with joy and immense contentment that I can hardly keep myself from grinning." Despite the jubilant sentence, Lynn's face displayed absolutely no emotion and her raspy and low toned voice was still as monotone and lifeless as it tended to be. Yunho's bright smile nearly faltered, feet rocking back and forth awkwardly as he did not know how to proceed after such a statement. Luckily Mingi stepped in and changed the topic.

"Please tell me there's food in those bags and that we can have some." He pointed to one of the many bags that the girls were carrying.

Lifting one hand up then the other, Y/N shook the contents lightly.

"Your favorites." She chuckled when San came up and tightly squeezed her body into a hug.

"This is why I love you both." Y/N did not mind the slightest bit when he suddenly pulled her face towards his, mouth pressing hard and intense pecks on her cheek repeatedly as a show of gratitude. She was so used to his affectionate nature.

Turning around, Wooyoung cupped his hands over his mouth so that his voice could resonate loudly.

"Yeosang quit tinkering with it already! You're going to get dirty and we have a movie to catch." He shouted at whom the girls presumed was under the race car.

"You literally have speakers built into your vocal chords, there was no need for that makeshift megaphone." Lynn grumbled at him, causing the male next to her to burst out in a fit of giggles.

"Speakers built in hie vocal chords. Good one." Lifting his hand up, Yunho held it up towards Lynn, expecting her to high five him back but was instead met with her cold, squinting eyes that inspected his palm.

"Your aura is overly forced....and you have leftover grease on your hand." She looked away after finishing that sentence. Hearing her say that made Yunho instantly check his hand, immediately wiping it off on his jeans as he mentally slapped himself for looking like an idiot in front of the girl he fancied.

Not paying mind to whatever was happening around her, Y/N's eyes were glued on the figure that emerged from under the car. She couldn't help but admire the strong and buff biceps that were peeking out of the plain white tshirt the man was wearing, sleeves slightly rolled up above his shoulders. The angelic face belonging to him looked even more dazzling due to the light sheen of sweat around his temples, no doubt caused by the work he was doing. Even as he reached for one of the cleaning towels so he could wipe the grime and oil off his hands, Y/N continued to gaze at Yeosang, mind already conjuring up many ideas and fantasies with him as the main protagonist.

"Oh sweetie, you're not making this any easier." She mused inwardly, one of her fingers twirling a strand of her hair.

Discarding the rag on one of the toolboxes nearby, Yeosang carefully approached the group of friends, still awkward in interacting with all of them, trait that only helped in making him stand out like a sore thumb, more than he already did. Clamping a hand over his new buddy's shoulder, Wooyoung brought a hand up and patted one of his squishy cheeks.

"Now that you're finally here we can go." Looking around, Wooyoung gestured around.

"So who's riding with who?"

Immediately Yunho turned his face towards the girl next to him, about to voice out his want of having her in his car, but it seemed as if his plans would fall through as Mingi latched an arm around him.

"I'm going with Yunho." He seemed determined not to let go of him.

"Why? So you can cling to him during the scary parts?" A chorus of laughter poured out at San's amusing words.

"As if!" Mingi huffed, though it was more than obvious to everyone that it was precisely as San had predicted.

"Mingi... I was kinda hoping I could... you know?" Yunho tilted his head over to Lynn, making him get the picture of what he wanted.

"Whatever happened to bros before hoes?" Mingi sighed as he detached himself from Yunho.

"Ok then. Yunho you go with Mingi, San you can take the girls and I'll keep Sangie here company since he's still a little bit shy you know."

It seemed as if it was all decided about how their night was going to run, so Y/N knew she had to speak up and take the opportunity before it was all settled.

"Why don't I ride with Yeosang instead?"

Hearing her suggestion, the male in question widened his eyes in shock, not expecting her to voice that out loud. Even Wooyoung found it slightly odd and suspicious that she'd say that. But then he remembered the type of girl Y/N was and it started to set off alarm bells in his mind.

"Oh it's ok Y/N. You probably won't like to have him scream in your ear and cover his eyes like a baby at the jump scares." Not taking kindly to such blasphemous talk about him that painted an inaccurate picture.

But Y/N remained undeterred. She would stand her ground no matter what.

"Oh please, I insist. I'd love to take care of him..." She did not hide the sultry way she said that last part, eyes locked on Yeosang's, the boy swallowing hard and pressing himself further into Wooyoung's side. Wanting to bargain even further, Y/N took hold of her friend.

"How about this? Lynn goes with Yunho and Mingi, you ride with San and I get Yeosang?"

San cupped a hand over his mouth to muffle the laugh he wanted so desperately to release.

"I don't think it's just him she wants to get." He chuckled to himself.

"You're seriously leaving me alone with these 2 giants?" Lynn pointed to the two men at her right, one of which obviously was more than willing to welcome the arrangement.

"I promise Mingi won't disturb you too much with his crying." Yunho swore to her, hand coming up to clasp around Mingi's mouth when he attempted to protest that decision.

Wooyoung looked over to Yeosang, leaning in and dropping his voice so that only he could hear.

"If you don't want to, just say the word and I'll get her off your case." He offered. Although they had only met just a couple days ago, Wooyoung felt compelled and obligated to look out for the new boy, even if it meant protecting him from his other friends.

Knowing that he probably shouldn't and that it was a bad idea, Yeosang glanced over at Y/N. Meeting her eager eyes and cunning smile, any resolve to stay close to Wooyoung was immediately dispelled from his mind. He might never get another opportunity such as was presented to him and he would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he was rather curious to find out more about the young vixen that he had heard so much about since he moved into town. With an assured smile that slightly worried Wooyoung, Yeosang stepped forward and held out his hand towards Y/N.

"Shall we get going then?"

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Unable to focus his attention towards the gigantic screen right in front of him, Yeosang slumped down further in his seat, fingers tugging his red sweater over his body. Every few seconds or so, he'd turn his head to peer at the girl on the passenger seat, looking exceedingly calm and collected unlike him. He was overly anxious to the point his food was still untouched, sitting in the backseat, long forgotten. Y/N, although collected, was bored out of her mind, elbow rested on the window, head being supported on her palm as her eyes never lingered away from the gore filled scenes being displayed across from them. There was a deafening silence inside the black Iroc Camaro, the tension between both individuals becoming increasingly thick.

Becoming desperate after 40 minutes of not getting him to make a move or even attempt to break the ice, she decided it was time to take matters into her own hands. Unzipping her green varsity jacket, Y/N began to slide it off her shoulders, revealing the low cut crop tank that she was hiding thus far.

"It's so hot today, don't you think?" She asked him as she tossed the clothing item behind her before settling back into her seat, fighting hard to keep her signature smirk off her face.

If he wasn't feeling hot before, Yeosang certainly started to feel heated after she had taken off her jacket. His hand reached out to grab the cup of soda in the cup holder, gulping most of the contents and ice down to help cool him down. He made an effort not to glance back at his companion anymore, knowing if he did he would have been unable to keep his eyes off her chest. Although it was dark and he turned away almost immediately, he had not missed the fact that she had chosen not to wear a bra, her nipples slightly poking out through the thin and flimsy shirt that even slowed one to make out the outline of her areolas. It was definitely a weakness of his, and Y/N was quick to find that out. Thumb coming up to her mouth, she began biting down on the nail to keep from giggling at Yeosang's reaction. He was devastatingly adorable with his wide eyes and stiffened posture, knee restlessly bouncing up in an agitated fashion. Looking in between his legs, she felt disappointed that she hadn't caused enough damage to earn a tent forming in his pants. He obviously knew how to calm himself in time. That wasn't enough to make her give up. On the contrary, it only hardened her resolve to get him to break.

Letting out an overly dramatic sigh, she reached her hands inside of her tank top. Cupping her breasts in her palms, she started off with slow movements, massaging them gently. Her eyelids started to flutter, closing only briefly as very faint and soft sighs were being exhaled through her nose. Although it was mostly done to tease the boy next to her, she got carried away and started to become more and more turned on with what she was doing. Each time she'd purposefully pinch and pull at her hardening peaks, a muffled whine would be heard coming from her throat, legs starting to spread inch by inch as her planters started to stick against her core.

Opening her eyes and tilting her head, she witnessed Yeosang's astounded expression that also held some lust in it. He was no longer sipping from his drink, but rather his teeth and tongue were merely toying around with the blue plastic straw as the grip on the base of the cup was lightly crushing it. The movie ultimately failed its purpose of keeping him distracted as his attention had fully diverted over to the sexy girl next to him, watching intently as she pleasured herself, wishing that it were his hands instead that were ministering such devotion to her breasts.

"Wanna be a doll and help me out here?" It seemed as if she had read his mind.

Without even a second of hesitation, Yeosang reached down and adjusted his seat back as far as it could go. Jumping at the invitation, Y/N climbed on top of him until she was straddling his lap. Yeosang's hands eagerly clasped around her waist, thumbs circling on the skin of her exposed abdomen. Cupping his cheeks, Y/N leaned her face down and harshly entangled her lips over his own. Yeosang hummed softly as he tasted the remnants of her cherry flavored chapstick, head tilting back when one of her hands tugged at his hair. His hands didn't hesitate to trail up and cup her mounds through her shirt, taking over the job that was previously being done by the owner's hands. Her insistent mouth parted his trembling lips, tongue poking out ever so slowly until it began divulging in the sweet taste of his wet cavern. Although he was no stranger to French kissing, Yeosang had never experienced a makeout session as intense as the one Y/N offered. She was very skilled and experienced, as proven by the swirl and swivel of her tongue against his own. He couldn't stop the moans pouring out from inside him, his hips bucking up into hers as if on instinct while his hands became more harsh and aggressive as they grasped at her breasts with near ferocity. Y/N would only pull away from their kiss for a few seconds to allow him to catch his breath before her lips lured him back into her. It was finally dawning on Yeosang's mind why so many men became captivated by her charms, even when knowing what the outcome would be. Here he was, the most lovely and hottest girl he'd ever met in his life, on his lap, making out with her while simultaneously getting to second base. He felt so damn lucky. But Y/N wanted to take it up a notch, not satisfied with ending the night with just heavy petting.

Sliding off his lap, she suprised him when she took hold of his belt and began to take it off him. Getting an inkling as to what she might have had in mind, Yeosang took hold of her wrist, making her head shot up at him.

"Is something wrong?" She began to get a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Had she really fucked things up already.

Yeosang turned beet red as he swallowed harshly, trying hard to form the words his head was attempting to sought.

"Are you.... are you a virgin?" She felt like she would have died if the answer was yes.

Seeing her worried face, Yeosang quickly shook his head.

"No! I'm most certainly not a virgin." He sounded almost offended at the insinuation, but it helped calm Y/N down, releasing a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

"I just...I've never tried...that before."

His confession just made him cuter in her eyes, previous desire to corrupt and play with him only heightening to new levels after that revelation. Wanting to entice him, she moved her hand to cup at his bulge, loving the way he immediately gasped when she started palming him through his jeans. He bit down at his lip so harshly he believed it would draw blood. He wouldn't contain himself as he bucked his hips up into her palm, desperately wanting her to help him out with his problem. When her fingers reached for his zipper again, he didn't stop her, he merely lifted his hips up to help her as she pulled his pants down by the belt loops, his hardened cock popping out to greet her, surprising her when she noticed how large and thick it was, the head leaking with precum which she used to her advantage and began spreading it down his shaft. The contact of her hand gripping him had Yeosang shuddering, low groaning spilling out his lips. Looking up at him with a devilish grin, Y/N began lowering her head until her lips brushed against his tip.

"Just sit back and relax pretty boy."

A raspy wheeze was caught in Yeosang's throat as soon as he felt her warm mouth on his length, hands flying behind him to clutch at the leather seat of the car. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It felt so dirty, so wrong and yet he wanted it. He wanted her........

He didn't care if he was playing with fire and he'd get burned by the end of it.

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Taglist: @little-precious-baby @multidreams-and-desires @yunhofingers @deja-vux @hanatiny @brie02 @couchpotatoaniki @daniblogs164 @a-soft-hornytiny @yunsangoveryonder @mingismoon @ateezbabysitters @minhyukmyluv @rainteez02 @nanamarkie @serialee

[siriusmydeer]

breakup with your girlfriend, i’m bored.

james potter x fem!reader, platonic!remus lupin x reader, james potter x lily evans

summary: james’ journey onto finding love; just not with you.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: unrequited love, angst, swearing, crying, mentions of food, self doubt/insecurity, pining, mentions of murder, mentions of marriage and kids

— 0:00

‘You got me some type of way

Ain't used to feelin' this way

I do not know what to say

“so, mates, i think m’finally getting somewhere with lils!” the tone of excitement thickly lacing the bespectacled boys words. “m’sure of it.” he continued, a bit of confusion in his words but still the same amount of excitement as before.

his brows were furrowed and he picked at the skin of his fingernails trying to relieve himself, further wringing his hands a few times before looking at his friends for their input.

“m’so— m’so happy for you, prongs. really, that’s great.” your voice faltering as you continued to speak, trying to scoundrel up a tone of excitement that would’ve played off well enough. instead all you were feeling stone cold truth of dejection.

But I know I shouldn't think about it

Took one fuckin' look at your face

Now I wanna know how you taste

Usually don't give it away

But you know I'm out here thinkin' 'bout it’

a fake smile plastered your face, trying to push back the tears that wanted to desperately prick at your eyes. you tried to further block them from escaping your waterline as you hear the boy jabber close to every single day about the red head he had been continuously fawning over.

the day went subsequently normal; potions, transfiguration, break period, plan pranks and dinner. but unfortunately for you, you didn’t have the privilege to share a messy dormitory with the four other boys leaving their conversations and discussions open about you and more your feelings.

“d’you think y/n was a bit off today?” peter asked abruptly from the place he sat on the oak wood floor, catching the attention of the three other boys who were seated on their separate twin beds. furthering to retain all memories of you from that day attempting to identify where you might’ve seemed ‘off.’

‘Then I realize she's right there

And I'm at home like, "Damn, this ain't fair"

Break up with your girlfriend

Yeah, yeah, 'cause I'm bored

“maybe a lunch a bit, she looked a little melancholy, i guess.” sirius answered this time, recalling the memory of you speaking in a very disconsolate tone. “y’think it’s anything major, or just stress?” he questioned again, beginning to worry about his close friend.

“dunno, i don’t think so.” the lycanthrope added to the conversation. he recalled james’ new confession about the red headed girl, and your extremely unhappy expressions following; of course noticing a bit at the time when it was occurring but just assuming you had a bad day with evan rosier pestering you for a date.

maybe... maybe she— but they’re best friends? his thoughts were extremely close to scrambled, remus was an observer, he was clever and sharp-witted; but this, he couldn’t figure out.

You could hit it in the mornin'

Yeah, yeah, like it's yours

I know it ain't right

“oi, y/n!” a deep voice called in the distance, putting your light jog to a stop in the middle of the courtyard leaving you to stand in the grass. swiftly turning around you were met with the taller fawn-haired boy, who looked tremendously determined.

“i’ve, uh, ‘ve got to ask you something, and it may seem foolish, but i think i just still ask you.” his voice hurried like his panting breaths from running across the school to find you, asking around the library and your dorm mates.

“yeah, moons, sure, anything.” affirming the boy who looked a bit confused, and worried but you didn’t know if it was for his sake or yours.

he grabbed your wrist in his palm pulling you on the prickly grass over to someone more private like to speak with you. “d’you— d’you like prongs? more than friendly...” the boy sputtered, further acknowledging your blown eyes like someone had just committed murder in-front of you.

But I don't care

Break up with your girlfriend

Yeah, yeah, 'cause I'm bored’

“i— uhm, well, that’s a bit— why d’you think— remus, what the fuck!” your words taking a halt every few seconds with a recurrent sputter trying to figure out where the question had even came from, or how he even knew.

“i saw— i saw the way you acted at lunch the other day. i jus’ wanted to know if it’s true.” he asserted, no present lingering touches of judgement in his tone.

remus knew what it was like to be judged, so whenever you had the urge to jabber out all of your problems he was the boy you had always ran too first. knowingly, or not. but he felt particularly disappointed in himself that you hadn’t trusted him with this potential secret.

‘This shit always happen to me (Yeah)

Why can't we just play for keeps?

Practically on my knees

“yeah— i do.” you admitted with a breath, guilt taking a pang at your heart. and anger taking a swig at your brain; how could you be so fucking stupid.

“remus, but you can’t— you can’t tell him, or anything.” your tone was hushed, and only meant for remus’ ears. feeling a tinge of embarrassment warm onto your cheeks, knowing someone you loved clearly didn’t reciprocate those feelings.

“i swear, i won’t. but m’here for you, i don’t want you feeling like you can’t tell me anything.” his words soft, and his tone genuine. why couldn’t you have fallen for someone like him? but instead, you crush on someone who was in love with someone else.

But I know I shouldn't think about it

You know what you're doin' to me

You're singin' my songs in the streets, yeah, yeah

Actin' all innocent, please

“c’mon, y/n.” he beckoned you to follow him, resting his arm on the curvature of your shoulder feeling his side press against your smaller one and guiding you to transfiguration with him.

why? why did you have to be so damn foolish? because it was her, with her beautiful red locks, her perfect maroon lipstick, her exceedingly amazing grades, her ability to be silly for a moment and loosen up. why couldn’t you be her? why couldn’t you have what she has.

it’s because it’s simple; you weren’t lily evans and you were never going to be.

When I know you out here thinkin' 'bout it

Then you realize she's right there

And you're at home like, "Damn, she can't compare"’

“guys! guys! she said yes!” james announced whilst scuttling across the mahogany floor of the common room. his actions at a halt flopping his body over the scarlet-red couch and a grin on his lips.

“who said what?” sirius muttered, glancing up from the map for a moment before looking back down in ascertainment.

“lily-pad! i asked her on a date and she was like, ‘yeah, fine, potter. but if you’re late i’ll kill you.’ just like that!” he pretended to play out the conversation for a moment, his thrilled movements and inflection almost animated from how happy he felt.

‘Break up with your girlfriend

Yeah, yeah, 'cause I'm bored

You could hit it in the mornin'

Yeah, yeah, like it's yours

I know it ain't right’

remus briefly glanced at you, concern swirling in his hazel irises, meanwhile, your eyes widened for a moment. you plastered yet another fake grin onto your lips, about to congratulate your crush on winning a date with his all time infatuation.

“prongs! oh my merlin, that’s amazing, i’m so happy for you!” putting on the best impression of exhilaration for your best friend, the act only remus could piece together and break apart.

“no way! prongs, mate, i knew you could do it!” sirius spoke, his tone fein for his best friend who had been in a pinning coma for the last few years.

‘But I don't care

Break up with your girlfriend

Yeah, yeah, 'cause I'm bored

With your girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend’

the boys continued to congratulate the boy, remus only giving him a nod and a smile. the marauders paying no mind to it and instead james merrily talking about the red head; his red head.

you weren’t his, and you never would be.

yet another realization struck you, the urge and need to move on present in your nervous system almost begging you to find someone else and to hide away from all the pain that could swallow you whole.

‘With your girlfriend

With your girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend

You could say I'm hatin' if you want to

But I only hate on her 'cause I want you’

you were now sat on the smooth ivory bedding that perfectly hugged your bed, remus’ body right beside yours. except you weren’t comfortable, you wanted to cry a valley of tears that could’ve lasted a life time.

“why is it her? why couldn’t he want me, am i not enough?” you spoke through broken sobs, feeling remus’ agile hands rub up and down the column of your back.

“you’re enough, y/n/n. he’s a bloody git for not seeing that.” remus spoke, sponging a kiss on your hairline. he felt the wet tears graze his shoulder, slightly contracting at the cold feeling but paying no mind to them as he comforted you.

‘Say I'm trippin' if you feel like

But you without me ain't right

You could call me crazy 'cause I want you

And I never even ever fuckin' met you

Say I'm trippin' and it ain't right

But you without me ain't nice’

“m’the bloody git! i fell in love with m’best friend who’s in love with someone else! next thing you know i’m accidentally setting dumbledores beard on fire, and accidentally spawning voldemort for christ’s sake!” your words mumbled and obstruct from the tears that had over come you.

you whipped your face free from tears for a moment, basically scrubbing the black colour of your mascara down your cheeks. “you’re not alone, you know? m’right here.” his tone, yet again, sincere.

you felt undeserving of his coddling, that your messy puppy love was so little compared to his issues. “i can tell your belittling your problems right now, you’re aloud to be upset.” he whispered, trying to assure you all he could, whilst disrupting you from your senile thoughts.

‘Break up with your girlfriend

Yeah, yeah, 'cause I'm bored

You could hit it in the mornin'

Yeah, yeah, like it's yours

I know it ain't right

But I don't care’

“merlin, she’s fantastic.” the brunette finished his third speech of the day on how ‘amazing’ lily is. yeah as if him pining after her wasnt enough, then what the hell was this?

the devil poking at you for cheating on your herbology test in first year, the time you accidentally tripped peter when rushing to potions, maybe it was the time you put belching power in sirius’ drink everyday for a week because he said you had a flat arse?

what the hell did you do to deserve this incessant torture that had been inflicted upon you. we’re you being dramatic? probably. but the boy you were quite literally in love with could not stop talking about how he wanted to ask another female to be with him, companionship, life, marriage, children. he wanted everything with her.

‘Break up with your girlfriend

Yeah, yeah, 'cause I'm bored

With your girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend, baby, girlfriend

With your girlfriend’

but then again it was also extremely simple.

he just simply didn’t want you.

he wanted lily fucking evans.

‘With your girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend

With your girlfriend’

taglist: @fathermarty @kittykylax @terr0rizer @aspiringsloth20 @maddoxsmythologicalmind @amourtentiaa @dear-luna @famdomhideout @hufflepogue

if your username is crossed out that means you gave me the wrong username or your settings for public display tags are off!

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Vices: Angel!Geto Suguru x Demon!Fem!Reader

wc: 1.2k

tw: NSFW

1K Follower Event Masterlist

"Make way!"

You're lounging on your throne when you hear the cries of a lower demon pushing through the crowd, hastily bringing his gift.

"My Queen, your gift. It has been plucked from the heavens and brought for your pleasure." The horned man pushes the long-haired, black-eyed figure forward, his legs shivering as he stands before you. He's half-clothed - as all angels are - but for some reason... he has no wings.

"Is this a farce?" you ask, uncoiling from your throne and approaching the chained being. "Where are his wings?" You circle about the shaking angel, searching for evidence of any wings at all. You find the remnants of his broken appendages hanging limply off his back, like stumps of a felled tree.

"They were taken off when he was captured, my queen. It was to prevent his escape." You swipe the inky black strands of hair away from his face and peek at him, watching his black eyes dart to your face.

"Give me his chain." The chain is placed in your hands, and you lead him to your throne. "Kneel." The angel does so, placing his hands on his knees and closing his eyes. Your party continues, with people approaching you to wish you an eternity of life and heathenry. It's not long before the demons devolve into an orgy, and you watch, unamused. What was a birthday without an orgy?

And it seems the angel beside you is not comfortable with the sounds emanating from the crowd in the slightest, keeping his head bowed and eyes shut. His massive fists clench on his knees, trembling as the night wears on.

"Terrified, little angel?" you wonder, and when he doesn't answer you, you yank on the chain, choking him a little. He gives a startled gasp, then looks up at you, tears in his eyes. "You should be. You're a rarity around here, and the others will surely ask to have you as part of our activities soon. Either that or they will sacrifice you." You laugh when his eyes widen, bottom lip trembling as he tries to hold back his sobs. Poor innocent thing, you think. He has no idea what he's gotten into.

_____________________________________________________________

Light returns to your domain in the reddish-beige hues you're familiar with, and you awake to the sounds of the angel singing to himself.

Singing.

He's still attached to the chain you wrapped around the throne the night before, but his fingers are holding onto the links, toying with them carefully. You stand from your position, yawning, then stride over to the angel sultrily.

"Today, you'll have your first experience." His head snaps up, and he whispers,

"Please." The pitiful word hits you like a bag of bricks, and you stare into the panicked eyes of the captive before you. "I repent for whatever I have done to offend you. Please, let me go."

"Not possible," you answer, squatting down low. "Not even if I wanted to."

"But they said you are the queen--"

"This domain does not belong to me. I am merely a caretaker of it. You would have to address the King of Hell, and he is not here." The angel whimpers sadly, his black hair shielding his face as he ducks his head. You want to apologize but you don't know what for, so you withhold it.

"Will you speak to him for me?"

"I cannot make any promises," you admit, and the angel looks down at his feet. "But I can give you some hope. It is not a miserable existence down here. We all have our vices, and I'm sure you'll find yours. Then you will be free to indulge in it as you please."

"But--" The angel cuts himself off, looking skyward. He wishes he could fly. You make note of the observation and consider consulting Sukuna about restoring some of his wings so he could soar around Hell as he saw fit. But you remember that you have to get the angel to find a vice first. That's the only way Sukuna will allow him any privileges.

"I'll help you with your first experience," you promise, hands drifting up the angel's legs. He flinches, scooting against the back of the throne, but you follow him, hands caressing his calves before drifting up to his knees. "Don't worry. I won't hurt you. You'll find this enjoyable, I'm sure."

When you shift the pitiful cloth the angels call clothing aside, you find that your captive is already a little hard. He just needs a little more coaxing. Your hands drift to his cock, and you tug it slowly, eyes looking up to his for permission.

"You say I'm stuck down here."

"Forever."

"And Sukuna won't grant me freedom?"

"Even if you ask, I'm almost certain he will not. And if he does, then you will have to petition Heaven." The concept fully lodges in the angel's mind, and you see him come to the realization that there is no escape.

A bead of pre-cum oozes from his tip, and you hum, waiting on his answer.

"I..." But his hips buck instinctively and you raise a brow. "Do it." Your mouth slides onto his length immediately and he inhales sharply as you suck, his hands twitching on his thighs. You lick the tip of his cock as you come up, then glide your tongue along his length again, kissing it tenderly. His hips want to move off of the ground; you can tell by the way he clenches his fists. But he can't, because he's at an angle that won't support him.

Your hands come off of his dick and you nestle your nose against his happy trail, which makes the little angel beneath you whimper, fingers knotting in your hair.

"Oh, yes, please..."

Please.

You smile to yourself and clench your throat a few times before coming up for air, then descending back down on him. He cries out, whispering some words in a language you don't know and then murmuring,

"I'm going to die, I'm going to die..." You want to tell him that he's not dying, but your mouth is too full to explain what's going to happen next. "M-my queen, you're killing me--!"

The noise that erupts from the angel's mouth is so delightful that you almost miss the sweet taste of cum that accompanies it. After you've sucked your captive dry, you look up at him, smiling widely and licking the excess cum off your lips.

"Did you die?" you ask, and the angel's eyes expand exponentially and then roll back in his head as he slumps against the throne.

_____________________________________________________________

The chains are removed once he awakens, and the angel's hair is brushed back from his face as he is being cleaned and prepared for the evening.

"You look much nicer this way," you comment, leaning on the edge of the bathtub. "What is your given name?"

"Suguru."

"Suguru..." you repeat, touching the warm water with your hand.

"I passed out, didn't I?" The angel looks at you with somber eyes, fully realizing what occurred between the two of you.

"You did. Perhaps that is not your vice."

"It felt good," he admits, looking at his hands. "I want more, but I don't want to pass out again." You touch his cheek and turn his face toward you.

"With some practice, it will become like second nature to you, my pet." You press a kiss to his lips, rising from the side of the tub and letting the attendants do their job as you ready yourself for a night full of pleasure.

[kakaxhi]

Kakashi Hatake | Finally

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x Reader Warnings: language, mentions smut Word Count: 1.6k A/N: sorry this took a little longer then usual, I struggled a tiny bit. Also, I'm sorry this isn't a full smut fic, (I'm not the best as writing that) but it gets the point across. (headcanons changed to fic with requester's permission)

You could feel his eyes on you again.

You chalked it up to him watching over you on this mission, but had an inkling of a feeling it was something more. There were plenty of times where you caught him staring, and he catching you. You couldn't help yourself, your feelings growing for the Copy Ninja with each passing day.

And now, here you were at the end of a long mission getting to spend every moment with him. Normally, you wouldn't mind spending so much time with him, but your feelings for the man made focusing on the mission difficult. You would've gotten severely hurt if Kakashi hadn't stepped in at the last second.

"Thank you, for saving me back there I mean."

"You got distracted during an A-rank mission. Don't let it happen again."

He kept walking, leaving you standing there dumbfounded. He's never used that tone with toy before. Shaking off the thoughts, you ran to catch up with him, only to keep your distance as he was still slightly pissed.

You finally reached the gates of Konoha. You ended up turning in the report, letting Kakashi go home and cool off. You stepped into the Hokage's office, bowing slightly before turning in your paperwork.

"I'm surprised Kakashi is not with you."

"I told him to go home, we ran into some trouble but things ended up going well thanks to him. If that'll be all, I have to get some things done."

With nothing else needed, you left with a respectful bow and made your way to Kakashi's home. Your knuckled rapped on the door quickly; only waiting a few minutes before he opened the door. His forehead protector was off, and even after knowing him all this time, seeing the Sharingan was a little intimidating.

"You wear that mask in the shower too?"

His expression hardened, "No. Why are you here, [Y/N]?"

"I just came to apologize. Can I come in?"

He sighed, stepping aside to let you inside. He shut the door behind you, watching you as if waiting for you to speak up.

"You want to tell me what got you so distracted you almost screwed up the mission? That's not like you."

"Well, it's not really something I want to tell you, 'Kashi."

He rolled his eyes at the nickname, but the pink on his cheeks gave away his true emotions.

"You have lost nickname privileges until you tell me what happened."

"Fine, but you have to tell me why you got so mad."

Kakashi stared at you as if you had a second head.

"You're serious, right? [Y/N], you could've died! What would I have done then?"

"Finish the mission."

He hated how matter-of-fact you sounded. He sighed, hand wiping the stray strands of hair from his eyes.

"Okay, yes. Even then, I'd have to come back and tell everyone I couldn't save someone I care about again. And yes, it's part of the life we lead as shinobi, I get it. So let me rephrase my question. What would I do if you were gone?"

You shrugged, "We all lose people, Kakashi. You know that better then anyone. You'd get over me eventually."

"How can you say that when you're one of the most important people I know?"

Embarrassment filled your veins, causing you to look away from him. His hand reached up out of instinct, and it was then you realized just how close he was.

"Please, don't turn away from me."

Tension filled the air between you, his hand still gently resting on your cheek. You stared into his eyes, your body moving before you could process it. Your fingers went to the edge of his mask, tugging slightly. He nodded, not even thinking of stopping you as you slowly pulled off his mask.

"Are you going to just stare?"

"With a face like that, how could I not?"

His shy smile made you swoon, but it wasn't until you felt his smooth lips on yours that your heart beat faster. Your arms loosely wrapped around his neck as he pushed you against the wall. His lips left your own, trailing over your cheek and down your jaw. It was when he got to your neck you slowly pushed him away.

"Do you want to stop?"

You shook your head, "Bedroom, now. Please."

He nodded, kissing you again before leading you to his bed. He gently laid you on the plush blankets before taking off his shirt. Your eyes roamed his upper body, lifting a hand to trace the scars along his chest and torso.

"Still find me attractive?"

You nodded, leaning up to kiss him again. Nothing was more intoxicating then feeling him against you. Your fingers tugged on the waistband of his pants.

"Take these off, Kakashi."

He obliged, leaving him only in his boxers. He looked you over, a teasing smirk on his lips.

"Seems as though you're overdressed, baby."

Kakashi couldn't keep his eyes off of you as you stripped off every layer. His lips met yours in a heated kiss once you took off the last item.

"Holy fuck, you're gorgeous."

He kissed you once more before sliding off his boxers. Your eyes widened slightly at his length slapping against his stomach. He chuckled, leaning down to kiss along your jaw.

"If you wanna stop, we can."

"No, no. I'm fine. Please, continue."

He eyed you carefully, making sure this is what you truly wanted. You placed a hand gently on his cheek, rubbing the bone with your thumb.

"If I wanted to stop I'd tell you. But I don't. I want this, I want you."

He leaned forward, lips meeting yours in another passionate kiss. His hips moved against your own, feeling his length pressed against your thigh. He pulled away from your mouth slightly only when he ran out of air.

"Okay, but if you change your mind you let me know. I want you to be comfortable."

"Same goes for you, 'Kashi."

Pink tinted his cheeks but he quickly covered his embarrassment with a sassy remark.

"I think it's kinda evident I don't want to stop."

-

A long, loud groan left him as he finished. His forehead rested against your own, chest heaving with each deep breath. A small moan left him as he pulled out, still sensitive to touch. You whimpered at the feeling of being empty, Kakashi gently rubbing your thigh as he got up.

After getting all cleaned up, Kakashi relaxed next to you in bed. You were too tired to form a coherent sentence, opting to gently rub his chest before turning over. The last thing you remembering is Kakashi pulling you against his chest before falling asleep.

When you woke up the next morning, Kakashi wasn't in bed. The smell of food cooking fully woke you up. You grabbed the first shirt you saw on the floor, tossing it on before walking into the kitchen. Kakashi stood in front of the stove in just his boxers. And you could see his neck was bare, meaning he wasn't wearing his mask.

"Morning."

"Good morn-" He paused when he saw you, "is that my shirt?"

You looked down, "I guess it is. Sorry."

He chuckled, "For what? Keep it on, I'll wash your clothes for you when we're done eating."

You sat beside him, silence filling the void before he spoke up.

"So, about last night. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Do you?"

He chuckled, "Yeah, that's why I brought it up."

"I don't know, you're not the best at talking about your feelings, Kakashi."

He nodded, "Yeah, that's true. I guess I mostly just want to know where you stand. If you want to forget the whole thing, I'll understand. I just - I couldn't control my feelings for you any longer."

"So, that's why you got pissed at me on the mission."

"Well, yeah. I've cared for you for so long. But I never acted on it because I didn't know how you felt towards me and I couldn't risk losing you. I've lost too much already."

Your features softened, "Kakashi, you big dope."

"Hear I am pouring my heart out and you're calling me names."

You laughed softly, hand cupping his cheek so he could look at you, "Do you know how long I've had feelings for you?"

He looked at you dumbfounded, "What?"

"Shit, you are so cute. You really didn't know?"

"No, I didn't want to read to much into it. I wish you said something sooner."

You chuckled, "You and me both."

He took your hand in his, pulling you against him. He smiled as you instinctively placed your head against his chest.

"So, what happens now? Because after last night, and especially after what you just told me, I don't think I could ever be just friends with you."

You placed a hand on his chest, just above his heart, "We take it one day at a time, no need to rush things. As long as I get to kiss you again."

He chuckled, placing his lips on yours, "You can do that whenever you want, love."

[yemilnisu]

INCORRECT HAIKYUU QUOTES FROM BUZZFEED UNSOLVED PT. 2

nisu entries:

a part two because i said so 🥴 i really enjoy these and you guys seems to enjoy it too i assume 💀 and i may or may not have a part 3 in my drafts ksksks

warning: swearing

「part 1」

Kenma: i don’t think anybody wants to spend any time here (earth)

Kuroo: that! so they (aliens) just blow it up.

Kenma: oh. *shrugs* if that happens, who cares?

Kuroo: i care because i live here!

Kenma: yeah, but then everyone's dead so nothing matters and that's kinda cool. i mean, what a privilege it would be-

Kuroo: you sound like a movie villain right now!

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Suna: i'm not even thinking that. i'm tweetin' and i'm streaming. wait- do i have my significant social media followers?

Osamu: you don’t have any following at this point 'cause you're suna rintaro in the timeline where you're at nasa.

Suna: …oh. i don’t even wanna live.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Matsukawa: you know, this was supposed to be the season of respecting ghosts and every time i've tried to do that, you yell at me to disrespect them.

Oikawa: i'm telling you to be true to who you are.

Matsukawa: i mean, that is certainly valid.

Oikawa: (laughs)

Matsukawa: 'cause i am living a lie otherwise because we're talking to air!

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Akaashi: oh, i see it. there's a bird right there.

Bokuto: oh, there's a bunch up there. hey, bros.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Nishinoya: you know, i didn’t walk down west cell block.

*nishinoya humming and walking to west cell block*

Nishinoya: it's nice over here, i like it.

(high pitched whistling)

(distant thudding)

Nishinoya: *stops*

Nishinoya: if that's somebody up there, make that noise again in your cell.

(distant thud)

Nishinoya: ha-ha i fucking hate this place. i really do.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Voice: (whispers) atsumu.

Atsumu: who is that?

Atsumu: *looking around for the voice* *lowkey scared*

Osamu: do you hear the little whispers?

Atsumu: please.

Osamu: oops. (laughs)

Suna: *behind the camera snickering because he was the one who suggested it*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Lev: oh fuck, i forgot the spirit box, shit.

Kenma: go get it!

Lev: my hands are full 🥺

Kenma: well, try your best.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Bokuto: *baby voice* it's a little cockroach. you seen any ghosts up here, fella?

Kuroo: (laughs)

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Ushijima: do you feel like you have someone else's thoughts?

Tendou: sometimes.

Ushijima: that wasn't the question. i think you misunderstood me.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kuroo: so right now, we’re in the captain's quarters.

Kuroo: is there anybody in here that wants to speak to us?

Bokuto: spill your beans, buddy.

Kuroo: what did you do on this ship?

Bokuto: he probably commanded it.

Kuroo: you know, i was asking him.

Bokuto: what'd you do on this ship?

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tanaka: if you'd like us to leave and shut up, which frankly almost anybody who interacts with us for more than five minutes would like us to do, move something.

Nishinoya: spank us on the bottom!

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Sakusa: i mean, this sink is absolutely disgusting. this is maybe the scariest thing i’ve seen in all six seasons of this show.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Oikawa: *waving at his reflection*

Oikawa: always nice to see a friendly face.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Sakusa: i don’t know why people think darkness is actually scary because i can’t see anything. it was scarier when the lights were on 'cause i could see you know filth, things falling apart.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Semi: (knocking) let's boogie, folks! little guy needs a win. ghost, that would be great. if you got a mummy or a vampire, also good. i think he'd also count that as sort of proof of the supernatural.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tsukishima: please haunt me! i’m begging you to haunt me! scare the shit out of me! do something! (laughs)

Tsukishima: how many times do i have to plead with air, with nothing? i’m speaking to no one right now.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Shirabu: if you don’t pop out, then i’ve wasted several years of my life. i mean, i went to college, and my major was not ghost hunting.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Osamu: what's 'tsumu doing in there? who the hell knows? he's probably gonna take out his little spirit box.

*meanwhile at atsumu*

Atsumu: i’m gonna fire up the spirit box now. i am shaking 'cause i’m so scared 😄

*back to osamu*

Osamu: it’s probably gonna say something that doesn’t sound like any words any human's ever spoken.

*back to atsumu*

(spirit box blares)

Spirit box: "do it"

Atsumu: oh shit!

*back to osamu*

Osamu: he'll probably respond to it like he's sitting across the table from a friend, playing scrabble.

*back to atsumu*

Atsumu: did you say ‘do it’ or 'tsumu?

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Sugawara: old timey jails, very fun to visit... and that’s all i’ve got to say about that *sips coffee*

Asahi: (chuckles) nothing about the ghouls?

Sugawara: there will be no ghouls, there will be dust, there will be noises that you, you know, pee your pants over.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

(bang)

Matsukawa: oh?

Hanamaki: ooh, a nice little drum hit.

Matsukawa: yeah, we got a beatboxing demon in here?

(bang)

Hanamaki: oh, shit, another one!

Matsukawa: *starts beatboxing*

Hanamaki: 🎶 my name is makki and i’m here to say. we’re the baddest ghost hunters in the usa. hunting demons and ghouls too 🎶

(unintelligible sound from the spirit box)

Hanamaki: what?

Matsukawa: *beatboxing*

Hanamaki: wait, hold on, we actually got a response!

Matsukawa: *still beatboxing*

Hanamaki: stop beatboxing! (laughing)

Matsukawa: huh, oh, sorry.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Koganegawa: *whispering* choo choo pickle pie.

Futakuchi: (wheeze) choo choo pickle pie, what the f--?

Koganegawa: i don’t know. i’m just thinking of a funny thing a ghost could whisper

Futakuchi: (wheeze)

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tendou: and by the way, if you want a little more one-on-one time with the tsutomu here, he'll be here alone soon enough.

Goshiki: …

Tendou: *backing away while keeping eye contact with goshiki *

Goshiki: it’s a long way to back out. you gonna keep that speed going?

Tendou: is the door behind me?

Goshiki: it’s close.

Tendou: *still backing away but carefully trying to avoid the door without looking behind him and eye contact still on goshiki*

Goshiki: did that work out the way you wanted?

Tendou: *still backing away*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kageyama: you gonna sit in that chair? we’re not allowed to.

Hinata: oh, yeah.

Kageyama: but we are the internet's paranormal bad boys.

Hinata: (chuckle) that’s right, were controversial.

Kageyama: we’re planning cheek to chair, baby. you ain’t gonna stop me.

Hinata: i’m sitting in that thing bare ass.

Kageyama: i’m gonna give that thing a high-five with my butt cheeks.

*later at the location*

Kageyama: yeah, not gonna happen, i’m not sitting on that.

Hinata: that looks like a death trap.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Shirabu: the human mind, if it’s looking for something, it'll find something. and he's going to find something. and it will destroy him.

*meawhile*

Goshiki: holy shit. it felt like something walked past me twice, one from the right side, once on the left side.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Akaashi: it’s gone quiet now and i’m afraid he’s dead.

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